kwaidan-第22章

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same　way　that　a　particular　smell　suggests　a　particular　taste。　I　find　that

this　mosquito　much　resembles　the　creature　which　Dr。　Howard　calls　Stegomyia

fasciata；　or　Culex　fasciatus：　and　that　its　habits　are　the　same　as　those　of

the　Stegomyia。　For　example；　it　is　diurnal　rather　than　nocturnal　and　becomes

most　troublesome　in　the　afternoon。　And　I　have　discovered　that　it　comes　from

the　Buddhist　cemetery；　a　very　old　cemetery；　in　the　rear　of　my　garden。







Dr。　Howard's　book　declares　that；　in　order　to　rid　a　neighborhood　of

mosquitoes；　it　is　only　necessary　to　pour　a　little　petroleum；　or　kerosene

oil；　into　the　stagnant　water　where　they　breed。　Once　a　week　the　oil　should

be　used；　〃at　the　rate　of　once　ounce　for　every　fifteen　square　feet　of

water…surface；　and　a　proportionate　quantity　for　any　less　surface。〃　。。。But

please　to　consider　the　conditions　in　my　neighborhood！





I　have　said　that　my　tormentors　come　from　the　Buddhist　cemetery。　Before

nearly　every　tomb　in　that　old　cemetery　there　is　a　water…receptacle；　or

cistern；　called　mizutame。　In　the　majority　of　cases　this　mizutame　is　simply

an　oblong　cavity　chiseled　in　the　broad　pedestal　supporting　the　monument；

but　before　tombs　of　a　costly　kind；　having　no　pedestal…tank；　a　larger

separate　tank　is　placed；　cut　out　of　a　single　block　of　stone；　and　decorated

with　a　family　crest；　or　with　symbolic　carvings。　In　front　of　a　tomb　of　the

humblest　class；　having　no　mizutame；　water　is　placed　in　cups　or　other

vessels；　for　the　dead　must　have　water。　Flowers　also　must　be　offered　to

them；　and　before　every　tomb　you　will　find　a　pair　of　bamboo　cups；　or　other

flower…vessels；　and　these；　of　course；　contain　water。　There　is　a　well　in　the

cemetery　to　supply　water　for　the　graves。　Whenever　the　tombs　are　visited　by

relatives　and　friends　of　the　dead；　fresh　water　is　poured　into　the　tanks　and

cups。　But　as　an　old　cemetery　of　this　kind　contains　thousands　of　mizutame；

and　tens　of　thousands　of　flower…vessels　the　water　in　all　of　these　cannot　be

renewed　every　day。　It　becomes　stagnant　and　populous。　The　deeper　tanks

seldom　get　dry；　the　rainfall　at　Tokyo　being　heavy　enough　to　keep　them

partly　filled　during　nine　months　out　of　the　twelve。





Well；　it　is　in　these　tanks　and　flower…vessels　that　mine　enemies　are　born：

they　rise　by　millions　from　the　water　of　the　dead；　and；　according　to

Buddhist　doctrine；　some　of　them　may　be　reincarnations　of　those　very　dead；

condemned　by　the　error　of　former　lives　to　the　condition　of　Jiki…ketsu…gaki；

or　blood…drinking　pretas。。。　Anyhow　the　malevolence　of　the　Culex　fasciatus

would　justify　the　suspicion　that　some　wicked　human　soul　had　been　compressed

into　that　wailing　speck　of　a　body。。。







Now；　to　return　to　the　subject　of　kerosene…oil；　you　can　exterminate　the

mosquitoes　of　any　locality　by　covering　with　a　film　of　kerosene　all　stagnant

water　surfaces　therein。　The　larvae　die　on　rising　to　breathe；　and　the　adult

females　perish　when　they　approach　the　water　to　launch　their　rafts　of　eggs。

And　I　read；　in　Dr。　Howard's　book；　that　the　actual　cost　of　freeing　from

mosquitoes　one　American　town　of　fifty　thousand　inhabitants；　does　not　exceed

three　hundred　dollars！。。。







I　wonder　what　would　be　said　if　the　city…government　of　Tokyo　　which　is

aggressively　scientific　and　progressive　　were　suddenly　to　command　that

all　water…surfaces　in　the　Buddhist　cemeteries　should　be　covered；　at　regular

intervals；　with　a　film　of　kerosene　oil！　How　could　the　religion　which

prohibits　the　taking　of　any　life　　even　of　invisible　life　　yield　to　such

a　mandate？　Would　filial　piety　even　dream　of　consenting　to　obey　such　an

order？　And　then　to　think　of　the　cost；　in　labor　and　time；　of　putting

kerosene　oil；　every　seven　days；　into　the　millions　of　mizutame；　and　the　tens

of　millions　of　bamboo　flower…cups；　in　the　Tokyo　graveyards！。。。　Impossible！

To　free　the　city　from　mosquitoes　it　would　be　necessary　to　demolish　the

ancient　graveyards；　and　that　would　signify　the　ruin　of　the　Buddhist

temples　attached　to　them；　and　that　would　mean　the　disparition　of　so　many

charming　gardens；　with　their　lotus…ponds　and　Sanscrit…lettered　monuments

and　humpy　bridges　and　holy　groves　and　weirdly…smiling　Buddhas！　So　the

extermination　of　the　Culex　fasciatus　would　involve　the　destruction　of　the

poetry　of　the　ancestral　cult；　surely　too　great　a　price　to　pay！。。。







Besides；　I　should　like；　when　my　time　comes；　to　be　laid　away　in　some

Buddhist　graveyard　of　the　ancient　kind；　so　that　my　ghostly　company　should

be　ancient；　caring　nothing　for　the　fashions　and　the　changes　and　the

disintegrations　of　Meiji　（1）。　That　old　cemetery　behind　my　garden　would　be　a

suitable　place。　Everything　there　is　beautiful　with　a　beauty　of　exceeding

and　startling　queerness；　each　tree　and　stone　has　been　shaped　by　some　old；

old　ideal　which　no　longer　exists　in　any　living　brain；　even　the　shadows　are

not　of　this　time　and　sun；　but　of　a　world　forgotten；　that　never　knew　steam

or　electricity　or　magnetism　or　　kerosene　oil！　Also　in　the　boom　of　the　big

bell　there　is　a　quaintness　of　tone　which　wakens　feelings；　so　strangely

far…away　from　all　the　nineteenth…century　part　of　me；　that　the　faint　blind

stirrings　of　them　make　me　afraid；　deliciously　afraid。　Never　do　I　hear

that　billowing　peal　but　I　become　aware　of　a　striving　and　a　fluttering　in

the　abyssal　part　of　my　ghost；　a　sensation　as　of　memories　struggling　to

reach　the　light　beyond　the　obscurations　of　a　million　million　deaths　and

births。　I　hope　to　remain　within　hearing　of　that　bell。。。　And；　considering

the　possibility　of　being　doomed　to　the　state　of　a　Jiki…ketsu…gaki；　I　want

to　have　my　chance　of　being　reborn　in　some　bamboo　flower…cup；　or　mizutame；

whence　I　might　issue　softly；　singing　my　thin　and　pungent　song；　to　bite　some

people　that　I　know。









ANTS



I





This　morning　sky；　after　the　night's　tempest；　is　a　pure　and　dazzling　blue。

The　air　　the　delicious　air！　　is　full　of　sweet　resinous　odors；　shed　from

the　countless　pine…boughs　broken　and　strewn　by　the　gale。　In　the　neighboring

bamboo…grove　I　hear　the　flute…call　of　the　bird　that　praises　the　Sutra　of

the　Lotos；　and　the　land　is　very　still　by　reason　of　the　south　wind。　Now　the

summer；　long　delayed；　is　truly　with　us：　butterflies　of　queer　Japanese

colors　are　flickering　about；　semi　（1）　are　wheezing；　wasps　are　humming；

gnats　are　dancing　in　the　sun；　and　the　ants　are　busy　repairing　their　damaged

habitations。。。　I　bethink　me　of　a　Japanese　poem：



　　　　　Yuku　e　naki：

Ari　no　sumai　ya！

　　　　　Go…getsu　ame。







＇Now　the　poor　creature　has　nowhere　to　go！。。。　Alas　for　the　dwellings　of　the

ants　in　this　rain　of　the　fifth　month！＇







But　those　big　black　ants　in　my　garden　do　not　seem　to　need　any　sympathy。

They　have　weathered　the　storm　in　some　unimaginable　way；　while　great　trees

were　being　uprooted；　and　houses　blown　to　fragments；　and　roads　washed　out　of

existence。　Yet；　before　the　typhoon；　they　took　no　other　visible　precaution

than　to　block　up　the　gates　of　their　subterranean　town。　And　the　spectacle　of

their　triumphant　toil　to…day　impels　me　to　attempt　an　essay　on　Ants。





I　should　have　like　to　preface　my　disquisitions　with　something　from　the　old

Japanese　literature；　something　emotional　or　metaphysical。　But　all　that　my

Japanese　friends　were　able　to　find　for　me　on　the　subject；　excepting　some

verses　of　little　worth；　was　Chinese。　This　Chinese　material　consisted

chiefly　of　strange　stories；　and　one　of　them　seems　to　me　worth　quoting；

faute　de　mieux。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*







In　the　province　of　Taishu；　in　China；　there　was　a　pious　man　who；　every　day；

during　many　years；　fervently　worshiped　a　certain　goddess。　One　morning；

while　he　was　engaged　in　his　devotions；　a　beautiful　woman；　wearing　a　yellow

robe；　came　into　his　chamber　and　stood　before　him。　He；　greatly　surprised；

asked　her　what　she　wanted；　and　why　she　had　entered　unannounced。　She

answered：　〃I　am　not　a　woman：　I　am　the　goddess　whom　you　have　so　long　and　so

faithfully　worshiped；　and　I　have　now　come　to　prove　to　you　that　your

devo