Šéfredaktor ■ Editor Raoul David Findeisen (f) Zástupcovia šéfredaktora ■ Associate Editors Jana Benická Martin Slobodník Výkonní redaktori ■ Acting Editors Hana Bogdanová Ľuboš Gajdoš František Paulovič Redakčná rada ■ Editorial Board Wolfgang Behr Asien-Orient-Institut, Universität Zürich Luboš Bělka Ústav religionistiky, Masarykova univerzita, Brno Dušan Deák Katedra porovnávacej religionistiky, Univerzita Komenského v Bratislave Bernard Faure DepartmmtofEastAáanlanguagesandCultures, Columbia University, New York Michael Friedrich Asien-Afrika-Institut, Universität Hamburg Marián Gálik Ustav orientalistiky, Slovenská akadémia vied, Bratislava Martin Gimm Abteilung Sinologie und Manjuristik, Universität zu Köln Imre Hamar Orientalisztikai Intézet, Eötvös Loránd Tudományegyetem, Budapest Miloš Hubina College of Religious Studies, Mahidol University, Bangkok Li Xuetao $H/P Institute for Global History, Foreign Studies University, Beijing Olga Lomová Ustav Dálného východu, Univerzita Karlova v Praze Miriam Lowensteinová Ustav Dálného východu, Univerzita Karlova v Praze Josef Kolmaš Ustav antropologie, Prírodovedecká fakulta, Masarykova univerzita, Brno Rotem Kowner Department of Asian Studies, University of Haifa Lucie Olivová Seminář čínských studií, Centrum asijských studií, Masarykova univerzita, Brno Yuri Pines Department of Asian Studies, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem Irina Popova Institute of OrientalManuscripts, Russian Academy ofSciences, St Petersburg Codru^a Sintonean Departamentul de Studii Asiatice, UmversitateaBabe^-Bofyai, Cluj-Napoca Helmut Tauscher Institut für Südasien-, Tibet-und Buddhismuskunde, Universität Wien David Uher Katedra asijských studií, Univerzita Palackého, Olomouc Alexander Vovin Centre de Recherches linguistiques sur ľ Asie Orientale, Paris Susanne Weigelin-Schwiedrzik Institut für Ostasienwissenschaften, Universität Wien Studia Orientalia Slovaca (SOS) je recenzovaný časopis vychádzajúci dvakrát ročne. Vydáva Univerzita Komenského v Bratislave, Filozofická fakulta, Katedra východoázijských štúdií, ICO 00397865, vyšlo v decembri 2017. Studia Orientalia Slovaca (SOS) is a peer-reviewed journal published semi-annually by the Department of East Asian Studies, Faculty of Arts, Comenius University in Bratislava, Slovakia. Články v Studia Orientalia Slovaca sú indexované v database SCOPUS. ■ Articles in Studia Orientalia Slovaca are abstracted and indexed in SCOPUS. © by Univerzita Komenského v Bratislave, Katedra východoázijských štúdií, Šafárikovo nám. 6, SK -814 99 Bratislava, Slovakia, 2017. EV 4938/14 ISSN 1336-3786 Studia Orientalia Slovaca 16 • 2 (2017) Štúdie ■ Articles Mapping Imaginary Spaces in Li Yongping's Jiling Chunqiu pf (Jiling Chronicles)...................................................................................... 1 Carsten Storm Chrysanthemum, Pine and Crane—Female Names of Meiji Period Japan........................................................................................................... 39 Ivona Barešová A Corpus Analysis of Legal Chinese—Final Thought............................ 69 Ľuboš Gajdoš Proposal for a New Classification System for Modern Chinese Characters.................................................................................................. 87 Tereza Slaméníková Nö Sumidagawa and Jömri Futago Sumidagawa: Genesis of a Story and of a Genre............................................................................... 107 Ivan R. V. Rumánek Recenzie • Reviews A. A. Rodionov, Guan Jixin zŘ%čM\, P. L. Grokhovsky (eds.), Problémy literatur Dal'nego Vostoka [Issues of Far Eastern Literatures]................. 141 Marián Gálik Koike, Seiji. Úvod do gramatiky moderní japonštiny [Introduction into Grammar of Modern Japanese]................................................................ 147 Hana Bogdanová O autoroch • List of Contributors with Contact Details........................ 151 No Sumidagawa and Jôruri Futago Sumidagawa: Genesis of a Story and of a Genre Ivan R. V. Rumánek Nó Sumidagawa a džóruri Futago Sumidagawa: genéza príbehu a žánru Resume Štúdia analyzuje vývoj v rámci klasických japonských divadelných foriem nó, džoruri a kabuki cez prizmu súvzťažnosti nó Sumidagawa zo začiatku 14. stor. a hry Futago Sumidagawa (Dvojčatá a rieka Sumida) zo začiatku 18. stor. Pokúša sa vystopovať proti prúdu času pôvodný príbeh, na ktorom je založený celý rad dramatických diel zvaný sumidagawa-mono, a zistiť približnú dobu možnej historickej udalosti. Analyzuje tiež pojem monogurui, obyčajne prekladaný prostredníctvom západoeurópskych jazykov ako 'šialenstvo', ale v nó majúci odlišný odtienok. Abstract The study analyses the development within classical Japanese theatrical forms of nô, jôruri and kabuki, by focusing on the correlation of the early 14th century no Sumidagawa and early 18th century play Futago Sumidagawa (Twins at Sumida River). By attempting to trace back the original story on which the whole series of dramatic works called Sumidagawa mono was based, the approximate time of the possible historical event is established. It also analyses the theme of monogurui, usually translated as 'madness' but actually having a different quality in nó. Key words Chikamatsu Monzaemon ■ derangement ■ Hanjo ■ jôruri ■ kokata ■ madness ■ monogurui • Motomasa ■ nó • raving ■ Sumidagawa ■ Umewaka The nascent Edo period theatre forms of jôruri and kabuki drew on the existing nô drama tradition in many aspects. Nô is performing art in which both the written tradition and storytelling was presented on the stage. The written tradition includes all the literary corpus of classical poetry and prose, richly quotated and alluded to in what was regarded as the peak of literary mastery. Nô also adapted many well-known tales and legends from the oral tradition of the io8 SOS 16 ■ 2 (2017) blind biwa hoshi itflifefelSlJ storytellers and it was due to no that the knowledge of many of these legends spread on among the broadest sections of the population. Some of the stories might otherwise have long perished, but due to their being used as subject matter for no, many a legend got preserved, and has continued in Japanese culture, even living up to further adaptations at times. And this is the case with many joruri and kabuki adoptions of stories. On the other hand, some plots used in the plays of the Edo period theatre might come from other sources, but have a common root with a story that has been adapted in no. In their relation to no, stories used in Edo period drama can be divided into three groups: A—stories adopted from no; B—stories coming from other traditions; C—newly invented stories. Group C might be a purely hypothetical category, as, especially in Japanese culture, it is difficult to imagine a topic that would be completely new, without any relation to the existing tradition. As far as group B is concerned, some of the stories from other traditions can be shared by no, and some can be regarded as independent from it: Bi—stories shared by no; B2—stories that do not appear in the no tradition. It is by examining the relationship between groups A and Bi that the origins of a story can be established. In Edo-period drama, stories that were familiar and well known due to a previous traditon (A and B), were termed as sekai it# ('worlds'). They represented the standard thematic settings, which the spectator was expected to know in advance. The sekai would be the context of a known story from the past, and the spectator would go to see the play in anticipation of seeing innovations in the form of plot twists called shuko Shuko were the products of the individual invention of the playwright himself. The dichotomy of sekai and shuko, articulated in kabuki theory, gradually expanded the confines of drama, ultimately becoming, in the end, a conventional aspect of the whole of popular fiction. Whereas no concentrated on the lyrical essence of stories, similar to the classical short tanka fe.Sfc poems, the later oral narrative traditions sekkyo %%Ml and ko-joruri fhW^mWi which also stood behind the Edo period drama, enjoyed epic breadth and complex plots. This expansion of the narrative dimension can also be observed in the origins of the story of Sumidagawa. Rumanek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa 109 1 The Sumidagawa story Chikamatsu Monzaemon's play Futago Sumidagawa tt^RIHJII was first performed 1720. It was the first in s series of his three murderer-hero plays, the genre which, as several others, belong to Chikamatsu's creative innovations in Edo period theatre. Futago Sumidagawa is an example of how Chikamatsu built his play around aparticular no play which comprised the fourth act, adapted and refashioned as a dance drama. »Chikamatsu closely followed the outline of the no and used some quotations, yet some slight alterations are made to fit his overall plot.*1 This overall plot is an extension of the core no lyrical topic to an epic five-act drama and this comparison will show differences in the authorial approach to the same topic as treated in no and in Edo-period drama. No represents elegant yet touching feelings while the Edo period drama shows cruelty on the stage. No is in this respect close to the Greek tragedy in which violence should not appear on the stage, only be related by a messenger or eye-witness. As will be shown, joruri has full depiction of the young boy's suffering at his abductor Sota's house, being beaten to death, and the moving reaction of Sota's wife who tries to save him. After the last words of Umewaka's account about himself and his posthumous wish (much the same as the report given in the no by local people), he dies just at the moment that his rescuer goblin Takekuni arrives. Death and bereavement are building stones of the Sumidagawa story. About the death, Ikai Takamitsu wrote that »in Sumidagawa, the final part shows a chance meeting of a parent with a child across the borderline of this and that worlds, so there is a kind of religious healing involved. Death in no is often something required for salvation«. Ikai compares this with the further development seen in later kiriai no and leading up to the Edo period drama where »the death is the end, and if there was to be any 'healing' here, it was the preservation of one's honour, of approval, praise, the securing of good name«.2 1 Andrew C. Gerstle, ed., Chikamatsu 5 Late Plays (New York-Chichester; West Sussex: Columbia University Press, 2001), 40. 2 Ikai Takamitsu f;H"$5:#jE, Kiriaino no kenkyu SI^Htjro^f 55 [Research of Fighting no]. Tokyo: Hinoki Shoten 2011), 82. no SOS 16 ■ 2 (2017) For anyone familiar with the well-known story of the classical no Sumidagawa, it is a surprising discovery to see that the later joruri play by Chikamatsu Monzaemon provides further unexpected details concerning identities of the characters and events preceding the main plot known from the no. This can be viewed in the dichotomy of sekai (classical setting) - shuko (innovations) in which shuko is the surprising and new. The sekai in this case is the plot known from the no Sumidagawa. The plots in no are an integrated blend of the lyric and epic (narrative), usually representing a lyrical climax of the source story in two-act plays {niba mono). Sumidagawa, however, is not a two-act play and there is no ai kyogen narrative interlude, so all of the story we have is found in the main body of the play. The grief-stricken mother is in search of her lost child who she fears might have been abducted by slave traders supplying labour to the developing eastern and northern parts of Japan. She comes 'down' as far as the Sumida River (in present-day Tokyo) in the then remote Eastern Regions (Azuma M), mentioning only randomly that she is from the Imperial Capital (i. e. Kyoto). The ferryman takes her to the other bank, telling her the story of the grave seen across the river. It belongs to a boy from the Capital, brought here by slave traders a year ago, and, when the boy's identity is revealed, the mother tragically confesses that this is the very son she has come searching for. Besides the powerful lyrical charge of this play, all that is known epically (narratively) is that the mother comes from Kyoto's Kita (Northern) Shirakawa At SJII location, the northern part of the area of Higashiyama (foot of the Eastern Hills), and the son's name was Yoshida Umewakamaru, of noble birth and the only son of his father who died early. The play is about tragedy, the suffering of the mother deranged over missing her lost son. The derangement (monogurui $$£\^) disperses when she comes to her senses after fully realizing the discovered thruth and her own situation. She is eventually prevailed to engage in the religious ceremony of chanting Buddha Amitabha's name as she is persuaded that it would make her deceased son happy to see his mother praying for his salvation in the Western Paradise. While chanting, she experiences the fleeting sensation of seeing her son. This is the lyric and epic (narrative) framework that underlies the no play—the sekai for the later adaptation. Rumanek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa in On the other hand, Chikamatsu's joruri Futago Sumidagawa (Twins at the Sumida River), which is the three centuries younger counterpart to the no play, includes a broad range of shuko, providing a whole panoply of characters, family conditions and a detailed continuous thread of events leading to the eventual revelation at the Sumida River in Act Four. Names of people are made known, the Yoshida family appears an nth century courtier clan in close relation with the Imperial Court, the family seat is indeed in Kita Shirakawa, and the course of events and the role of the characters in the core 'river scene' differs, shifting their mutual connections and placing the whole story in a different light. This study will focus on establishing the relationship between the story of the 'Sumida no' and that of the 'Sumida joruri'. Did Motomasa, the author of the former, pick up just the lyrical apex of a broader story and use it as material for his no play? And did the later traditions operate with the entirety of the original broader narrative tradition, crowned, in 1720, by Chikamatsu Monzaemon who created an all day programme historical play for Takemoto-za, the Osaka joruri theatre he was writing for? These are the questions addressed by this study. The no Sumidagawa certainly represents the kihonkei? the 'original form' from which, supposedly, all further Sumidagawa mono (works on the Sumidagawa mother topics) developed. Nishino Haruo states that there appeared many Sumidagawa mono both in joruri and kabuki.4 They include sekkyo (religious and miracle tales), ko-joruri (early joruri drama) and early kabuki W$$i& plays. Even the joruri Futago Sumidagawa was later adopted by kabuki again, and, as already mentioned, one of its exceptional elements is that it was Chikamatsu's first play in which he used his prototype of a murderer hero. This authorial intention led him to pick up this topic (sekai—theme) for creating a hero of a new model for the ever-growing range of joruri characters. 3 Matsuzaki Hitoshi 4&|llnH_ et a/., eds., Chikamatsu joruri shu Ge. Shin Nihon koten bungiku taikei 92 jH&ftFSiMM K„ ff 0 4^ A'ftzfc^A^ 92 [Chikamatsu's Collected Joruri III] (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1995), 2. 4 Nishino Haruo WBT'?Ftt, ed., Tokyoku hyakuban. Shin Nihon koten bungiku taikei 57 wjCft W#0 0? 0 4^ A'jfe^C^A^ 57 [Hundred no Plays] (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1998), 738. 112 SOS 16 ■ 2 (2017) 2 The no Sumidagawa Motomasa is generally accepted to be the author of the no Sumidagawa, chiefly based on Zeami's own reference in the Sarugaku dangi treatise which is the record of Zeami's talks on no. He mentions the creative dispute he and Moromasa, his eldest son had regarding the staging at the end of the play. Zeami suggested that it could be interesting to do this scene without the child actually appearing on the stage at all, an opinion opposed by Motomasa who preferred a realistic solution. Due to this disagreement over staging, there are three existing productions of this emotional climax. In the first, only the son's voice is overheard by the mother while she chants the Amidabutsu mantra. The role can also be enacted by a child actor (kokata -fjf) either as an offstage voice during the final repetitions of the mantra, or—in Motomasa's way—by really appearing on the stage. Unlike Zeami's monogurui no (plays with derangement, see below) Motomasa avoided reunion or showing the art of dance in a kusemai shodan. Motomasa was a highly talented offspring of the Kanze no dynasty, his grandfather Kan'ami being the founder of the classical no which Zeami, Kan'ami's eldest son, brought to full development and grandeur. To Zeami's own personal bereavement, his eldest son, the highly gifted Motomasa died prematurely when he was just over 30 in 1432. Not much is known about his creative methods or sources he would have drawn upon for subjects of his new plays. As Royall Tyler states, no written source for the play Sumidagawa has been found,? and similarly, all that Nishino Haruo has to say regarding the source is that similar stories of children abducted by slave traders and of women coming to the East in search of their children must have been numerous.6 Nishino further mentions the Ninth Section of The Tale of Ise (Ise monogatari) as the background for the miyakodori motif. The Tales of Ise belongs to the genre oiuta monogatari S^Hn ('tales on songs'), basically short narrative commentaries depicting the situation in which a certain 5 Royall Tyler, Japanese No Dramas (London: Penguin Books, 2004), 251. 6 Nishino Haruo in Yokomichi Mario $ui H-ffltt and Omote Akira S^, eds., Tokyokushul. Nihon koten bungiku taikei 40. wjtftft I. B 4- A'jfe^C^A^ 40 [Collected no Plays I] (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, i960), 385. Rumanek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa 113 waka poem, or a set of poems, were composed. The Ninth Section is a short narrative about 'a man from the Capital' who sets out with a couple of friends to the East as he feels himself not fit to live in the Capital and looks for a new 'country' (province) to live in. Though nowhere stated clearly, it came, by tradition, to be generally taken for granted that the 'man from the Capital', hero of The Tales of Ise, was the historical figure of Ariwara no Narihira (825-880), the famous womanizer of Japanese antiquity whose half-male half-female figure also appears in the earliest kabuki skits of Izumo no Okuni. At the end of their journey they find themselves on the shore of a big river called Sumida. Feeling anxious about how far they have come, they become nostalgic for the Capital. Then the voice of the ferryman calls to them »Get onboard now, it is getting dark«, and they embark with sad feelings. Taking notice of unfamiliar white shore birds with red bills and legs, they enquire of the ferryman who tells them that they are called miyakodori which can translate as 'birds from the Capital'. The name of the birds catches the interest of the sensitive courtiers and alluding to it, the hero composes a poem upon which all aboard wept: »If your name be true, then I will ask you something. Say, Capital birds, of the one who has my heart: does she live or has she died? {nanishiocpaba/izakoto to(pamu /'miyakodori/'waga onto-m r »w *> u^n, =m r m? and Rumänek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa 125 In the first act, the drama starts at the Hiyoshi Shrine, with a scene depicting a consecration ceremony in preparation for building holy torii gates. Here, a conflict arises between lord Yoshida, member of the Fujiwara clan, and his brother-in-law Momotsura regarding the felling of sacred trees. Meanwhile, at the Yoshida seat in Kita Shirakawa, Yoshida's two sons, Umewaka and Matsuwaka, meet for the first time, and so do their respective mothers, Yoshida's main wife and Yoshida's mistress Hanjo—originally »a courtesan from a house in Nogami».32 It comes to light that the brothers, looking alike, are actually twins and are both Hanjo's sons. A tengu goblin, which has been causing trouble to lady Yoshida for some time, raises an uproar by taking on the appearance of lady Yoshida. In trying to kill the tengu, Yoshida kills the true lady Yoshida by mistake, and Matsuwaka is abducted by the tengu. Momotsura, who is the brother of the deceased lady, uses this tragedy as a pretext to openly plot against lord Yoshida. Ceremony, sacred trees, the eventual reconciliation at the meeting of the brothers and mothers are the elements required by the character of the first act which, according to Takemoto Gidayu, should be of auspicious mood. The second act starts idyllically and ends drastically. It begins with a romantic scene, in which lord Yoshida and Hanjo take a boat outing in the beautiful lotus pond in their fine garden which becomes the setting for the whole act. The Yoshida and Momotsura have been entrusted by the Emperor with taking turns in the custody of a precious Chinese scroll, allegedly painted by the ancient Han emperor Wu himself. It is Yoshida's turn now and he accepts the custody of the scroll, and relates its interesting history. He says that the emperor left out the eye of the carp for fear it might get alive and jump off the scroll. It was brought to Japan in the early 8th century, when it was given to Yoshida's ancestor as a gift from the Tang emperor Xuanzong 5£tk (r. 7i3~756) to the Japanese court. The 3L§£ R GO^FfJ" Y) Rfl^Sr. Takemoto Gidayu tt^lt^C^, »Jokyo yonen Gidayu danmonoshu" E¥JI±^S#3Ä« [Love in Act I, Fighting in Act II, Woe in Act III, Travel in Act IV, Questions-and-Answers in Act V], in Nihon shomin bunkashi-ryöshüsei VII. -Ningyöjoruri 0 4^fffi K^CftStSÄhic VII. AWfry&iM [Sources to History of Japanese Folk Culture], edited by Geinöshi Kenkyükai 35#tä5tyrtf 56^ (Tokyo: San'ichi Shobö, 1975), 130-134. The following account is based on translation and interpretation in Gerstle, Chikamatsu 5Late Plays, 16-18. 32 Gerstle, Chikamatsu $ Late Plays, 53. 126 SOS 16 ■ 2 (2017) boat outing on the lake combines with the motif of the carp in a 'lotus song' rich in metaphors and allusions (see below). Umewaka is lured by Kageyu, Momotsura's spy, to paint in the eye, upon which the painted carp really comes to life and jumps off the scroll into the pond; the precious imperial artefact is thus destroyed and the honour of the Yoshida house is in danger. Umewaka flees in fear. Urged by Yoshida who is taken captive by Kageyu, the loyal servant Gunsuke manages to pursue the carp across the pond and up the waterfall (an important and well-known Chinese motif—carp swimming up a waterfall and becoming dragon). After a fierce fight, he plucks out the carp's eyes, upon which the carp returns to the scroll. The honour of the Yoshida house is restored, yet Yoshida ends up murdered by Kageyu after all. Gunsuke kills Kageyu and sets off to look for the boys. The finale corresponds exactly to the warrior and battle character prescribed for the second act. The third act, in which pathos and tragedy is the theme, shows a tribunal at the Imperial Palace dealing with the inheritance of the Yoshida estate. In this act, Momotsura tries to wrest control of the estate, denigrating the distraught Hanjo, Yoshida's mistress and mother of the two boys, who is starting to show clear signs of madness. Then the locale shifts to the shores of the Sumida River where Sota, a slave trader, continues with his business against the will of the wife who has been trying to dissuade him from his ways. Umewaka is one of his recent purchases, and in a fit of anger over the boy's stubbornness, Sota beats him to death. This most poignant scene ends in the arrival of Takekuni, former Yoshida's councillor, who comes in search of the boy. On learning that the boy was Umewaka, the son of his former master, Sota commits seppuku in penitance, in order to become a tengu so that he might find Matsuwaka and restore the Yoshida family. The travelling fourth act starts in the province of Sanuki, on the island of Shikoku. Here, Gunsuke comes in search for Matsuwaka and fights with a yamabushi (mountain ascetic) who turns out to be a tengu wanting to help him. Then, there is Hanjo travelling to the east. At the Sumida River, Hanjo meets a widow, Karaito, who ferries people across the river. Karaito tells her the story of the two mounds on the other bank. It turns out that this widow's deceased husband was Umewaka's killer Sota, and that he is burried next to his victim. Learning about her son's death, Hanjo wants to drown herself in the Sumida, but Rumanek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa 127 the tengu into which Sota turned after his seppuku, appears, with Matsuwaka in his arms, and asks her to accept him as a substitute for Umewaka. This course of events corresponds to Gidayu's rule that the fourth act should lead the heroes »from the depths of tragedy through the hell of vengeance up to the realm of hope in Act Five«.» In the auspicious conclusion of fifth act, Karaito and Hanjo arrive at the Yoshida estate in Kita Shirakawa and their men defeat Momotsura. Matsuwaka is restored as the heir at the Yoshida estate and the festive mood expresses itself in a firework celebrations followed with an epilogue depicting the glamour of the festival. 7 No quotations Futago Sumidagawa is a jidaimono play which in particular engages in intertextuality. As was common practice, besides the no Sumidagawa as the core topic, Chikamatsu used quotations from many other no plays. Some of them seem purely ornamental, yet most of them have direct bearing on the topic and add intertextual depth to the meaning of the passage they embellish. Futago Sumidagawa contains allusion to as many as twenty five no, besides three kyogen plays. 34 The following overview by acts lists some of the no quoted and the connotations these quotations are part of. First act: Nue: tengu goblins and the horror their appearance inspires; Hanjo: linking lady Hanjo to Yoshida; Shunnei: love between two brothers; Hotoke no hara: the gorgeous, if short-lived, glory so similar to the cherry blossom. Second act: Kantan: paradise-like garden and the peace it provides soon to be ended; Hanjo: autumn fan as symbol of abandonment; ToKihi: woman's beauty contrasted against the lotus flowers. Lotus song of the second act: 33 Gerstle, Chikamatsu $ Late Plays, 122. 34 Ibid., 33. 128 SOS 16 ■ 2 (2017) Kinuta: fear lest love vows become shallow; Tokusa: picking the lotus flowers - like cutting the scouring rush and alluding to the theme of a lost son; Taema: mandala from lotus flower strands made by a lost daughter. Third act: Tamamba: as inconsistent utterances of a woman gone mad; Miidera: mother missing a lost son. In the second act Lotus song, the images combine with the unuttered meanings hidden behind the allusions, to form an intertextual succession of meanings parading before the listener. The uttered and the unuttered are of equal significance here. Mere allusions are equally eloquent as metaphors. They evolve the theme of lotus flowers from the Western Paradise, through three forms of obsessions hampering the attaining of Paradise, to a devoted nun weaving a mandala out of lotus flower strands, and attaining the saving grace of Amida. »Thus from being a metaphor for erotic beauty, the lotus image becomes a symbol of a pure heart untouched by the concerns of the mundane worlds 8 The no Sumidagawa and the fourth act of thejoruri If set within the traditional gobandate performance, the no Sumidagawa would have exactly the same place in the programe as the Sumidagawa scene has in Chikamatsu's Futago Sumidagawa—it would appear as the 'fourth piece' iyobanmemono). This shows how much Chikamatsu's dramaturgical methods reflected the underlying no model. Integrated in the joruri play, the classical no text is maintained and followed very closely, with some adjustments made in order to accommodate it into the overall course of the Edo period play. What follows is a detailed comparative analysis of both versions, word by word, to disclose Chikamatsu's method in integrating a no play into his own work, and to display how he used the no text (shisho) for his own needs and intentions. 35 Ibid., 443. Rumanek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa 129 In the fourth act of Chikamatsu's play, after Hokaibo's first referring to the symptoms of the mother's madnes, she appears, asking Hokaibo about Umewaka and offering a bamboo twig to the gods in prayer. When Hokaibo tries to awake gods, spirits and tengus with a prayer and console the mother with words expressing sympathy with her sorrowful journey, she says: »Look, my dearest child is there, over there!«'6 There is no such exclamation in the no; the story of the no has not yet even started by this time. There is only one example where the mother shouts a similar sentence in the no, a moment which, according to some Japanese scholars, is the moment of waking up from her monogurui derangement. The joruri mother now starts singing a song, the words of which disintegrate in her deranged mind into the radicals by which their respective Chinese characters are written. Words lose their meanings, noone listens to her enquiries or to the story of her life. The song continues in a geographical lyric depiction of the far away distance she is resolute to wander and she ends with the poignant, highest pitch cry »Oh, my dearest Umewaka, dear Umewaka!«37 Her steps are described by the narrator as she arrives at the Musashi plain. Since Musashi is the plain across which the Sumida River flows, these lines signal to the spectator that the mother has reached the supposed goal of her journey (though she herself does not know it yet). It is here where the plot of the joruri starts to overlap with that of the no. The narrator introduces Karaito, the widow who ferries travellers across the Sumida River, and alludes to (not quoting exactly) the lines declaimed in the no by the chorus on behalf of the mother: Joruri narrator:»{...} the Sumida, which courses the plains of Musashi and Shimosa. [...}«nm t Tit© fcffi 5 5 m m) 11„ (The corresponding no chorus is »She has arrived at the Sumida River, which is between the provinces of Musashi and Shim6sa«, jftjUcWS t T^ff)^ t^fe m>t\ (±j . Althoug the end of the line differs here, the 'stage ku' syllabic metre (7-5) stays the same: Joruri narrator: »the ends of the earth« CRifiJpc'C L©/^d^5 hA/). No chorus: »never able to forget him, so one hears« Cf-^iStLSi t HH < h © -&). The metre here is the stage ku ('stanza'), the fundamental syllabic unit for no poetic passages. It has the syllabic structure of'7 + 5' and has been inherited from no in Edo period drama. In the joruri, this passage is followed by one more ku followed by the arrival-at-the-Sumida^, the proclamation of reaching the frontier and the goal, the end of the journey: Joruri: »She has arrived at the Sumida River« (lffiP3jl|(i^^$|n^) while in the no, the »Aparent will traveU passage, which is a 2 ku low pitch song (sageuta), is then followed by 7 ku sung as a high pitch song (ageuta), before reaching the same proclamation mentioned above: »She has arrived at the Sumida River, which is between the province of Musashi and Shimosa / She has arrived at the Sumida River«. No: »She has arrived at the Sumida River« (R|H )W K h M t K (t X> ) (repeated). The language slightly differs in style, typically on the final verb: tsukinikeri {no) vs tsukitamau (joruri). What follows is the same event seen by two different ferryman types, and the later rendering also through the prism of familiarity with the previous development: the no ferryman, supposedly a man, teases the deranged woman saying that he will not let her onboard unless she 'raves' for him. The joruri 'ferryman' is a widow who shows empathy, and understanding between the two women is immediately established. The mad woman lavishes her gratitude on the ferry widow by alluding to what she would have said (i. e. was supposed and expected to on the basis of the familiar no archetype) but what she, luckily enough, need not. Thus this passage in the joruri becomes a double allusion or a double reinterpretation— Rumanek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa 131 'double' because the no exchange is an allusion to the Ise tale and the joruri exchange is an additional comment on this no exchange. The no mother is expecting the ferryman to say what the legendary Ise monogatari ferryman had said to Narihira, and shows dissatisfaction when this fails to happen, while the joruri mother is thankful to the ferry woman for not saying what the no ferryman would have said, andfor-nothaving to say what she would otherwise have to say in response, as will be shown below. Thus the character estranges herself for a while from her identity embedded in the plot, offering a playful game of detachment which enables her to comment on the situation from outside, from the position of the spectator familiar with 'what comes now in the no' and surprised that 'it is not going to happen now'. This is a narratological change of focus: from the character-bound focalizor she temporarily becomes an external narrator-and-focalizor. This starts, however, with a strange twist, unexpected and seeming rather inconsiderate before it is explained, probably an expression of another spell of the mother's madness and absorption in her confused thought. The no mother gets hurt at this place by the inconsiderate words of the ferryman when she would rather have him allude to the literary legend, while the joruri mother, after the estrangement comment, expresses relief that the widow is gladly offering to take her across the river. (In the ensuing exemplification, the 'estrangement comment' is in bold type, underlined are passages directly alluding to sentences in the no, and DIRECT QUOTATIONS are in capitals.) Joruri Ferry woman: »Have you such worries? How pitiful you look! If you wish to cross the river, I'll gladly row you across. Quick, please come aboard«. Hanjo: »Though both of this same world, how different are our hearts. I ask you to ferry me to the other shore, but how insensitive you are, ferryman, to say that since I am a mad woman speaking the cadences of a court lady. YOT T WA NT ME TO PERFORM SOME CR A ZY A NTTC S for you BEFORE YOIT'TX TAKE ME ACROSS, (sung) HOW HORRTBEEr YOTT FERRYMAN OF THE SITMTDA RTVER. THE DA Y IS growing DARK. Why will you not allow me on board? To refuse is to go against your trade. You bumpkin. I was about to shame you with language of this sort, but you immediately welcome me aboard. Such a gentle person! How delightful«. And now the underlined part in the original and its no counterpart: 132 SOS 16 ■ 2 (2017) Joruri mother: ffi ^g^T Jj/ti"f(Jjfrfc^iir C fc^Ut No ferryman: ja?ff?tfiffe^. JEtST (2r ©JH^ (iJ|*3:_Dl No mother: 9 fcT^ftEBBJIItft^ft (J H talfflfetjfrfcffcft t n5-< The main difference is that in the no, the last sentence is literally: »After all, I am also a 'person from the Capital', and to be told 'do not get onboard'—a ferryman at the Sumida River should not be saying such unexpected words.« There is also a slight difference in that the no text ommits the haya ('fast' and 'already') in the quotation the day isgettingdark of the ferryman's call from the Ise tale, while the joruri text quotes it in full: »hi mo (haya) kurenu«. Although the no mother, in her distraught state, oversensitive to external stimuli, is upset by the ferryman's reaction and dissatisfied with its not being 'according to the Ise legend', nevertheless her words maintain the supposed Kyoto sense of decorum. Her emotional reaction is only betrayed by expressions of gentle, delicate disapproval like utateya ('how horrible' or 'strange') and oboyenu ('unexpected'). This delicacy impresses the ferryman who realizes that, though mad, this woman is still, after all, a 'person from the Capital', and changes his attitude from boisterous unthoughtfulness to polite admiration. The conversation in the no then turns to the Narihira legend. His poem about the 'birds from the Capital' is quoted, which leads the mother to a high-pitch song (ageuta) inspired by the verses of the poem, and at its end, she begs the ferryman again to take her onboard. In the joruri in contrast, the mother expresses her relief that the ferry woman should not be the boorish ferryman she would have expected, and, overwhelmed by her kindness, she starts, in no chanting, telling her about the purpose of her journey. She asks to be taken aboard in a direct quotation of the two no stanzas: »Your boat is small, but please let me come on board, kind ferryman« (M "Cf5 < H, ^i" £ ^iS^F). The stanza that follows is a stylistic repetition Rumanek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa 133 and is slightly different in the two plays: The stanza that follows is a stylistic repetition and is slightly different in the two plays: Joruri mother: ioMPM^^M^o HWIn^o »Have the kindness and let me kindly come on board, please«. No mother: £ <9 t X (ift^TIlSU^^0 »So let me kindly come on board, please«. Only now comes the turn for the Narihira history in the joruri, when the ferry woman refers to it in words similar to the no. Quoting the poem, she says she, too would like to ask things of someone from the Capital she knew long ago. It remains a soliloquy which is neither in response to nor answered by the mother whom the ferry woman helps to get on board. Both in the joruri and no, it is now, from the ferry boat, that the mother first oversees what is eventually proven to be her son's grave. In the no it is a willow near which a crowd hasgathered (for the chanting of the Amida mantra), and in the joruri it is »a pine and a willow aligned over a memorial tablet«. Enquiring about it, she is told the sad story that will soon reveal that her arrival coincides with the first anniversary of the tragic end of her son's life. The no mother is mercifully spared the cruellest circumstances to which the joruri mother is fully exposed. The no narration of the ferryman only speaks of the fatigue of the journey which the abducted delicate boy from the Capital could not endure, and one leg failing him, the slave traders just left him there. Local people tried to cure him but it was in vain, and when it seemed the end, they asked him who he was. He said his surname—Yoshida, and that he was the only son of a father who died, leaving his mother to raise him alone. The son's last wish was to be buried by the road, so that his grave might be touched at least by the shadow of someone who might come from the Capital, and that a willow tree be planted there for his memory. The narration of the joruri ferry widow starts with the grave of »a sinner who died seeking forgiveness«, a former samurai who had fallen for a courtesan and stole money from his lord. Banished, he and his wife came here, and unable to survive otherwise, he fell into trafficking in stolen children. A year ago he killed himself »and the pine stands as a memorial at his grave*. Then she continues with the story of the other grave, narrating how the boy was kidnapped and then beaten up by the trader whose cane »cut him to the bone«. 134 SOS 16 ■ 2 (2017) The boy's last words are more concrete in the no; in the joruri, his speech is metaphoric and emotional: »1 am from the capital but will now become dust far away in Azuma. (high pitch) My mother knows nothing of my fate and wastes away pitifully, (cadence) anxiously waiting for my return, (sung) T T.ONG TO T>E TN THE PROTECTIVE SHADOW OF THE ARMS OF THOSE T LOVE TN THE CAPTTAL« The last sentence (in capitals) is a quotation of the first half of his last sentence in the no: ig)AO£fit)&o^ L 9 ^(D^Ut V) [d^JifcT, L-5 V\CW&W.&X Mfrl »T long to he in the protective shadow of the arms and legs of those who might come from the capital, so please bury me under a mound by the road and plant a willow there for a sign«. The sentence is unfinished in the joruri. Without its latter half, it does not make much sense by itself, so here Chikamatsu clearly counted on the general knowledge of these words and the audience's familiarity with all the connotations. A hint, in a half-sentence was enough (or was deemed enough) to evoke in the spectator the complete image, and the entirely of the background. Thus, the joruri half-sentence is more of a comment, a reference to no rather than an active utterance of the protagonist. The tragedy is—the widow goes on—that the trader was a former retainer of the child's family. »Although he knew nothing of this connection, he commited a crime against heaven, killing his own master, the worst of all crimes«. He then took his own life, is buried next to the boy, and the woman finally confesses to being the trader's widow. She ferries travellers across the river for no charge, trying to offer prayers for the 'souls' of her husband. And she asks the deranged woman to offer a prayer for the boy. In the no, the mother takes a longer time, one whole dialogue, to realize, and fully come to terms with the fact that the boy in the story is her son. The way she says this is very oblique and slow, expressing her lingering doubts which she would like to leave unstirred perhaps: ^(Dij]^^r. -t, n ©JfMI^A^S^f-T(i £ ^ h ^ t cfc o »That young boy, would he be the very son this raving woman has been looking for?« Grief-stricken, she can hardly walk and the ferryman, now fully sympathetic, helps her get off and shows her to the grave. Rumanek ■ No Sumidagawa and Joruri Futago Sumidagawa i35 The reaction is different in the joruri where the mother asks about the name of the boy only after the widow's narration has come to an end, and, learning his name was Umewaka, son of ason Yoshida no Yukifusa, she says: ta^-^fl ^ -ir#