Talk:Rokujō family

poetically conservative

The article states The Rokujō family :

was the first clan to specialize in attaining power and influence via success in poetry

The article would be stronger if that statement was expanded upon. It would also give needed context to the statements that The Rokujō family (六條家?) was a poetically conservative faction in the Japanese Imperial court, and the Fujiwara Family was poetically liberal.

What did it mean to be poetically liberal or conservative and how was this important to the Japanese Imperial Court? How was this used to garner power and success? Also, is the clan still in existence? Did it's influence and power wane? if so when? -- —Preceding unsigned comment added by Shelshula (talk • contribs) 02:32, 5 May 2008

I don't know if this will help. Maybe you can make something of it. It is from the cited Robert H. Brower's Japanese Court Poetry pages 236-237:

--Bejnar (talk) 17:38, 21 September 2009 (UTC)

The disputes between rival poets involved personal animosities, family pride, and worldly ambition fully as much, often more, than differences of opinion regarding poetry. The split between the reactionaries on the one hand and the innovators on the other first developed at the end of the preceding period, when Fujiwara Michitoshi (1047-99) and Minamoto Tsunenobu (101 6-97) competed for official recognition as the poetic arbiters of their day and for the honor of compiling the fourth imperial anthology, the Goshūishū (io86); the reactionaries won, Tsunenobu, the innovator, losing out to Michitoshi. The competition was carried on with even greater animosity between the arch-conservative Fujiwara Mototoshi (1056-1142) and Tsunenobu’s son Shunrai (or Toshiyori, ?1124-27) at the beginning of the twelfth century. Shunrai made up for his father’s failure to achieve the coveted honor of compiling an imperial anthology by being himself named compiler of the fifth imperial anthology, the Kin’yōshū (1124-27). (However, he was compelled to revise it twice before ex-Emperor Shirakawa would accept it.) Such poetic strife was continued into the late twelfth century and the early thirteenth. The principal competitors were members of two branches of the Fujiwara: the venerable and scholarly Rokujō family became the principal rivals of the great innovating poets Shunzei (or Toshinari) and his son Teika (or Sadaie), representatives of the Mikosa or Nijō family. A member of the Rokujō family, Akisuke (1099-1155), was the compiler of the sixth imperial anthology, the Shikashū (ca. 1151-54), whereas Shunzei compiled the seventh, the Senzaishū (ca. 1188). To compile the Shin kokinshū, the next anthology and the greatest of the age (compiled in 1206 and later revised), ex-Emperor Go-Toba (1180-1239) appointed a committee comprising members of both factions, including Teika, but retained the dominant role himself in the selection of poems. Teika, however, achieved recognition as the outstanding poet of his time when he alone was given the honor of compiling the ninth imperial anthology, the Shinehokusenshū (ca. 1234), thus becoming the first person ever to participate in the compilation of two imperial collections.

On conservative versus innovative, take a look at pages 245-246. --Bejnar (talk) 18:06, 21 September 2009 (UTC)

Another area in which poets of all persuasions were in general agreement but in which Shunrai displayed marked individuality was in their attitude toward the Man’yōshū. Most of the serious poets of his day, conservatives and innovators alike, studied the ancient collection with renewed enthusiasm and with somewhat more understanding than had been possible in the days of Tsurayuki and Kintō. It is doubtful whether more than three or four hundred Man’yō poems could actually be read with accuracy until the commentaries of the priest Senkaku (1203-?) laid the foundations of modern Man’yō scholarship, and in his poetical treatise Shunrai betrays his ignorance of what a sedōka is. Probably the 196 poems discussed by Shunzei in his Korai Fūteishō, or Notes on Poetic Style Through the Ages, approximate the number with which most poets were familiar. Nevertheless, no small part of the tradition of literary scholarship that grew up within the conservative Rokujō school and overshadowed poetic creativity as its main concern was based upon an esoteric knowledge of the Man’yōshū, and it became increasingly acceptable to cite precedents from the older collection as well as from the Kokinshū and other imperial anthologies as authority for unusual poetic materials or treatment. But if there was a general agreement that the Man’yōshū was a repository of great poetry worthy of the most serious study, there was considerable disagreement concerning the poetic uses to which such knowledge should be put. Shunrai’s Samboku Kikashū contains a large number of poems that employ archaic words and phrases from the Man’yōshū, giving clear evidence that he recognized a positive value in employing this older diction for its effect of novelty, of solemnity, or of primitive simplicity. The conservatives, however, remained for the most part committed to the standard of the Kokinshū and followed the lead of Kintō, who had warned against the use, except in unusual circumstances, of such archaic phrases as the exclamatory particles ka mo and the adjective suffix rashi (“it seems”). (Cf. Shinsen Zuinō in NKGT, 1, 116.) Occasional allusions to Man’yō poems were greatly appreciated, provided, of course, that they were easily recognizable, and the collection furnished a treasure-trove of recondite lore for the delight of pedants. As far as poetic practice was concerned, however, the conservative view was that while the Man’yōshū should be read and admired, its language was too old, too mimitōshi or “distant to the ear,” for contemporary use.

The older conservative point of view was taken over by the innovators in the so-called age of the Shinkokinshū—the two generations represented by Shunzei and Teika—so much so, in fact, that Shunzei was criticized by the traditionalists for his lukewarm attitude toward the collection. Against this background the celebrated Man’yō style affected by the young Minamoto shogun Sanetomo (1192-1219) stands out glaringly. (Sanetomo’s style is discussed later in this chapter, pp. 329—37.) Sanetomo studied poetry under the tutelage of Teika, who delighted his young pupil with the present of a copy of part of the Man’yōshū. Further, Teika had a greater admiration for the Man’yōshū than had Shunzei, and some of his most famous compositions are allusive variations on Man’yō poems. It might therefore be imagined that Teika encouraged Sanetomo in his efforts to emulate the Man’yō style. The truth is quite otherwise, however. In what is perhaps the most important critical writing of the age—a letter written to one of his pupils (most probably Sanetomo, although the matter is in dispute) and known as the Maigetsushō, or Monthly Notes—Teika warned his young disciple emphatically against such experimentation.