In 1701, one of the feudal lords in attendance to the shogun in the Edo castle was called upon to take part in a formal ceremony. He was to have been instructed by the chief chamberlain, who, perhaps dissatisfied with his tip, insulted the lord he should have been teaching. This resulted in the drawing of weapons in the castle, a proscribed act and the forced suicide of the unfortunate lord.
Upon hearing of the event, a number of the faithful retainers decided to avenge the death of their lord. After a year of planing, these "ronin," masterless samurai all, took revenge, sought out the chamberlain and killed him.
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Despite the fact that one of the stipulations of the samurai code was that one should not live under the same heaven nor tread the same earth as the enemy of one's lord, the shogunate had made revenge a capital offense. This being so, the authorities decided they had no alternative but to order the suicide of all the ronin. This was accomplished despite petitions by the populace to the shogun and the popular wish that the ronin be spared and their heroism, as it was seen, validated.
These feelings were ignored, but, as David Weinberg puts it, "Something fundamental in the character and spirit of the culture had suddenly and dramatically been expressed by these warriors." One may surmise that the pathetic story was on all lips, since only two weeks after the event there was a staged version of the episode. Though the period was disguised and names changed, everyone knew what the account was about and its popularity became enormous. There were further renditions by the bunraku and kabuki and the saga of "Chushingura," (The Treasury of Loyal Retainers) had begun.
Weinberg speaks of rare happenings that so engrave themselves on a country and its people that "the event is absorbed by the culture, and the culture is forever changed by the event." Such would be true of the story of the loyal 47 ronin. It continues still, gracing the dramatic repertoire, appearing in modern versions as well. Some 85 film versions have been made, and it is often seen as television drama.
Its popularity at the time was such that woodblock print artists were shortly turning out best-selling renditions. Hokusai, Utamaro, Hiroshige, Toyokuni, Kunisada and many others did illustrations. All of these were taken from the kabuki versions -- not surprisingly, in that nearly a half of all Edo-period prints are of actors.
Among the most accomplished and popular of these were the series by Utagawa Kuniyoshi (1797-1861), who, nearly a century after the actual event, was able to return to it much of its original glory and pathos. He produced more than 20 "Chushingura" triptychs and several series of single-sheet prints devoted to individual portraits of the brave band. In all, Kuniyoshi completed some 266 works on the "Chushingura" theme.
The individual "portrait" series are the subject of the very handsome, beautifully designed and printed volume today under review. Each woodblock print is treated separately, with facing pages devoted to the text. Thus the particularities of each role are insisted upon and the drama is revealed.
Though one might wonder at how these particularities survived for a century, such speculation (along with the fact that all the ronin look like one another) is beside the point. The point is that something large and important is being celebrated -- by the actors, by the print artists and by us.
The nature of the celebration is usually expressed (as in the Kuniyoshi) in positive terms: fidelity, heroism, and so on. For this reason, any approach but the reverent remains taboo. When an animated cartoon version of "Chushingura" with dogs as ronin -- the "Wan-Wan Monogatari" -- was released, it was frowned upon. A more recent film version set in a modern office and dubbed the "OL Chushingura" also found small favor.
Yet it is possible also to see "Chushingura" as protest, an objection to the shogunate's dictates and an anti-authoritarian demonstration. A glorification of the ronin could only be seen as disobedience by those who had ordered them killed. This sympathetic validation of men the government had deemed criminal is in itself antigovernment.
Perhaps this is what one also sees in the heroic poses, the vital lines and brilliant colors of these Kuniyoshi prints. The renderings are certainly not agit-prop, but at the same time they are much more than mere ceremonial decoration.
See for yourself. The volume may be ordered locally from Yagi Shoten (3-8 Kanda-Ogawamachi, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo 101-0052), fax: 3291 2962, e-mail: [email protected]
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