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W. G. Aston “Makura Zôshi” or “Pillow Sketches” (pp. 104–117) A History of Japanese Literature Short Histories of the Literatures of the World: VI London: William Heinemann, 1899 (For biographical information about Aston, see the prior entry for Purcell and Aston.) In his monograph, Aston revises and expands the material that can be found in the earlier paper co-authored with Purcell , increasing the number of passages he translates from six to eleven. He now characterizes the work as Sei Shônagon ’s “farrago libelli” (105) or “medley”, thus implicitly, for the benefit of his European audience, associating his author with the great authors of ancient Rome as well as with the satiric wits of England’s more recent past. (The Latin phrase is from Juvenal and was adopted in the eighteenth century by Richard Steele as the motto for his periodical Tatler.) Aston ’s admiration for Sei Shônagon’s text has not diminished one iota: “It is hard to realize that it was written in Japan nine hundred years ago. If we compare it with anything that Europe had to show at this period, it must be admitted that it is indeed a remarkable work” (116–117). W.G. Aston (1899) 68 The four seasons form the subject of the opening chapter: “In spring,” the author says, “I love to watch the dawn grow gradually whiter and whiter, till a faint rosy tinge crowns the mountain’s crest, while slender streaks of purple cloud extend themselves above.” “In summer, I love the night, not only when the moon is shining, but the dark, too, when the fireflies cross each other ’s paths in their flight, or when the rain is falling.” “In autumn, it is the beauty of the evening which most deeply moves me, as I watch the crows seeking their roosting -place in twos and threes and fours, while the setting sun sends forth his beams gorgeously as he draws near the mountain’s rim. Still more is it delightful to see the lines of wild geese pass, looking exceeding small in the distance. And when the sun has quite gone down, how moving it is to hear the chirruping of insects or the sighing of the wind !” “In winter, how unspeakably beautiful is the snow ! But I also love the dazzling whiteness of the hoar-frost, and the intense cold even at other times. Then it is meet quickly to fetch charcoal and kindle fires. And let not the gentle warmth of noon persuade us to allow the embers of the hearth or of the brazier to become a white heap of ashes !” (pp. 106–107) ...

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