I regretted deeply the idle fancies of old days, and as my parents
would not accompany me to temples [on pilgrimages] I could hardly
suppress my impatience. I wish to strengthen my spirit to bring up
my child who is still in the germ. Moreover, I wish to do my best to
pile up virtuous deeds for the life to come, so encouraging my heart I
went to the Ishiyama Temple after the twentieth day of the Frost month
[1045]. It snowed and the route was lovely. On coming in sight of the
barrier at Osaka Pass, I was reminded that it was also in Winter when I
passed it on my way up to Kioto. Then also it was a windy tempestuous
day.
_The sound of the Autumn wind at the barrier of Osaka!_
_It differs not from that heard long ago._
The temple at Seki, magnificent though it was, made me think of the old
roughly hewn Buddha. The beach at Uchidé has not changed in the passing
of months and years, but my own heart feels change.
Towards evening I arrived at the temple and after a bath went up to the
main shrine. The mountain wind was dreadful. I took it for a good omen
that, falling asleep in the temple [I heard a voice], saying: "From the
inner shrine perfume has been bestowed. Tell it at once." At the words
I awoke, and passed the night in prayer.
The next day the wind raged and it snowed heavily. I comforted my
lonely heart with the friend of the Princess who came with me. We left
after three days.
On the twenty-fifth of the Tenth month of the next year [1046] the
Capital was in great excitement over the purification ceremonies before
the Great Ceremony.[69]
For my part I wanted to set out that same day for Hasé [Temple] for my
own religious purification. They stopped me, saying it was a sight to
be seen only once in one reign; that even the country-people come to
see the procession, and it was madness to leave the city that very day.
"Your deeds will be spread abroad and people will gossip about you,"
said my brother angrily. "No, no, let the person have her own will";
and according to my wish he [her husband] let me start. His kindness
touched me, but on the other hand I pitied those who accompanied me
[her retinue], who with longing hearts wanted to see the ceremony.
But what have we to do with such shows? Buddha will be pleased with
those who come at a time like this. I wanted without fail to receive
the divine favour, and started before dawn. When I was crossing the
great bridge of Nijo, with pine torches flaming before me, and with my
attendants in pure white robes, all the men on; horseback, in carriage,
or on foot who encountered me on their way to the stands prepared for
sight-seers said, in surprise, "What is that?" and some even laughed or
scolded me. As I was passing before the gate of Yoshinori the Commander
of the Bodyguard and his men were standing there before the wide-open
portals. They said, laughing, "Here goes a company to the temple--there
are many days and months in the world [to do that in]!" But there
was one [standing by] who said: "What is it to fatten the eyes for a
moment? They are firmly determined. They will surely receive Buddha's
favour; we ought also to make up our minds [for the good] without
sight-seeing." Thus one man spoke seriously.
I had wanted to leave the city before broad daylight, and had started
in the middle of the night, but had to wait for belated persons till
the very thick fog became thinner. People flowed in from the country
like a river. Nobody could turn aside to make room for anybody else,
and even the ill-behaved and vulgar children, who passed beside my
carriage with some difficulty, had words of wonder and contempt for us.
I felt sorry that I had started that day, yet praying to Buddha with
all my heart, I arrived at the ferry of Uji. Even there the people
were coming up to the city in throngs, and the ferry-man, seeing
these numberless people, was filled with his own importance, and grew
proud. He, tucking up his sleeves against his face and leaning on his
pole, would not bring the boat at once. He looked around whistling
and assumed an indifferent air. We could not cross the river for a
long time, so I looked around the place, which I had felt a curiosity
to see, ever since reading Genji-monogatari which tells that the
daughter of the Princess of Uji lived here. I thought it a charming
spot. At last we managed to get across the river and went to see the
Uji mansion.[70] I was at once reminded that the Lady Ukifuné [of the
romance] had been living here.
As we had started before daybreak, my people were tired out, and rested
at Hiroichi to take food. The Guard said: "Is that the famous mountain
Kurikoma? It is towards evening, be ready with your armour" [to
protect from robbers or evil spirits], I listened to these words with
a shudder, but we passed that mountain [without adventure] and the sun
was on its summit when we arrived at the lake of Nieno. They went in
several directions to seek a lodging and returned saying there was no
proper place, only an obscure hut; but as there was no other place we
took that.
In the house there were only two men, for the rest had all gone to the
Capital. Those two men did not sleep that night at all, but kept watch
around the house. My maids who were in the recess [perhaps the outer
part of the hut used as kitchen] asked, "Why do you walk about so?" and
the men answered, "Why? we have rented our house to perfect strangers.
What should we do if our kettles were stolen? Of course we cannot
sleep!" I felt both dread and laughter to hear them.
In the early morning we left there and knelt before the great East
Temple.[71] The temple at Iso-no-Kami was antique and on the verge of
ruin. That night we lodged at Yamabé Temple. Although I was tired out,
I recited sutras and went to sleep. In my dream I saw a very noble and
pure woman. At her coming the wind blew deliciously. She found me out,
and said, smiling, "For what purpose have you come?" I answered, "How
could I help coming?" [since you are here], and she said, "You would
better be in the Imperial Court, and become intimate with the Lady
Hakasé." I was very much delighted and encouraged.
We crossed the river and arrived at the Hatsusé Temple at night. After
purifying, I went up to the Temple. I remained three days, and slept
expecting to start in the morning. At midnight I dreamt that a cedar
twig[72] was thrown into the room as a token bestowed by the Inari god.
I was startled, but waking found it only a dream.
We began our return journey after midnight, and as we could not find a
lodging, we again passed a night in a very small house, which seemed to
be a very curious one somehow. "Do not sleep! Something unexpected will
happen!" "Don't be frightened!" "Lie down even without breathing!" This
was said and I spent the night in loneliness and dread. I felt that I
lived a thousand years that night, and when the day dawned I saw that
we were in a robbers' den. People said that the mistress of that house
lived by a strange occupation.
We crossed the Uji River in a high wind and the ferry-boat passed very
near the fishing seine.
_Years have passed and only sounds of waters have come to my ears,_
_To-day, indeed, I may even count the ripples around the fishing net._
[This poem may seem a little obscure. It means that her own life had
been lived long in a kind of dreamland of her own creating, but was
gradually emerging into reality.]
If, as I am doing now, I continue to write down events four or five
years after they have happened, my life will seem to be that of a
pilgrim, but it is not so. I am jotting down the happenings of several
years. In the spring I went to Kurama Temple. It was a soft spring day,
with mist trailing over the mountain-side. The mountain people brought
tokoro [a kind of root] as the only food and I found it good. When I
left there flowers were already gone.
In Gods-absent month I went again, and the mountain views along the way
were more beautiful than before, the mountain-side brocaded with the
autumn colours. The stream, rushing headlong, boiled up like molten
metal and then shattered into crystals.
When I reached the monastery the maple leaves, wet with a shower, were
brilliant beyond compare.
_The pattern of the maple leaves in Autumn dyed with the rain--_
_Beautiful in the deep mountain!_
After two years or so I went again to Ishiyama. It seemed to be
raining, and I heard some one saying rain is disagreeable on a journey,
but on opening the door I found the waning moon lighting even the
depths of the ravine. What I thought rain was the stream rippling below
the roots of the trees.
_The sound of the mountain brook gives an illusion of rain drops,_
_Yet the calm of the waning moon shines over all._
The next time I went to Hasé Temple, my journey was not so solitary
as before. Along the route various persons invited me to ceremonious
dinners, and we made but slow progress. The autumn woods were beautiful
at the Hahasono forest in Yamashiro. I crossed the Hasé River. We
stayed there for three days. This time we were too many to lodge in
that small house on the other side of the Nara Pass, so we camped in
the field. Our men passed the night lying on mukabaki[73] spread on the
grass. They could not sleep for the dew which fell on their heads. The
moon clear and more picturesque than elsewhere.
_Even in our wandering journey,_
_The lonely moon accompanies us lighting us from the sky,_
_The waning moon I used to gaze at in the Royal City._
As I could do as I liked, I went even to distant temples for worship,
and my heart was consoled through both the pleasures and fatigues of
the way. Though it was half diversion, yet it [her prayers] gave me
hope. I had no pressing sorrow in those days and tried to bring up my
boy in the manner I thought best, and was impatient of passing time.
The man I depended upon [her husband] wished to attain to happiness
like other people, and the future looked promising. A dear friend
of mine, who used to exchange poems with me and continued to write,
through many changes of situation, although not so often as of old,
married the Governor of Echizen and went down to that Province. After
that all communication between us ceased, so I wrote her a poem finding
the means of sending it with great difficulty:
_Undying affection!_
_Can it end at last, overlaid with time_
_Even as snow covers the land in the Northern Province?_
She wrote back:
_Even a little pebble does not cease to be,_
_Though pressed under the snow of Hakusan;_
_So is my affection even though hidden._
I went down to a hollow of Nishiyama [in the western hills of Kioto].
There were flowers blooming in confusion. It was beautiful, yet lonely.
There was no sight of man. A tranquil haze enclosed us.
_Far from towns, in the heart of the mountain,_
_The cherry blooms, and wastes its blooms away_
_With none to see._
When the sorrow of the World[74] troubled my heart I made a retreat in
the Uzumasa Temple. To me there arrived a letter from one who served
the Princess. While I was answering it the temple bell was heard.
_The outer world of many sorrows_
_Is not to be forgotten even here._
_At the sound of the evening bell_
_Lonely grows my heart._
To the beautifully tranquil palace of the Princess I went one day to
talk with two congenial friends. The next day, finding life rather
tedious, I thought longingly of them and sent a poem:[75]
_Knowing the place of our meeting to be the sea of tears,_
_Where memories ripple, and affections flow back,_
_Yet we ventured into it--and my longing for you grew stronger_
_than ever._
One wrote back:
_We ventured into that sea,_
_To find the pearls of consolement,_
_No pearls, but drops of sad, sweet tears we found!_
And the other:
_Who would venture into the sea of tears_
_Seeking for the chance with zealous care,_
_Had not the flowers of lovely vision floated in it!_
That friend being of the same mind with me, we used to talk over every
joy and sorrow of the world, but she went down to the Province of
Chikuzen in Kyushu [extreme southwest of old Japan]. On a moon-bright
night I went to bed thinking of her with longing, for in the palace
we had been wont not to sleep on such a night, but to sit up gazing
into the sky. I dreamed that we were in the palace and saw each other
as we had done in reality. I awoke startled; the moon was then near
the western ridge of the mountain and I thought "I would I had not
wakened"[76] [quoting from a famous poem].
_Tell her, oh, western-going moon,_
_That dreaming of her I could sleep no more,_
_But all the night_
_My pillow was bedewed with loving tears._
In the Autumn [1056] I had occasion to go down to the Province of
Izumi.[77] From Yodo the journey was very picturesque. We passed a
night at Takahama. It was dark, and in the depths of the night I heard
the sound of an oar, and was told that a singer had come. My companions
called her boat to come alongside ours. She was lighted by a distant
fire, her sleeves were long, she shaded her face with a fan and sung.
She was charming. The next evening, when the sun was still on the
mountain-top, we passed the beach of Sumiyoshi. It was seen all in
mist, and pine branches, the surface of the sea, and the beach where
waves rolled up, combined to make a scene more beautiful than a picture.
_It is an evening of Autumn_
_--The seashore of Sumiyoshi!_
_Can words describe it?_
_What can be compared with it?_
Even after the boat was towed along, I looked back again and again,
never satiated.
In the Winter I returned to Kioto. We took our boat at Ōé Bay. That
night a tempest raged with such fury that the very rocks seemed to be
shaken. The god of Thunder[78] came roaring, and the sound of dashing
waves, the tumult of the wind, the horrors of the sea, made me feel
that life was coming to an end. But they dragged the boat ashore, where
we spent the night. The rain stopped, but not the wind, and we could
not start. We passed five or six days on these wide-stretching sands.
When the wind had gone down a little, I looked out, rolling up the
curtain of my cabin. The evening tide was rising swiftly and cranes
called to each other in the bay.
People of the Province came in crowds to see us, and said that if the
boat had been outside the bay that night it would have been seen no
more. Even the thought terrified me.
_Off Ishitsu, in the wild sea_
_The boat driven before the storm_
_Fades away and is seen no more._
_The wild gusts drive the boat--_
_Into the wild sea she disappears--_
_Off Ishitsu!_
I devoted myself in various ways for the World [her husband]. Even in
serving at Court one had like-wise to devote one's self unceasingly.
What favor could one win by returning to the parents' home from time to
time?
As I advanced in age I felt it unbecoming to behave as young couples
do. While I was lamenting I grew ill, and could not go out to temples
for worship. Even this rare going out was stopped, and I had no hope of
living long, but I wanted to give my younger children a safer position
while I was alive.
I grieved and waited for the delightful thing [an appointment] for my
husband. In Autumn he got a position,[79] but not so good a one as we
had hoped, and we were much disappointed. It was not so distant as
the place from which he had returned, so he made up his mind to go,
and we hastily made preparations. He started from the house where his
daughter had recently gone to live.[80] It was after the tenth of the
Gods-absent month. I could not know what had happened after he started,
but all seemed happy on that day. He was accompanied by our boy. My
husband wore a red coat and pale purple kimono,[81] and aster-coloured
hakama [divided skirt], and carried a long sword. The boy wore blue
figured clothes and red hakama, and they mounted their horses beside
the veranda.
When they had gone out noisily I felt very, very lonely. As I had heard
the Province was not so distant I was less hopeless than I had been
before.
The people who accompanied him to see him off returned the next day
and told me that they had gone down with great show [of splendour]
and, then continuing, said they had seen human fire[82] this morning
starting [from the company] and flying towards the Capital. I tried to
suppose it to be from some one of his retinue. How could I think the
worst? I could think of nothing but how to bring up these younger ones.
He came back in the Deutzia month of the next year and passed the
Summer and Autumn at home, and on the twenty-fifth of the Long-night
month he became ill.
1058. On the fifth day of the Tenth month all became like a dream.[83]
My sorrows could be compared to nothing in this world.
Now I knew that my present state had been reflected in the mirror
offered to the Hasé Temple [about twenty-five years before by her
mother] where some one was seen weeping in agony. The reflection of the
happier one had not been realized. That could never be in the future.
On the twenty-third we burnt his remains with despairing hearts, my
boy, who went down with him last Autumn, being dressed exquisitely and
much attended, followed the bier weeping in black clothes with hateful
things [mourning insignia] on them. My feeling when I saw him going
out can never be expressed. I seemed to wander in dreams and thought
that human life must soon cease here. If I had not given myself up to
idle fictions [she herself had written several] and poetry, but had
practised religious austerities night and day, I would not have seen
such a dream-world.
At Hasé Temple a cedar branch was cast down to me by the Inari god
and this thing [the loss of her husband] would not have happened if I
had visited the Inari shrine on my way home. The dreams which I had
seen in these past years which bid me pray to the Heaven Illuminating
Honoured Goddess meant that I should have been in the Imperial Court
as a nurse, sheltered behind the favour of the King and Queen--so the
dream interpreter interpreted my dream, but I could not realize this.
Only the sorrowful reflection in the mirror was realized unaltered. O
pitiful and sorrowful I! Thus nothing could happen as I willed, and I
wandered in this world doing no virtuous deed for the future life.
Life seemed to survive sorrows, but I was uneasy at the thought that
things would happen against my will, even in the future life. There was
only one thing I could rely on.
_Ceaseless tears--clouded mind:_
_Bright scene--moon-shadow._
On the thirteenth of the Tenth month [1055] I dreamed one night this
dream:
There in the garden of my house at the farthest ledge stood Amitabha
Buddha! He was not seen distinctly, but as if through a cloud. I could
snatch a glimpse now and then when the cloud lifted. The lotus-flower
pedestal was three or four feet above the ground; the Buddha was about
six feet high.
Golden light shone forth; one hand was extended, the fingers of the
other were bent in form of benediction. None but I could see him, yet
I felt such reverence that I dared not approach the blind to see him
better. None but I might hear him saying, "Then this time I will go
back, and afterwards come again to receive you." I was startled and
awoke into the fourteenth day. _This dream only was my hope for the
life to come._[84]
I had lived with my husband's nephews, but after that sad event we
parted not to meet again. One very dark night I was visited by the
nephew who was living at Rokuhara; I could not but welcome so rare a
guest.
_No moon, and darkness deepens_
_Around Obásuté. Why have you come?_
_It cannot be to see the moon!_[85]
After that time [the death of her husband] an intimate friend stopped
all communication.
_She may be thinking that I_
_Am no more in this world, yet my days_
_Are wasted in weeping._
_Weeping, alas!_
In the Tenth month I turned, my eyes full of tears, towards the
intensely bright moon.
_Even into the mind always clouded with grief,_
_There is cast the reflection of the bright moon._
Years and months passed away. Whenever I recollected the dream-like
incident [of his death] my mind was troubled and my eyes filled so that
I cannot think distinctly of those days.
My people went to live elsewhere and I remained alone in my solitary
home. I was tired of meditation and sent a poem to one who had not
called on me for a long time.
_Weeds grow before my gate_
_And my sleeves are wet with dew,_
_No one calls on me,_
_My tears are solitary--alas!_
She was a nun and she sent an answer:
_The weeds before a dwelling house_
_May remind you of me!_
_Bushes bury the hut_
_Where lives the world-deserted one,_
[1] Her father Takasué was appointed Governor of Kazusa in 1017, and
the authoress, who was then nine years old, was brought from Kiōto to
the Province.
[2] Prince Genji: The hero of Genji-monogatari, a novel by
Murasaki-Shikibu.
[3] Yakushi Buddha: "The Buddha of healing," or Sanscrit,
Bhaisajyaguru-Vaiduryaprabhah.
[4] Original, Nagatsuki, September.
[5] Ancient ladies avoided men's eyes and always sat behind sudaré
(finely split bamboo curtain) through which they could look out without
being seen.
[6] High personages, Governors of Provinces or other nobles, travelled
with a great retinue, consisting of armed horsemen, foot-soldiers, and
attendants of all sorts both high and low, together with the luggage
necessary for prolonged existence in the wilderness. From Tokyo to
Kiōto nowadays the journey is about twelve hours. It took about three
months in the year 1017.
[7] Futoi River is called the River Edo at present.
[8] Matsusato, now called Matsudo.
[9] Kagami's rapids, now perhaps Karameki-no-se.
[10] Common gromwell, _Lithospermum._
[11] Takeshiba: Now called Shibaura, place-name in Tokyo near
Shinagawa. Another manuscript reads: "This was the manor house of
Takeshiba."
[12] Misu: finer sort of sudaré used in court or in Shinto shrine. Cf.
note 2, p. 4.
[13] Seta Bridge is across the river from Lake Biwa, some seven or
eight miles from Kioto.
[14] In those days noblemen's and ladies' dresses were perfumed.
[15] Dera or tera = temple.
[16] The original text may also be understood as follows: "After that
the guards of the watch-fire were allowed to live with their wives in
the palace."
[17] In the _Isé-monogatari_ (a book of Narihira's poetical works)
the Sumida River is said to be on the boundary between Musashi and
Shimofusa. So the italicized words seem to be the authoress's mistake,
or more probably an insertion by a later smatterer of literary
knowledge who inherited the manuscript.
Narihira's poem is addressed to a sea-gull called _Miyakodori,_
which literally means _bird of the capital_. Narihira had abandoned
Kioto and was wandering towards the East. Just then his heart had
been yearning after the Royal City and also after his wife, and that
feeling must have been intensified by the name of the bird. (Cf. The
_Isé-monogatari_, Section 9.)
_Miyakodori! alas, that word_
_Fills my heart again with longing,_
_Even you I ask, O bird,_
_Does she still live, my beloved?_
[18] According to "Sagami-Fūdoki," or "The Natural Features of Sagami
Province," this district was in ancient times inhabited by Koreans. The
natives could not distinguish a Korean from a Chinese, hence the name
of _Chinese Field_. A temple near Oiso still keeps the name of Kōraiji,
or the Korean temple.
[19] This seems to be the last line of a kind of song called _Imayo,_
perhaps improvised by the singers; its meaning may be as follows: "You
compare us with singers of the Western Provinces; we are inferior to
those in the Royal City; we may justly be compared with those in Osaka."
[20] Hakoné Mountain has now become a resort of tourists and a place of
summer residence.
[21] Fear of evil spirits which probably lived in the wild, and of
robbers who certainly did.
[22] Aoi, or Futaba-aoi. At the great festival of the Kamo shrine in
Kioto the processionists crowned their heads with the leaves of this
plant, so it must have been well known.
[23] Mount Fuji was then an active volcano.
[24] The Princess was Sadako, daughter of King Sanjo, afterwards Queen
of King Goshujaku[1037-1045].
[25] Lacquered boxes, sometimes of great beauty, containing india ink
and inkstone, brushes, rolls of paper.
[26] Plum-trees bloom between the first and second months of the old
calendar.
[27] By pestilence. People were often attacked by contagious diseases
in those days, and they, who did not know about the nature of
infection, called it by the name of "world-humor" or "world-disease,"
attributing its cause to the ill-humor of some gods or spirits.
[28] In those days windows were covered with silk and could not be seen
through.
[29] Fujiwara-no-Yukinari: One of the three famous calligraphers of
that time.
[30] Place where cremation was performed.
[31] It is a Buddhist custom to go into retreat from time to time.
[32] Some of these books are not known now.
[33] A kind of screen used in upper-class houses: see illustration.
[34] Her lamp was rather like an Italian one--a shallow cup for oil
fixed to a tall metal stem, with a wick projecting to one side.
[35] Sadharmpundarika Sutra, or Sutra of the Lotus, in Sanscrit.
[36] In October it was the custom for all local gods to go for a
conference to the residence of the oldest native god, in the Province
of Idzumo; hence, _Gods-absent month_. This Province of Idzumo, full of
the folklore of old Japan, has become well known to the world through
the writings of Lafcadio Hearn.
[37] According to the superstition of those days people believed that
every house was presided over by an earth god, which occupied the
hearth in Spring, the gate in Summer, the well in Autumn, and the
garden in Winter. It was dangerous to meet him when he changed his
abode. So on that day the dwellers went out from their houses.
[38] Readers are urged to read the delightful essay of Lafcadio Hearn
called "The Romance of the Milky Way" (Chogonka). Here it must suffice
to relate the story of "Tanabata-himé" and the herdsman. Tanabata-tsume
was the daughter of the god of the sky. She rejoiced to weave garments
for her father and had no greater pleasure than that, until one day
Hikiboshi, a young herdsman, leading an ox, passed by her door.
Divining her love for him, her father gave his daughter the young
herdsman for her husband, and all went well, until the young couple
grew too fond of each other and the weaving was neglected. Thereupon
the great god was displeased and "they were sentenced to live apart
with the Celestial River between them," but in pity of their love they
were permitted to meet one night a year, on the seventh day of the
Seventh month. On that night the herdsman crosses the River of Heaven
where Tanabata-tsume is waiting for him on the other side, but woe
betide if the night is cloudy or rainy! Then the waters of the River of
Heaven rise, and the lovers must wait full another year before the boat
can cross.
Many of our beautiful poems have been written on this legend; sometimes
it is Tanabata-himé who is waiting for her lord, sometimes it is
Hikiboshi who speaks. The festival has been celebrated for 1100 years
in Japan, and there is no country village which does not sing these
songs on the seventh night of the Seventh month, and make offerings to
the star gods of little poems tied to the freshly cut bamboo branches.
[39] River of Heaven: Milky Way.
[40] Name of an old song.
[41] The continuous writing of the cursive Japanese characters is
often compared to a meandering river. "Ink seems to have frozen up"
means that her eyes are dim with tears, and no more she can write
continuously and flowingly.
[42] A mountain in a suburb of Kioto.
[43] This conversation in the original is a play upon words which
cannot be translated.
[44] In an old chronicle of the times one reads that it was on February
8, 1032.
[45] The country people of the Eastern Provinces beyond Tokyo were then
called "Eastern barbarians."
[46] Away from the Capital where the King resides is always _down;_
towards the capital is always _up._
[47] This scene will be better understood by the reader if he remembers
that her father was in the street in the midst of his train of
attendants--an imposing cavalcade of bow-men, warriors, and attendants
of all sorts, with palanquins and luggage, prepared to make a two
or three months' journey through the wilderness to the Province of
Hitachi, far in the East. She, as a Japanese lady could not go out to
speak to him, but unconventionally she had drawn up the blind and "her
eye met his."
[48] To translate: As there are a thousand kinds of flowers in the
autumn fields, so there are a thousand reasons for going to the fields.
[49] The Toné River.
[50] Name of mountain in eastern part of Japan.
[51] In the eastern part of Kioto, now a famous spot.
[52] The Isé shrine was first built in the year 5 B.C. See note on Isé
shrine in Murasaki Shikibu Diary.
[53] Mt. Hiyé: 2500 ft.
[54] The custom of the Court obliged the court ladies to lead a life of
almost no privacy--sleeping at night together in the presence of the
Queen, and sharing their apartments with each other.
[55] Some words are lost from this sentence.
[56] Kazusa: Name of Province in the East.
[57] Asakura is a place-name in Kyushu. There was a song entitled
"Asakura" which seems to have been popular in those days and was sung
in the Court.
[58] Hakasé is LL.D., so she might have been daughter of a scholar.
[59] Special house devoted to use of a King's wife.
[60] The Princess, whom our lady served, was the daughter of King
Goshijaku's Queen. The Queen died 1039. After this the Royal Consort
Umetsubo won the King's favour.
[61] Some words lost.
[62] A thirteen-stringed musical instrument.
[63] A pipe made of seven reeds having a very clear, piercing sound.
[64] Famous period in Chinese history.
[65] This gentleman's name is known.
[66] He ruled from 970 to 984. It was now 1045.
[67] Something seems to have occurred which may have been her marriage
to a noble of lower rank or inferior family than her own, but one can
only infer this, she does not tell it.
[68] There is an old fable about parsley: A country person ate parsley
and thought it very fine, so he went up to the Capital to present it
to the King, but the King was not so much pleased, for he could not
find it good. So "to gather parsley" means to endeavour to win others'
favour by offering something we care for but others do not.
[69] Goreizai, from 1046 to 1068.
[70] This is called the Byōdōin and is one of the famous buildings
now existing in Japan (see illustrations in Cram's _Impressions of
Japanese Architecture_), built upon an exquisite design, and original
in character. It had been the villa of the Prime Minister, but was made
into a temple in 1051, when the riches of the interior decorations
were more like the gorgeousness of Indian temples than the chaster
decorations of Japan.
[71] At Nara where the great Buddha, 160 feet high, was already
standing.
[72] In those days it was the custom for the person who wished to be
favoured by the Inari god to crown his head with a twig of cedar. The
Inari god was then the god of the rice-plant. He is now confused with
the fox-god whose little shrines, flanked by small stone foxes, are
seen everywhere.
[73] A kind of leathern shield made of untanned deerskin worn hanging
from the shoulder.
[74] The World: i.e. her husband.
[75] The following poems have been found impossible of literal
translation on account of play of words.
[76]
_As I slept fondly thinking of him_
_He appeared to my sight--_
_Oh, I would I had not wakened_
_To find it only a dream!_
[77] Her brother Sadayoshi was Governor of that Province.
[78] Kaminari sama.
[79] In 1057, as Governor of Shinano Province.
[80] She was thirty-five years old and her husband forty-one years old
when they were married. We may suppose that she was his second wife.
This daughter must have been borne by the first wife. The cause of
starting from his daughter's house is some superstitious idea, and not
the coldness of their relation.
[81] The rank of the person determined the colour of his clothes. Red
was worn by nobles of the fifth degree.
[82] The Japanese believed that "human fire" or spirit can be seen
leaving the body of one who is soon to die.
[83] Her husband died.
[84] At death the Lord Buddha coming on a cloud appears to the faithful
one and accompanies the soul to Heaven.
[85] The point of this is in the name of the place, Obásuté, which may
be translated, "Aunt Casting Away," or "Cast-Away-Aunt." It is a place
famous for the beauty of its scenery in moonlight.