yukio-mishima-peonies-1, Mishima
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
//-->PeoniesAuthor(s): Mishima Yukio and Anthony H. ChambersSource:Manoa,Vol. 13, No. 1, Silence to Light: Japan and the Shadows of War (Summer,2001), pp. 51-54Published by:University of Hawai'i PressStable URL:.Accessed: 08/03/2011 11:34Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at.JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unlessyou have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and youmay use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use.Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at..Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printedpage of such transmission.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.University of Hawai'i Pressis collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access toManoa.MISHIMAYUKIOPeoniesTranslator'sNote"Peonies"("Botan,"1955)maycome as a surprise readerstowhoare familiar with the later writings of Mishima Yukio (1925-1970) and with his rep-inutationfor right-wingpoliticalleanings.Thoughthe storyis typicalof Mishimasomeways-the crisp,preciselanguage; tone of ironicdetachment-it is unex-thepectedin others.wasJapanwas just beginningto recoverfrom WorldWariiwhen "Peonies"written.Remindersof the disasterwere everywhere;memorieswere vivid. ThehadhadAlliedOccupation endedonly a fewyearsbefore.Mishima earnedenthu-siastic notices for Kamenno kokuhaku(Confessionsof a mask, 1949),with itsmemorableofwasdescriptions wartimeTokyo,but his career stillyoung,his polit-icaland paramilitaryactivities in the future.The impliedantiwar,stillantimilitaryandofofmessageof "Peonies" its acknowledgement the realities war(eventoday,some membersof the JapaneseRightdeny thatthe "Rapeof Nanking"occurred)come froma youthfulMishimawho had not yet assumedthe roleandpersonaforwhichhe is most clearlyrememberedtoday.-A. H. C.An unexpected friend came to invite me to an unexpected place. He sug-gested that we go to see a peony garden. I did not know my friend Kusada'soccupation or where he lived; he was rumored to be involved in somepolitical movement or other, but I was not sure. He was small, had sharpeyes and a fine sense of humor, and he knew everything.We left the house at about two o'clock in the afternoon and, after twicechanging trains, boarded a suburban train that I had never ridden before.It was a sunny holiday at the beginning of May.In front of a small suburban station waited a large bus that would con-nect passengers to a port city in KanagawaPrefecture.The bus took a newconcrete road, far more splendid than the streets in the city."It was built for military use. Just completed," my knowledgeable friendexplained tersely. At a pond by the side of the road, a row of picnickingchildren scooped for tadpoles without a glance at our bus. Their shirts hadcome untucked from the backs of their little trousers.At one of the stops we alighted from the bus. A large sign pointed the51betweenthe fields,and,thewayto the peonygarden.The roadmeanderedhour being late, we frequently to step aside for groupsof people onhadtheirwayhome.Eggplantseedbeds.Onion heads. On the other side of the road was amarsh,where tadpoles,clearlyvisible as they caughtthe sunlight,dovethroughthe algae,and last year'sfrogs,invisible,were croakinghere andthere.One cornerwas sectionedoff as a placeto wash summerradishes.Two farmersin rubberboots that came up to theirthighswere energeti-them in alternation a plankto oneoncallywashingradishesand stackingside."Thisfreshlyiswashedwhiteness strangelyerotic,isn'tit,"I said."Yes,"Kusadarepliedindifferently he rushedalongthe road.He wasassotimes.walking fastthatI lost sightof him in the crowdseveralThe road ascendedto a dense grovein whichstood a gate.The wordsKATSURAHILL PEONY GARDENcame into view. Payingour entrancefees, we passed throughthe gate. The field of vision opened abruptly-sunny beds of peonies lay beforeus, with a multitudeof visitorspassingamongthemin clusters.Pathsseparated flowerbeds,eachof whichwasboundedwithanem-theone, azalea,or iris. Eachpeony bush was providedwith a label,on whichwaswrittenan imposingnamein Chinesecharacters.UNICORNGOLDENOFFICIALBLOSSOMANDPHOENIXPAVILIONOF JAPANMINISTERFACEINEBRIATEDMISTYETERNALCOURTBROCADEMOONBARRIERPLEASUREMUSICGLOWWORLDUnicorn and Phoenixhad a big, reddish-purple,velvet blossom. Thetopale peach of EternalPleasuregraduated a deep scarletin the center.Most luxurious of all was the large,white Moon World.A visitor kneltbeforeit, aiminga camera,and behindhim an artistbrandished sketch-aing pencil.The peonies were neverthelesspast their prime:the crimsonpetalsofthe outwornblossomscrinkled if exposedto flame,theiryellowstamensasand pistils shriveled.The dry leaves alone retaineda sculpturesqueele-gance in their sharplydefinedveins. Some plantswere only leaves,theirflowershavingfallen.On some low plants,freshpale-greensproutssaggedunder the weight of huge white blooms, while others were bracedwithsplintsandstooda foot tall.52.MiMnoa Silence to Light"I wish mine looked like that."The loud voices of two elderlywomen,inreverberated my ears.probablyspinsters,"Onewouldneedto havethismuchspace,I suppose.""Yes, mustpullout some of mine."IKusadatappedmy shoulder.heI lookedin the direction pointed.A shabbilydressedold man strolledpastus. He worea patched,stripedmilitarytrousers,a faded red cap, and the rubber-shirt, narrow-cuffedfavored workmen gardeners.andbysoled,clothfootwearThe man was solidlybuilt,white stubbleglintedon his cheek,and hiseyes emitteda glow from their deep sockets.He paid no attentionto thearoundhim. He stoppedbeforeeachpeony, one by one, some-sightseersandeachwithhis gaze.timessquatting, devouredThe flowerat whichhe wasgazingjust thenwas a crimsonpeonycalledNew Year'sSunrise.The blossom was fully open and one step short ofrevealingthe first signs of decline. Shadowswere wrappedcomplexlytogetheras they shiftedin theamongthe petals-shadows that quarreledbreeze.wasinstaring"Whois he?"I whispered Kusada's so gravely Kusadaear,afterthe old man.He"Theowner of this peony garden.His name is Kawamata. boughtthe placeonly two yearsago,"my friendrepliedin a low, tensevoice.Thenhe lookedup at a tentthathadbeenpitchedon a low hill at one edgeof theainhegarden."Hey," saidabruptly, a cheeryvoice."There's beerstandupthere.I'veseen enoughpeonies.Let'shavea drink."IAngeredby his selfishness, told him to go aheadand startdrinking,becauseI hadnot yet seenhalfof the peonies.Once my restlessguide had left me alone and gone to have his beer, Iwasfreeto see the remainingpeoniesat my leisure.A peony named SnowyMoon Flowerguardedgolden pistils and sta-WhenImenswithinwhitecrepepetals.Eachpeonyhad its own character.hereandstandingand squattinglookedout overthe garden,the sightseersthere obstructedmy view; but, nevertheless,the peonies, castingheavyshadowsone by one on the blacksoil, were unlikeplantsin full bloom atofan ordinaryflowergarden.Eachone, encircled its own allotment soil,byseemedisolatedfrom the rest. The overallimpressionwas one of melan-choly. The wide-open blooms, far too large for the squat shrubs theyadorned,had an eerievividnessaboutthem, as if theyhadjust blossomedfromthe rain-dampenedsoil.I followeda turnin the path.The flower beds continued, circling the hill of the beer stand andtobeyond-peonies everywhere.extending the foot of the mountainsFeelingthirsty,I relentedand startedup the stone steps of the hill. Aagaudybeachparasolstood outsidethe tent.Underit, Kusada, beerbottleandglasson the tablebeforehim, raisedhis handandcalledto me.Mishima . Peonies53We emptiedtwo bottles in no time. Kusadawiped the foam from hismouthwithhis hairyforearm spoke.and"Doyou knowhow manypeoniestherearehere?""Theremustbe a greatmany."I gazeddown at the peony garden,half of whichhad been ravishedbythe eveningsun. Manyfamilygroupsremained.A cameralens catchingthe settingsunglowedon someone'schest."There fivehundredandeighty."are"You're well informed."verytoAccustomed Kusada'sextensiveknowl-edge,I respondedwithoutsurprise.Justthen, the old man we had seen beforetotteredacrossthe centerofthe peonygarden.Stoppingbeforea peony,he stoodwithhis handsfoldedbehindhim andstaredat the flower'sface."Fivehundredand eightyplants-or fivehundredand eightypersons,"Kusada suddenly.saidStartled,I lifted my face and looked at Kusada.My knowledgeablefriendcontinued."Thatold man Kawamataused to be the famousColonel Kawamata.I'm sure you know of him. He's the man who was consideredthe ring-leaderof the Rapeof Nanking."Hewentinto hidingandevadedthe war-crimestrials.Whenit wassafeto do so, he reappeared boughtthispeonygarden.and"According the war-crimestohe'sforcharges, responsible the massacreof tens of thousands. But the number the Colonel killed with his ownhands,gladlyandmeticulously, onlyfivehundred eighty.wasand"Moreover,theywereall women.The Coloneltook a personalinterestonlyin killingwomen."Afterbecomingthe ownerof this place,Kawamatastrictlylimitedthenumberof peony plantsto five hundredand eighty.It'sbecausehe culti-vatedthe flowerswithhis own handsthatthe peonygardenhas turnedoutthis well. But what do you make of such a peculiardiversion? beenI'vethinkingaboutit, andnow I believeI'vereached rightconclusion.the"He wanted to commemorate,in a secret way, his own evil. He hasprobablysucceededin fulfillingthe evildoer'smost compellingneed:toexhibithis own indelible withoutendangeringevilhimself."Translationby Anthony H. Chambers54Manoa . Silence to Light
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]