CHAPTER 39

My parents discussed together the idea of inviting guests over for a special celebratory meal in my honor. I had had a gloomy premonition that this might happen ever since I arrived.

I was quick to reject the idea, begging them not to go making an unnecessary fuss.

I disliked the kind of guests you got in the provinces. They came over with the sole intention of eating and drinking, happy for any excuse to get together. Since childhood I had suffered at having to be present at the table with these people—I could well imagine how much more painful it would be if I was the cause of the gathering. But I couldn’t very well tell my parents not to invite such vulgar people over for a noisy get-together, so I contented myself with stressing that I didn’t want all this fuss about nothing.

“But it’s far from nothing,” my mother responded. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event. It’s only natural that we should have a party to celebrate. Don’t be so modest.” She seemed to be taking my graduation as seriously as she would a marriage.

“We don’t have to invite them,” my father put in, “but if we don’t, there’ll be talk.” He was concerned about what would be said behind his back. And true enough, these people were inclined to gossip and criticize at the slightest provocation if things weren’t done as they believed they should be in such situations.

“It’s not like Tokyo, you know,” he went on. “Here in the country people make demands.”

“Your father’s reputation is at stake too,” my mother added.

I couldn’t press my own position. I decided simply to go along with whatever suited them.

“I was just asking you not to do it for my sake. If you feel there’d be unpleasant talk behind your back, that’s a different matter. There’s no point in insisting on having my way if it’s going to cause problems for you.”

“You’re making things difficult with that argument,” my father said unhappily.

“Your father wasn’t saying he’s doing it for your sake,” my mother broke in. “But surely you must be aware yourself of your social obligations.” Woman that she was, my mother’s reasoning grew rather incoherent at such times, though when it came to talking, she could easily outdo my father and me combined.

All my father said was “It’s a shame that an education just gives people the means to chop logic.” But in this simple comment I read all my father’s dissatisfaction with me. Unaware of my own stiff and chilly tone, I thought only of how unfairly he was seeing me.

His mood improved that evening, and he asked me when it would suit me to invite the guests. No time was more suitable than any other for me, since I was just hanging around the old house doing nothing but sleeping and waking, so I took this as an indication that my father was being conciliatory. Seeing him so mild and gentle, I could only bow my head in acquiescence. We discussed the question and came up with a date for the invitations.

But before the day arrived, something important occurred: it was announced that Emperor Meiji was ill. The word spread quickly around Japan via the newspapers.

The plans for the celebratory party had already upset our provincial household. Now, just when the matter seemed settled, this news came to scatter those plans like so much dust upon the wind.

“Under the circumstances I think we’d better call it off.” So said my father as he sat, bespectacled, reading the newspaper. He seemed to be silently thinking also of his own illness.

For my part, I recalled the sight of the emperor when he had so recently come to the university, as was the custom, for our graduation ceremony.