Seven (2/3)

by Natsume Sōseki

When I turned left at the alley, I saw something tall like bamboo standing in the distance, with thin smoke rising from its tip. That is the washing bath. I quietly sneaked in through the back door. Some may say that entering through the back door is cowardly or shows lingering attachment, but that is merely the nonsense born from the jealousy of those who can only visit from the front. It has always been said that wise people catch others off guard by entering through the back door. It is also written on page five of the first chapter of the second volume of the gentleman's training method. The next page states that the back door is the will of a gentleman and a gateway to gain one's own virtue. I am a cat of the twentieth century, so I have received this much education. One should not look down on it too much.

Now, as I sneaked in, to my left, pine firewood was split into pieces about eight sun and piled up like a mountain, and next to it, coal was heaped up like a hill. Some may ask why the pine firewood is like a mountain and the coal like a hill, but there is no particular meaning. It is simply a matter of distinguishing between "mountain" and "hill." It is unfortunate that humans, after eating rice, birds, side dishes, and beasts, have fallen so low as to eventually eat coal.

In front of me, an entrance about a room's width was open, and peering inside, it was silent. On the other side, I could hear voices of people incessantly. I was convinced that the so-called washing bath must be around where the voices were coming from, and as I passed through the valley formed between the pine firewood and coal and turned left, I saw a glass window ahead, and outside it, round small buckets were stacked in a triangular shape, that is, like a pyramid. I secretly sensed the feelings of the small buckets, thinking it must be quite unwelcome for round things to be stacked in a triangle.

On the south side of the small tub, there is a plank about four to five shaku long, which seems to welcome me. The height of the plank is about one meter from the ground, making it just right for jumping up. With that thought, I lightly leap up, and the so-called washing bath is dangling right in front of my nose, below my eyes, and in front of my face. When it comes to what is interesting in the world, there is no joy greater than eating something I have never tasted and seeing something I have never seen. Everyone should spend about thirty to forty minutes in this world of washing baths, like my master does three times a week, but if you have never seen a bath like me, you should go see it quickly. Even if you can't see your parents before they pass away, this is something you must definitely witness. The world is vast, but such a spectacle is probably unmatched elsewhere.

What could be such a spectacle? A sight so extraordinary that even uttering the words feels inappropriate is unfolding before my eyes. Inside the glass window, there are people bustling about, but they are all naked. They are the indigenous people of Taiwan, resembling the Adam of the twentieth century.

Looking back at the history of clothing, it becomes a long story, so I won't go into detail here, but humans are fundamentally defined by their clothing. In eighteenth-century England, at the hot springs in Bath, Beau Nash established strict rules requiring both men and women to cover their bodies from shoulder to foot with garments in the bathing area. Sixty years ago, I established a design school in a city in England. That school had a large collection of nude paintings, nude sculptures, and models displayed all around. However, when it came time for the opening ceremony, the officials and staff of the school were greatly perplexed.

At the opening ceremony, the city's ladies had to be invited, but the noblewomen of that time believed that "humans are dressed animals, not monkeys in skin." For them, a human without clothes was like an elephant without a trunk or a school without students, a being that had lost its original form. Therefore, being with a naked human was thought to compromise their dignity. Thus, they declared that they would decline to attend.

The staff thought that they were a group that could not speak, but women are a kind of ornament, regardless of East or West. They were an indispensable presence at the opening ceremony. Reluctantly, they went to a kimono shop and bought thirty-five bolts and eight shaku of black cloth to dress the naked people in kimonos. To avoid any rudeness, they covered even their faces with cloth. In this way, they were finally able to safely conclude the ceremony. Clothing is that important for humans.

Recently, there are teachers who advocate for nude art and nudity, but I would like to voice my dissent. From my perspective, having never been naked even for a day since birth, it seems fundamentally wrong. Nudity became popular due to the influence of the remnants of ancient Greece and Rome on the lascivious trends of the Renaissance, as people at that time regularly saw nudity and likely did not consider moral implications. However, Northern Europe is a cold region, and even in Japan, one cannot walk the streets naked, so being naked in Germany or England would mean death. Since dying would be boring, everyone wears kimonos.

Once one becomes a dressed animal, encountering a naked animal suddenly would not be recognized as human, but rather thought of as a beast. Therefore, especially Northern Europeans may treat nude paintings and nude statues as beasts. Beautiful? It doesn't matter if they are beautiful, but they should be regarded as beautiful beasts.

You may have seen Western women's formal attire, but as for cats, I have never seen such formal attire. From what I hear, they expose their chests, shoulders, and arms and call it formal attire. It is quite strange. Until around the fourteenth century, their attire was not ridiculous, and they wore ordinary human clothing. I won't go into the trouble of explaining how it changed to such a lowly, circus-like style, but those who know, know, and those who don't, can remain unaware.

They confidently display their bizarre appearance at night, but during the day, they hunch their shoulders, hide their chests, wrap their arms, and make everything invisible. They consider even showing a single toenail to be a disgrace. Considering this, it becomes clear that their formal attire is established by a kind of absurd effect. If they find it regrettable, they should try exposing their shoulders, chests, and arms even during the day. The same goes for the nudists. If nudity is such a good thing, they should let their daughters be nude and walk around Ueno Park naked themselves. However, they cannot do that. They probably don't do it because Westerners don't do it.

In fact, they wear this utterly unreasonable formal attire and go out to places like the Imperial Hotel. When asked about the reason, there is nothing. It's simply because Westerners wear it, so they wear it too. Westerners are strong, so they must imitate them, even if it is unreasonable or ridiculous. If they are to be wrapped around by long things, bent by strong things, and pressed by heavy things, isn't that thoughtless? If it's unavoidable to be thoughtless, then I would like some leniency. One should not think too highly of Japanese people. This applies to academics as well, but since this is unrelated to clothing, I will omit the explanation here.

Clothing is something very important for humans. The question of whether humans wear clothes or clothes shape humans is so significant that clothing is an indispensable condition for our existence. I would even go so far as to say that human history is not the history of the body, bones, or blood, but actually the history of clothing. Therefore, when I see a human without clothing, I cannot help but feel a lack of humanity. It feels as if I have encountered a monster. If all monsters cooperate to become monsters, that would not be a problem in itself, but in that case, humans would be greatly troubled.

In the past, nature created humans equally and sent them into the world. Therefore, every human is born naked. If human nature is equal, it should be natural to grow up in a naked state. However, one naked person says that if everyone is the same, there is no meaning in studying. This is because the results of effort are not visible. Somehow, I wanted to become a being that everyone recognizes as "I am me." For this reason, I thought for ten years about wanting to wear something that would catch people's attention, and finally invented the fundoshi. Wearing this, I walked around boasting, "How about this? You must be surprised." This is the ancestor of today's rickshaw pullers.

It may seem a bit unusual that it took ten years to invent the fundoshi, but considering the historical background of that time, there had been no such great invention. There is also a story that it took Descartes more than ten years to come up with the simple truth "I think, therefore I am." Creating new ideas is a challenging endeavor, no matter what it is. Spending ten years on the invention of the fundoshi is something that must be regarded as remarkable wisdom for a rickshaw puller.

Now, when the sarumata could be worn, the only ones who could assert themselves in the world were the rickshaw pullers. Seeing a rickshaw puller wearing sarumata walking arrogantly on the great road of the world, a competitive monster spent six years inventing the useless long garment called a haori. As a result, the power of the sarumata diminished, and the era of the haori flourished. Vegetable vendors, herbal medicine shops, and kimono shops are all descendants of this great inventor. Following the sarumata and haori is the hakama. This was devised by a monster who became irritable about the haori, and both the ancient samurai and today's officials have adopted this style.

Thus, the monsters competed with each other, each trying to stand out, and new forms began to emerge. Even bizarre shapes resembling the tail of a swallow appeared, but considering their origins, they were by no means forcibly or accidentally created. They were born from the courage to want to win, and are worn to show, "I am special." When thinking about this, there is a significant discovery: just as nature dislikes a vacuum, humans dislike equality. It is precisely because they already dislike equality that they wear clothes and wrap themselves in them like flesh and bones, making it a madman's idea to return to the original fair era. Even if called a madman, returning is utterly impossible. If one looks at those who have returned with enlightened eyes, they would appear as monsters. Even if people around the world became like monsters, it cannot be said that this is equality. Even if everyone is a monster and feels no shame in it, it ultimately becomes meaningless. From the day after the world became monsters, the competition among monsters begins again. Even if naked, discrimination will arise endlessly. From this perspective, clothing has become something that can never be removed.

However, the group of people I am currently looking down upon has set aside this unremovable sarumata, haori, and hakama, and is shamelessly exposing their original forms to public view while chatting and laughing nonchalantly. What I referred to earlier as a grand spectacle is this. I have the honor of introducing this generality to the people of civilization here.

It feels all mixed up, and I don't know where to start talking. There is no discipline in what the monsters do, so explaining it in an orderly manner is quite difficult. First, let’s talk about the hot water basin. It's not clear whether it's a hot water basin or something else, but it seems to be a hot water basin. It is about three shaku wide and one and a half ken long. It is divided into two parts, with one side filled with white water. This is apparently called medicinal water, and it is cloudy with a color resembling dissolved lime. It is not just cloudy; it appears heavy in some way. Upon closer inspection, it wouldn't be surprising if it looked rotten. They say the water is changed only once a week.

Next to it, there is ordinary hot water, but this too cannot be said to be transparent, and it is far from being clear. It has a color reminiscent of stirred rainwater, and its value is sufficiently reflected. Now, this is where the description of the monster begins. It’s quite a challenge.

Near the rainwater bucket, two young men are standing. They are facing each other, splashing water onto their bellies. They look quite happy. Both of them have developed black spots prominently. As I think that this monster is quite robust, one of them, while wiping his chest with a towel, asks, "Mr. Kim, this area hurts and it's not good, what could it be?" Then Mr. Kim earnestly advises, "That's your stomach. The stomach takes life, you know. You need to be careful; it's dangerous." "But this is on the left side," he points to the left lung. "That's the stomach. The left is the stomach, and the right is the lung," Mr. Kim says. "Is that so? I thought the stomach was around here," he says, tapping around his waist, to which Mr. Kim replies, "That's a hernia."

At that moment, a man in his mid-twenties with a thin beard jumped into the water with a splash. Then, the soap that was on his body floated up along with the dirt. It sparkled as if seen through iron-rich water. Next to him, an old man with a bald head was catching a five-minute haircut and talking about something. Both of them had only their heads floating.

“No, you can't get old like this. Even humans can't compete with the young once they start to age. But the hot water still needs to be hot, otherwise it makes me feel bad,” said the old man. “You're a strong one, aren't you? If you have that much energy, that's pretty good,” replied the man with the thin beard. “I don't have energy. I just don't get sick. A person can live up to one hundred and twenty as long as they don't do bad things, you know.” “Oh, can you really live that long?” “You can live, I guarantee you up to one hundred and twenty. Before the Meiji Restoration, there was a samurai named Kurubuchi in Ushigome, and the servant there was one hundred and thirty.” “That guy lived a long time, didn't he?” “Yeah, he lived so long that he forgot his own age. He remembered up to one hundred, but after that, he forgot. When I knew him, he was one hundred and thirty, but I don't know what happened after that. Maybe he's still alive,” said the old man as he got out of the tub.

The bearded man was laughing to himself while scattering something like mica around him. The one who jumped in next was different from ordinary monsters, with patterns carved into his back. It looked like Iwami Jūtarō was swinging a large sword to defeat a python, but unfortunately, he had not yet achieved that result, so the python was nowhere to be seen. Therefore, Jūtarō-sensei seemed a bit disappointed.

While diving in, he said, "It's too warm." Then another person followed in and grimaced, showing he was trying to endure the heat, saying, "Well, this is... it needs to be a bit hotter." He exchanged greetings with Juutarou-sensei, saying, "Hey, boss." Juutarou replied with "Hey," but soon asked, "What happened to Min-san?" "What happened? He likes janjan." "It's not just janjan..." "Is that so? That man is not a good person, you know. For some reason, he is not liked by others; I don't know why, but people don't trust him. A craftsman should not be like that." "That's right. Min-san is not humble; he has a high opinion of himself. That's why he is not trusted." "That's true. He thinks he has some skill, but that just means he's losing out." "An old person has passed away in Shiragin-cho, and now it's just Motokichi from the bucket shop and the boss from the brick shop. We were born here, but I don't know where Min-san came from." "That's right. But he has really come this far." "Yeah. For some reason, he is not liked. People don't socialize with him," they continued to attack Min-san relentlessly.

Looking up at the water bucket, white hot water is bubbling up abundantly. It seems as if the person is not inside the hot water, but rather the hot water is inside the person. The people soaking in the water are completely at ease, and while there are those who come in, not a single person comes out. I thought that after soaking for a week, the water would surely get dirty, and I looked around the tub. Then, in the left corner, I noticed Professor Kusama curled up, bright red. Poor thing, I thought someone should clear a path and help him, but no one around seemed to move. The owner also showed no signs of wanting to get out, just remaining still and red. This is truly a serious matter. It must be that he has turned so red from the feeling of not wanting to waste the two sen and five rin of bath money, but I began to worry that if he didn't get out soon, he might be overcome by the steam.

At that moment, the man next to me said while drawing an eight in the air, "This seems a bit too hot. The heat is creeping up from my back." He spoke as if seeking sympathy from those around him. "No, this is just the right amount. The medicinal bath won't work unless it's this hot. In my country, we bathe in water that's twice as hot as this," boasted another. "What exactly does this bath help with?" asked a man scratching his head while folding his towel. "It helps with various things. It works for anything," replied a man with a face like a skinny cucumber. If the bath is that effective, one would expect to feel a bit healthier. "The third or fourth day after adding the medicine is just right. Today is a perfect day to get in," said a well-informed man, who was likely a bit overweight. "Does it work if you drink it?" a yellow voice suddenly asked from somewhere. "If you drink a glass after cooling down and go to bed, you'll strangely not wake up to urinate, so you should give it a try," someone replied, though it was unclear who it was that spoke.

The bathers were like this, and looking around the wooden floor, there were a line of Adams who looked nothing like paintings, each washing themselves in their own way and posture. Among them, the most surprising were those lying on their backs gazing at the high skylight and those peering into the trough on their bellies. These must be quite idle Adams. When a monk was squatting facing the stone wall, a young monk was persistently tapping his shoulder from behind. This must be due to their teacher-student relationship, serving as a proxy for the three disciples. It seems there is a real disciple among them, who, perhaps having caught a cold, was wearing a padded jacket in this heat and was pouring water over the master's shoulder from an oval tub. Looking at the right foot, there was a scrubber wedged between the big toe and the next toe. Over here, a man holding three small buckets was having a long discussion with the person next to him, insisting that he use soap. When I tried to listen to what they were talking about, he was saying something like this: "Guns came from abroad. In the past, it was all about sword fights. Foreigners are cowardly, so they made things like that. It doesn't seem to be from China; it really seems to be from abroad. There wasn't any during the Watarai-Tang period. The Watarai-Tang is indeed the Seiwa Genji. They say that when Yoshitsune crossed from Ezo to Manchuria, a very learned man from Ezo went along with him. Then that Yoshitsune's son attacked the Ming, but the Ming was in trouble, so they sent an envoy to the third shogun asking for three thousand soldiers. The third shogun kept that envoy and didn't send him back. — What did he say? — It was some kind of envoy. — So they kept that envoy for two years, and in the end, they showed him a courtesan in Nagasaki, and the child that courtesan had was from Watarai-Tang. After that, when they returned to their country, the Ming had been destroyed by traitors..." I couldn't understand at all what he was saying.I completely didn't understand what he was saying.

Behind him, there was a man with a gloomy face, around twenty-five or six, who was absentmindedly soaking his groin area in white hot water. He seemed to be suffering from some kind of swelling or ailment. Next to him was a young man, around seventeen or eighteen, chattering away with a cocky attitude, referring to each other as "you" and "I." He was probably a local student. Following that, a strange back could be seen. It looked as if cold bamboo had been shoved into his backside, with the vertebrae clearly protruding. On either side of that, there were four shapes resembling sixteen musashi, lined up neatly. Those sixteen musashi were swollen red, some of them containing pus around them. As I continued to write this down in order, there was too much to describe, and I couldn't even manage to depict a part of it with my skills. Just as I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by this troublesome situation, a monk, around seventy years old, wearing a light yellow cotton kimono, suddenly appeared at the entrance. The monk respectfully bowed to these naked creatures and said, "Well, thank you all for your continued patronage every day. It's a bit chilly today, so please take your time—feel free to come in and out of the white hot water and warm yourselves slowly. —Head clerk, please keep an eye on the water temperature." The head clerk responded, "Hey!" The monk remarked, "What a charming fellow. Without him, we couldn't do business," praising the old man greatly. I was a bit surprised to suddenly encounter this unusual old man, so I decided to leave my description as it was and observe him for a while. The old man soon looked at a boy of about four who had just come in and extended his hand, saying, "Little boy, come here." The child, perhaps frightened by the old man who looked like he had stepped on a large rice cake, let out a scream and began to cry. The old man, feeling somewhat reluctant, said, "No, don't cry,What? Are you scared of the old man? No, no, he showed a surprised expression. Since there was no helping it, he quickly changed the subject and said to the child's parent, "Ah, this is Mr. Minamoto. It's a bit cold today, isn't it? The thief who broke into Omiya last night was such a foolish fellow. He cut a square hole to sneak in. It seems he left without taking anything of yours. Surely, the patrol or the night watchman must have seen him." He laughed heartily at the thief's recklessness, but then caught another person and said, "Yes, yes, it's cold, isn't it? You young folks may not feel it much." Only the old man was shivering.

For a while, I was distracted by the old man and completely forgot about the other monsters. Even the sight of my master in distress faded from my memory. At that moment, a loud voice suddenly echoed between the sink and the wooden floor. Looking over, it was unmistakably Mr. Kusami. My master's voice was louder than usual, thick and hard to listen to, and while this wasn't something that started today, I was somewhat surprised given the circumstances.

I instantly judged that he must have become agitated from being immersed in hot water for too long. If it were simply due to illness, there would be no need to blame him. However, it was clear that even in his agitation, he still had a firm conviction. This was evident as soon as I considered the reason for his outrageous shout. He had started an immature quarrel with an insignificant, cheeky student.

"Get back! My small tub is filling with water!" Of course, this was my master shouting. There is no need to simply interpret this roar as a result of his agitation. Among the masses, there might be one person who could interpret it as being like Takayama Hikokuro scolding bandits. He might have intended to act that way, but since the other party was not a bandit, it was clear that the expected outcome would not materialize.

The scholar turned around and quietly replied, "I was originally here." This was an ordinary response, merely indicating that he would not leave the spot, but it did not align with the master's intentions. The master, who was furious, must have understood that such an attitude and words were not worthy of being insulted back as a bandit. However, it seemed the master was upset because these two had been speaking in a strangely arrogant and clever manner, which was unbecoming for boys.

Therefore, even when the other party offered a gentle greeting, the master did not silently step onto the wooden floor. This time, he shouted, "What the hell, you idiot! Is there anyone who splashes dirty water into someone else's bucket?" I felt a bit of affection for this young lad, so I inwardly cheered, but I thought the master's behavior was not appropriate for an educator.

Originally, it is not good for the master to be too rigid. He is as dry and hard as the husks of coal. In the past, when Hannibal crossed the Alps, there was a large rock blocking the middle of the road, hindering the army's passage. So, Hannibal poured vinegar on the rock, set a fire to soften it, and then cut it with a saw, allowing for smooth passage. I think a man like the master, who has no function even after soaking in such a beneficial medicinal bath, should indeed be treated with vinegar and fire. Otherwise, no matter how many scholars emerge or how many decades it takes, the master's stubbornness will never change.

The things floating in this hot spring and rolling around in the washbasin are a group of monsters that shed the clothing necessary for civilized humans, so naturally, they cannot be governed by normal rules. Anything goes. Even if the stomach occupies the place of the lungs and the inner body becomes like the Heike clan, it does not matter if the people are untrustworthy. However, once they step out of the washbasin and onto the wooden floor, they are no longer monsters. They have entered the world where ordinary humans live, so they should wear the clothing necessary for civilization.

Therefore, one must behave in a human-like manner. Right now, the threshold that the master is stepping on is the boundary between the sink and the wooden floor, and he is about to return to a world of joy and smoothness. If he is this stubborn even at that moment, this stubbornness must surely be an inescapable illness for him. If it is an illness, it cannot be easily corrected. According to my foolish thoughts, the only way to cure this illness is to ask the principal to dismiss him.

If he is dismissed, knowing my inflexible master, he will surely end up lost on the streets. As a result, he will have to die in misery. In other words, dismissal will become a distant cause of death for him. The master enjoys being ill willingly but absolutely hates dying. To a certain extent, he wants to enjoy this kind of luxury called illness without dying. Therefore, if I threaten him by saying that if he continues to be ill, I will kill him, he will surely tremble in fear, being the coward that he is. I think that during that trembling, the illness will fall away cleanly. If it still does not fall away, then that is that.