Tales of Moonlight and Rain

by Ueda, Akinari

  32. Minamoto no Tameyoshi (1096–1156) and six of his sons—except Yoshitomo—sided with Sutoku in the Hōgen Insurrection.

  33. Minamoto no Tametomo (1139–1170), Tameyoshi’s eighth son, was known for his courage and strength. Taira no Tadamasa (d. 1156) sided with Sutoku in the Hōgen Insurrection and was executed by his own nephew, Kiyomori.

  34. Shirakawa Palace was Sutoku’s headquarters during the Hōgen Insurrection. The fire was Yoshitomo’s “perverse plot,” mentioned at the end of the sentence.

  35. Mount Nyoi (Nyoigamine), located on the eastern edge of Kyoto above the Ginkaku (Silver Pavilion), is now called Nyoigatake or Daimonjiyama.

  36. Tale of the Disorder in Hōgen reports that Kiyomori, head of the Taira clan, was a “weak shot” (Wilson, trans., Hōgen Monogatari, p. 27).

  37. In 1156 Yoshitomo had resisted the emperor’s command to kill Tameyoshi, but finally ordered that it be done (Wilson, trans., Hōgen Monogatari, pp. 65–68). He was assassinated in 1160 by a retainer in whose house he had taken refuge.

  38. Uji is a village south of Kyoto. Criminals were often executed, and their heads displayed, on the bank of the Kamo River near Rokujō (Sixth Avenue) in Kyoto.

  39. Fujiwara Tadamichi (1097–1164), chancellor and regent, conspired with Bifukumon’in to deny the throne to Sutoku’s son Shigehito and install Go-Shirakawa instead, and sided with the emperor (against Sutoku) during the Hōgen Insurrection.

  40. Shigemori (1138–1179), Taira no Kiyomori’s eldest son, was noted for his good character.

  41. “zodiac cycle” (eto hitomeguri): normally refers to the sixty-year Chinese cycle, which combines five elements with twelve animals of the zodiac, but here a twelve-year cycle is meant.

  42. “sea before me”: refers to the Inland Sea (Setonaikai), where the Taira clan was defeated by the Minamoto in 1185.

  43. Saigyō, Sankashū, no. 1355. The headnote reads, “Visiting a place called Shiramine, where the emperor’s grave is located.”

  44. The Diamond Sutra (J. Kongō [hannyaharamitta] kyō, Skt. Vajracchedikā-sūtra) is fascicle 547 of the Large Sutra on Perfect Wisdom (J. Daihannyaharamitta-kyō, Skt. Mahāprajñāpāramitā-sūtra).

  45. The Toba Detached Palace was a luxurious estate in what is now Fushimi Ward in Kyoto. For a few months in 1180, Kiyomori had the capital moved from Kyoto to Fukuhara, the present Hyōgo Ward in Kobe, whose palace was proverbially rough and primitive, compared with the elegant mansions of Kyoto.

  46. “offerings” (nusa): hangings made of cloth or paper that are attached to the gates and eaves of a Shinto shrine.

  “diety”: a translation of kami. All Japanese emperors were considered kami, especially those who had been enshrined, as was Sutoku.

  * * *

  “jeweled forest”: an elegant term for a palace.

  “Mount Hakoya”: a conventional term for the residence of a retired emperor, deriving from the name of a mountain where immortal sages dwelt. Both terms come from Chinese legends.

  “How damp with dew his sleeves”: damp sleeves conventionally connote tears, as well as dew.

  “why do you wander like this”: in other words, “Why does your spirit cling to this world, without achieving enlightenment?”

  “shunned this degenerate world” (jokuse o enri shi): has been interpreted in two ways: as a reference to Sutoku’s having taken Buddhist vows after his failed uprising, or as a reference to his having died and, presumably, achieved buddhahood.

  “sad for you”: it is sad for Sutoku that he still clings to this world, unable to achieve buddhahood.

  Tengu Way (madō): madō (literally, “evil way”) leads one away from or interferes with the Buddha’s teachings. Commentators agree that tengudō (the tengu way) is meant here. On tengu, see the introduction.

  Royal Way (ōdō): a Confucian concept that emphasizes enlightened rule through the virtues of benevolence (J. jin, Ch. ren) and righteousness (J. gi, Ch. yi), as opposed to military rule (hadō).

  Heavenly Deity (Ame no kami): Amaterasu Ōmikami, the sun goddess, who is said to have prophesied that her progeny would rule Japan without interruption.

  Eiji: the years 1141/1142.

  Toshihito: the name should be Narihito.

  “courage”: that is, courage to resort to force in order to rectify the wrong that Sutoku believed had been done to himself and his son.

  “men who have the status to govern”: Sutoku is referring to himself and his son Shigehito.

  “hens announce the dawn”: a proverb signifying that a wife has usurped her husband’s authority, referring here to Bifukumon’in’s influence over Toba.

  Sutoku rebukes Saigyō for having embraced Buddhism (“law of cause and effect”) and for trying to force ancient Confucian morality, as represented by the legendary sage-kings Yao and Shun (ca. twenty-fourth century B.C.E.), into the mold of Buddhism.

  Pure Land (Jōdo): a Buddhist paradise in the west, presided over by the Buddha Amitābha (J. Amida). Here Saigyō implores Sutoku’s wandering ghost to put his grudges behind him, let go of his worldly attachments, achieve enlightenment, and enter the Pure Land.

  “no sound of conch or bell”: that is, there were no Buddhist temples, where conches and bells were used to mark the hour, among other functions.

  “heart of a tiger or a wolf”: that is, a cruel, grasping heart.

  “earthly deity”: the emperor; here Cloistered Emperor Go-Shirakawa.

  Ōhō: the years 1161 to 1163. Bifukumon’in actually died in the winter of 1160.

  Chōkan: the years 1163 to 1165.

  “three hundred”: there were said to be more than three hundred tengu in Japan.

  Masahito: Ex-Emperor Go-Shirakawa.

  Ex-Emperor: Go-Shirakawa (Masahito).

  “fourth year of Jishō”: the year 1179.

  Taira Lay-Priest Chancellor: Kiyomori.

  “his lord”: Ex-Emperor Go-Shirakawa.

  THE CHRYSANTHEMUM VOW

  TITLE

  The title, “Kikka no chigiri,” refers to the Chrysanthemum Festival, observed on the ninth day of the Ninth Month, the last month of autumn in the old Japanese calendar. Although the festival originated in China, it has a long history in Japan, having first been observed there in 824.

  The choice of the Chrysanthemum Festival as the day on which the central characters will reunite defines their relationship. In early modern Japan, the chrysanthemum blossom (kikka) was a common symbol of homosexual intercourse because it was thought to resemble an anus. Both kiku no chigiri (chrysanthemum vow) and kiku asobi (chrysanthemum play) are euphemisms for homosexual intercourse. The story’s title, then, tells the alert reader that Samon and Sōemon are not just friends, but lovers.1

  CHARACTERS

  Like “Shiramine,” “The Chrysanthemum Vow” has only two principal characters: the Confucian scholar Hasebe Samon and the samurai Akana Sōemon. Both men represent upper levels of society and are paragons of dependability and integrity. The cast also includes several supporting characters, most notably Samon’s mother. Unlike the fictional protagonists Samon and Sōemon, as well as Samon’s mother, En’ya Kamon-no-suke, Sasaki Ujitsuna, and Amako Tsunehisa lived in the fifteenth century.

  PLACES

  Most of “The Chrysanthemum Vow” takes place at the home of Samon in the town of Kako, the modern city of Kakogawa, Hyōgo Prefecture, about 65 miles west of Kyoto. Sōemon is from Matsue, a city in Shimane Prefecture (formerly, Izumo Province), across the mountains on the coast of the Sea of Japan, about 125 miles west-northwest of Kakogawa.

  TIME

  Spring, early summer, and autumn of 1486.

  BACKGROUND

  Far from stigmatizing the sexual bond between Samon and Sōemon, “The Chrysanthemum Vow” presents the two men as models of friendship, loyalty, dependability, courage, erudition, and self-sacrifice—the opposite of the shallow men against whom the story warns the reader. Samon and Sōemon are, in fact, idealized figures, as are the devoted samurai lovers
in Ihara Saikaku’s Nanshoku ōkagami (The Great Mirror of Male Love, 1687). Given the consistently dysfunctional heterosexual relationships featured in the subsequent tales, erotic friendship between men, as depicted in this story, becomes a sort of model for human relationships. This is not surprising in a society led by a samurai class that idealized male–male sexuality.

  The attack on Toda (Tomita, in Akinari’s unorthodox reading) Castle, mentioned in “The Chrysanthemum Vow,” began on the last day of the Twelfth Month of 1485. The ruins of Toda Castle can still be seen in Shimane Prefecture.

  AFFINITIES

  Akinari adapted “The Chrysanthemum Vow,” in part, from “Fan Juqing jishu sisheng jiao” (Fan Chü-ch’ing’s Eternal Friendship), a Ming vernacular tale in the collection Gujin xiaoshuo (Old and New Stories, 1620–1621), edited by Feng Menglong.2

  In keeping with the story’s Chinese origins, Akinari also refers, directly or indirectly, to Mencius, Confucius, the Li ji (The Book of Rites, ca. 300 B.C.E.), and the Shiji (Records of the Grand Historian), by Sima Qian (145?–90? B.C.E.), as well as to The Tale of Genji and several waka.

  Lush and green is the willow in spring; plant it not in your garden. In friendship, bond not with a shallow man. Though the willow comes early into leaf, will it withstand the first winds of autumn? The shallow man is quick to make friends and as quick to part. Year after year, the willow brightens in the spring, but a shallow man will not visit again.

  In the province of Harima, in the post town of Kako, lived a Confucian scholar named Hasebe Samon. Content with an upright life of poverty, he abhorred the encumbrance of possessions, except for the books that he made his companions. With him was his elderly mother, as virtuous as the mother of Mencius.3 She worked steadily, twisting and spinning thread to support Samon’s desire for learning. He had a younger sister, too, who was provided for by the Sayo clan, of the same town. The Sayos had great wealth. Admiring the sagacity of the Hasebe mother and son, they took the sister as a bride, thus becoming family, and often would send goods to Samon and his mother; but insisting that they could not trouble others for their own sustenance, Samon and his mother never accepted the gifts.

  One day Samon was visiting a man of the same town, talking with him of matters ancient and contemporary, when, just as the conversation was gaining momentum, he heard a sad moaning from the other side of the wall. He questioned his host, who replied, “The man seems to be from someplace west of here. He asked for a night’s lodging, saying that he had fallen behind his traveling companions. He appeared to me to be a man of quality, a fine samurai, and so I allowed him to stay; but that night he was seized by a violent fever that made it difficult for him even to rise by himself, and so, taking pity on him, I have let him stay these three or four days; but I am not sure where he is from and think I might have made a terrible mistake. I do not know what to do.” Samon said, “A sad story indeed. Your misgivings are understandable, of course, but a fever must be especially distressing to a man who takes ill on a journey, far from everyone he knows. I should like to have a look at him.” His host restrained him: “I have heard that such diseases can spread and afflict others, and so I have forbidden everyone in my household to go in there. You must not put yourself in danger by going to him.” With a smile, Samon replied, “Life and death are a matter of Destiny.4 What disease will spread to another? It is the ignorant who say such things; I do not believe them.” With this, he opened the door and went in. Looking at the man, he saw that his host had not been mistaken—this was no ordinary person, and the illness appeared to be grave: his face was yellow; his skin was dark and gaunt; and he lay in agony on an old quilt. Looking affably at Samon, he said, “Give me a cup of hot water, if you would.” Samon went to his side. “Have no fear, sir, I shall help you,” he said. Consulting his host, he selected some medicines and, by himself, determined the dosage and prepared a decoction, which he gave to the man to drink. He also had him eat some rice porridge. In short, he cared for the man with extraordinary kindness, as though he were nursing his own brother.

  The samurai was moved to tears by Samon’s warm compassion. “That you should be so kind to me, a complete stranger … Even if I die, I will show my gratitude,” he said. Samon comforted him: “You must not use fainthearted words. Generally this disease has a certain term; once it has run its course, your life will be in no danger. I shall come every day to look after you,” he vowed with all sincerity. Samon cared for the man devotedly, and the illness gradually abated. Feeling quite refreshed, the man thanked his host warmly and, esteeming Samon for his unobtrusive kindness, inquired into his vocation and then related his own circumstances: “I am from the village of Matsue, in the province of Izumo, and my name is Akana Sōemon. Since I have attained some slight understanding of military texts, the master of Tomita Castle, En’ya Kamon-no-suke, employed me as his tutor.5 During that time, I was sent as a secret envoy to Sasaki Ujitsuna, in Ōmi.6 While I was staying there, the former master of Tomita Castle, Amako Tsunehisa, enlisted the support of the Nakayama, launched a surprise New Year’s Eve attack, and captured the castle. Lord Kamon-no-suke was among those killed. Since Izumo was, properly speaking, a Sasaki domain, and En’ya the administrator, I urged Ujitsuna to join the Mizawa and Mitoya clans to overthrow Tsunehisa; but Ujitsuna, despite his formidable appearance, was in fact a coward and a fool—far from carrying out my proposal, he ordered me to stay in his domain. Seeing no point in remaining there, I slipped away and started for home, only to be stricken by this disease and forced against my will to impose on you, sir. Your kindness is more than I deserve. I shall devote the rest of my life to repaying you.” Samon responded, “It is only human nature to help someone in distress;7 I have done nothing to earn your very gracious thanks. Please stay on and recuperate.” Taking strength from the sincerity of Samon’s words, Akana stayed for some days, and his health returned almost to normal.

  “Amako Tsunehisa … launched a surprise New Year’s Eve attack, and captured the castle.”

  During this time, thinking what a good friend he had found, Samon spent his days and nights with Akana. As they talked together, Akana began to speak hesitantly of various Chinese thinkers, regarding whom his questions and understanding were exceptional, and on military theory he spoke with authority. Finding that their thoughts and feelings were in harmony on every subject, the two were filled with mutual admiration and joy, and finally they pledged their brotherhood. Being the elder by five years, Akana, in the role of older brother, accepted Samon’s expressions of respect and said to him, “Many years have passed since I lost my father and mother. Your aged mother is now my mother, and I should like to pay my respects to her anew. I wonder if she will take pity on me and agree to my childish wish.” Samon was overjoyed: “My mother has always lamented that I was alone. Your heartfelt words will give her a new lease on life when I convey them to her.” With this, he took Akana to his house, where his mother greeted them joyfully: “My son lacks talent, his studies are out of step with the times, and so he has missed his chance to advance in the world. I pray that you do not abandon him, but guide him as his elder brother.” Akana bowed deeply and said, “A man of character values what is right. Fame and fortune are not worthy of mention. Blessed with my honored mother’s love, and receiving the respect of my wise younger brother—what more could I desire?” Rejoicing, he stayed for some time.

  Although they had flowered, it seemed, only yesterday or today, the cherry blossoms at Onoe had scattered, and waves rising with a refreshing breeze proclaimed that early summer had arrived.8 Akana said to Samon and his mother, “Since it was to see how things stand in Izumo that I escaped from Ōmi, I should like to go down there briefly and then come back to repay your kindness humbly as a servant living on bean gruel and water. Please allow me to take my leave for a time.” Samon said, “If it must be so, my brother, when will you return?” Akana said, “The months and days will pass quickly. At the latest, I shall return before the end of this autumn.” Samon
said, “On what day of autumn shall I expect you? I beg you to appoint the time.” Akana said, “Let us decide, then, that the Chrysanthemum Festival, the ninth day of the Ninth Month, shall be the day of my return.” Samon said, “Please be certain not to mistake the day. I shall await you with a sprig of blossoming chrysanthemum and poor saké.” Mutually they pledged their reunion and lamented their separation, and Akana returned to the west.

  The ever-renewing months and days sped by, the berries colored on the lower branches of the oleaster, and the wild chrysanthemum in the hedge put out brilliant blossoms as the Ninth Month arrived. On the ninth day, Samon rose earlier than usual, swept the mats of his grass hut, placed two or three sprigs of yellow and white chrysanthemums in a small vase, and emptied his purse to provide saké and food. His aged mother said, “I have heard that Izumo, the Land of Eight Clouds, lies far to the north of the mountains, more than one hundred ri from here, and so we cannot be sure that he will arrive today. It would not be too late if you made your preparations when you see that he has come.” Samon said, “Being a samurai of honor, Akana certainly will not break his vow. I am ashamed at what he would think if he should find me rushing to get ready only after I had seen him.” Buying fine saké and cooking some fish, he prepared them in the kitchen.

  On this day, the sky was clear and cloudless in every direction, and many groups of travelers appeared, talking as they went. “So-and-so enjoys good weather today as he enters the capital, an omen that our merchandise will fetch a good profit,” said one as he passed. A samurai in his fifties said to his companion, a man in his twenties and wearing the same attire: “The weather is so good, the sea so calm. If we had hired a boat at Akashi and set out at dawn,9 we would now be approaching the harbor at Ushimado Straits. You youngsters waste money with your timidity.” The other soothed him, saying, “I should think that anyone would hesitate to cross here. Our lord had a terrible time, according to his attendants, crossing from Azukijima to Murozu on his way up to the capital. Do not be angry. I shall treat you to some soba noodles when we reach Uogahashi.“10 They moved on out of sight. A packhorse man said angrily, “Are you dead, you nag? Open your eyes.” Pushing the packsaddle back into place, he drove the horse on. Noon passed, too, but the one awaited had not come. As the sun sank in the west, the travelers’ steps quickened in their search for lodging. Samon saw them, but his gaze was fixed on the distance, and he felt something like intoxication.