The court gave gifts according to rank. They were given to nobles, senior courtiers, masters, and officials in Her Majesty’s Household. It was just as it had been in the Enchō era. Then Her Majesty gave everyone gifts. The nobles were given women’s robes and either the prince’s clothes or his bedding. I cannot list everything in detail. Senior courtiers also got presents according to rank. Those of Fourth Rank received women’s robes and trousers, those of Fifth Rank only the robes, and those of Sixth only the trousers. Those of Fourth Rank and above were given, in addition, either the Prince’s clothes or his bedding.
Everyone dispersed at midnight. Tonight the moon was full. Retainers also received gifts and Her Majesty gave all the masters a piece of silk.
9.19. At about four in the afternoon Yorisada passed on to me a note from Yorimichi. Tonight there was to be a celebration for Her Majesty and I should be present. Yorimichi was to be in charge. I excused myself on the pretext of being in ritual seclusion. I had been every other evening, but tonight was most inconvenient, so I decided to stay away.
A GUIDE TO FURTHER READING
Murasaki’s magnum opus, the Genji monogatari, is available at present in two English translations. Arthur Waley’s version, done between 1924 and 1933, with many subsequent reprintings, has become a classic of English prose and was an astounding achievement by a great scholar working before many modern Japanese aids were available. The translation is fairly free in places, however, and Waley both cut and embellished where he saw fit. A much more accurate representation of the original is now available in Edward Seiden-sticker’s version of 1976. Ten core chapters have also been presented by another prolific translator, Helen Craig McCullough, in her book entitled Genji & Heike (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994). It is a measure of the sheer range of possibilities the Genji offers that yet a third major translation by Royall Tyler is now in progress for Penguin Classics. In German there is Oscar Benl, trans., Die Geschichte vom Prinzen Genji, 2 vols. (Zürich: Manesse Verlag, 1966); in French, René Sieffert, trans., Le dit du Genji, 2 vols. (Paris: Publications Orientalistes de France, 1978–88).
Anyone interested in comparisons between these versions should start with the following articles: E. Cranston, ‘The Seidensticker Genji’, Journal of Japanese Studies, 4.1 (1978), 1–25; M. Ury, ‘The Imaginary Kingdom and the Translator’s Art: Notes on Re-reading Waley’s Genji’, Journal of Japanese Studies, 2.2 (1976), 267–94; and M. Ury, ‘The Complete Genji’, Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 37.1 (1977), 183–201.
For guides to the Genji and Heian literature in general, consult N. Field, The Splendor of Longing in the Tale of Genji (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987); H. Shirane, The Bridge of Dreams: A Poetics of the Tale of Genji (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987); R. Bowring, Murasaki Shikibu: The Tale of Genji (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988); and R. Okada, Figures of Resistance: Language, Poetry and Narrating in The Tale of Genji and Other Mid-Heian Texts (Durham, N. C.: Duke University Press, 1991); all these works have good bibliographies. All the other major works by women of the period have now been translated. E. Seidensticker, trans., The Gossamer Years (Tokyo: Tuttle, 1964); I. Morris, trans., The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon, 2 vols. (London: Oxford University Press, 1967, reissued in one vol. (with cuts) as a Penguin Classic, 1971); E. Cranston, trans., The Izumi Shikibu Diary (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1969); I. Morris, trans., As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams (Penguin Classics, 1971).
For the historical background consult G. B. Sansom, A History of Japan to 1334, originally published by Cresset Press in 1958 but now available in a reprint from Dawson, Folkestone, 1978; I. Morris, The World of the Shining Prince (Kōdansha International, 1994); and J. Hall and J. Mass, eds., Medieval Japan, Essays in Institutional History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974). W. H. and H. C. McCullough, trans., A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, 2 vols. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1980), is a closely annotated translation of the Eiga monogatari, an account of court life under the Fujiwara at their height, produced not long after the Genji. The introduction, notes and appendices are a veritable mine of information on all aspects of Heian life and customs. Two other works of major importance are in French: Francine Hérail, Fonctions et fonctionnaires japonais au début du XIe siècle, 2 vols. (Paris: Publications Orientalistes de France, 1977), and the same author’s translation of Michinaga’s diary, Notes journalières de Fujiwara no Michinaga, Hautes études orientales II, 23, 24, 26, Institut des hautes études japonaises, 3 vols. (Genève-Paris: Librarie Droz, 1987–91).
Those interested in the somewhat unusual marriage arrangements that seem to have pertained in the Heian court should consult W. H. McCullough, ‘Japanese Marriage Institutions in the Heian Period’, Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 27 (1967), 103–67, and the more recent article by P. Nickerson, ‘The Meaning of Matrilocality: Kinship, Property and Politics in Mid-Heian’, Monumenta Nipponica, 48.4 (1993), 429–67.
1 On this point see in particular E. Kamens, The Buddhist Poetry of the Great Kamo Priestess, Michigan monograph series in Japanese studies: no. 5 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1990).
2 For this kind of information see W. H. and H. C. McCullough, trans., A Tale of Flowering Fortunes (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1980), vol. 2, pp. 818–22, and F. Hérail, Fonctions et fonctionnaires japonais au début du XIe siècle (Paris: Publications Orientalistes de France, 1977), vol. 2, pp. 172–85, 556–75.
3 Imai Gen’e, Murasaki Shikibu, Jinbutsu sōsho 131 (Tōkyō: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1966); Shimizu Yoshiko, Murasaki Shikibu, Iwanami shinsho 854 (Tōkyō: Iwanami Shoten, 1973).
4 Tametoki had four poems included in imperial anthologies (Goshūishū poems 147, 639, 835 and Shinkokinshū poem 1499), one Chinese preface and thirteen Chinese poems in Honchō reisō, five Chinese poems in Ruiju kudaishō, and one Chinese poem in Shinsen rōeishū.
5 See I. Morris, The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon (London: Oxford University Press, 1967), vol. 1, pp. 124–5. This passage has been omitted from the shortened 1971 Penguin version.
6 See W. H. and H. C. McCullough, op.cit., vol. 1, pp. 53–63.
7 ibid., p. 267.
1 The ritual took place in the east wing of the mansion and involved a row of five altars behind each of which was placed a statue of one of the five great deities (Vidyārāja): Fudō (Acalanātha), Gōzanze (Trailokyavijaya), Gundari Yasha (KunŃdŃalī), Daiitoku (Yamāntaka) and Kongō Yāasha (VajrayaksŃa), who symbolized the wrathful energies of the Five Buddhas of Esoteric Buddhism. In this case the object of the ritual is to pray for a safe birth and to bless certain objects that belonged to the mother-to-be. See ground-plan 2 (Appendix 1).
2 See ground-plan 2 (Appendix 1). Murasaki’s room was probably in the back corridor or gallery that ran between the main building and the east wing. These galleries were often partitioned with sliding screens, panels and curtains about four feet high so as to form small rooms. Not much privacy could be expected with such an arrangement.
3 A typical exchange of short poems with a premium placed on wit and the ability to improvise. It is common to find personal feelings expressed by oblique reference to objects in this way. His Excellency’s reply thereby manages to be equivocal: is there blame or praise here?
4 His Excellency’s son Yorimichi is here quoting from a poem by Ono no Yoshiki, which can be found in the first imperial collection, the Kokinshū (‘A Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern’, c. 905): If I tarry in this field so full of maiden-flowers, I am in danger of gaining a bad reputation. The change of tense in the translation is deliberate, for it is at this point that the descriptions become more specific in time and place. This is also where we encounter the first use of the auxiliary verb haberi, which suggests a certain distance in the narration, occurring as it does in passages where Murasaki is clearly commenting on something that she has written, or that has happened, much earlier.
5 Elaborate trays were made, often with miniature land- or sea
scapes in them, to act as the centrepiece at competitions and banquets. In this case we have a beach scene and the poem has been written on the silver ‘water’ that represents the sea. The game itself was probably a form of jackstones rather than the modern game of go, and the poem plays on the ‘stones’. The idea that pebbles would eventually grow into rocks was a common conceit and often linked to felicitations for a long reign. Through its phrasing, the poem alludes to another poem produced on a similar but rather more formal occasion that was held some thirty-five years previously in 973. It is this allusion that explains the enigmatic statement about fans that follows, because the record of the 973 event (a record that still remains) specifically refers to the exquisite fans that had been given out as prizes. ‘On that occasion’ therefore refers to 973 rather than 1008. Murasaki is quietly showing just how erudite she can be, and in the process gives us an example of the way memory can move in unpredictable fashion.
6 Incense was carefully mixed and put into containers, which were then buried in the ground, preferably in a sunny area near water, for a number of days. In this case they were allowed to cure for twelve days and were tested on the ninth of the following month. The testing would take the form of a competition.
7 The ninth of the ninth month was the day of the Chrysanthemum Festival. It was believed that to wipe one’s face with material that had been left out on chrysanthemums overnight to protect the flowers and soak in the dew would bring rejuvenation. There may be more to this little episode than meets the eye, but if there is ironic intent on the part of Her Excellency and sarcasm in Murasaki’s reply, it is difficult to recover with any certainty.
8 See ground-plan 3 (Appendix 1) for the layout at this point. The dais itself was about a foot high, covered with mats and cushions, and surrounded by a series of curtains hung from a standing frame. As we find out later on, the usual dais was not dismantled but simply pushed into another part of the main room.
9 One of the five guardian deities mentioned in note 1, Fudō (Acalanātha or the Immovable One) was of particularly ferocious mien. He was equipped with a rope in his left hand, a demon-quelling sword in the right, sported two large fangs, and had flames springing from his back.
10 This move was presumably dictated by the soothsayers. There seems to have been no veranda at the back of the building, so this was as far north as Her Majesty could be moved. See ground-plan 3 (Appendix 1).
11 This little interjection, using the colloquial particle yo, occurs more than once in the diary. It is one of a number of signs that the text is layered: such remarks seem to have been added at a later date, perhaps during the process of copying.
12 The rice is being thrown in the air as part of the rituals to keep all evil influences at bay.
13 Since at least some of these women have already just been described as serving close by Her Majesty, it is doubtful whether they themselves were acting as mediums. It is more likely that, as high-ranking ladies-in-waiting, each of them was made responsible for an enclosure and that the gruelling work of being a medium had been entrusted to professional substitutes. An exorcist has been assigned to each medium, but in some cases further help was obviously necessary.
14 These preparations included making the bathtub and other ceremonial objects. Murasaki’s assumption here is incorrect. The bathtub was made at the Tsuchimikado mansion rather than at the Palace and the order was not given until the baby had been safely delivered. His Excellency Michinaga’s diary has the following entry for this day: ‘The boy was safely delivered about noon. Presented gifts to the priests and diviners who had been present, each according to rank. At the same time the child had his first feed, the umbilical cord was cut, and they began to make the bath tub.’ The carpenters were given less than six hours to complete the task.
15 A messenger was regularly dispatched on the eleventh of the ninth month from the court to Ise, sacred centre of the Imperial cult. Shintō treated blood as a pollutant. Having been to the Tsuchimikado mansion, Yorisada is now defiled from contact with the birth and cannot enter the Palace for fear of infecting the messenger.
16 Was Murasaki perhaps not present at this and the following ceremonies? Later on, for instance, she is unsure as to who performed the readings. In any case, she was clearly trying to be as careful as possible in what she recorded. For a sense of what is going on at this juncture, see ground-plan 4 (Appendix 1).
17 Tigers are not indigenous to Japan, so this had probably arrived at court as a gift from either Korea or China, at least two hundred years before this event. It is probable that the head was held over the bath, its face reflected in the water to scare away evil influences, although there are some commentaries that suggest this is a skull actually dipped in the water. Whatever the case, it should be understood to be an extremely rare, talismanic object.
18 All the readings were from the Chinese classics. It is likely that a ‘reading’ in fact consisted of a formalized recitation in Sino-Japanese pronunciation, which would not have been readily understood without reference to the text itself, even without the twanging of the bows. The Shih-chi (‘Records of the Historian’) is the first Chinese Standard History, compiled by Ssu-ma Ch’ien and covering events in China from the beginnings to 100 BC.
19 Murasaki again makes a point of telling us that she was not present. Her reference to the ‘Emperor Wen’ chapter here may be a mistake for the section on Emperor Wen in the Chronicles of the Han. We know this because other records of this event survive: see Appendix 2 for details.
20 The rules governing who could wear what colour were complicated and subject to constant change. According to the earliest specialized source we have, dated c. 1150, only women of a certain rank were allowed to wear yellow-green or red, but this restriction was limited to jackets of figured silk and printed trains. On this particular occasion, however, everyone is dressed in white, so the term may simply govern the type of material allowed.
21 Celebrations were held on the third, fifth, seventh and ninth days after the birth, each time with a different group of courtiers in charge of the arrangements.
22 See ground-plan 5 (Appendix 1) for a clearer picture of the layout at this point.
23 Komatsubara was an area just north-east of the capital often used for its poetic associations. This particular design may well have been based on the following congratulatory poem by the poet Ki no Tsurayuki: Ah Ōhara, and Komatsubara at Oshio: may the trees soon grow tall and show us the face of immortality (Gosenshū, commissioned 951, Poem 1374).
24 As the effect of this poem in Japanese relies on word-play (three examples in this case), it is difficult to reproduce in translation. Murasaki obviously thought it clever enough to record, despite the fact that she never had an opportunity to recite it.
25 This is Fujiwara no Kintō (966–1041), the arbiter of poetic taste at the time. It is interesting to note the importance placed on reciting poetry correctly. Sei Shōnagon has a similar passage, where she records her apprehension at having to reply to one of Kintō’s poems. See I. Morris, The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon (London: Oxford University Press, 1967, vol. 1, pp. 120–21; Penguin Classics, 1971, p. 135).Kintō’s own (far more mundane) poem on this occasion can be found in the collection of his own poems (Kintōshū, Poem 23034): Ah! See the peaceful face of the autumn moon; it brings the promise of a lengthy reign.
26 The Kangakuin was a college founded by Fujiwara no Fuyutsugu in 821 for the purpose of educating members of the clan. As will be seen from Appendix 2, most other sources in fact record this procession as taking place on the third day rather than on the seventh. This would make more sense, because it would have been far more appropriate for scholars from this private clan institution to have participated in an event sponsored by Her Majesty’s Household, as was the case on the third.
27 As we know from the account of this incident in the Shōyūki (see Appendix 2), it actually occurred on the seventeenth rather than the nineteenth. A serving lady called Koma no Takashina wa
s the butt of much drunken revelry, Michinaga going so far as to take off one of his robes and offer it to her. At first she refused, but in the end she was forced to accept the gift. A visit to her apartments presumably followed.
28 The white dais had been removed on the eighteenth when everyone had changed back into colours, so only one dais remained. It was relocated to the western side of the eastern chamber. See ground-plan 6 (Appendix 1).
29 Prince Nakatsukasa, Tomohira (964–1009), seventh son of Emperor Murakami, was forty-five at the time and the ‘business’ concerned a possible marriage between his daughter and Michinaga’s eldest son, Yorimichi. The marriage is discussed in some detail in Chapter 8 of the Eiga monogatari (‘A Tale of Flowering Fortunes’), but there is surprisingly no mention of it in Michinaga’s own diary. Why he should think that Murasaki had influence over the Prince is not known.