Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600–1900
Page 76
yubi no nai As he smiles
ama wo waraeba at the nun without a finger
warau nomi she only smiles14
[Yanagidaru, vol. 1, translated by Makoto Ueda]
Noted Historical Events and Literary Figures
Narihira no
What a miracle
kasa wo kakanu mo that disease never caught up
fushigi nari with Narihira15
[Yanagidaru, vol. 4, translated by Makoto Ueda]
shirami nado Sitting idly
sotoba no ue de and crushing lice on a stupa
tsubushite i Lady Komachi16
[Yanagidaru shūi, vol. 4, translated by Makoto Ueda]
mata fumi ka “Another letter?
sokora e oke to Put it down somewhere over there,”
hikaru kimi says the Shining Genji17
[Yanagidaru, vol. 17, translated by Haruo Shirane]
Kiyomori no The doctor disrobed
isha wa hadaka de before he went in to take
myaku wo tori Kiyomori’s pulse18
[Yanagidaru, vol. 1, translated by Makoto Ueda]
Tsugunobu mo That Tsugunobu—
to ga kokonotsu he too thought nine times out of ten
ataranu ki the arrow would miss him19
[Yanagidaru, vol. 8, translated by Makoto Ueda]
sono toki no The priest in charge
osho wa goke no saw more widows than even he
miaki wo shi ever wanted to see!20
[Yanagidaru shūi, vol. 5, translated by Makoto Ueda]
KYŌKA
Waka poets wrote kyōka, a parodic and popular form of the thirty-one-syllable waka, as a form of amusement or diversion, in the same way that Japanese kanshi (Chinese poetry) poets composed kyōshi (comic Chinese poetry) or haiku poets composed senryū. In the Tokugawa period, kyōka split into two types. One began in the sixteenth century in Kyoto and was practiced by aristocratic poets such as Matsunaga Teitoku (1671–1653) before it gradually spread to commoner devotees and then to Osaka, where it became known as Naniwa (Osaka) kyōka. The other type, which peaked in the Tenmei era (1781–1789) and is represented here, began in the mid-eighteenth century among the Edo samurai before spreading to the Edo commoners and then throughout the country. In the 1770s a coterie of samurai in Edo—Yomono Akara (1749–1823), Akera Kankō (1740–1800), Karakoromo Kishū (1743–1802), and others—gathered for kyōka meetings and contests, and in the Tenmei era they began publishing their comic waka. The first and largest of these Edo kyōka anthologies was Wild Poems of Ten Thousand Generations (Manzai kyōka shū, 1783), edited by Akara, which spurred what literary historians have called the Tenmei “kyōka boom” in Edo. This kyōka movement was encouraged by the atmosphere created by the bakufu administration of Senior Councillor Tanuma Okitsugu (r. 1772–1786), whose pro-commerce policies generated a sense of liberation among Edo samurai and contributed to the flowering of new Edo genres such as senryū, sharebon, and kibyōshi.
The humor of kyōka essentially derives from placing something vulgar, low, or mundane in an elegant Japanese form or context. Typically, a kyōka poet treated a classical topic using popular language and attitudes or, conversely, approached a popular, mundane topic (such as theater, licensed quarters, or farting) using classical diction or a classical perspective. The fundamental form of kyōka is the honkadori, or allusive variation on a specific “foundation poem” (honka), in which the kyōka poet transforms the meaning of part of a classical poem (or part of a well-known song or proverb), thereby bringing the foundation text into the vulgar or popular world. Wordplay also is a central element of kyōka, particularly puns (kakekotoba) and word associations (engo). Both rhetorical devices make kyōka very difficult to translate. Jippensha Ikku’s Travels on the Eastern Seaboard (Tōkaidō hizakurige, 1802–1809), one of the most popular comic narratives (kokkeibon) of the early nineteenth century, includes numerous kyōka, many of which rely on homophonic play for their humor.
In contrast to senryū, which flourished at the same time as kyōka and remains popular today, kyōka as a genre did not last into the modern period. Although in the late eighteenth century it eventually spread beyond the sphere of educated samurai and aristocrats to commoners, it still required a knowledge of the classical poetic tradition, which made it difficult for commoner audiences to appreciate.
YOMONO AKARA
Yomono Akara (1749–1823) was the kyōka pen name for Ota Nanpō, a writer of kyōshi, sharebon, and kibyōshi. Akara was recognized at an early age by Hiraga Gennai (1728–1779) and published Master Groggy Literary Collection (Neboke sensei bunshū), an anthology of kyōshi and kyōbun, in 1767, when he was just eighteen. His greatest talent, however, was writing kyōka. In the early 1780s, the style of two of the leading kyōka poets diverged. Karakoromo Kishū, the more conservative poet, stressed allusive variation and wordplay, whereas Akara (and his followers such as Kankō) saw kyōka as a means of describing everyday emotions, particularly those of the Edo townspeople. In 1783, when Akara edited Wild Poems of Ten Thousand Generations (Manzai kyōka shū), the most influential of the Tenmei kyōka anthologies, he attracted his own following. A Tokugawa houseman (gokenin) in the Edo bakufu, Akara was careful not to write anything that would endanger his relatively high position as a samurai and did not express subversive or critical thoughts in the way that Gennai did. But then, as a result of the Kansei Reforms (1787–1805), led by Senior Councillor Matsudaira Sadanobu, which cracked down on the liberties of the Okitsugu era, Akara left the literary world and concentrated on his responsibilities as a bakufu official. In his last years he returned to poetry, took the pen name of Shokusanjin, and became a highly influential figure in the world of letters.
Composed at the beginning of the year
namayoi no The season greeter,
reisha wo mireba tipsy with toasts,
daido wō weaves unsteadily
yokosujikai ni down the avenue—
haru wa kinikeri lo, the New Year has come!21
[Kyōka saizō shū, vol. 1, translated by Burton Watson]
On the blossoms of Yoshiwara
Yoshiwara no In Yoshiwara
yomise o haru no the women are showing their wares
yūgure wa this evening—
iriai no kane ni blossoms glowing in the echoes
hana ya sakuran of the vesper bells.22
[Manzai kyōka shū, vol. 2, Spring 2, translated by Steven Carter]
AKERA KANKŌ
Akera Kankō (1740–1800), a low-ranking bakufu retainer and one of the leading kyōka poets during the Tenmei boom, was a contemporary and colleague of Akara and became one of his followers after Akara broke from Karakoromo Kishū.
On the year’s end
shakkin mo Under a ragged loincloth
ima wa tsutsumu ni some things can’t be hid—
tsutsumarezu my debts, too,
yaburekabure no protrude through
fundoshi no kure the frayed end of the year.23
[Manzai kyōka shu, vol. 6, Winter, translated by Burton Watson]
On the autumn wind
sato no ko ni Chased round and round
oikakerarete by village urchins,
igaguri no chi o the chestnut burrs
nigemawaru escape over the ground—
kaze no hageshisa so strong is the wind.24
[Kyōka saizō shū, vol. 5, Autumn 2, translated by Haruo Shirane]
HEZUTSU TŌSAKU
Hezutsu Tōsaku (1726–1789), the owner of a tobacco shop in Edo, is known mostly for his discovery of Akara (Ōta Nanpō) and for being one of the founding members of Edo kyōka, along with Akara and Kishū. He became a priest at the age of fifty-four.
On dawn cherry blossoms
yama no ha ni On the crest of the hills,
hana ja kumo ja “Cherry blossoms!” “No, clouds!”
to arasoi no till the dawn sun rose up
naka e deru hi ya to squelch the argument.
rachi wo akebono25
>
[Kyōka saizō shū, vol. 2, Spring 2, translated by Burton Watson]
fūki to wa Affluence—define it as:
kore wo nazuke ni pickled greens,
kome no meshi rice for supper,
sake mo kototaru wine, one container,
kotaru hito taru modest but never empty.26
[Manzai kyōka shū, vol. 14, Misc. 1, translated by Burton Watson]
YADOYA NO MESHIMORI
Yadoya no Meshimori (1753–1830), who ran a post station at Nihonbashi, studied kyōka with Akara (Ota Nanpō) from the early 1780s and later became known as one of the “four kings” of kyōka. He helped edit Wild Poems of Ten Thousand Generations (Manzai kyōka shū) and became a noted kokugaku scholar under the name of Masamochi.
utayomi wa When it comes to poets,
heta koso yokere the clumsier the better—
ametsuchi no what a mess
ugokiidashite if heaven and earth
tamaru mono kawa really started to move!27
[Kyōka saizō shū, vol. 12, Misc. 2, translated by Burton Watson]
KI NO SADAMARU
Ki no Sadamaru (1760–1841), a nephew of Akara and a bakufu retainer in Edo who eventually became a Tokugawa bannerman (hatamoto), began writing kyōka at an early age and was recognized by Kisshū.
On comparing impermanence to a fart
Sukashihe no Though this body, I know,
kieyasuki is a thing of no substance,
koso aware nare must it fade, alas,
mi wa naki mono to so swiftly,
omoinagaramo like a soundless fart?28
[Toku waka gomanzai shū, vol. 6, Lament, translated by Burton Watson]
KYŌSHI
Pioneers of the early-eighteenth-century literatus (bunjin) movement, such as Gion Nankai (1677–1751) and Hattori Nankaku (1683–1759), turned away from the contemporary society that had disappointed them and entered instead the elegant and largely imaginary world of Chinese poetry and culture. These bunjin kanshi poets did not criticize the society around them so much as ignore and transcend it. Indeed, those following the Ogyū Sorai school, like Hattori Nankaku, had little opportunity to express their social or political dissatisfaction except through elegant Chinese poetry. It was in this context that an alternative consciousness, that of the “mad person” (kyōsha), emerged.
Not only did the “mad person” criticize and mock the society that deprived the individual of opportunity and freedom, but he also criticized and laughed at himself. This persona has a long history in Japan, going back to the notion of the fūkyō (wild poetry) of the Buddhist and Confucian traditions. Particularly influential in the eighteenth century, however, was the philosophy of the Wang Yang-ming school (Yōmeigaku), particularly that of Li Zhi (Ri Shi, 1527–1602), who wrote a commentary on the Water Margin (Suikoden), a noted Chinese vernacular novel, arguing that it was an expression of anger or protest against society. In turn, this view had an impact on the Kyoto school of Confucianism, which had become the main base for anti-Sorai thought. In the latter half of the eighteenth century, samurai intellectuals who considered themselves “mad” turned not to the elegant forms of expression advocated by the Sorai school but to a comic, antiestablishment form, that of kyōbun (mad or comic Chinese prose) and kyōshi (mad or comic Chinese poetry), two genres that, despite their roots in Chinese literature, became an integral part of popular gesaku (playful) literature.
“Mad” poet-intellectuals used the “mad” genres to express their frustration with and rage at society. The two pioneers of the genre were Ota Nanpo (1749–1823), whose kyōka pen name was Akara and whose kyōshi pen name was Neboke Sensei (Master Groggy), and Dōmyaku Sensei (1752–1801), or Master Artery. Nanpo, from Edo, became famous for his humor and literary parodies, while Dōmyaku Sensei, a noted kibyōshi and kyōka writer from Kyoto, became known for his social criticism and satire. The publication of Nanpo’s Master Groggy ‘ s Literary Collection (Neboke sensei bunshu), in 1767 and Dōmyaku Sensei’s Ballads for the Age of Great Peace (Taihei gafu) in 1769 firmly established the reputations of both writers, who were still in their teens, and made them masters of the new genre in the Edo and Kyoto regions, respectively.
By the middle of the eighteenth century, the Japanese had naturalized the medium of Chinese poetry (kanshi), adapting it to their own tastes and needs. In the process, kyōshi—which concentrated on social satire, wordplay, and such low topics as farting, fleas, and itching—emerged as an anti-genre, standing in the same relationship to kanshi as the seventeen-syllable senryū did to haiku or the kyōka did to the classical waka. Kyōshi had a long history, which can be traced to Chinese poetry and medieval Gozan (Five Mountains) Zen kanshi, such as the kyōshi of the medieval “mad” monk-poet Ikkyū (1394–1481). Kyōshi, however, reached its high point in the twenty years between 1770 and 1790, especially in the Tenmei era (1781–1788), precisely when senryū, kyōka, and kibyōshi blossomed. Like senryū, which used humor as a weapon, kyōshi parodied high literature and humorously explored low topics that lay outside the bounds of orthodox literature.
DŌMYAKU SENSEI, MASTER ARTERY
Dōmyaku Sensei (1752–1801) was a low-ranking samurai from the Hatakenaka family, which served the Shōgoin Temple residence in the imperial palace in Kyoto. The Hatakenaka were sangoku-san (Mr. Three Koku)—an ironic, derisive nickname for low-class retainers with minuscule stipends. In the kyōshi “Kyoto Minor Retainer” Dōmyaku mocks members of his own class for being arrogant while hiding their extreme poverty. In another kyōshi, “To Master Groggy, from Afar,” published in 1790 under the title “Elegant Compositions by Two Masters” (Nitaika fūga), Dōmyaku describes his social upbringing and the life of dissipation that caused him to be thrown out of his house.
In “The Housemaid’s Ballad” (Hijo kō), a poem in seven-character lines in the old style (koshi) included in Ballads for the Age of Great Peace (Taihei gafu, 1769), Dōmyaku describes the life of a young woman who has come from the provinces and, while working as a maid, gradually and increasingly visits the dangerous regions of the city. The poem is a sharp and humorous description of contemporary mores and urban social dangers, but it also has, like contemporary sharebon and kibyōshi, a satiric dimension, revealing the underside of society and implicitly criticizing those elements of it that have caused the housemaid to fall to these depths.
KYOTO MINOR RETAINER
Most of these minor samurai draw a stipend of three koku—
So how come they act so big?
From head to toe, they’re a mass of unmitigated gall.
At the theater, they always get in—for free.
TO MASTER GROGGY, FROM AFAR
Priests make a brothel’s flushest clients;
Among buddhas, Zuigu is foremost.
But I get a chilly reception at all the teahouses;
My bills have piled up into mountains.
Pleasures and reprimands jointly accumulate;
Relatives hold solemn family council to debate my case.
But I head straight for the brothels, make the long nights fly by—
Even by breakfast time, I’m still not home.
The day I’m disowned, whenever that may be,
I’ll make my way to the East.
Just as I’ve reached the last word in looniness
I’ve happened to make the acquaintance of Master Groggy.
THE HOUSEMAID’S BALLAD
A green girl from the back country—employment was my quest.
I came up to the capital—not knowing east from west.
I only knew my dear auntie, who lives in Senbon, north.29
And thanks to her I found a job; she was my guarantor.30
A hundred coppers moving costs! My budget’s lost, for sure!
My valise had one single quilted robe in it—no more.31
Sprout green it was, embroidered all with cranes and baby pines;
the sleeve mouths and sleeve linings were a scarlet rich and fine.
I’m honest and a healthy lass—the master’s true delight!
On three days’ bush-leave holiday I toured all the sights:32
to Gion, Kiyomizu, and Hongan-ji temple so blessed,33
to Atago, the Great Buddha, and Sanjō Bridge, no less.
The next day, then, I’m off again with Auntie for some fun:
I’ve heard so much about theaters—now I’m seeing one!
Those fellows grab and hurl themselves about—such dangerous spills!
They slash and hack away, one at another—gives me chills!34
The fox Tadanobu is played by Onoe Baikō,
and the sushi maker’s daughter—she’s Nakamura Richō.
This Richō and this Baikō—both these actors are top-drawer;35
at next season’s attraction each will show his stuff and more.
While heading home we rest a spell at Shijō riverbed;36
I’m in a daze! Kyoto’s as posh, as swanky as they said!
From that day on, I scrubbed my face each morning as a start;
I want to wash away all country clay that’s in my heart.
I try on eight-penny powder—makes your skin so nice and white.
“Plum Blossom” scented hair pomade—six ounces seems about right.
It’s been some time now since I’ve had wheat rice or miso stews;
whenever I spot tea porridge it just gives me the blues.37
I’ve learned to smoke, can even handle little sips of wine—
invite me to your party, and you’ll have the best of times!
Now I can chirp, “Oh, not my way!” and “Clown, go hike a mile!”38
I hum the puppet dying scenes in Kunidayū style.39
I flatten down the best I can my Kinshōjo coiffure,40
then tease out both my “lantern flares” as much as they’ll endure.
I sport eight-inch-long hairpins—ones with tortoiseshell inlay.
What’s that? Brass earwax scrapers? Oh, my dear, they’re quite passé!