Vita Sexualis

by Ogai Mori

  V I T A S E X U A L I S

  Ogai Mori (1862-1922) stands in the foremost rank of modern Japanese novelists. He was already a major literary figure by the time Vita Sexualis was published. His professional success as an army surgeon was outstripped by his even more brilliant ascent in the literary world of the Meiji and Taisho eras. His work is characterized by a strong humanistic element, a romantic quality effectively tempered by realism, and a lucid style that often rises to lyric intensity, as in another of his acclaimed novel, The Wild Geese.

  V I T A S E X U A L I S

  a novel

  by Ogai Mori

  translated from the Japanese

  by Kazuji Ninomiya

  & Sanford Goldstein

  TUTTLE PUBLISHING

  Tokyo • Rutland, Vermont • Singapore

  Published by Tuttle Publishing,an imprint of Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd.,

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  Copyright © 1972 Charles E. Tuttle Co.

  All rights reserved

  First edition, 2001

  LCC Card No. 72079020

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4629-0221-7

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  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  page 7

  Acknowledgments

  21

  Vita Sexualis

  23

  When I was six

  33

  When I was seven

  36

  When I was ten

  38

  Autumn of that year

  45

  When I was eleven

  47

  When I was thirteen

  61

  When I was fourteen

  73

  When I was fifteen

  85

  Fall of the same year

  98

  When I was sixteen

  102

  When I was seventeen 103

  When I was eighteen 108

  When I was nineteen 115

  When I was twenty

  120

  Beginning of winter that same year

  127

  When I was twenty-one

  144

  . . . 147

  Introduction

  On July 1, 1909, in the forty-second year of the Meiji era (1868-1912), Vita Sexualis appeared in Ogai Mori's literary magazine Subaru (The Pleiades). The censorship authorities waited until July 28 before banning the sale and distribution of the issue. It was to be the only work among Ogai's many publications that was so prohibited. Haruo Sato (1892-1964), the famous writer and critic, commented on this important event in the history of Japanese literature: "Because the author treated the problem of sexual desire, the authorities considered this a novel of sexual desire; they could not understand that Ogai's story was primarily philosophic. The reason the authorities thought this grave work might have an injurious effect upon public morals was probably due to the fact that further distribution might help other novels along this line become more popular and fashionable."

  The first question that occurs to the Western reader of Vita Sexualis is why Ogai (1862-1922) ventured to write a novel of this type. By 1909, the date of its publication, Ogai's reputation was secure, thanks to his earlier brilliant record. At fourteen he had entered the preparatory course of Tokyo Medical College, graduating at the age of nineteen, and later, in 1884, he was sent by the army to Europe to study military hygiene. He had translated and published an anthology of French and German and English poems, had established his position as an important writer, had gained an advanced degree in medicine, and was director of the Military Medical College and chief of the medical staff to the Imperial Guard Division— all by 1899. Ogai himself founded Subaru in 1909, and he was to consistently contribute to it, yet by 1909 he had already published twelve major works —eight stories and four plays. Ogai had dared bring Vita Sexualis to the literary world of Meiji even at the risk of his own high position as surgeon general. It was on August 6, 1909, that he was officially reprimanded by the vice-minister of war.

  In a letter dated August 1, Ogai calmly wrote to his friend Tsurudo Kako (who appears as Koga in Vita): "The banning of Vita Sexualis was done through the banning of issue number 7 of Subaru. I have been rather prepared for this. Ten years ago nude pictures were also treated in the same way, whether they deserved it or not. Ten years from now the authorities will wake up. I have already talked to the Minister of War, Terauchi, about the banning. Please do not fail to read the reviews which have appeared."

  When one considers the strict codes of morality in Meiji Japan, Ogai's Vita Sexualis demands even more attention. It is obvious, however, that in banning Vita, the authorities were aware of Ogai's high position, for the censorship was not specifically leveled against Vita but against the entire issue of Subaru. In the September 1909 issue of the magazine Taiyo, a critic notes that when the authorities censure a work, they usually point to specific places in the offending manuscript, but in Ogai's case they did not follow this procedure, mentioning only its harmful effect on public morals. That it took the authorities almost a month to decide to ban the magazine was quite strange. Strange indeed, for all critics and Ogai himself were certainly aware of censorship and the tradition of pornography in Japanese letters.

  Before the Edo period (1603-1867), pornographic books were written exclusively by hand and passed around, only a few unusual examples of pornography appearing. During Edo, with the increase in literacy and sophistication and with the improvement in wood printing and the establishment of publishing houses, pornographic books were widely circulated, especially after the middle of the period. Earlier it was Saikaku Ihara (1642-1693) who vividly described the sexual aspects of his heroes and heroines in Koshoku Ichidai Otoko (A Man Who Loved Love, 1682), Koshoku Ichidai Onna (A Woman Who Loved Love, 1686), and Koshoku Gonin Onna (Five Women Who Loved Love, 1686). In those days the Yoshiwara in Edo (old Tokyo), Shimabara in Kyoto, and Shinmachi in Osaka were colorfully developing as the licensed quarters in Japan. Love affairs and the sexual life of ordinary citizens were described in paperback books called sharebon, kusazoshi, and ninjobon. The sharebon were especially valued by citizens as guidebooks on love, some, however, deteriorating into mere erotica. As a result of the popularization of such guidebooks and erotica, two great suppressions followed, the first in the form of the Press Law on May 24, 1790. Three works of the famous novelist Kyoden Santo (1761-1816) were banned. The second suppression occurred on June 4, 1842. Shunsui Tamenaga (1790-1843), the author of Shunshoku Umegoyomi (Romance in Spring, 1832-1833), found his book banned. Later he was arrested and found guilty.


  During Meiji pornographic works were secretly published, for the censorship laws remained severe. In Meiji 29 (1896), Neoshiroi (Make-Up Before Sleeping, 1896) by Fuyo Oguri (1875-926) was banned for describing the love affair of a brother and sister, born of the eta class and parents of a child. Kyushujin (Love of Her Former Master, 1902) by Toson Shimazaki (1872-1943) was banned for its too sensual descriptions of illicit intercourse between the young wife of a high school principal and a dentist.

  Though Ogai must have been very much aware of the limitations under the strict codes of Meiji, he was, nevertheless, equally aware of the new movements in Japanese literary circles. We must not forget that in the first decade of the new century, dubbed the period of naturalism in modern Japanese literature, Zola and de Maupassant were much in vogue among young Japanese writers. In Shosetsu Shinzui (The Essence of the Novel, 1885-1886), Shoyo Tsubouchi (1859-1935) provided the first important attack on the overly moral and didactic tendencies of earlier Japanese authors. Tsubouchi insisted that Japanese writers abandon the stale concept of literature as a mere instrument for didacticism. To overcome this tendency, he urged writers to achieve a full understanding of European literature. He insisted on a literature independent of ethics, politics, and morality in any age or society. He advocated realism, especially psychological realism, as the standard for a new literature of Japan.

  Perhaps the first successful attempt to follow this new call to literary independence was Toson Shimazaki's Hakai (Broken Commandment, 1906), its hero, a member of the eta class, finally revealing the secret of his caste in spite of his father's command that he never divulge his origins to anyone. In Futon (Bedding, 1907) by Katai Tayama (1871-1930), the author describes the spiritual struggle of a middle-aged married writer so swayed by passion for his youthful disciple that he cries with his face buried in the bedding in which the woman has slept, smelling her scent to his heart's content in his sexual desire, sadness, and helplessness. Readers inside literary circles and out were shocked by the frank descriptions of sexual desire. Futon is of further importance since it begins the tradition of the watakushi-shosetsu, the "I" novel in which the author depicts his own private life. Influenced by Futon, Homei Iwano (1873-1920) wrote Tandeki (Debauchery, 1909). The narrator-hero of the novel, Tamura, becomes intimate with the geisha Kichiya. He discovers she is treating his rival Tajima in the same way she treats him. As the hero realizes his mistress will share herself with anyone, he suddenly thinks of her rough skin, an image so keen it causes him to shudder. In his own mind he regards himself as a kind of hairy beast, feeling he himself is sniffing some other female beast. Coming to realize that debauchery is the raison d'etre of life, Tamura persistently pursues the object of his debauchery, his keen sense of smell like that of a lean hungry dog rummaging in dirt.

  Ogai had no intention of imitating his predecessors and contemporaries, especially in relation to the watakushi-shosetsu confessionals. Still, it is quite obvious that in part Ogai was writing about his own sexual life as we follow in Vita Sexualis the development of his youthful hero, Shizuka Kanai. And this too is of further interest to the Western reader, indeed to any reader, as to why Ogai went off into a personal direction in this work. One might easily tick off a succession of similarities between Kanai's life and Ogai's: At the age of eleven the young Shizuka Kanai lived in the home of Professor Azuma on Ogawacho in Kanda. Ogai was referring to Amane Nishi, the famous man of learning who introduced into Japan European philosophy and a number of fields of science. Nishi lived at this very address, and Ogai himself boarded in the learned professor's house in a room between the entrance hall and the drawing room. Tsurudo Kako, Ogai's dear classmate with whom he graduated from Tokyo University, we have already cited as Koga in Vita. Like Ogai, Shizuka graduated at nineteen from the university, went abroad for four years to Germany, returned, and married. Interestingly enough, Ogai's record at the university was not as brilliant as his hero's, Ogai having graduated eighth in a class of twenty-eight. Further parallels could of course be cited: Ogai's going up to Tokyo to live with his father at Mukojima, his mother remaining in a castle town; Ogai's study of German at Ikizaka in Hongo when he was ten; Ogai's pursuit of Chinese literature at fourteen under a famous scholar; Ogai's leaving for Germany on August 24 (1884) and boarding his ship at Yokohama. Even the hero's surname Kanai was presumably taken from the husband of Ogai's sister, Yoshikiyo Koganei, the last two Chinese characters in "Koganei" the same as those in "Kanai" In spite of the fact that the parallels cited are of a non-sexual nature, we must conclude that Ogai, scientist-doctor that he was, was attempting to discover something about his own sexuality, that he was conscious of the autobiographical flavor of current Japanese novels, that for young men growing up in Meiji, sex and sex education remained a problem.

  We must keep in mind, however, that for the most part Ogai was writing a novel, the first of its kind in Japanese literature, and we ought not to forget the serious implications behind the novel which Haruo Sato alluded to. It is no accident that Ogai, the medical doctor, made his hero-narrator a philosopher.

  To answer a number of the questions raised, we must first investigate Ogai's attitude toward the naturalistic movement in his country. As the translators of Ogai's The Wild Geese (Tuttle, 1959) have pointed out, one might have expected Ogai to join the new school, "but along with the gifted writer Soseki Natsume (1867-1916), Ogai objected to the subordinate role of reason, of intelligence, in the deterministic philosophy of the naturalists." In Ogai's novel A young Man (1910-1911), his hero reflects on the impact of naturalism in Japan: "Naturalism has real and true materials, has minutely delineated each part with an equally rich and sensitive language, and these are really the merits of naturalism. Naturalism, however, should try to put more emphasis upon the spiritual values of human beings. Miracles should not be explained in terms of sensualism. Man has two parts, body and soul, which are delicately fused into one, are rather huddled together. If possible, the novel should treat Man from these two aspects. And writers should address themselves to the reaction, struggle, and harmony of the two parts. In short, it is desirable that while the writer treads the path along which Zola has been walking, he should also build another path high in the air, parallel to Zola's. . . . We should erect a spiritual naturalism. Realize it and it will be another glory, another perfection, another power."

  We feel it is in terms of this challenge that Ogai earlier set for himself the difficult task of writing Vita Sexualis. He challenged the restricted world outlook of the naturalists by dealing with the history of the sexual life of a single character. From the young Shizuka's first exposure to the erotic woodcuts of the Japanese ukiyoe artists to the hero's first encounter at the age of twenty with the professional courtesan, Ogai chose to create a sexual history that embodied the two aspects of man's nature. Earlier the naturalistic novelists of his day had proclaimed their adherence to truth, to the reality of everyday life. Having read the novels of the naturalistic school, the hero-philosopher recognizes that these authors use every occasion in daily life to represent their heroes in terms of sexual desire, but he wonders if such representations are actually true to life. He discovers that few documents exist which actually and accurately measure the steps by which sexual desire appears in human life and the ways in which it affects that human life. Thus the narrator-hero of Vita Sexualis declares he will endeavor to write the history of the sexual desires of one Shizuka Kanai, himself, but the result of this nineteen-year chronicle of a sexual life is that Ogai succeeds in creating that twofold path of body and spirit in all its psychologically ambivalent complexity. A further result of this investigation into a sexual life becomes for the reader an accurate depiction of the complex world of sexuality in the context of nineteenth-century Meiji Japan.

  Ogai keeps his canvas from becoming a too explicit description of the sexual processes, a further reaction against the detailed outpourings of the naturalists. Ogai's anti-naturalistic method of describing his hero of fourteen when he
first experiences a precious, subtle but sweet moment with Woman and Sex is made vividly effective by the symbolic technique of overlapping the intense and vigorous cries of the locusts in the hot but quiet summer garden and the excited throbbing of the hero's heart. One short sentence, "I pictured to myself a multitude of images," is quite suggestive, perhaps more effective than numerous lines of detailed naturalism. The scene occurs when the stepmother of Kanai's friend Eiichi asks Kanai to sit on the veranda with her during Eiichi's absence. The woman's body almost nestles against the youngster's:

  I could smell her sweat, her face powder, the oil she used on her hair. I moved a little to the side. She smiled, though I didn't know why. . . .

  She almost seemed to press her cheek against mine as she peered at me from the side. Her breath fell against my face. I felt that breath was strangely hot. And at the same time it suddenly occurred to me that Eiichi's mother was a woman. For some reason or other I became terrified. I might have even turned pale. . . .

  Suddenly overcome with confusion and bowing three or four times, I broke into a run. Between the thick growth of plants in the garden of our lord's mansion was a ditch into which water from a small pond ran after passing over a small dam. On the sandy soil at the edge of this ditch where horsetails were growing, tall trees among the thick growth of vegetation were casting lingering shadows slightly to the west. Having run as far as this spot, I threw myself down on the sand and lay on my back.

  Directly above me clusters of trumpet flowers were blooming as if aflame. The cries of the locusts were vigorous, energetic. There were no other sounds. It was the hour when the great god Pan still sleeps. I pictured to myself a multitude of images.