English
The present holder of that name is the ninth of the line, CHARTER TV POETRY OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY— HAIKAI, HAIBUN, KIOKA HAIKAI Ir might naturally be supposed that in the Tanka of thirty-one syllables poetry had reached its extreme limit of brevity and conciseness. But a still further step remained to be taken in this direction. In the sixteenth century a kind of poem known as Haikai, which con- sists of seventeen syllables only, made its appearance. The Haikai is a Tanka minus the concluding fourteen syllables, and is made up of three phrases of five, seven, and five syllables respectively, as in the follow- ing :— “ Furu tke ya ! Kawadzu tobi-komu, Midzu no oto.” . It differs from Tanka, however, in more than metre, being much less choice in diction and matter than the older kind of poetry. It admits words of Chinese deriva- tion and colloquial expressions, and often deals with subjects which the more fastidious Tanka refuses to meddle with. The earliest professor of this accomplishment was Yamazaki So-kan, a Buddhist priest (1445-1534). The 289 290 ~ JAPANESE LITERATURE verses of his which I have met with have mostly a comic character. Here is one :— “ Even in the rain, come forth, O midnight moon ! But first put on your hat.” . A halo is called in Japanese £asa, which also means a broad hat or umbrella. Another early Haikai writer was Arakida Moritake (1472-1549). The following is from his pen :— “ Thought I, the fallen flowers Are returning to their branch ; But lo! they were butterfites.” Coming down to the Yedo period, the first name of note in this department of literature is that of Matsunaga Teitoku (1562-1645). A well-known Haikai of his is the following :— “ For all men Tits the seed of stesta— ; The autumn moon.” In other words: The autumn moon is so beautiful that people sit up half the night to gaze on it, and have there- fore to make up for their want of sleep by a siesta on the following day. If it were not, however, for the fame of MATSURA BASHO (1643-1694) and his disciples, it would hardly be neces- sary to notice this kind of composition at all. He im- ported a more serious element, and greatly refined and improved the Haikai, until it became a formidable rival to the Tanka. The latter had in these days become too exclusive for the popular taste. The Fujiwara family, who were its special patrons, practisers, and critics, BASHO 291 maintained the traditional canons of the art in all their rigidity, and the nation was glad of a new and more un- confined field for its poetical talent. To write tolerable Tanka required a technical training, for which the many had neither time nor opportunity, but there was no- thing to prevent any one with ordinary cleverness and a smattering of education from composing Haikai. Saikaku, an unlearned man, is said to have produced twenty thousand stanzas of this kind of poetry during one day’s visit to the shrine of Sumiyoshi, and to have received on that account the cognomen of “the twenty- thousand old man.” The story is an obvious exaggera- tion, but it shows what an easy thing Haikai writing was thought to be. Basho belonged to a Samurai family, hereditary re- tainers of the Daimio of Tsu, in the province of Ise. He acquitted himself with credit in an official capacity con- nected with water-works in Yedo, but for some reason threw up his appointment and entered the Buddhist priesthood. He built himself a cottage in the Fukagawa district of Yedo, and planted a banana-tree beside the window. It grew up and flourished, and from it he took the name of Basho (banana), by which he is known to posterity. He was a diligent student of the Zen Buddhist doctrines and of Taoism, and was also an artist. From time to time he took long excursions to the remotest parts of Japan, leaving behind him traces of his presence, which remain to this day, in the shape of stones inscribed with poems of his composition. On one of these jour- neys he took suddenly ill, and died at Osaka in the fifty-first year of his age. Shotei Kinsui relates the following incident which hap- pened on one of Basho’s tours, It illustrates the favour 2092 JAPANESE LITERATURE in which Haikai was held even by the lowest classes of the people :— Once, when on his travels, Basho passed through a certain rural] district, making Haikai as he went along. It was full moon. The whole sky was flooded with light, so that it was clearer than noonday. It was so bright _ that Basho did not think of seeking an‘inn, but continued his journey. Inacertain village he came upon a party of men who had brought out saké and something to eat with it into the opem air, and were enjoying the moon- light. Basho stood still to watch them. Presently they fell to composing Haikai. Bashd was greatly pleased to see that this elegant accomplishment was practised even in so remote a place, and continued looking on, when a silly fellow of the party noticed him and said, “ There is a priest who looks like a pilgrim. He may be a begging priest, but, never mind, Jet us invite him to join us.” They all thought this would be great fun. Basho could not refuse, so he joined their circle, taking the lowest seat. The silly fellow then said to him, “Everybody here is bound to compose something about the full moon. You must compose something too.” Basho apologised. He said he was a humble individual, belonging to a country place. How should he presume to contribute to the entertainment of the honourable company? He begged, therefore, that they would kindly excuse him. “No! no!” said they, “we can’t excuse you. Good or bad, you must compose one verse at least.” They urged him until at last he consented. Basho smiled, folded his arms, and turning to the clerk of the party, said, “‘ Well, I will give you one :— “Twas the new moon——” BASHO 293 “The new moon! What a fool this priest is!” cried one. “The poem should be about the full moon.” “ Let him go on,” said another ; “it will be all the more fun.” So they gathered round, and mocked and laughed at him. Basho paid no attention, but went on— “Twas the new moon! Since then I watted— And lo! to-night! [/ have my reward.” The whole party were amazed. They took their seats again and said, “Sir, you can be no common priest to write such a remarkable verse. May we ask your name ?” Basho smilingly replied, “ My name is Basho, and I am travelling about on a pilgrimage for the sake of practis- ing the art of Haikai.” The rustics, in great excitement, apologised for their rudeness to an eminent man “ whose fragrant name was known to all the world.” They sent for their friends who were interested in Haikai, and began their a/ fresco feast anew 1n his honour. It has been objected that Haikai, even in the hands of an acknowledged master like Bashé, is too narrow in its compass to have any value as literature. The Kanga~ kusha Dazai Shuntai calls it a ¢tsu¢anaki mono (a stupid sort of thing), and Shétei Kinsui admits that in the eyes of “the superior man” this is doubtless so. Its popu- larity, however, is undeniable. The name of Basho was _known to the very cow-herds. He had ten disciples, and they in their turn had pupils whose name is legion. Monthly conferences of Haikai amateurs were held recularly both in the capital and the provinces, and there were professors who contrived to make a living by practising this art. 20 204 JAPANESE LITERATURE It would be absurd to put forward any serious claim on behalf of Haikai to an important position in literature. Yet, granted the form, it is difficult to see how more could be made of it than Basho has done. It is not only the metre which distinguishes these tiny effusions from prose. There is in them a perfection of apt phrase, which often enshrines minute but genuine pearls of true sentiment or pretty fancy. Specks even of wisdom and piety may sometimes be discerned upon close scrutiny. Sugges- tiveness is their most distinctive quality, as may be seen by the following :— “ 4 cloud of flowers! Ts the bell Uyeno Or Asakusa?” To the English reader this will appear bald, and even meaningless. But to an inhabitant of Yedo it conveys more than meets the ear. It carries him away to his favourite pleasure resort of Mukojima, with its long lines of cherry-trees ranged by the bank of the river Sumida, and the famous temples of Uyeno and Asakusa in the vicinity. He will have no difficulty in expanding it into something of this kind: “The cherry-flowers in Muko- jima are blossoming 1n such profusion as to form a cloud which shuts out the prospect. Whether the bell which is sounding from the distance is that of the temple of Uyeno or of Asakusa I am unable to determine.” But drevis esse laborat, obscurus fit. A very large pro- portion of Basho’s Haikai are so obscurely allusive as to transcend the comprehension of the uninitiated foreigner. The following are some of the more lucid. The same quality of suggestiveness pervades them at BASHO 295 “ An ancient pond! With a sound from the water Of the frog as it plunges in.” “7 come weary, in search of an inn— Ah! these wistaria flowers!” “ Ah! the waving lespedeza, Which spills not a drop Of the clear dew!” “Tis the first snow— Just enough to bend The gladiolus leaves!” “Of Miidera The gate [would knock at— The moon of to-day.” That is to say, How beautiful the scenery about the temple of Miidera must look on a fine moonlight night I would that I were there to see it. “ On a withered branch A crow ts silting This autumn eve.” “ The cry of the cicada Gives no sign That presently tt will die.” The following are by other writers :— “OT7s the cuckoo— Listen well! How much soever gods ye be.