In the year 736, from the port of present-day Osaka, a group of envoys representing the Japanese court embarked on an ill-fated diplomatic mission to the Korean kingdom of Silla. No one knows the exact purpose of their voyage at sea, or how many sailors and vessels were involved, but from it sprang a sequence of poetry that communicates their tragedy and travail against a fascinating historical backdrop.
One of the things we can find in this classic literature, Horton says, is a template for understanding Japan's nearly identical reaction to the West in the 10th century.
These 145 poems from the Silla envoys are part of Man'yoshu, a vast anthology of 8th-century poetry that is the bedrock of the Japanese literary canon. To H. Mack Horton, an associate professor of classical Japanese language and literature, the lines of verse are keys that unlock the doors to understanding a pivotal period in Japan's history as well as its poetic tradition.
Horton says his work could be described in part as "literary archaeology. . . . By unearthing views of the 8th century, we're led to re-examine the basic assumptions of our own lives and reconsider what is indeed 'universal,' and what is simply a social construct." His forthcoming book, Song at the Frontier: The Silla Envoy Poems in Man'yoshu, translates and studies the Silla envoy poems, and he is embarking on a complete translation and commentary of the entire 4,500-poem Man'yoshu. The anthology has never before been translated in its entirety into English by a native speaker.
To appreciate classical Japanese poetry, one must realize that the Japanese treated poetry as much more than an artistic exercise in self-expression. Poetry was power. It often was composed communally, with one verse crafted extemporaneously in response to another person's verse, and poetic ability was a sine qua non of Japanese court society. Poetry was deeply religious, too, and the Japanese believed that well-constructed verse could literally influence the gods.
Berkeley's highly diverse student body, California's orientation toward the Pacific Rim, and the country's economic ties to Japan have made Japanese one of the largest and most popular language programs on campus. But as Horton makes clear to his students, a study of Japanese classical literature does much more than deepen their language study; it also contributes to a vital understanding of the modern Japanese experience by revealing the roots of its culture and its national identity.
Sculpture of
classical
Japanese
linked-verse
poet Socho.
See reference page
The literature of the 8th century is particularly interesting because it marks a period when the Japanese began promoting their culture in reaction to encounters with foreigners, and as a result, they began writing down their poetry in addition to performing it orally. Man'yoshu, which translated means "Collection of a Myriad Leaves" or "Collection of a Myriad Ages," represents "the first extant flowering of the Japanese poetic genius," Horton explains. "It was held up in subsequent centuries as the quintessence of the native spirit, unadulterated by foreign influence, and was therefore of particular use to nationalist ideologues during the Second World War."
Paradoxically, it was modeled after similar anthologies in China, during a time when Japan also imitated Chinese-style architecture and government. What the Japanese did nearly 1,300 years ago, according to Horton, was to adopt foreign practices in order to compete with foreign powers, strengthening Japan's position in the process. One of the things we can find in this classic literature, he says, is a template for understanding Japan's nearly identical reaction to the West in the 19th century, when Commander Matthew Perry's mission to Tokyo ended Japan's isolation and fueled its modernization.
Horton was drawn to 8th-century literature because it represents a watershed moment of transition and social upheaval in Japanese history.
"I'm interested in literature as a reflection of an individual consciousness," he says, "but I am also deeply engaged by the ways in which politics and economics, social hierarchies and conventions, and, most importantly, orality and performativity also affect artistic development."
His comment on orality and performativity concerns the Japanese practice of creating poetry during group sessions, according to complex rules that governed the literary genre. It's not unlike a jazz performance, says Horton -- himself a jazz musician -- in that a group of bards would create their verse through improvisation during a performance, all the while working within the parameters of specific poetic conventions.
Detail from
illustration
depicting
arrival of
Japanese
envoys in
Tang China.
See reference page
Horton authored a two-volume work, forthcoming from Stanford University Press, that revolves around Saiokuken Socho, who lived from 1448 to 1532 and was the greatest linked-verse poet of his generation. The books earned him the Donald Keene Prize in 1993 for the best translation of pre-modern Japanese literature, jointly sponsored by Columbia University and the U.S. and Japanese governments.
Song in an Age of Discord: The Journal of Socho and Poetic Life in Medieval Japan, and the accompanying The Journal of Socho: Translation with Annotation and Introduction, provide a compelling study not only of Socho's life and poetry, but also of Japan during the "Age of the Country at War." It was a time when provincial warlords fought one another for power, and men at all levels of society tested traditional social barriers. Horton says of that period, "That was a postmodern age, too, in that every standard was being re-evaluated. You can see that re-evaluation in Socho's diary, and you can see the background from which his art of linked-verse poetry developed."
And you can see the importance of keeping these classics alive. The elegant lines of verse, and the medieval diaries of poet masters, add to our understanding of Japan in ways both moving and unique.