Heredity of Taste. Soseki Natsume

with other people in a crowd—at such times my nature counts against me and I always end up at a disadvantage. More often than not on such occasions I end up last, well behind everyone else. The present case was no exception—I was very easily passed by the other people. It was not just that I allowed myself to be overtaken in a normal way: I was effectively relegated to the back and that was really depressing! If, at a funeral reception, I don't reach out assertively and don't manage to get my rice with red beans¹¹ cooked, it doesn't matter to me. However, to fail to contemplate a representative of the vitality and energy that determine the destiny of the Japanese empire, that was really a shame! One way or another, I was determined to see the general. Shouts of "Banzai!" resounded everywhere; they filled the air and assaulted my eardrums with the power of great waves breaking on the rocks. The noise became unbearable. I had to see what was going on. Suddenly, I had an idea. The previous spring, I was making my way along a street in the Azabu¹² district when I heard laughter coming from a large house surrounded by a high adobe wall. It sounded as if a lot of people in there were having a good time. Was it because my stomach was giving me trouble that day that I wanted to have a look and find out what was going behind the wall? Yes, I am sure that this sudden desire originated from the state of my stomach. If it had not been for my stomach, such a stupid notion would certainly not have entered my head. But whatever the reason, when you want to see something, you want to see it. And that wish will be as steadfast or as transient as the reason behind it. Anyway, as I have just said, people were laughing on the other side of the wall, and, in the absence of any hole in the wall, I could see no way of satisfying my desire to know what was going on. When circumstances make it seem impossible for us to see what we want to see, the desire just gets stronger. Silly though it may seem, I was firmly resolved not to go on before I had seen inside. However, to go into a house uninvited would be to act like a thief. On the other hand, I was even more perturbed at the thought of having to ask permission to go in. It was disagreeable to reflect that my curiosity to see what was going on would either cause annoyance to the people living there or damage my reputation. I could think of no good stratagem to achieve my aim, other than surveying the premises from the top of a nearby hill or from a hot-air balloon. But neither of these methods seemed very practical under the prevailing circumstances. Well! The only way to solve the problem was to fall back on my own resources. I would resort to the magical technique of the high jump that I had practiced in high school. I would jump up and try to see over the wall: this seemed to me an ingenious plan. Luckily, there was no one else in the street, and anyway, if there had been someone, they would have had no reason to complain. No sooner said than done—I leaped into the air with all the power my legs could bestow. My training produced a remarkable effect. Not only my neck, but my shoulders appeared above the wall, as I had expected. I stared with all my concentration to make sure I didn't miss this great opportunity to satisfy my curiosity. "There, that's certainly where it's coming from!" I said to myself as I saw in a flash four women playing tennis. As if someone had told them to expect me, they all greeted my leap into the air with a loud burst of laughter. With an exclamation of surprise I fell back heavily on to the ground I had just departed from.