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Botchan

<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> When I went to the school, in the morning of the day the farewell dinner party was to be held, Porcupine suddenly spoke to me; “The other day I asked you to quit the Ikagins because Ikagin begged of me to have you leave there as you were too tough, and I believed him. But I heard afterward that Ikagin is a crook and often passes imitation of famous drawings for originals. I think what he told me about you must be a lie. He tried to sell pictures and curios to you, but as you shook him off, he told some false stories on you. I did very wrong by you because I did not know his character, and wish you would forgive me.” And he offered me a lengthy apology. Without saying a word, I took up the one sen and a half which was lying on the desk of Porcupine, and put it into my purse. He asked me in a wondering tone, if I meant to take it back. I explained, “Yes. I didn’t like to have you treat me and expected to pay this back at all hazard, but as I think about it, I would rather have you treated me after all; so I’m going to take it back.” Porcupine laughed heartily and asked me why I had not taken it back sooner. I told him that I wanted to more than once, in fact, but somehow felt shy and left it there. I was sick of that one sen and a half these days that I shunned the sight of it when I came to the school, I said. He said “You’re a deucedly unyielding sport,” and I answered “You’re obstinate.” Then ensued the following give-and-take between us two; “Where were you born anyway?” “I’m a Yedo kid.” “Ah, a Yedo kid, eh? No wonder I thought you a pretty stiff neck.” “And you?” “I’m from Aizu.” “Ha, Aizu guy, eh? You’ve got reason to be obstinate. Going to the farewell dinner to-day?” “Sure. You?” “Of course I am. I intend to go down to the beach to see Koga-san off when he leaves.” “The farewell dinner should be a big blow-out. You come and see. I’m going to get soused to the neck.” “You get loaded all you want. I quit the place right after I finish my plates. Only fools fight booze.” “You’re a fellow who picks up a fight too easy. It shows up the characteristic of the Yedo kid well.” “I don’t care. Say, before you go to the farewell dinner, come to see me. I want to tell you something.” Porcupine came to my room as promised. I had been in full sympathy with Hubbard Squash these days, and when it came to his farewell dinner, my pity for him welled up so much that I wished I could go to Nobeoka for him myself. I thought of making a parting address of burning eloquence at the dinner to grace the occasion, but my speech which rattles off like that of the excited spieler of New York would not become the place. I planned to take the breath out of Red Shirt by employing Porcupine who has a thunderous voice. Hence my invitation to him before we started for the party. I commenced by explaining the Madonna affair, but Porcupine, needless to say, knew more about it than I. Telling about my meeting Red Shirt on the Nozeri river, I called him a fool. Porcupine then said; “You call everybody a fool. You called me a fool to-day at the school. If I’m a fool, Red Shirt isn’t,” and insisted that he was not in the same group with Red Shirt. “Then Red Shirt may be a four-flusher,” I said and he approved this new alias with enthusiasm. Porcupine is physically strong, but when it comes to such terms, he knows less than I do. I guess all Aizu guys are about the same. Then, when I disclosed to him about the raise of my salary and the advance hint on my promotion by Red Shirt, Porcupine pished, and said, “Then he means to discharge me.” “Means to discharge you? But you mean to get discharged?” I asked. “Bet you, no. If I get fired, Red Shirt will have to go with me,” he remarked with a lordly air. I insisted on knowing how he was going to get Red Shirt kicked out with him, and he answered that he had not thought so far yet. Yes, Porcupine looks strong, but seems to be possessed of no abundance of brain power. I told him about my refusal of the raise of my salary, and the Gov’nur was much pleased, praising me with the remark, “That’s the stuff for Yedo kids.” “If Hubbard Squash does not like to go down to Nobeoka, why didn’t you do something to enable him remain here,” I asked, and Porcupine said that when he heard the story from Hubbard Squash, everything had been settled already, but he had asked the principal twice and Red Shirt once to have the transfer order cancelled, but to no purpose. Porcupine bitterly condemned Hubbard Squash for being too good-natured. If Hubbard Squash, he said, had either flatly refused or delayed the answer on the pretext of considering it, when Red Shirt raised the question of transfer, it would have been better for him. But he was fooled by the oily tongue of Red Shirt, had accepted the transfer outright, and all efforts by Porcupine who was moved by the tearful appeal of the mother, proved unavailing. I said; “The transfer of Koga is nothing but a trick of Red Shirt to cop the Madonna by sending Hubbard Squash away.” “Yes,” said Porcupine. “That must be. Red Shirt looks gentle, but plays nasty tricks. He is a sonovagun for when some one finds fault with him, he has excuses prepared already. Nothing but a sound thumping will be effective for fellows like him.” He rolled up his sleeves over his plump arms as he spoke. I asked him, by the way, if he knew jiujitsu, because his arms looked powerful. Then he put force in his forearm, and told me to touch it. I felt its swelled muscle which was hard as the pumic stone in the public bathhouse. I was deeply impressed by his massive strength, and asked him if he could not knock five or six of Red Shirt in a bunch. “Of course,” he said, and as he extended and bent back the arm, the lumpy muscle rolled round and round, which was very amusing. According to the statement of Porcupine himself, this muscle, if he bends the arm back with force, would snap a paper-string wound around it twice. I said I might do the same thing if it were a paper-string, and he challenged me. “No, you can’t,” he said. “See if you can.” As it would not look well if I failed, I did not try. “Say, after you have drunk all you want to-night at the dinner, take a fall out of Red Shirt and Clown, eh?” I suggested to him for fun. Porcupine thought for a moment and said, “Not to-night, I guess.” I wanted to know why, and he pointed out that it would be bad for Koga. “Besides, if I’m going to give it to them at all, I’ve to get them red handed in their dirty scheme, or all the blame will be on me,” he added discretely. Even Porcupine seems to have wiser judgment than I. “Then make a speech and praise Mr. Koga sky-high. My speech becomes sort of jumpy, wanting dignity. And at any formal gathering, I get lumpy in my throat, and can’t speak. So I leave it to you,” I said. “That’s a strange disease. Then you can’t speak in the presence of other people? It would be awkward, I suppose,” he said, and I told him not quite as much awkward as he might think. About then, the time for the farewell dinner party arrived, and I went to the hall with Porcupine. The dinner party was to be held at Kashin-tei which is said to be the leading restaurant in the town, but I had never been in the house before. This restaurant, I understood, was formerly the private residence of the chief retainer of the daimyo of the province, and its condition seemed to confirm the story. The residence of a chief retainer transformed into a restaurant was like making a saucepan out of warrior’s armor. When we two came there, about all of the guests were present. They formed two or three groups in the spacious room of fifty mats. The alcove in this room, in harmony with its magnificence, was very large. The alcove in the fifteen-mat room which I occupied at Yamashiro-ya made a small showing beside it. I measured it and found it was twelve feet wide. On the right, in the alcove, there was a seto-ware flower vase, painted with red designs, in which was a large branch of pine tree. Why the pine twigs, I did not know, except that they are in no danger of withering for many a month to come, and are economical. I asked the teacher of natural history where that seto-ware flower vase is made. He told me it was not a seto-ware but an imari. Isn’t imari seto-ware? I wondered audibly, and the natural history man laughed. I heard afterward that we call it a seto-ware because it is made in Seto. I’m a Yedo kid, and thought all china was seto-wares. In the center of the alcove was hung a panel on which were written twenty eight letters, each letter as large as my face. It was poorly written; so poorly indeed that I enquired of the teacher of Confucius why such a poor work be hung in apparent show of pride. He explained that it was written by Kaioku a famous artist in the writing, but Kaioku or anyone else, I still declare the work poorly done. By and by, Kawamura, the clerk, requested all to be seated. I chose one in front of a pillar so I could lean against it. Badger sat in front of the panel of Kaioku in Japanese full dress. On his left sat Red Shirt similarly dressed, and on his right Hubbard Squash, as the guest of honor, in the same kind of dress. I was dressed in a European suit, and being unable to sit down, squatted on my legs at once. The teacher of physical culture next to me, though in the same kind of rags as mine, sat squarely in Japanese fashion. As a teacher of his line he appeared to have well trained himself. Then the dinner trays were served and the bottles placed beside them. The manager of the day stood up and made a brief opening address. He was followed by Badger and Red Shirt. These two made farewell addresses, and dwelt at length on Hubbard Squash being an ideal teacher and gentleman, expressing their regret, saying his departure was a great loss not only to the school but to them in person. They concluded that it could not be helped, however, since the transfer was due to his own earnest desire and for his own convenience. They appeared to be ashamed not in the least by telling such a lie at a farewell dinner. Particularly, Red Shirt, of these three, praised Hubbard Squash in lavish terms. He went so far as to declare that to lose this true friend was a great personal loss to him. Moreover, his tone was so impressive in its same old gentle tone that one who listens to him for the first time would be sure to be misled. Probably he won the Madonna by this same trick. While Red Shirt was uttering his farewell buncomb, Porcupine who sat on the other side across me, winked at me. As an answer of this, I “snooked” at him. No sooner had Red Shirt sat down than Porcupine stood up, and highly rejoiced, I clapped hands. At this Badger and others glanced at me, and I felt that I blushed a little. “Our principal and other gentlemen,” he said, “particularly the head teacher, expressed their sincere regret at Mr. Koga’s transfer. I am of a different opinion, and hope to see him leave the town at the earliest possible moment. Nobeoka is an out-of-the-way, backwoods town, and compared with this town, it may have more material inconveniences, but according to what I have heard, Nobeoka is said to be a town where the customs are simple and untainted, and the teachers and students still strong in the straightforward characteristics of old days. I am convinced that in Nobeoka there is not a single high-collared guy who passes round threadbare remarks, or who with smooth face, entraps innocent people. I am sure that a man like Mr. Koga, gentle and honest, will surely be received with an enthusiastic welcome there. I heartily welcome this transfer for the sake of Mr. Koga. In concluding, I hope that when he is settled down at Nobeoka, he will find a lady qualified to become his wife, and form a sweet home at an early date and incidentally let the inconstant, unchaste sassy old wench die ashamed …… a’hum, a’hum!” He coughed twice significantly and sat down. I thought of clapping my hands again, but as it would draw attention, I refrained. When Porcupine finished his speech, Hubbard Squash arose politely, slipped out of his seat, went to the furthest end of the room, and having bowed to all in a most respectful manner, acknowledged the compliments in the following way; “On the occasion of my going to Kyushu for my personal convenience, I am deeply impressed and appreciate the way my friends have honored me with this magnificent dinner……. The farewell addresses by our principal and other gentlemen will be long held in my fondest recollection……. I am going far away now, but I hope my name be included in the future as in the past in the list of friends of the gentlemen here to-night.” Then again bowing, he returned to his seat. There was no telling how far the “good-naturedness” of Hubbard Squash might go. He had respectfully thanked the principal and the head teacher who had been fooling him. And it was not a formal, cut-and-dried reply he made, either; by his manner, tone and face, he appeared to have been really grateful from his heart. Badger and Red Shirt should have blushed when they were addressed so seriously by so good a man as Hubbard Squash, but they only listened with long faces. After the exchange of addresses, a sizzling sound was heard here and there, and I too tried the soup which tasted like anything but soup. There was kamaboko in the kuchitori dish, but instead of being snow white as it should be, it looked grayish, and was more like a poorly cooked chikuwa. The sliced tunny was there, but not having been sliced fine, passed the throat like so many pieces of chopped raw tunny. Those around me, however, ate with ravenous appetite. They have not tasted, I guess, the real Yedo dinner. Meanwhile the bottles began passing round, and all became more or less “jacked up.” Clown proceeded to the front of the principal and submissively drank to his health. A beastly fellow, this! Hubbard Squash made a round of all the guests, drinking to their health. A very onerous job, indeed. When he came to me and proposed my health, I abandoned the squatting posture and sat up straight. “Too bad to see you go away so soon. When are you going? I want to see you off at the beach,” I said. “Thank you, Sir. But never mind that. You’re busy,” he declined. He might decline, but I was determined to get excused for the day and give him a rousing send-off. Within about an hour from this, the room became pretty lively. “Hey, have another, hic; ain’t goin’, hic, have one on me?” One or two already in a pickled state appeared on the scene. I was little tired, and going out to the porch, was looking at the old fashioned garden by the dim star light, when Porcupine came. “How did you like my speech? Wasn’t it grand, though!” he remarked in a highly elated tone. I protested that while I approved 99 per cent. of his speech, there was one per cent. that I did not. “What’s that one per cent?” he asked. “Well, you said,…… there is not a single high-collared guy who with smooth face entraps innocent people…….” “Yes.” “A ‘high-collared guy’ isn’t enough.” “Then what should I say?” “Better say,—‘a high-collared guy; swindler, bastard, super-swanker, doubleface, bluffer, totempole, spotter, who looks like a dog as he yelps.’” “I can’t get my tongue to move so fast. You’re eloquent. In the first place, you know a great many simple words. Strange that you can’t make a speech.” “I reserve these words for use when I chew the rag. If it comes to speech-making, they don’t come out so smoothly.” “Is that so? But they simply come a-running. Repeat that again for me.” “As many times as you like. Listen,—a high-collared guy, swindler, bastard, super-swanker …” While I was repeating this, two shaky fellows came out of the room hammering the floor. “Hey, you two gents, if won’t do to run away. Won’t let you off while I’m here. Come and have a drink. Bastard? That’s fine. Bastardly fine. Now, come on.” And they pulled Porcupine and me away. These two fellows really had come to the lavatory, but soaked as they were, in booze bubbles, they apparently forgot to proceed to their original destination, and were pulling us hard. All booze fighters seem to be attracted by whatever comes directly under their eyes for the moment and forget what they had been proposing to do. “Say, fellows, we’ve got bastards. Make them drink. Get them loaded. You gents got to stay here.” And they pushed me who never attempted to escape against the wall. Surveying the scene, I found there was no dish in which any edibles were left. Some one had eaten all his share, and gone on a foraging expedition. The principal was not there,—I did not know when he left. At that time, preceded by a coquetish voice, three or four geishas entered the room. I was a bit surprised, but having been pushed against the wall, I had to look on quietly. At the instant, Red Shirt who had been leaning against a pillar with the same old amber pipe stuck into his mouth with some pride, suddenly got up and started to leave the room. One of the geishas who was advancing toward him smiled and courtesied at him as she passed by him. The geisha was the youngest and prettiest of the bunch. They were some distance away from me and I could not see very well, but it seemed that she might have said “Good evening.” Red Shirt brushed past as if unconscious, and never showed again. Probably he followed the principal. The sight of the geishas set the room immediately in a buzz and it became noisy as they all raised howls of welcome. Some started the game of “nanko” with a force that beat the sword-drawing practice. Others began playing morra, and the way they shook their hands, intently absorbed in the game, was a better spectacle than a puppet show. One in the corner was calling “Hey, serve me here,” but shaking the bottle, corrected it to “Hey, fetch me more sake.” The whole room became so infernally noisy that I could scarcely stand it. Amid this orgy, one, like a fish out of water, sat down with his head bowed. It was Hubbard Squash. The reason they have held this farewell dinner party was not in order to bid him a farewell, but because they wanted to have a jolly good time for themselves with John Barleycorn. He had come to suffer only. Such a dinner party would have been better had it not been started at all. After a while, they began singing ditties in outlandish voices. One of the geishas came in front of me, and taking up a samisen, asked me to sing something. I told her I didn’t sing, but I’d like to hear, and she droned out: “If one can go round and meet the one he wants, banging gongs and drums …… bang, bang, bang, bang, bing, shouting after wandering Santaro, there is some one I’d like to meet by banging round gongs and drums …… bang, bang, bang, bang, b-i-n-g.” She dashed this off in two breaths, and sighed, “O, dear!” She should have sung something easier. Clown who had come near us meanwhile, remarked in his flippant tone: “Hello, dear Miss Su-chan, too bad to see your beau go away so soon.” The geisha pouted, “I don’t know.” Clown, regardless, began imitating “gidayu” with a dismal voice,—“What a luck, when she met her sweet heart by a rare chance….” The geisha slapped the lap of Clown with a “Cut that out,” and Clown gleefully laughed. This geisha is the one who made goo-goo eyes[J] at Red Shirt. What a simpleton, to be pleased by the slap of a geisha, this Clown. He said: “Say, Su-chan, strike up the string. I’m going to dance the Kiino-kuni.” He seemed yet to dance. On other side of the room, the old man of Confucius, twisting round his toothless mouth, had finished as far as “…… dear Dembei-san” and is asking a geisha who sat in front of him to couch him for the rest. Old people seem to need polishing up their memorizing system. One geisha is talking to the teacher of natural history: “Here’s the latest. I’ll sing it. Just listen. ‘Margaret, the high-collared head with a white ribbon; she rides on a bike, plays a violin, and talks in broken English,—I am glad to see you.’” Natural history appears impressed, and says; “That’s an interesting piece. English in it too.” Porcupine called “geisha, geisha,” in a loud voice, and commanded; “Bang your samisen; I’m going to dance a sword-dance.” His manner was so rough that the geishas were startled and did not answer. Porcupine, unconcerned, brought out a cane, and began performing the sword-dance in the center of the room. Then Clown, having danced the Kii-no-kuni, the Kap-pore[K] and the Durhma-san on the Shelf, almost stark-naked, with a palm-fibre broom, began turkey-trotting about the room, shouting “The Sino-Japanese negotiations came to a break…….” The whole was a crazy sight. I had been feeling sorry for Hubbard Squash, who up to this time had sat up straight in his full dress. Even were this a farewell dinner held in his honor, I thought he was under no obligation to look patiently in a formal dress at the naked dance. So I went to him and persuaded him with “Say, Koga-san, let’s go home.” Hubbard Squash said the dinner was in his honor, and it would be improper for him to leave the room before the guests. He seemed to be determined to remain. “What do you care!” I said, “If this is a farewell dinner, make it like one. Look at those fellows; they’re just like the inmates of a lunatic asylum. Let’s go.” And having forced hesitating Hubbard Squash to his feet, we were just leaving the room, when Clown, marching past, brandishing the broom, saw us. “This won’t do for the guest of honor to leave before us,” he hollered, “this is the Sino-Japanese negotiations. Can’t let you off.” He enforced his declaration by holding the broom across our way. My temper had been pretty well aroused for some time, and I felt impatient. “The Sino-Japanese negotiation, eh? Then you’re a Chink,” and I whacked his head with a knotty fist. This sudden blow left Clown staring blankly speechless for a second or two; then he stammered out: “This is going some! Mighty pity to knock my head. What a blow on this Yoshikawa! This makes the Sino-Japanese negotiations the sure stuff.” While Clown was mumbling these incoherent remarks, Porcupine, believing some kind of row had been started, ceased his sword-dance and came running toward us. On seeing us, he grabbed the neck of Clown and pulled him back. “The Sino-Japane……ouch!……ouch! This is outrageous,” and Clown writhed under the grip of Porcupine who twisted him sideways and threw him down on the floor with a bang. I do not know the rest. I parted from Hubbard Squash on the way, and it was past eleven when I returned home. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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