by Ueda Akinari
Since Lafcadio Hearn's introduction of two of the tales in English, other translators have tried to convey the elusive beauty of the work to the rest of the world. In the 1920s a version of ‘The Blue Hood’ appeared in an English language periodical in Japan.81 In the 1930s Wilfred Whitehouse published translations of five of the tales with notes and commentary in Monumenta Nipponica82 an important journal for Japanese studies. Pierre Humbertclaude in the same journal began an ambitious critical study on Akinari including his early popular works.83 By the early 1940s all of the tales had been translated at least once. In the 1950s Rene SeifFert, in Paris, published a complete French translation with notes and commentaries on the individual tales.84 Meanwhile, other Western scholars of Japanese literature were also attracted to Akinari's work. Carmen Blacker and W. E. Skillend translated ‘The Carp That Came to My Dream.’85 Dale Saunders published new translations of several tales,86 and Lewis Allen one of ‘Chrysanthemum Tryst.’87 James Araki wrote an essay introducing scholars to recent Japanese studies.88 Also, during the 1960s a Hungarian translation appeared in Budapest, a Polish one in Warsaw. Kazuya Sakai, of Mexico City, published eight of the nine tales in a Spanish version.89 An analysis of the tales may be found in a Czechoslovakian doctoral dissertation available in Prague. The author, Libuse Bohackova, has also published a complete translation.90 Most recently, several young English-speaking scholars have turned their attention to Tales of Spring Rain91 and Kengi Hamada has published a translation of Ugetsu monogatari in book form.92 Nevertheless, one can hardly claim that the tales have been available in a suitable form for the general public. The present edition should help the reader more readily to appreciate Akinari's accomplishment.
14 The Present Edition
In Akinari's time there existed a bond between reader and writer unlike that in the West today. If the author sketched the outline and suggested the emotions and the spirit of what he wanted to say, the reader would fill in the rest – as with a Chinese or Japanese painting. It was acceptable to leave white spaces and even blurred places. Modern English prose, however, demands greater clarity. The translator must often pick one of several possible readings. He needs to put the text into a different focus.
Basically, I wanted the translation to read as if the original were written in common English. To this end I made my own interpretation of the tales, but I did not let the shadows of my imagination obscure the author's original intent. I tried to take the work as an eighteenth-century reader might have done and to recreate the impression that the book left on Japanese readers of long ago – though in a manner that would appeal to the feelings and understanding of a modern Western audience.
Rather than be as colloquial as possible, I have blended elements of spoken English with an occasional literary turn of phrase, so that the reader might better imagine the tone of Akinari's ‘mixed-style.’ I picked a formal cadence, while keeping in mind that Akinari himself used some of the conventions of the oral storyteller. The style of my translation may slow some readers down, but I hoped to reproduce part of the elegant flavour and the poetic quality of the original. It is well to remember that Akinari – like the Pre-Raphaelites – tried to revive a style that belonged to a period centuries earlier than his own day.
When I had a choice, I used the Japanese order of phrases and images, and I allowed myself a bit of inversion and elegant variation to help suggest the original text. But when English syntax seemed to cry out at being wrenched, I relaxed my grip. To a slight degree I edited the text for the convenience of Western readers. Failure to do so would have meant a clumsy and pedantic translation. With proper names, for example, the in, or ‘cloistered emperor,’ of the first tale, becomes Toba. The shin-in, or ‘new cloistered emperor,’ becomes Sutoku. En'i is Saigyō, and so on.
Nothing, however, can replace the original wood-block text, with its soft, handmade paper, cursive script, and irregular kana symbols. Seeing it furthers a love and appreciation of the work and arouses a desire to feel it and to find its sounds. Perhaps a facsimile edition or photographic reproduction of the text may eventually be available, and readers may learn to appreciate its aesthetic qualities and examine it as an example of eighteenth-century wood-block printing. For students the hentai-gana script (as the irregular form of the cursive syllabary is known) could serve as practice in reading pre-Meiji texts.
As the basic text for the present translation, I have used the first edition of the tales, which was issued at the booksellers’ establishment of Yabaido, a joint venture by Umemura Hambei, of Kyoto, and Nomura Chōbei, of Osaka. Specimen photographs are provided of the copy in the Tenri Central Library, and I have inserted notes that tell where each page of the woodblock text ends. I have also examined the copies in the National Diet Library and in Kyoto University Library, and in the reprint of that formerly owned by Tomioka Tessai and Mizu-tani Futō and now in the possession of Mr Matsuura Sadatoshi. Mr Nakamura Hiroyasu in 1967 published this text in a photographic reprint. I also consulted many commentaries and special studies, most notably those by Uzuki Hiroshi and Nakamura Yukihiko.
One of the minor changes that I have made involves the kanazukai, or orthography. Akinari used the classical way of representing the sounds of Japanese in written form. But for the reader's convenience, I put all words in their modern form. As a result, teu became chō; itau, itō; jiyaukuhau, jōkō, and so on. Anyone interested in this matter should look at tables in dictionaries such as the Kōjien or Meikai kogojiten. For the nigori, or voiced consonants – ga-, za-, da-, ba-, pa-, and their related sounds – I usually followed modern editors rather than the cursive text, but in the notes I have pointed out a number of examples of Akinari's usage. Believing that it was more effective in English (and with the support of Japanese commentaries that refer to the tone of a dramatic monologue), I rendered the opening tale in the first person, though other translators have used the third person narrative. Therefore, the ‘I’ in ‘White Peak’ refers not to Akinari, the author, but to Saigyō, the twelfth century poet, who reveals himself in a monologue addressed to the reader.
Although I kept in mind not only the needs of the general reader but also the student who has some knowledge of the Japanese language and who is ready to begin to enjoy traditional Japanese literature, my introduction and notes are more appreciative than critical. I avoided tedious points of grammar. I mentioned only a few of the oddities in Akinari's use of Chinese characters and Japanese diction. I did not exhaustively report all of the literary sources – rather, I was very selective. Students are urged to consult Uzuki or Nakamura's text, both of which are readily available. I tried to avoid giving an impression of esoteric remoteness, hoping rather to arouse new interest in Japanese literature. Indeed, I believe that the tales deserve to be widely read not only by adults in all walks of life but also by young people in the schools wherever the English language is used.
In translating the waka verses in the notes, I wanted mainly to show how Akinari's diction and syntax suggested the classical poetry of Japan. I was content to find a plausible reading in English, and I made little effort to discuss the technical devices of Japanese prosody. Anyone who wishes to go more deeply into the form and meaning of the verse should turn to the Japanese texts that I have cited and read Robert Brower and Earl Miner's fine book on Japanese court poetry. Especially for the Man'yōshū poems, I tried to be as clear and straightforward as possible, in the belief that simplicity is the outstanding feature of this anthology.
Place names in the notes are usually identified with their modern locations. Thus, the old provinces are given as the present-day prefectures. Tago Bay (see text, note II), for instance, is said to be in Shizuoka, not in Mikawa (the name of the equivalent province). The word ‘city’ denotes the modern Japanese shi, an administrative unit below the prefectural level with a certain amount of urban development. It is comparable to gun, which is a predominantly rural unit called a ‘district.’
My choice of editions of works cited in the n
otes was eclectic. Although they are not often those available to modern readers, I made some effort to deduce what texts of certain Chinese works Akinari may have used, because this is of interest to students of Chinese and Japanese cultural relations. For Japanese titles, I usually picked those in the series Nihon koten bungaku taikei, because they are easily obtainable and of high quality. For texts not in this series, I took handy modern reprints, turning to pre-modern editions as a last resort. I thought of using only books that Akinari might have seen, but aside from being an amusing bibliographic exercise, this would have proved maddening to any reader who tried to verify my references only to discover that the few available copies were all preserved in remote libraries in Japan. Wherever possible, I have listed English translations. The notes to the introduction and the text are numbered in two separate series, but I did not repeat full citations in the second series for any work previously listed in the first. More so than the introduction and the translation, my notes reflect the interest of the scholar or student. Still, I hope that the general reader will find occasional pleasure in glancing through them.
A few remarks on the calendar are necessary. In Akinari's time the years were calculated in a sexagenary cycle, using the Chinese zodiac. This consisted of twelve animal signs, also known as ‘branches,’ and ten other symbols that represented the five elements (wood, fire, earth, metal, and water) each used twice. Years were given era names, which were of various duration as recommended by official astrologers. The seasons were slightly different than now. New Year's day marked the beginning of spring, and it fell on the first, second or even sometimes the third new moon after the winter solstice. Therefore, each season came a little earlier than now. The months were adjusted to the lunar cycle – the fifteenth day always coinciding with the full moon. Each month was known by its number, from the first to the twelfth, and also by a poetic designation. The hours of the day were counted by using the twelve animal signs to represent two-hour periods. In addition, the night was measured by five units sometimes called ‘watches.’ For the names of historical and literary periods, I have tried to follow standard usage. Readers who want fuller information on these matters should see Herschel Webb's handy volume, Research in Japanese Sources: A Guide.
Throughout the book I used the Hepburn system to transliterate Japanese words, following the 1931 and 1942 editions of Kenkyusha ‘s New Japanese-English Dictionary. The consonants are pronounced as in English, except that the ‘g’ is always hard, as in ‘give.’ The vowels are as in Italian. A long vowel (most often 0) means that the length of the sound should be twice the usual duration. For Chinese words, I have used the modified Wade-Giles system found in the Mathews’ Chinese-English Dictionary. With Japanese proper names, that of the family comes first, except when an author originally wrote a book or article in a Western language. In the case of Japanese and Chinese books written before the modern period and also for well-known reference works and series, I adopted the usual practice in Japan and attached primary importance to the title, rather than the author, editor, or compilor.
To help the reader ‘see’ the text in terms of imagery familiar to Akinari and to people in Japan, I have also added a number of illustrations. For the most part, the modern traveller who visits the actual places mentioned in the tales will be disappointed, because the beauty in the mind's eye far excels that of mundane reality. Everyone looks through lenses of diverse kinds, but most people need assistance to see things in the light of the past. By viewing the world through Akinari's eyes one gains a sharper focus on life. One learns the relativity of all human needs, standards, and beliefs. One finds a new image of himself. Akinari's poetry may lack some of the grandeur of Lady Murasaki, the incisiveness of Lady Sei, the simplicity of Bashō, the wit of Saikaku, or the scale of Bakin, but he still had a powerful vision of reality that compels the modern reader's attention. His tales will add much to any effort to renew a right spirit in the heart of man.
NOTES ON THE INTRODUCTION
1 In Yōkyoku taikan, ed. Sanari Kentarō (1930-31; rpt. Tokyo: Meiji Shoin, 1963), vol. 1, p. 332. For this verse see also the Senjūshō, a collection of Buddhist short stories attributed to Saigyō, in Iwanami bunko (Tokyo: Iwanami, 1970), p. 151.
2 (Japanese, Sentō shinwa) Comp. Ch’ü Yu, in 1378 (Kyoto: Hayashi Shōgorō, 1648), 2, 33b (hereafter, New Tales for Lamplight); for other editions, see Kokuyaku Kambun taisei, vol. 13 (1922; rpt. Tokyo: Kokumin Bunko, 1924), p. 70; see also Chou 1, ed. (Shanghai: Chung hua shu chü, 1962), p. 55. Also see Shigetomo Ki, Ugetsu monogatari no kenkyü (Tokyo: Yaesu Shuppan, 1946), pp. 311-14; and Uzuki Hiroshi, Ugetsu monogatari hyōshaku, in Nihon koten hyōshaku zenchūshaku sōsho (Tokyo: Kado-kawa, 1969), p. 18.
3 See Arthur Waley, trans., The Tale of Genji (1925-33; 1 vol. rpt. London: Allen & Unwin, 1935; 4th impression, 2 vols, 1965); for Japanese text, see Genji monogatari, in Nihon koten bungaku taikei, 99 vols (Tokyo: Iwanami, 1957-66), (hereafter, NKBT), vols 14-17.
4 Yoki hodo to omou wa sugitaru nari. ‘Tandai shōshin roku,’ Ueda Akinari-shū, ed. Nakamura Yukihiko, in NKBT, vol. 56, pp. 258-9.
5 See ‘Chrysanthemum Tryst’ and text, note 140.
6 The earliest surviving anthology of Japanese poetry; compiled in the 8th century. See Nihon Gakujutsu Shinkōkai, ed., One Thousand Poems from the Manyōshū (1940; rpt. New York: Columbia University Press, 1965) (hereafter, NGSK); also see, NKBT, vols 4-7.
7 In Asano Sampei, ed., Akinari zen-kashū to sono kenkyū (Tokyo: Ōfūsha, 1969), p. 248.
8 For Saikaku and the ukiyo-zōshi, see Howard Hibbett, The Fiction of the Floating World (London: Oxford University Press, 1957); Ivan Morris, trans., An Amorous Woman and Other Stories by Ihara Saikaku (New Haven: New Directions, 1963); and Hasegawa Tsuyoshi, Ukiyo-Zōshi no kenkyū: Hachimonjiya-bon wo chūshin to suru (Tokyo:Ōfūsha, 1969).
9 Pearl Buck, trans., All Men Are Brothers (1937; rpt. New York: Grove Press, 1957), 2 vols. As one example of an early printed text that helped make Water Margin more accessible in Japan, see Ritakugo sensei hiten chūgi suikoden (Chinese, Li Cho-wu hsien sheng pi tien chung-i shui hu chuan) (Kyoto: Hayashi Kyūbei, 1728), the first 10 chapters of the 120-chapter version, punctuated for Japanese readers.
10 See Takizawa Bakin, Kinsei mono-no-hon Edo sakusha burui, ed. Kimura Miyogo (Nara: Privately published, 1971, for a facsimile reprint of this pioneering study of the development of early modern prose fiction with a meticulously prepared introduction by the editor).
11 See Oku no hosomichi, in NKBT, vol. 46, p. 70.
12 NGSK, p. 49; NKBT, vol. 4, pp. 150-1 (no. 253).
13 See William Aston, trans., Nihongi; Chronicles of Japan from the Earliest Times to A.D. 697 (1896; rpt. 2 vols in 1, London: Allen & Unwin, 1956), 11, 293.
14 Suzuro-gokoro shite. See ‘Iwahashi no ki,’ in Akinari ibun, ed. Fujii Otoō (1919; rpt. Tokyo: Shūbunkan, 1929), pp. 263-86; and ‘Tsuzura-bumi,’ in Ueda Akinari zenshū, ed. Iwahashi Koyata and Fujii Otoō (1917; rpt. 2 vols in 1, Tokyo: Kokusho Kankōkai, 1923), 1, 71-9, N.B. p. 71.
15 Gukanshō, comp. the priest Jien, in 1220, in NKBT, vol. 86, p. 206. See also H. Paul Varley, Imperial Restoration in Medieval Japan, Studies of the East Asia Institute (New York: Columbia University Press, 1971), pp. 15-21.
16 The edition that commonly circulated in early modern times was the Kokatsujibon Hōgen monogatari, in NKBT, vol. 22, pp. 335-99 (hereafter Hōgen monogatari). See also William R. Wilson, trans., Hōgen monogatari: Tale of the Disorder in Hōgen, A Monumenta Nipponica Monograph (Tokyo: Sophia University, 1971).
17 Intoku taiheiki, comp. Kagawa Masanori and Kagetsugu, in the 17th century, in Tsuzoku Nihon zenshi, vols 13-14 (Tokyo: Waseda Daigaku Shuppan-bu, 1913).
18 Especially the Kamakura ōzōshi, in Gunsho ruijū, vol. 13 (Tokyo: Keizai Zasshi-sha, 1900), pp. 650-714. This work treats events of the 14th-15 th century, beginning with an account of the ambitions of Ashikaga Ujimitsu (1357-98) and ending with a description of the rise to power of Ota Dōkan (14
32-86). Unlike the other titles mentioned so far, the Kama kura ōzōshi apparently was not printed and circulated only in manuscript.
19 See Varley, The Qnin War: History of Its Origins and Background, Studies of the East Asia Institute (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967), PP- 88-95.
20 In Witter Bynner, trans., The Jade Mountain: A Chinese Anthology, Being Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty (1928; rpt. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1945), p. 170.
21 Akinari's main source was the Taikōki, comp. Kose Hoan, in 1625. See Shiseki shūran, vol. 5 (Tokyo: Kondō Kappansho, 1900). Western readers may wish to consult accounts such those by Sir George Sansom, A History of Japan, vol. 2:1334-1615 (London: The Cresset Press, 1961), pp. 364-7, 370; and James Murdoch and Yamagata Isoh, A History of Japan During the Century of Early Foreign Intercourse (1542-1651) (Kobe: The Chronicle Office, 1903), pp. 380-4.
22 See Donald Keene, ed., Twenty Plays of the No Theatre (New York: Columbia University Press, 1971), pp. 237-52. Also see text, note 490.
