Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600–1900

by Shirane, Haruo, ed.

  KAN CHAZAN

  Kan Chazan (1748–1828), also called Kan Sazan, was a Confucian scholar and a kanshi poet. He was born in Kannabe in Bingo Province (Hiroshima), went to Kyoto in 1766, but in 1770 returned to Kannabe. In 1781 he opened what became a noted private school called the Yellow Leaf Sunset Lodge (Kōyō sekiyō sonsha). Chazan adopted the style of Song poetry, excelled in the seven-word quatrain, and is remembered for his collection of kanshi, Yellow Leaf Sunset Lodge Poetry Collection (Kōyō sekiyō sonsha shishū), and also his collection of essays in Japanese Pleasures of the Brush (Fude no susabi).

  KANSHI

  READING A BOOK ON A WINTER NIGHT

  The snow envelops the mountain house; the tree shadows darken.

  The wind chime remains still; the night grows deeper and deeper.

  Quietly, I gather the scattered books and ponder the difficult words.

  An ear of blue lamplight: the heart of the ancients.6

  [Translated by Haruo Shirane]

  RAI SANYŌ

  Rai Sanyō (1780–1832), one of the best-known kanshi poets and a noted historian, was born in Osaka, the first son of Rai Shunsui, a Confucian scholar in the employ of the Aki (Hiroshima) Domain. At a young age Sanyō showed a talent for writing Chinese poetry, and when he was eighteen, he was taken to Edo to study at the Shōheikō, the bakufu school, and returned home the next year. In 1800, apparently wanting to study in the big city, he suddenly fled from his domain. He was caught in Kyoto and brought back to his home, where he was placed under house arrest for three years and then disinherited. During his confinement he began writing The Unofficial History of Japan (Nihon gaishi), a twenty-two-volume outsider’s history of Japan’s military clans, which he worked on for twenty years. Like most other scholars of his time, he wrote the history in kanbun, or Chinese prose. Sanyō was befriended by Kan Chazan, his father’s friend and a noted kanshi poet in Bingo Province (Hiroshima), and later moved to Kyoto where he opened his own school, becoming one of the leading kanshi poets and teachers in the Kyoto-Osaka region.

  When Sanyō was thirty-six, he met Ema Saikō, a woman who became both a kanshi disciple and a lifelong companion. Three years later he traveled to the west, to various parts of Kyūshū, during which time he composed the famous poem “Stopping at Amakusa Sea.” In 1826 Sanyo completed his Unofficial History, which he dedicated to the retired rōjū (elder councillor) Matsudaira Sadanobu. In addition, he wrote Record of Japan’s Government (Nihon seiki), a chronological history from Emperor Jinmu to Emperor GoYōzei (r. 1586–1611), which he almost completed before his death in 1832. Many of his kanshi can be found in Selections from Sanyō’s Poetry (Sanyō shishō, 1833), a collection that he edited. The Unofficial History of Japan was not published until after his death, but in the late Tokugawa period, it was widely read by young samurai, who admired its pro-emperor stance, and brought its author posthumous fame.

  THE UNOFFICIAL HISTORY OF JAPAN (NIHON GAISHI, 1826)

  The Unofficial History of Japan is notable not only as a major work of history but also as a highly literary text, inspired by the format of Sima Qian’s Record of History (Shiki) and written in a concise kanbun style that made it popular reading in the late Tokugawa period. It is a history of the leading military clans, beginning with the Heike (Taira) and the Genji (Minamoto) and continuing through the Hōjō, Kusunoki, Nitta, Ashikaga, Takeda, Uesugi, Mōri, Oda, and others, until the Tokugawa clan. Throughout, Rai Sanyō stresses the importance of loyalty and service to the emperor and of the continuity of the imperial line. Sanyō saw the workings of heaven (ten) in both the position of the emperor, which he associated with an unchanging moral law or ethical principle, and the unavoidable “momentum” (ikio) that caused military rule to be constantly changed. Although this “momentum” transcended the power of any single individual, it made heroes of those who manifested it, thus creating a perspective in which the individual could—as happened in the waning years of the Tokugawa period—participate in history and contribute to change. Drawing on his talents as a poet, Sanyō wrote in a vivid, dramatic style that made historical figures come alive. After his death, when the “revere the emperor” (sonnō), anti-bakufu movement came to the fore, Sanyō‘s Unofficial History became a best-seller and a source of inspiration for many would-be reformers and activists.

  Kusunoki

  One of the most frequently noted passages in The Unofficial History of Japan is the concluding commentary on the significance of Kusunoki Masashige’s role in the Kenmu Restoration (1333–1336), a three-year period when Emperor GoDaigo (r. 1318–1339) tried to resurrect direct imperial rule after the overthrow of the Hōjō clan, the shōgunate at Kamakura. In 1331, in response to a request from Emperor GoDaigo, Kusunoki Masashige (1294–1336), a low-ranking samurai, raised an army and helped the renegade shōgunate generals Ashikaga Takauji (1305–1358) and Nitta Yoshisada defeat the Hōjō clan. This was followed by a conflict between Ashikaga Takauji, who opposed GoDaigo and supported the Northern Court side of the imperial family, and Nitta Yoshisada and Kusunoki, who supported GoDaigo and his Southern Court lineage. Ashikaga Takauji prevailed and eventually established the Muromachi shōgunate, of which he served as the first shōgun. In the following passage, from volume 5, Rai Sanyō visits the post station at Sakurai (near present-day Osaka), where Kusunoki Masashige, aware of his impending death, met with his eleven-year-old son Masatsura (1326–1348), who wanted to follow his father in death on the battlefield, and asked Masatsura to remain loyal to the emperor. Masashige returned Masatsura to Kōchi Province because he wanted his descendants to protect the imperial throne after his death.

  The unofficial historian said: I frequently traveled back and forth to Settsu and Harima Provinces7 and on one of those occasions sought out the so-called post station at Sakurai and found it on the Yamazaki Road. It is only a small village. Some people pass through without realizing that these are the remains of the post station. As the Ashikaga, the Oda, the Toyotomi, and other clans came and went, the ways of the world changed, as did the post station, leaving the place unrecognizable. Filled with thoughts of the past, I was unable to leave. When I saw Kongō Hill8 rising up to the edge of the clouds, I could see before my eyes the autumn when Kusunoki led his troops for a just cause and when his descendants made this mountain their base as they protected the imperial family.

  According to the records, when Kusunoki visited Emperor GoDaigo’s temporary residence,9 he said, “As long as I am alive and your subject, you do not have to worry about destroying the traitors.” This was an imperial guard of the third rank who remained steadfast and took on his shoulders the heavy weight of the land. Deeply moved by his fortunate encounter with the emperor, Kusunoki sacrificed himself for the sake of the country. He accomplished great feats, stopping a great river with an empty hand and making the sun that had set rise again.10 How magisterial!

  Kusunoki enticed the elite troops of the Hōjō clan to the base of Chihaya Castle on Kongō Mountain and had the forces of Nitta Yoshisada and Ashikaga Takauji attack the positions vacated by the Hōjō and destroy the Hōjō leaders.11 When the emperor returned to the throne and rewarded Kusunoki with a title and an official post, he should have offered him the highest position. Instead, Kusunoki’s position was just barely comparable to that of his colleagues Yūki and Nawa. From the failure of this action, one can understand the failure of the Kenmu Imperial Restoration.

  With the betrayal by the Ashikaga clan, the imperial court had to rely heavily on the Nitta clan. Kusunoki was simply turned into the Nitta’s vice general and made to assist them. The only reason for this was that he did not have the pedigree of the Nitta clan. But wasn’t the victory in Kyoto and the fact that they almost destroyed the traitors a result of Kusunoki’s strategy? If the responsibility that was left to the Nitta had been given to Kusunoki, would he have caused the traitors—the dogs, sheep, foxes, and mice—to step on our imperial court?12

  But when Kusunoki faced death, he cautioned his son with these
words: “When I die, everything under heaven will revert to the Ashikaga.” Even though he knew that the matters of the world could not be controlled, he left behind descendants to protect the emperor. His concern was equal to that of the great ministers of ancient times. His descendants faithfully obeyed his last words, looked after the rightful emperor in the confined place of Yoshino, and protected His Majesty from traitors for three reigns and more than fifty years. Kusunoki’s descendants sacrificed the life of their entire clan for a country in crisis. It was only after Kusunoki’s clan was destroyed that the Ashikaga clan was able, for the first time, to exercise out its will fully across the country.

  Indeed, the imperial court was not able to give much responsibility to the Kusunoki clan. No more needs to be added—beyond the fact of their loyalty to the emperor—about why the Kusunoki clan took the responsibility on themselves. Today, when we evaluate the various generals involved in that imperial restoration, we evaluate them according to family lineage and social prestige and do not grasp the deeper reality of the situation—a view that is no better than that held at that time. If the Kusunoki clan had not existed, even if the Southern Court had the three imperial treasures, to whom could they have turned to keep alive the hopes of the country? The significance of the dream that the emperor had at Kasagi Mountain looms large here.13 But the Southern wind14 could not compete, and both the Southern Court and the Kusunoki clan were wounded and vanquished. How sad it is that since the distant past, no one has sympathized with the labors of the Kusunoki clan!

  Even though the legitimate emperor and the unauthorized emperor differed, in the end they returned to being one, and the honored name of the emperor has been transmitted eternally.15 If we could inform Kusunoki Masashige about this, he would no doubt be able to sleep peacefully. Then his great loyalty to the emperor would rise high and exist together with the mountains and rivers and be sufficient to maintain forever, for ten thousand years, the human spirit of those who follow the proper way of the world.16 When we compare this to the evil heroes of China, who constantly fought one another and stayed in power for a mere few hundred years, this kind of gain and loss is nothing.

  Uesugi Kenshin and Takeda Shingen

  Uesugi Kenshin, a leader from Echigo Province (Niigata), and Takeda Shingen, from Kai Province (Yamanashi), were bitter rivals during the Warring States period (1477–1573), before the unification of the country by Oda Nobunaga. For twelve years, from 1553 to 1564, the two leaders fought five deadly battles at Kawanakajima, where the Chikuma and Saikawa Rivers merge, in Shinano Province (Nagano)—battles that were dramatized in jōruri and kabuki by Chikamatsu Monzaemon, Chikamatsu Hanji, and Kawatake Mokuami. The following passage, which reveals the compact, dramatic style of The Unofficial History of Japan, describes one of the most famous of these encounters, which Rai Sanyō believes to have occurred in 1554.

  In the Eighth Month, Kenshin again entered Shinano Province with eight thousand mounted soldiers and mused to himself, “In this battle, I must fight Shingen personally to determine victory or defeat.” He advanced across the Saikawa River and set up camp on the opposite shore. On the sixteenth, Shingen set out, taking with him twenty thousand troops, and came face to face with Kenshin’s forces. Shingen strengthened his defenses and did not go out to battle. After a day had passed, Kenshin had Murakami Yoshikiyo and others hide their troops during the night, and when the dawn arrived, Kenshin had woodcutters go out and approach the Kai defenses. The Kai troops came out and pursued the woodcutters, falling into the trap set by the hidden troops, and all died. The various units followed and clashed in a fierce battle. During the day there were seventeen engagements, with victories and defeats on both sides. Shingen secretly issued an order, had a large rope stretched across the Saikawa River, crossed the water, hid the flags and banners, passed through the reeds, and immediately attacked Kenshin’s closest retainers, who collapsed and fled.

  Riding on his success, Shingen advanced. At that point, Usami Sadayuki and others took their own soldiers and launched a surprise attack on Shingen from the side, broke through, and pushed Shingen’s troops into the river. Shingen fled with twenty to thirty mounted soldiers. At that point, a warrior mounted on a chestnut horse and wearing a yellow battle cloak, emerged. Covering his face with a white cloth, the mounted warrior drew out a large sword and came forward, shouting, “Where’s Shingen?” Shingen spurred on his horse, entered the river, and tried to escape. The mounted warrior followed, yelling, “Hey you there, punk!”17 Raising his sword, the mounted warrior attacked. Shingen did not have time to draw his sword. Instead, he took what was in his hand, the command fan, and used it to fend off the blow. The fan broke. The mounted warrior swung again, cutting into Shingen’s shoulder. The Kai retainers tried to save their commander, but the water was flowing quickly, preventing them from getting close.

  At this point Hara Oosumi, a Kai unit commander, took his spear and stabbed at the mounted warrior in the yellow cloak but missed. Raising his spear, Oosumi thrust forward again, hitting the horse’s neck. The horse jumped in fright and plunged into the rapids. Shingen barely managed to escape. Takeda Nobushige,18 hearing that Shingen was in danger, turned and came back, called out to the mounted warrior, demanding a duel, and died in the ensuing fight. The number of soldiers who died on both sides on this day was staggering. Having been wounded, Shingen gathered his troops at night and retreated. Later Shingen took a prisoner from Echigo,19 who told him: “The mounted warrior who faced you was Kenshin.”

  [Vol. 11, Later Records of the Ashikaga Clan, translated by Haruo Shirane]

  KANSHI

  Although Rai Sanyō made a career of writing histories, he was equally noted as a poet of kanshi, especially for his history poems (eishi; Ch. yongshi). Some of them are quite long and unique in the Japanese kanshi tradition. In these poems, Sanyō recreates an event in the distant past or assumes the persona of a historical figure, as in the following, his most famous history poem. This quatrain describes the famous battle at Kawanakajima, in the Ninth Month of 1561, when Kenshin and Shingen accidentally came into direct contact with each other, as described in the preceding passage from The Unofficial History of Japan.

  ON A PAINTING OF KENSHIN ATTACKING SHINGEN

  Sound of the horse whips, softly, softly, crossing the river at night.

  At dawn the sight of a thousand soldiers protecting the great tusk.

  A lasting regret! For ten years, polishing one sword

  Beneath the light of a falling star, the long snake escapes.20

  [Gozan bungaku shū, Edo kanshi shū, NKBT 89: 294, translated by Haruo Shirane]

  STOPPING AT AMAKUSA SEA

  Is it clouds? Or mountains? Is it Wu? Or Yue?

  The water and the heavens separated by a single hair

  After countless miles, anchoring the boat in the Sea of Amakusa

  The mist moving past my window, the sun gradually sinks.

  I glimpse a giant fish jumping between the waves.

  The light of Venus, bright as the moon, strikes the boat.21

  [Translated by Haruo Shirane]

  ESCORTING MY MOTHER HOME: A SHORT SONG FOR THE ROAD

  East winds to greet my mother when she came;

  North winds to see her on the way back home.

  She arrived when roads were fragrant with blossoms,

  Now suddenly this cold of frost and snow!

  At cockcrow already I’m trying my footgear,

  Waiting by her palanquin, legs a bit unsteady.

  Never mind if the son’s legs are tired,

  Just worry whether her palanquin’s fit for riding.

  I pour her a cup of wine, a drink for myself too,

  First sunlight flooding the inn, frost already dried.

  Fifty-year-old son, seventy-year-old mother—

  Not often you find a pair as lucky as us!

  Off to the south, in from the north, streams of people—

  Who among them happy as this mother and son?22
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  [Gozan bungaku shū, Edo kanshi shū, NKBT 89: 297, translated by Burton Watson]

  RYŌKAN

  Ryōkan (1758–1831) was a Zen monk renowned for his distinctive calligraphy and poetry in Chinese and Japanese. He was born in the village of Izumozaki in Echigo Province (Niigata), on the Japan Sea coast. His father, a practicing haiku poet, was the village headman and the custodian of the local Shintō shrine. As the eldest son, Ryōkan was in position to succeed his father as village headman, but at the age of seventeen, he abruptly entered a local Zen temple and began religious training, adopting the religious name of Ryōkan. His younger brother Yoshiyuki replaced him as the family heir. In 1779, he became a disciple of the Soto Zen master Kokusen, head of the Entsū-ji temple in Bitchū Province (Okayama Prefecture), and spent the next ten years or so under Kokusen’s guidance, eventually becoming a Zen master himself. After Kokusen’s death in 1791, Ryōkan left Entsū-ji and, after five years of wandering, returned to his native region of Echigo, where he remained for the rest of his life. In 1804, he settled down in the Gogō-an, or Five Measures of Rice Retreat, a small one-room hut on the slopes of Mount Kugami, near the Japan Sea. He died in the vicinity when he was seventy-three.

  Unlike most prominent Buddhist priests, who became heads of temples, Ryōkan lived alone, devoted himself to meditation and poetry, and supported himself through the practice of takuhatsu, begging expeditions to nearby villages. Some of his best poems are on the begging bowl (hachi), a symbol of his life as a mendicant priest. He is also known for his poems about playing with children, his wanderings, his meditations, and his life in a small hut. Ryōkan’s poems are marked by their interest in a natural, simple, and unpretentious life and by his strong persona, particularly as a compassionate, warm, and crazy monk—reminiscent of such other madcap Zen monks as Ikkyū or, in China, Hanshan (Cold Mountain). This aspect of Ryōkan’s personality is reflected in the second religious name that he adopted: Taigu, or Great Fool. In 1826, he became close friends with a Zen Buddhist nun, Teishin (1798–1872), forty years his junior, with whom he exchanged numerous poems. After his death, she collected these poems in Dew on the Lotus (Hachisu no tsuyu, 1835).