Worlding Sei Shônagon: The Pillow Book in Translation

Henry-D. Davray (1902) French

Henry-D. Davray “Makoura no Soci” (pp. 101–113) Littérature japonaise par W. G. Aston Histoires des littératures Paris: Librairie Armand Colin, 1902 Because the first history of Japanese literature originally written in French would not appear until 1935 (co-authored by Kuni Matsuo et al.), this 1902 version of Aston’s English-language work represented a significant publication . The first to publish a review of Yeats in France, Davray (1873–1944) was also a prolific translator from English, including such authors as H. G. Wells (many of these translations remain in print and readily available), Oscar Wilde and Joseph Conrad. In particular, Davray can be credited, along with Judith Gauthier and her famous translations from the Chinese, with helping to establish an early vogue within France for East Asian poetry. In a “bibliographic note” appended to this translation, Maurice Coutard writes: “Whereas in the 19th century France’s interest in Japan was second only to that of Holland, for at least the past thirty years since then … we have not pursued Japanese studies with the same degree of rigour or success as have Germany and England; men of the stature of Henry-D. Davray (1902) 70 Aston, Satow, Chamberlain, Florenz, have in effect brought a critical spirit to bear on this branch of science and elsewhere , while too many [of our] writers have either blindly followed the Japanese authors or ignored them out of hand, or even simply given their imaginations free rein” (viii; my translation). French 71 Les quatre saisons forment le sujet du chapitre d’ouverture : Au printemps, dit l’auteur, j’aime observer l’aube devenant graduellement de plus en plus blanche jusqu’à ce qu’une faible teinte rosée couronne la cime de la montagne, tandis que de grêles bandes de nuages pourpres s’étendent au-dessus. En été, j’aime la nuit, non seulement quand la lune brille, mais l’obscurité aussi, quand les lucioles s’entre-croisent dans leur vol, ou quand la pluie tombe. En automne, c’est la beauté du soir qui m’émeut le plus profondément, pendant que je suis du regard les corbeaux qui cherchent par deux, trois et quatre un endroit où se percher, et que le soleil couchant projette la splendeur de ses rayons en approchant de la crête des montagnes. Et encore plus délicieux est de voir passer les oies sauvages en longues lignes qui, dans la distance, paraissent infiniment petites. Et quand le soleil est complètement couché, combien est émouvant d’entendre le fredonnement des insectes ou les soupirs du vent ! En hiver, qu’indiciblement belle est la neige ! Mais j’aime aussi l’éblouissante blancheur du givre, et même, parfois, le froid intense. C’est alors qu’il est bon d’aller vite chercher de la braise et d’allumer les feux. Et ne nous laissons pas persuader par la douce chaleur de midi de permettre aux tisons du foyer ou du brasier de devenir un tas de cendres blanches. (pp. 103–104) Henry-D. Davray (1902) 72 The four seasons comprise the subject of the opening chapter: In springtime, says the author, I love to observe the dawn gradually becoming whiter until a faint pink tinge crowns the mountain peak, while thin bands of purple cloud stretch out above. In summer, I love the night, not just when the moon shines, but also the dark, when fireflies criss-cross in their flight, or when rain falls. In autumn, it is the beauty of the evening that moves me most deeply, while I watch out for the crows looking in twos, threes and fours for a place to perch, and the setting sun projects the splendour of its rays as it reaches the mountain peaks. And still more delicious is to see wild geese passing in long lines that, in the distance , appear infinitely tiny. And when the sun has set completely, how moving it is to hear humming of insects or sighs of wind! In winter, how unspeakably beautiful snow is! But I also love the blinding white of frost, and even, sometimes, the intense cold. That is when it is good to go quickly in search of a brazier and to light the fires. And let us not be persuaded by the gentle warmth of midday to let cinders in the hearth or the brazier become a pile of white ashes. [P...