by Ueda Akinari
Each story forms a unit, with a meaning of its own, but taken together the tales suggest an organic whole greater than the sum of its parts, like an imperial anthology of court poetry, a sequence of linked verse, or a full programme of nō (with plays about gods, warriors, women, ghosts, and a congratulatory prayer of thanksgiving at the end). Underlying the structural integrity of Ugetsu monogatari are Chinese aesthetic values that the Japanese had early adopted. During the T'ang and Sung dynasties poets had begun to write sequences of verse, some of which, for instance, represented the changes of nature throughout the four seasons. Similarly, painters made landscape scrolls that unfolded from one scene to the next in a progress from the fresh new buds of spring to the withering of life in winter, implying a self-renewing cycle of birth, growth, decay, and death. Inspired by magical Buddhist figures and diagrams that symbolise the power and the form of the cosmos, poet and painter learned to depict an entire universe in visual or verbal terms. The contemplative man spending a summer night observing the image of the moon reflected in his garden pool saw in microcosm the vastness of time and space and the relative insignificance of the individual.
Landscape painting and the ghostly tale both lead to mystical experience. After viewing hills and valleys clad in mist and clouds, the painter, whose every brushstroke is charged with life, discovers hidden forms that exist only in the mind's eye. When the poet elaborates on such a vision, he creates the ghostly tale. ‘The Carp That Came to My Dream,’ with a powerful touch of irony suggests how such a poetic vision might take on the dimensions of reality. A painted fish could leap into a real lake. Herein lies one of the links between the world of Akinari's tales and that which his contemporaries who called themselves bunjin, or ‘literary men,’ depicted in their landscapes, portraits, or flower and bird studies. Perhaps partly owing to the deformity of his right hand and his consequent inability to master the art of painting, Akinari was able to create an imaginary world by pouring heart and soul into his ghostly tales.
Most of all, however, the organisation of the tales is reminiscent of the arrangement of pieces in a full programme for the no theatre. First came a play about the gods, because they stood for creation and guarded the nation down through the ages. Secondly came a drama about battle, which conveyed the struggle to protect and sustain life and the desire to commemorate the men who pacified the country with bows and arrows. After warfare came peace and a mysterious calm, which woman by means of love helped to perpetuate. But ghosts and spiritual creatures emerged to challenge man and reprove him, showing that his glory might vanish and that life was like a dream. The weaknesses and shortcomings of mankind, as well as human achievements, were thereby represented to the onlookers, but in the end the vital forces auspiciously prevailed. Man was reminded of his moral duties and of the promise that even after spring had passed, again it shall return.
From the middle ages on, sometimes there might be a different number of pieces in a no performance, but the general principles for arranging the programme were usually followed. Akinari prepared his tales similarly (indeed one recalls that his title was derived from the no). ‘White Peak’ stands as the equivalent of a play about gods. ‘Chrysanthemum Tryst’ brings to mind dramas in which the ghost of a warrior appears. ‘The House Amid the Thickets’ suggests a ‘wig’ play, where the principle character is a woman, and it reminds one that love is usually associated with sorrow. ‘The Carp That Came to My Dream’ and ‘Bird of Paradise’ show certain characteristics related to the deep and mysterious quality of life in the everyday world. ‘The Caldron of Kibitsu,’ ‘The Lust of the White Serpent,’ and ‘The Blue Hood’ all contain scenes that cautioned the reader what disaster might befall the man who failed to show prudence and circumspection in daily conduct. Last of all, ‘Wealth and Poverty,’ complementing the opening piece, serves a purpose similar to that of a ‘congratulatory’ play. In the tales, as in the no, decline is followed by restoration. Peace and prosperity succeed toil and suffering. The tales, therefore, describe a paradigm of life.
Besides calling to mind a full programme of the no theatre, most of the tales, as mentioned earlier, show traces of being organised around the theme of the archetypal quest. Saigyō, searching for enlightenment, meets Sutoku, the rebellious and unrepentant ghost of a former emperor. Samon, a youthful scholar, whose adventures were previously limited to the world of books, takes inspiration from Sōemon's ghost. As a result of confronting the world of real experience, he avenges his friend's murder. Katsushirō leaves home and wife to seek wordly wealth, but in the end what he really achieves is understanding and wisdom. Kōgi's view of the depths of Lake Biwa through the eyes of a fish afford him true knowledge of the imperman-ence of earthly pleasures and realisation of the fragile quality of life. The experience of Muzen and his son on Mt Kōya has a similar effect on the pair. Katsushirō seeks personal happiness, but he is unprepared to accommodate himself to the demands of home and family. Toyoo at first gives in to temptation, endangering his life, but later he finds maturity, though only at an extreme price. The fatherly mendicant, Kaian, saves a lost soul and in the process discovers a new facet of the human spirit. Lastly, Sanai's ghostly interview with the spirit of gold yields him a vision of a future era of peace.
As with many no dramas, much of the significant action in the tales involves relations among men. In contrast to the earlier court romances, woman plays a secondary role, reminding one of her subordinate position in a Confucian society. According to Buddhist beliefs, as well, she suffers from various hindrances that make it difficult for her to attain enlightenment without first being reborn as a man. Compared to the men in the tales, the women are less firmly in control of their destiny. Nevertheless, Western readers will likely find the three stories in which women play a central role to be the most memorable of all. Despite her subordinate position, woman in the tales suggests the charm and grace of the archetypal female goddess or the mysterious calm of the natural environment, which man never wholly subdues. In her other guise she shows the demonic quality of the witch or shamaness. In ‘The House Amid the Thickets’ woman appears in her passive form as a loving but forsaken wife, but in ‘The Caldron of Kibitsu’ and ‘The Lust of the White Serpent’ she takes on the more active role of the lamia, the witch, and the vampire. The strength of love might transcend the grave. Overwrought feelings transform a jealous woman into a deadly fury. An excess of fervour creates a beautiful woman from a snake – or perhaps it is the other way around. In general, however, Akinari describes a man's world, where woman is either devoted or dangerous. Ironically enough, an excess of devotion leads to danger, which in Buddhist terms means clinging to desire. Akinari suggests that woman must devote herself to man but that too much of this quality might cause pain and anguish.
During the years while he was working on his tales and trying to find a suitable occupation, Akinari possibly felt that his own wife and his step-mother were painfully devoted to him, and that he was undeserving of their love. As did his hero, Samon, he dabbled in scholarship. Like Katsushir, he had abandoned his father's business, essentially for selfish reasons, to enter a new line of work that offered no assurance of success. Like Shōtarō, he had philandered in the gay quarter and neglected his family's occupation. He felt himself to be weak, like Toyoo, undeserving of his adoptive father's patronage, and remote from the family trade. Thus the tales reflect phases of his own psychological development.
At the beginning of the tales the Buddhist view finds espousal as the quickest way to wisdom, but in the end an attempt is made to transcend this outlook for a more pragmatic approach, in keeping with a new age. Meantime, throughout the collection Akinari sustains his meditative and detached tone. The lonely hermits and the youths who search for fulfilment and enlightenment emerge as his heroes. Mainly he tends to avoid direct confrontation with tragedy, bloodshed, or suffering. Nevertheless, enough gruesome material finds its way into the tales to reveal an ample glimpse of a demonic vision, with symbols of the
prison, the madhouse, and death by torture. Shock and horror, one recalls, must figure in any journey from innocence to experience.
But despite certain unusual features in the overall structure and the influence of early Chinese and Japanese works, Akinari in each tale emphasised a single moment of insight, as have good modern short story writers. As a totality of related parts all of the tales combine to form an integral and unified work of art.
13 Akinari's Legacy
After the first appearance of the tales in Osaka and Kyoto in 1776, they steadily rose in popularity, and the text passed through several editions. Like other books of the time, Ugetsu monogatari circulated mainly through lending libraries in the large urban centres and smaller provincial cities. Relatively few people could afford to buy their own private copy, and some readers even transcribed the text that they borrowed. Scholars as well as casual readers took note of the tales, and Akinari's fame and reputation rose. Motoori Norinaga, doyen of the school of national learning, exchanged views with him on a variety of matters, including Japan's proper role in the world community.46 By the end of the century Ota Nampo visited Akinari and called him the outstanding writer of the day.47 Another Edo author, Takizawa Bakin (1767-1848), tried without success to meet him, but he praised Akinari as a great man of letters and regretted only that he shunned social intercourse and was so retiring by nature.48
Meanwhile, the tales began to exert an influence on the literary scene. Itami Chin'en (75?-81?) in a reading book entitled Kinko kaidan miyamagusa (Deep Mountain Grass: New and Old Tales of Wonder), which came out in Osaka in 1782, used situations from ‘The Caldron of Kibitsu’ and ‘The Lust of the White Serpent.’49 Other authors, particularly in Edo, the most rapidly growing urban centre in Japan at the time, tried to emulate Akinari's successful combination of a neoclassical style and a popular mode of storytelling. Even authors of chapbooks, such as Tōrai Sanna (1749-1810),50 borrowed passages from Akinari's tales. Santo Kyōden (1761-1816),51 realised the significance of Akinari's work and used the same techniques and materials in his historical romances. But above all, Bakin himself perfected the idea of using real or imaginary characters out of the past to create historical novels that appealed to serious readers who were interested in art, scholarship, society, and politics.52 Bakin several times employed the idea of an interview with the ghost of a famous man, as had Akinari in ‘White Peak’ and ‘Bird of Paradise.’53
Many of the same names of people, places, events, and even the classical Chinese metaphors of Akinari's tales appeared in Bakin's novels.54 The idea of a worthless man who for the sake of another woman neglects his wife and eventually meets a violent death at the hands of her rancorous ghost not only found expression in ‘The Caldron of Kibitsu’ but also in Bakin's reading book, Kanzen Tsuneyo no monogatari (The Story of Tsuneyo).55 The situation described at the beginning of ‘The Lust of the White Serpent’ was also imitated by Bakin in Kinsesetsu bishōnenroku (Handsome Youths),56 where a young man similarly meets a woman at a temple during a sudden rain shower and lends her his umbrella. Later in the same episode a mysterious serpent appears. But aside from specific influence on Kyōden and Bakin's plots, Akinari's greatest contribution to later authors was his skilful use of classical metaphor and his treatment of the supernatural world. Without his work Japanese literature of the nineteenth and twentieth century would have been much the poorer.
Men such as Nampo, Bakin, and Kyōden helped to preserve the memory of Akinari's work. The former pair correctly identified two earlier titles that Akinari refused to admit having written.57 Bakin was instrumental in transmitting the posthumous work, Harusame monogatari (Tales of Spring Rain). During Akinari's own lifetime he and his tales became objects of study. Then not long after his death, a certain Obayashi Kajō (1782?-1862), a retainer in the Oban, or ‘Guard,’ the military branch of the government service, who was conversant with Confucian doctrines, as well as the tenets of the school of national learning, in 1823 edited Akinari's Kuse monogatari, adding a variety of notes and comments58 and attesting to the growing recognition of his genius.
With the surge of Western influence after 1868, for a time interest in Akinari and his tales diminished. But by 1890 the climate had changed, and people began paying more attention to things Japanese. The tales were mentioned in an early history of prose fiction.59 Movable-type editions became available,60 and hereafter Ugetsu monogatari was often reprinted. Writers and poets of the Meiji Era – especially those involved with the Japanese romantic movement – turned to them for inspiration and found the same enduring qualities that had attracted an earlier generation. The novelist Koda Rohan described Saigyō’s journey to the emperor Sutoku's grave in terms that showed ‘White Peak’ to have been the model. A poet named Takeshima Hagoromo was influenced by the tales. A poetic version and a dramatisation of ‘The House Amid the Thickets’ appeared.61 During these years Lafcadio Hearn introduced ‘Chrysanthemum Tryst’ and ‘The Carp That Came to My Dream’ to English-speaking readers, marking the beginning of their recognition in world literature.62
In the twentieth century Akinari's literary reputation has continued to flourish, and his tales have been acknowledged as a central work in the Japanese tradition. Suzuki Toshinari's annotated edition in 191663 included a lengthy introductory essay on such topics as Akinari's views on literature, how the tales came to be written and published, their literary background, the influence of medieval narrative prose, the role of the supernatural, and the impact on later authors. A revised version of Suzuki's work in 1929 boasted of four illustrations by Kaburagi Kiyokata, in which Akinari's themes were represented in pictorial terms.64 Suzuki's careful and innovative study influenced later scholars, and Kaburagi's drawings demonstrated the hold that the tales exerted on artists as well as poets.
Literary men continued to respond to Akinari's classical style and emotional power. The novelist Tanizaki Jun'ichiro in 1920 prepared a scenario for a motion picture based on ‘The Lust of the White Serpent.’65 In 1924 Sato Haruo (who, incidentally, was born in Shingu, the home of Akinari's fictional hero, Toyoo) published the first of many items he was to write about the tales and their author.66 Akutagawa Ryūnosuke was an ardent student of the tales. One of Dazai Osamu's first stories, ‘Gyofukuki,’ which appeared in 1933, was inspired by ‘The Carp That Came to My Dream,’ and the author wrote that when he first read Akinari's tale as a child, it made him want to become a fish.67 In the mid-1930s Okamoto Kanoko published an essay on Akinari.68 As mentioned in the Translator's Foreword, two film versions were produced in the 1950s. Meanwhile, Mishima Yukio in 1949 wrote an appreciative essay that showed the powerful influence Akinari's work had on him during his formative years. To him, Akinari represented ‘a marriage of moralist and aesthete,’ and Mishima praised the poetry, beauty, irony, and detachment found in the tales. ‘White Peak’ was his favourite, followed by ‘The Carp’ and ‘Chrysanthemum Tryst.’ The romantic quality of Mishima's own writings owes a good deal to Akinari, whom he called ‘the Japanese Villiers de L'Isle-Adam.’69 Literary critics have similarly shared a high opinion of the tales.70
Among early twentieth-century scholars, a number of men have helped to make Ugetsu monogatari one of the most familiar titles in Japanese literature. Fujii Otoo, for instance, played a special role in Akinari studies. He assisted in editing a collection of the authors representative works; he prepared a separate volume of posthumous writings; he wrote scholarly and critical essays, and he produced a valuable biographical study.71 Other men in the meantime concentrated on understanding Akinari's indebtedness to earlier literature. Two of the most prominent of these, Yamaguchi Takeshi and Gotō Tanji,72 have demonstrated the complexity of the Chinese and Japanese literary sources. Tsujimori Shūei published a biographical study.73 In 1946 an independent monograph on the tales, by Shigetomo Ki, appeared.74 Maruyama Sueo presented a detailed bibliography of secondary sources, and in 1951 he introduced newly discovered work by Akinari, which enabled readers to grasp more fully th
e degree of his talent and genius.75 By the middle of the twentieth century Akinari's tales were sometimes compared in extravagant terms with such works as The Tale of Genji, the most remarkable achievement in all of Japanese literature.
More recently, intensive research and analysis has led to new knowledge and understanding. Nakamura Yukihiko, a widely respected scholar of early modern literature, has contributed to a realisation of Akinari's breadth as a literary man.76 Others, such as Moriyama Shigeo, Sakai Kōichi, Ōba Shunsuke, and Morita Kir, have published appreciative studies.77 Takada Mamoru has pieced together all the available details of Akinari's life, and he has also published a well received critical monograph.78 Until his untimely death, Uzuki Hiroshi was working on an exhaustively thorough annotated text of Ugetsu mono-gatari, which his co-worker, Nakamura Hiroyasu, completed -a monumental effort that all future students of the tales will surely consult.79 Asano Sampei has prepared a collection of Akinari's waka verse with essays and notes on the sources and criticism and discussion of the author's ideas on poetry. More recently he has edited a text of Tales of Spring Rain.80 Yet other well known scholars and critics have written about the tales, reaffirming their value. General anthologies of Japanese literature normally include selections from them, and a person can hardly claim to be well read unless he is conversant with Ugetsu monogatari.
