Japanese Literature

Seeds
r NTH E
from

Heart
Earliest Times

to the Late

Sixteenth Century

DONALD
KEENE

HENRY HOLT

AND

COMPA:"Y

NEW YORK
Henry Holt and Company, Inc.
Publishers since 1866
I [s West rSrh Street
New York, New York 10011

Henry Holt ® is a registered

trademark of Henry Holt and Company, Inc.

Copyright © 1993 by Donald Keene

All rights reserved,
Published in Canada by Fitzhenry & Whiteside Ltd.,
91 Granton Drive, Richmond Hill, Ontario L4B 2NS.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Keene, Donald.
Seeds in the heart: Japanese literature from earliest times to
the late sixteenth century / Donald Keene.
p. em.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
I. Japanese literature-s-To 1600~History and criticism.
I. Title.
PL726.[IS.K44 1993
89S·6' °9~dc20 93- 1082
CIP

Henry Holt books are available for special promotions and

premiums. For details contact: Director, Special Markets.

First Editi()n~I993

Book design by Claire Nay/on Vaccaro

Printed in the LJ nited States of America

All first editions are printed on acid-free paper. e
10 9 8 7 6 S 4 3 2
OFFERED TO

TED AND FANNY DE BARY

IN CELEBRATION OF

FIFTY YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP

1942 - 1992
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Grateful acknowledgment for permission to print excerpts from their

translations is made to:
Edward Seidensticker for The Tale of Genji (Alfred A. Knopf) and
The Gossamer Years (Tuttle); to Helen Craig McCullough for Yoshitsune
(Stanford University Press); and to Royall Tyler for Japanese Tales
(Pantheon)
Columbia University Press for Steven D. Carter, Waiting for the
Wind; Yoshito S. Hakeda, Kukai; The Manyoshu; Ivan Morris, The Pillow
Book of Sei Shonagon; and Burton Watson, Japanese Literature in Chinese
Doubleday for Karen Brazell, The Confessions of Lady Nijo
Georges Borchardt, Inc., for Ivan Morris, As I Crossed a Bridge of
Dreams and The World of the Shining Prince
Harvard University Press for Edwin O. Cranston, The Izumi Shikibu
Diary
Princeton University Press for Helen Craig McCullough, Okagami;
Ian Hideo Levy, Man'yoshu; and Richard Bowring, Murasalii Shikibu:
Her Diary and Poetic Memoirs
Scholars Press for David Pollack, Zen Poems of the Five Mountains
Stanford University Press for Helen Craig McCullough, Koltin Waka
Shu and Tales of Ise; William H. and Helen Craig McCullough, A Tale
of Flowering Fortunes; and Phillip Tudor Harries, The Poetic Memoirs
of Lady Daibu
State University of New York Press for Robert E. Morell, Sand and
Pebbles
Tokyo University Press for Thomas J. Cogan, The Tale of the Soga
Brothers
University of Hawaii Press for Mildred Tahara, Tales of Yamato;
and Jennifer Brewster, The Emperor Honkatoa Diary: Sanulr] no Suke
Nikki.
 CONTENTS

Preface Xlll

Introduction

EARLY AND HE IAN LITERATURE

I. The Kojiki 33
2. Writings in Chinese or the Nara Period 62

3· The Man'yoshi; 85

4· Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 181

5· The Transition from the Man'yoshu to the Kokinshi; 218

6. The Kokinshu 245

7· Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 277

8. Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 341

9· Heian Diaries 358

10. The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon 412
II. The Beginnings of Fiction 433
12. The Tale of Genji 477
13· Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Genji 515
14· Mirrors of History 55 1
15· Tale Literature 568
Xll Contents
THE MIDDLE AGES

Introduction

16. Tales of Warfare

17. The Age of the Shin Kokinshu

18. Waka Poetry of the Kamakura and Muromachi Periods

19. Buddhist Writings of the Kamakura Period

20. Courtly Fiction of the Kamakura Period

21. Diaries of the Kamakura Period

22. Essays in Idleness

23. Medieval War Tales

24. Renga 92 1
25. Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 97 1
26. No and Kyogen as Literature 999
27. Literature of the Five Mountains ro62

28. Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi 9

10 2

29. The Late Sixteenth Century 112 9

Glossary

Selected List of Translations into English

Index
 PREFACE

Twenty-five years ago I conceived the plan of writing a history of

Japanese literature. At that time the only existing history in English had
been published in r 899, and the shortcomings of this pioneer volume
by W. G. Aston were all too obvious. I reasoned that it would not take
me more than two years to write such a history. After all, for a decade
I had been giving a survey course at Columbia University on Japanese
literature from ancient times to the present, and all that was needed
was to put down on paper the kinds of information I had already
delivered orally. I would write in the same manner as my lectures-
subjectively and enthusiastically, in the hopes of stimulating others to
love Japanese literature as I did. I would not bore readers with useless
dates or summaries of the contents of books.
With this resolution in mind, I began to write. I started at the
beginning, in the normal manner, and wrote quickly, seldom bothering
to look up anything I did not already know. I had reached a point
somewhere in the fourteenth century when, in the course of a trip around
the world, I visited the University of Leningrad and met the professor
of Japanese, Evgenia Pinus. I mentioned what I had been writing. "But
what if your readers need to know dates?" she asked. I answered, "There
are other books with dates and information of that sort." "Which other
books?" she asked, and I had to admit that there were none in English.
This conversation had the effect of changing my mind about my
history. I decided that the manuscript of some three hundred pages
would have to be scrapped. But, having reached the fourteenth century
in the discarded draft, I found it psychologically difficult to start again
at the beginning. I decided to write instead on the literature of the
Tokugawa period (r600-r867)' My doctoral dissertation had treated
Chikamatsu Monzaemon, the outstanding dramatist of the period, and
I had spent years reading the poetry of Basho, If I had followed my
XIV Preface

original plan, the volume devoted to Tokugawa literature would have

consisted mainly of my impressions of these two great writers, plus a
few others I could not overlook such as the novelist Ihara Saikaku or
the haiku poet Buson. But, having changed my stance to one of greater
informativeness, I felt obliged to read plays by second-rate and even
third-rate dramatists. I am glad that I did so. Not only did it increase
my admiration for Chikamatsu, but I often found even in lesser works
scenes or subjects of such interest that I wanted to tell readers about them.
I followed the Tokugawa volume, World Within Walls, with two on
modern Japanese literature, Dawn to the West, and finally with this book,
the one with which I should have started, since it is the first in chron-
ological sequence. With the completion of this history I now feel for
the first time qualified to teach the courses I have taught for over forty
years. If nothing else, I have now read almost all of the works of Japanese
literature that the Japanese themselves have selected as the best of their
literary tradition.
I have benefited by translations, which were certainly easier to read
than the originals, but I have always gone back to the original texts to
make sure that the translations conveyed the sense of the original; when
they did not, I retranslated. Fortunately, there are now many excellent
translations, making my task much easier than it would have been thirty
or forty years ago.
I have given in the bibliographies appended to each chapter the
books I have consulted. In some cases, a new translation or study ap-
peared after I had completed writing the chapter. Ideally, I should have
rewritten the chapter in each instance, but if I had, the writing of the
whole would have taken not twenty-five but thirty years, and even then
it might not be complete.
When I began to publish my history of Japanese literature there was
no other work worthy of the name in a European language, but the
first volumes of Professor [in'ichi Konishi's scholarly A History ofJapanese
Literature have since appeared. It is fortunate that readers can now
consult not one but two histories.
In preparing this first and last volume of my history I have had the
benefit of the criticisms of Professor Susan Matisoff, to whom I here
extend my thanks. I thank also Karen Kennerly, my editor throughout,
who has enormously improved the text with her suggestions. And finally,
I thank all the friends in Japan and elsewhere who have encouraged
me in a task that seemed quite literally endless.

DONALD KEENE
 INTRODUCTION

THE GENRES OF JAPANESE LITERATURE

Japanese literature has a history about as long as that of English lit-

erature, and the two share other similarities. Both begin with works of
the eighth century that were based on even older materials, and both,
reflecting the changes in the language brought about by the intrusion
and acceptance of a foreign language-Chinese in the case of Japan,
French in the case of England-became vastly richer as the result of
the large-scale importation not only of the vocabulary of a more advanced
civilization but also of its literary heritage.
Poetry developed earlier than prose in both countries, and some of
the finest examples of poetry are to be found in works for the theater.
Perhaps the most striking difference between the two is that Japanese
literature never experienced a "dark age"; when one genre suffered a
period of protracted inactivity, another flourished. Even during times
of warfare when conditions made the composition of literature difficult,
there were always some people who went on composing poetry or writing
accounts of themselves and their time.
Some genres, well known in Europe, never developed at all in
Japan-for example, the epic poem or the long narrative poem-and
others, such as biography, were of only peripheral significance. On the
other hand, genres such as the diary and the travel account achieved a
greater literary importance in Japan than in most other countries. One
genre that has no close European counterpart, zuihitsu, literally "follow-
ing [the impulses of] the brush," and consisting of brief essays on random
topics, has also had a sustained development; a bookstore in Tokyo today
is likely to have a large section devoted to such writings. Finally, mixed
genres have also been important in Japan-novels interspersed with
poetry, plays that are partly in a literary and partly in a colloquial
2 Introduction

language, and poems whose meaning can be fully appreciated only In

conjunction with long prose prefaces.

Po et~"--1
The Koltinshu, an anthology of poetry compiled by an imperial com-
mission in 905, contains two prefaces that gave classic definitions of the
ideals of Japanese poetry. The preface by Ki no Tsurayuki opened,
"Japanese poetry has its seeds in the human heart." The poems in this
anthology are by no means artless, but regardless of the degree of poetic
technique that went into the composition of a poem, the avowed purpose
was to express what lay in the poet's heart, not to display his virtuosity.
Truthfulness to experience was prized in these early poems as in much
of later Japanese literature; the seeds had to be rooted in the heart, or
the flowers, however brilliant, would be meretricious.
The inspiration for composing a poem often came from the expe-
riences of a love affair-anticipation of a meeting, grief over parting,
remembrances of someone who is now remote-but it could equally
come from a momentary perception of nature: morning dew on flowers
growing on a fence, the cry of a deer heard from a distant forest. The
real message of a poem describing the fall of cherry blossoms might be
the poet's realization that her beauty is fading with the years, but this
was usually not spoken. In any case, the brevity of the classic verse form,
the toalea, a poem in 31 syllables arranged in lines of 5, 7, 5, 7, and 7
syllables, limited the range to intuitively perceived subjects. A waka
could not tell a story, nor enunciate moral truths, nor could it fully
convey religious devotion; but by a meticulously exact choice of words
the poet could enable the reader to recontruct the world from which
the precious few drops were distilled in the poem's brief compass.
Japanese poetry would be confined largely to lyrics, and the most
characteristic subjects would be the changes in the flora and fauna of
the seasons and the griefs or (much less often) joys of love. The poems
in the Kokinshii and later anthologies are arranged not by author, nor
chronologically, but by the seasons described, by love, and by a few
other topics that were thought worthy of poetic composition. The sit-
uations described by Tsurayuki as being likely to inspire men and women
to compose poetry were for the most part elegiac-the loss of beauty,
the coldness of those who were once dear friends. One theme is dom-
inant, sorrow over the passage of time.
Introduction 3

Japanese poetry did not begin with the Kokinsh«. Indeed, it is gen-
erally accepted that many of the finest poems of the language are found
in the Man'yoshu ; a collection compiled well over a century earlier; but
the secret of how to read the complicated script in which the poems of
the Man'yoshi; were transcribed was not unlocked until the seventeenth
century, and during the nine hundred years after the completion of the
Man'yoshic, poets looked back to the Kokinshu as the finest flowering of
court poetry, a model that they sought to emulate in language, subjects,
and above all its typical form, the waka.
Allusions to the poetry of the Kokinshi; are found in countless poems
that borrowed its themes and wording, always with the expectation
that the reader, familiar with the original Kokinslu; poems that had
inspired the later poet, would admire the skill with which he created
variations on the original. Kokinshu poems also figure conspicuously in
fiction, especially of the Heian period (795-II85), the high point of
classical Japanese literature. A phrase quoted from a Kokinshu poem
could substitute in a conversation for the overt expression of a sentiment,
and a failure to recognize an allusion might be cause for humiliation.
Poets who felt the urge to express more than was possible within
the thirty-one syllables of a waka had the option of writing poetry in
Chinese, and some availed themselves of this possibility. But for most
poets the waka was the ideal length for the melancholy thoughts aroused
by the first cold winds of autumn, or an expression of despair when
one realized one would never again meet one's beloved, or a farewell
to the world. There was little that Japanese poets of the past really
wished to say that could not be expressed in this form. When, a mil-
lennium later, the Japanese first came into contact with European poetry,
many poets were bewildered, and supposed that anything might be made
into a poem of this new style, unlike the old poems that drew their
materials from nature and the human heart. Even the principles of
sociology were turned into a long poem by an earnest young Japanese
scholar of the late nineteenth century who had been reading Darwin
and Herbert Spencer.
The waka poets of the Kokinshu did not attempt to cram as many
meanings into their poems as possible in order to overcome the limi-
tations of the thirty-one syllables allowed them, nor did they free them-
selves of their Procrustean bed by sneaking in an extra syllable here and
there; their chief desire was to make their poems perfect. Perfection
was attainable in a poem as short as the waka or the even shorter
seventeen-syllable haiku, and this may be why the Japanese poets so
4 Introduction

seldom expressed themselves in the choka, or long poem, that had been
the glory of the Man'yoshu, and was still occasionally practiced by poets
of the age of the Kokinshu.
A knowledge of the kind of poetry that was composed at the Japanese
court was not confined to the aristocracy. As education gradually spread
from the court and the monasteries to the military and eventually even
to the peasantry, so did the cult of cherry blossoms and the other aspects
of the stylized worship of nature that had inspired the court poets.
Today the progress of the blossoming of the cherry is breathlessly re-
ported on radio and television-6o percent open in one place, only 40
percent in another-and even persons not normally interested in flowers
will go off to share in what the poets have made a national experience.
But despite its pervasion of all classes of society, Japanese literature
as a whole is prevailingly aristocratic when compared to the literatures
of Europe. There are, of course, folk songs and folktales, some of con-
siderable interest, but the main body of the literature from the eighth
to the seventeenth century was composed by members of the nobility
or else by persons who had adopted its language and manners. Unlike
the nobles of medieval Europe, the Japanese aristrocrats rarely took part
in the pleasures of the hunt or of war. They of course had rivalries,
political as well as amorous, and they were by no means flawlessly
behaved at all times, but the ideal courtier was known for his elegance
and his ability to compose a well-turned poem, and he had above all to
obey the rules of good taste. The poetry composed by the courtiers (and
by others writing in their manner) was melancholic, rather than tragic,
and avoided the jagged edges of openly expressed emotions.
Even the most refined courtiers on occasion turned for inspiration
or amusement to the literature and entertainments of the common peo-
ple. The Retired Emperor Goshirakawa compiled a massive collection
of folk and popular songs in the twelfth century. In the fourteenth
century, dengaku, the dances and songs that had been performed by
peasants at their festivals in honor of the gods of the soil, became a
craze at the court, and contributed to the development of the aristocratic
No drama. Literary preferences tended to move upward: even after the
composition of literature by and for the common people became normal
in the seventeenth century, the tastes displayed in this literature soon
showed unplebeian refinement. Haiku poetry, which had originated as
salacious quips at after-dinner festivities, was transformed into a noble
art by Basho, just as the ukiyo-e prints, begun as pornography, blossomed
in the flawless combinations of lines and colors that conquered the artistic
Introduction 5

world of nineteenth-century Europe. Good taste seems to be endemic

in the Japanese.
Of course, a new art was not likely to be in impeccable taste from
its inception. In between the first, crude beginnings and the elevation
of the art to its final form, a process of refinement occurred, generally
marked by the evolution of rules intended to purge the new genre of
its original earthiness. When dengaku was taken over by the court of
the shogun, the simple peasant costumes of the performers were replaced
with robes of magnificent brocades, lest ugliness distract the attention
of spectators from the plays. Another art of the middle ages, renga, or
linked verse, had originated as a kind of game, a test of wits that required
a man to add a couple of lines to a poem another man had made. The
best links composed on a given occasion were rewarded with prizes,
and bets might be placed on the likely winners. But before long, codes
of composition, similar to (but even more demanding than) those that
had evolved for the art of the waka, were applied to renga with the
intention of raising a mere diversion to the level of art. Eventually, so
many rules were created by renga practitioners, who sought philosophical
justification for every aspect of their art, that specialists in the rules were
required to preside over each renga session, and what had been a game
became a life-and-death matter to participants.

Fiction
Although poetry was considered to be of greater importance than prose,
fiction was by no means neglected. The novel developed earlier in Japan
than in the West. Some Japanese critics have denied that Genji Mono-
gatari (The Tale of Genji), the greatest work of Japanese fiction, should
be called a novel, noting its lack of overall structure or a pervading
philosophy of life. They may be right, but it is difficult to define what
constitutes a novel, and perhaps we may be permitted to use the word
loosely, as a designation for any extended work in prose that describes
people living in a believable society. The Japanese term monogatari means
a "telling of things," a neutral term as compared to the later, originally
pejorative, shosetsu ("little talk"), a term borrowed from China, where
the novel had traditionally not been considered to be of literary
importance.
The first and perhaps most effective defense of the monogatari is
found in The Tale of Genji, written early in the eleventh century. In a
6 Introduction
famous passage of her novel, the author, Murasaki Shikibu, speaking
through Prince Genii, the hero of the work, insisted that works of fiction
have a legitimate function, preserving the memory of experiences that
the author cannot bear to let pass into oblivion. The official histories
recorded the principal events of a reign, but they provided no clue to
how people actually lived, or what their emotional lives were like. This
was the function of the monogatari.
The Tale of Genji, arguably the first novel written anywhere in the
world, was given the benefit of learned commentaries in the middle
ages and we know that even emperors did not scorn to read it. Under
Buddhist influence, disdain was expressed at times for the "lies" of
fiction, and the author was consigned to hell for the offense of having
described people who had never actually lived; but in terms of the
enormous importance of The Tale of Genji in Japanese culture, this was
no more than a momentary aberration. Genji's influence can be traced
not only in later works of court fiction, but all the way through the
modern novel. Tanizaki [un'ichiro's masterpiece, Sasameyuhi (The Ma-
kioka Sisters), has often been compared to The Tale of Genji.
Fiction in the manner of The Tale ofGenji continued to be composed
at the court during the medieval period, but more important than such
works of the imagination were the stories based on actual events, notably
Heilee Monogatari (The Tale of the Heike), an account of the rise and
fall of the Taira clan and of the battles fought between this clan and
its enemy, the Minamoto clan. The recitations of professional storytellers
helped to spread the tale throughout the country, creating heroes whose
fame has not diminished with time.
A revival of fiction occurred in the seventeenth century, notably with
the works of Ihara Saikaku, and his novels have continued to inspire
writers who wish to depart from the mainstream of naturalist or au-
tobiographical writing. An equally important revival occurred in the
twentieth century, this time winning the attention not only of the Jap-
anese public but of the entire world.

Dr a m a
Drama developed rather late in terms of the whole literature. Crude
playlets existed as far back as the twelfth century, but our first texts of
plays date from the fourteenth century. These No plays include the
masterpieces of Zeami, one of the great dramatists of the world. Zeami
was by no means the only distinguished playwright of the No theater,
Introduction 7
and some of the works of his successors and rivals are even more popular.
The stories of the No plays were drawn mainly from works of literature
familiar to the audiences at the shogun's court, such as The Tale of Genji
or The Tale of the Heiltc, and their interest did not lie in unexpected
developments in the plots or the piquancy of recent events reenacted
before the eyes of the spectators. The chief characters are often dead
even before the plays open, and appear as ghosts who recall the bitterness
of defeat in battle or the pangs of an unrequited love. In performance
the plays combine the magnificent poetry of the texts with a musical
delivery of the lines, and the climax is generally a dance that epitomizes
the action. It was not customary in the past to consider the plays as
literature, despite the unquestionable merit of the texts, largely because
the elements of performance counted for so much in the total effect.
Yet the plays are not only ofliterary importance in themselves but exerted
a significant influence on later literature.
In the seventeenth century other forms of drama were created spe-
cifically for plebeian audiences, notably the plays of the [oruri (puppet)
and Kabuki theaters, and these, too, are often of considerable literary
value. The plays of Chikamatsu Monzaemon, the outstanding dramatist
of the [oruri theater, can be divided into two main categories: those that
treat, however freely, the heroes of the past (sometimes the same heroes
who appear in the No plays) and those that portray realistically the lives
of the commoners of Chikarnatsu's own day. His are perhaps the earliest
tragedies written anywhere in the world that have as their heroes mem-
bers of the bourgeoisie who demonstrate by the intensity and purity of
their emotions that their stories are worthy of our tears and our
admiration.
The theater was the part of Japanese literature least affected by the
changes brought about by the introduction of Western literature in the
nineteenth century. Although modern drama eventually developed, some
dramatists, even of the twentieth century, have continued to write for
the traditional theaters, and performances of No and Kabuki plays are
still better attended than most works written for the modern stage. For
anyone accustomed to the brilliance of a Kabuki play-sets, costumes,
offstage music, bravado acting and dancing-the typical interior of a
modern play is likely to seem drab and unsatisfying.
8 Introduction

Special Features of
Japanese Literature
Japanese literature, especially when compared with that of China and
other countries of East Asia, is notable for the major role of women
among the writers of poetry and prose. This was true especially from
the eighth to the fourteenth century, but even during the periods of
relatively little activity by women writers there were generally a few
who maintained the tradition, which has been revivified in the twentieth
century. The importance of the women writers to the literature as a
whole was not confined to their own works; the influence of such
masterpieces as The Tale of Genji or Makura Sosh: (The Pillow Book of
Sei Shonagon) affected male writers, who adopted the tone and some-
times even the content of typical writings by women.
Another striking contribution of women to Japanese literature was
the literary diary. The earliest such diary, Tosa Nikki (The Tosa Diary),
was in fact written by a man, but it was in the persona of a woman,
and Kagero Nikki (The Gossamer Years), the finest work of the genre,
was written by a woman late in the tenth century. There has been an
unbroken tradition of keeping diaries ever since, many of high literary
value. The Gossamer Years opens with the author's declaration of her
dissatisfaction with existing accounts of court, and her resolve to describe
what the life of a court lady was really like. Her insistence on narrating
truthfully and in detail the unhappy circumstances of her married life
creates a rare intimacy between herself and her readers. The diary genre
includes some of the most beloved works of Japanese literature, by men
as well as women, including 0ku no Hosomichi (The Narrow Road of
Oku) by Matsuo Basho, his account of a journey to the north of Japan
in 1689.
In a society where it was not easy for anyone (but especially for a
woman) to speak her feelings openly, the diary provided an outlet for
thoughts that could not be uttered aloud. Not all diaries are of equal
interest. Those written by women of the Heian period seem extraor-
dinarily close to us because they describe emotions that have not changed
over the centuries, but the diaries of men of the same period, devoted
mainly to events at court, often reveal little of the diarists' feelings.
A diary was sometimes a confession so intimate that a diarist might
on his deathbed ask the family to burn the diary, but (like any other
kind of confession) it had to be heard to be effective: the diarists seldom
burned their diaries themselves. The confession in writing assumed a
new form in modern literature with the development of the "I novel,"
Introduction 9

in which the author often described in the utmost detail acts and thoughts
that most people normally prefer to keep to themselves. The autobio-
graphical novel is found in every literature, but in Japan the "I novel"
has at times taken precedence over works that were dismissed as being
no more than the fabrications of storytellers.
The popularity of the diary or the "I novel" with Japanese writers
may perhaps be attributed to the difficulty they otherwise experienced
in organizing long works of prose or poetry. The natural tendency when
composing Japanese prose is to write long sentences, and to devote one's
greatest efforts to maintaining an unbroken flow of expression. The
transition from one sentence to the next, like the transition from one
link to the next of a renga sequence, was carefully considered, but the
need for an overall structure was often neglected. A No play, thanks to
its brevity and its formal requirements, could be flawlessly organized,
but the longer plays of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries tended
to break down into only casually related scenes, and Kabuki plays are
for this reason seldom performed in their entirety today. In the case of
a diary, the succession of the days or the stages of a journey provided
a ready-made format, and this may be why the Japanese found this
genre so congenial.
The difficulty of organizing material into satisfying wholes may
account also for the continuing popularity of the books of essays known
as zuihitsu. The observations and reflections of the writer are presented
with stylistic grace in such works, but above all, it is the personality of
the writer that is likely to attract readers. An essay in a book of zuihitsu
may be no more than an intriguing sentence or two, or it may extend
over several pages. In the end, after reading a series of seemingly un-
related anecdotes or impressions, we may nevertheless feel a great sense
of intimacy with the writer, much as if we had read his diary or perhaps
an "I novel" in which he laid bare the joys and sorrows of his life.
Another distinctive feature of Japanese literature as a whole is its
conservatism. The waka has been composed for well over a thousand
years, much of this time as the chief if not the sole poetic form. The
poetic diction established in the tenth century was respected by waka
poets until late in the nineteenth century, and although many changes
had in the meanwhile occurred in the vocabulary of contemporary
speech, the form retained its popularity, even among poets of an un-
traditional outlook. The haiku, developed into a major poetic form in
the seventeenth century, is today even more popular than the waka; it
has been estimated that the haiku "population" of Japan-that is, the
number of people who actively compose haiku, generally as members
10 Introduction

of a group centered on a professional poet-is well over a million. The

plays of the No theater are regularly performed every week by different
groups of professional actors, and hundreds of thousands of amateurs
learn the singing and dancing of the roles. Kabuki and [oruri plays are
performed almost every night of the year, to large audiences. And the
major works of traditional Japanese fiction, beginning with The Tale of
Genji, have been translated again and again into modern Japanese, and
adapted for use on the stage and in films.

THE JAPANESE LANGUAGE

Twentieth-century purists constantly rage over the corruption of lan-

guage, and there is no shortage of prophets of doom who predict that
it cannot survive tampering with its very nature; but it is curious how
little in fact the Japanese language has basically changed. A poem in
the Kokinshi; is obviously not in the same Japanese as a contemporary
conversation, but some waka poets still express themselves in the diction
of the Kokinshii, and their poems are understood without much trouble
by educated Japanese. The chief differences between the classical and
modern languages are in verb and adjectival endings rather than in
basic sentence structure or even vocabulary (though the modern language
is incomparably richer).
Although the profusion of words of foreign origin is constantly
bewailed, they amount to hardly 3 percent of the words found in a
newspaper and to an even smaller proportion of the words in most
works of literature. It would be simple, moreover, for the government,
if it were ever so inclined, to command that all foreign words be sup-
pressed and thereby restore overnight the purity of the Japanese lan-
guage. In English, a foreign word that has entered the language quickly
loses its original nationality. There can hardly be anyone, for example,
who is aware when he uses the word "robot" that it was originally
Czech; but robotto in Japanese, written in katakana script, not in the
hiragana script reserved for words of Japanese origin, remains forever
alien and can instantly be detected.
The special features of the Japanese language as it has developed
over the centuries affect even the most cosmopolitan writers today. Some
struggle to defy the old prescriptions, others take advantage of the
idiosyncracies of Japanese expression. A sentence as neutral as "The
weather is nice today" is normally expressed in a manner that makes it
immediately recognizable as the utterance of a man or a woman, and
Introduction II

the relative social statuses of the speaker and the listener will also be
apparent. An author may amuse his readers by having a character express
this sentence at an inappropriate level of politeness, creating a comic
effect without altering the meaning in any way. A novel in which men
and women spoke the same language or in which there was no distinction
of levels of politeness would not seem like Japanese.
The nature of the Japanese language has affected the poets most.
None of the devices most commonly employed in the European lan-
guages to distinguish prose from poetry is effective in Japanese. Rhyme
is so easy as to be without interest because every word ends with one
of five open vowels (or an "n") and there are no consonant clusters;
critics in the past even condemned the accidental use of rhyme at the
ends of the lines of a waka because it produced unattractive overtones.
Again, the clearly defined meters of an English or Russian poem cannot
be approximated in Japanese because there is no stress accent. Finally,
the patterns of long and short syllables, typical of Greek and Latin
poetry, were not possible in classical Japanese because all the vowels
were short. Modern Japanese possesses long and short vowels, but no
one, as far as I am aware, has taken advantage of them to compose
poetry or to create formal poetic structures. Poets do use them for effect.
The Japanese distinguished poetry from prose by syllabics: that is,
the number of syllables in a line. The lines of the earliest surviving
poems were irregular in the number of syllables, but by the seventh
century a preference had emerged for lines of five or seven syllables.
Chinese poems were often written in lines of five or seven characters,
and this may have affected Japanese usage, but there is a great difference
between the five syllables of a single word (like hototogisu, the name of
a bird) and five characters each with its own meaning. In any case, an
alternation of lines of five and seven syllables became the normal rhythm
of poetry, not only in the waka and other verse forms but in the lyrical
sections of the No plays and later works for the theater. There are even
passages in the most prosaic novels of the nineteenth century that observe
this rhythm.
Although the Japanese for centuries worshiped Chinese culture and
absorbed Chinese literary influences without a struggle, they remained
surprisingly conservative with respect to the language of poetry. With
rare exceptions, no words of Chinese origin (even those that had long
since been taken into daily speech) were permitted in traditional poetry,
perhaps because imported words did not seem to come from the heart.
Japanese poets made do with words of purely Japanese origin, words
that had the affective strength of such English words as blood, sweat,
12 Introduction

and tears, even when they were phonetically soft and melodious. The
classical language remained more or less frozen from the tenth century,
and the poetic diction was restricted to the some two thousand words
found in the poems of the Kokinshu.
The haiku poets of the Tokugawa period, it is true, demonstrated
their independence of the old poetic diction by using slang or words of
Chinese origin. Most of these "new" words had long since been used
in daily speech, and using them in poetry was thus an affirmation of
the present, as opposed to the more usual nostalgia for a golden age of
long ago; and the haiku poets took advantage of the expanded vocabulary
to resort to elaborate wordplay and allusion; but Basho, the greatest of
the haiku poets, returned in his last period to the simplicity of the old
expreSSiOn.
The poetry and prose written by Japanese in classical Chinese, long
neglected by most scholars of Japanese literature, have in recent years
been given respectful attention. Unquestionably these writings were
heavily influenced by Chinese predecessors, but they are by no means
mere imitations or of negligible value. At certain periods (for example,
the ninth century) this literature was so highly regarded as even to
threaten the survival of poetry and prose in Japanese. The Japanese who
chose to write their compositions in Chinese (like the Englishmen who
chose to write in Latin) were implicitly expressing their belief in the
universality of literature; no less than the Chinese (or Koreans), they
could voice their feelings in a literary language that not only was highly
developed but was read throughout the known world. The option of
writing in Chinese when they found Japanese expression inadequate or
constricting remained open to the Japanese until the twentieth century,
when the need to study other languages (and sciences) made it increas-
ingly difficult to maintain the old facility in a language that seemed
increasingly remote.
Even after the Japanese began, under the influence of translations
of European poetry, to write longer forms than the waka or the haiku,
the lines often consisted of units of five and seven syllables, and the
vocabulary was usually traditional. But the appeal of European forms
of expression was irresistible, and it would have been reasonable to
predict in 1900 (as a few Japanese critics did) that before long the
traditional verse forms would be abandoned as having outlived their
functions. This did not happen, in part because of the general conserva-
tism of Japanese culture, but mainly because the shorter forms better
suited the nature of the language.
Colloquialisms are found in the novels of Saikaku and the plays of
Introduction 13

Chikamatsu. This does not necessarily make these works easier for
modern readers; ephemeral colloquialisms are more obscure than any-
thing in the standard poetic diction. In the case of plays staged for
plebeian audiences, the use of the colloquial in the dialogue was probably
inevitable, but the passages that set the scene of the action and the
michiyuki, or "journey," an important part of many plays, were composed
in the classical language and contained much the same kind of verbal
dexterity one encounters in the No texts. Saikaku's novels, even at their
raciest, never deserted the classical language completely.
The struggle between the classical and the colloquial languages as
the medium of literature continued until the end of the nineteenth
century. The first novel composed wholly in the colloquial appeared in
the 1880s, but it did not immediately sweep all before it; some writers
who experimented with the colloquial went back to the classical lan-
guage, finding that the colloquial lacked the shades of expression that
had been built up over the years by compositions in the classical language.
More than that, writers of the time considered themselves to be crafts-
men, much like painters or potters, and it was in the nature of each
craft to use its special tools. For them the colloquial was no more than
a camera that anyone could operate, but the classical language demanded
a control like that of an artist's brush.
It took a number of successful novels in the colloquial, mainly realistic
accounts of ordinary daily life, before the writers who prided themselves
on their craft were induced to give up the badge of their professionalism.
Poets of the waka (now called the tanka) and the haiku went on using
the classical language because its concision permitted them to say more
in the same number of syllables. Poets of the free or modern style
generally used the colloquial, but sometimes both; for example, Miyoshi
Tatsuji, one of the finest of modern poets, used the classical language
for his subjective poems, the colloquial for his meditations on a scene
before him.
The modern prose writer almost never uses the classical language
for whatever purpose, but he may vary his expression with dialect,
current slang, or turgid phrases that sound as if they had been translated
from some foreign language. Readers are surprisingly tolerant of de-
partures from normal Japanese, but the attempts to change the nature
of Japanese expression have rarely been transmitted to a second gen-
eration of writers. The modernists of the 1920S, for all their brave
insistence on the need to create a new Japanese, in the end returned to
the old patterns; and the typographically daring writings of the Dadaists
are today totally forgotten.
 Introduction
PHILOSOPHIC BACKGROUND TO THE WORKS

The general conservatism of the language does not mean, however, that
the Japanese have been reluctant to borrow from foreign literature. Quite
to the contrary, the Japanese, ever since they first came in contact with
the civilizations of the Asian continent, have never hesitated to borrow
themes, forms of expression, and intellectual and religious backgrounds.
Buddhism, introduced to Japan from Korea, probably in the sixth cen-
tury A.D., was perhaps the strongest influence on Japanese literature,
coloring every form of expression. It is impossible to understand the
literature of premodern Japan without at least a modicum of knowledge
of Buddhism. The conviction that the things of this world are evanescent
and are not to be relied on; that one's position in this life (whether as
a human being or an animal, a king or a slave) is determined by the
actions of a previous life, and that one's actions in this life determine
the form of one's next reincarnation; and the necessity of cultivating the
seeds of Buddhahood within one are some of the Buddhist beliefs that
recur innumerable times in all manner of writing.
Confucian ethics, introduced from China, also deeply affected the
writing of literature, sometimes in the form of rather heavy-handed
sermons that interrupt the narration of a historical tale, sometimes in
dramas that depict the extraordinary lengths to which men and women
go to display their filial piety or some other Confucian virtue. Confucian
principles do not lend themselves as easily to poetic expression as the
basic Buddhist beliefs, but they have colored the attitudes of the society
as a whole, especially since the seventeenth century, and they have
provided the scale by which people and their deeds are judged.
The influence of Shinto, the indigenous religion, on literature is
harder to demonstrate, but it is unquestionably present. The nature
worship that is so conspicuous a feature of Shinto probably accounts for
the attention paid in all forms of literature to the seasons and their
flowers and animals. A haiku without a seasonal word is not considered
to be a haiku but merely a "miscellaneous verse." Even the plays of the
No theater are classified by season, and it would seem strange to perform
an "autumn play" in any other season. Nature, in all of its aspects, has
always comforted the Japanese and been their refuge. This is partly
because the climate itself (at least in the parts of the country where
literature has traditionally been composed) is comparatively mild and
agreeable. The summers are hot but short, the winters chilly but seldom
freezing. The poets traditionally wrote not about these seasons but about
the spring and autumn, when the landscapes of Japan are especially
Introduction I5

beautiful. Of course, the poets of many countries have celebrated the

beauty of spring, but in no other country that I know of is the awareness
of the seasons so acute. Even today a business letter opens with greetings
of the season.
The Shinto thinkers insisted also on the importance of the spon-
taneity of the emotions, contrasting this belief with the intellectuality
they associated with Confucianism. In Japanese literature, too, the purity
of a person's motives is more important than reasoned considerations.
The samurai in a Kabuki play who slits open his belly is demonstrating
that he is free of impurity; it was a privilege, not allowed to criminals,
to die in this way. Purity in love was equally important: the lovers in
the plays of Chikamatsu who commit suicide together prove in this way
the sincerity of their love. Although status was seldom forgotten in
Japan, a shop clerk and a prostitute who died together for their love
were as worthy of commemoration (and even envy) as any prince or
princess in the old literature.
Though a mixture of Buddhism, Confucianism, and Shinto can be
found running through much of the literature, one does not read of
people who were torn between conflicting religions-in spite of glaring
contradictions. After the seventeenth century, a person's duties to society
were regulated by Confucianism, his spiritual concerns by Buddhism,
and his joy in the world-over the beauty of the seasons or love or
children-came from Shinto beliefs, not from textual prescriptions in
any sacred book but seemingly from the ambience of the land itself.
In addition to recognized religions or systems of philosophy, Japanese
authors also adhered to what they called the michi or "way" particular
to their art. This represented more than a poet's or dramatist's normal
devotion to his craft; it was consecration to what were believed to be
the highest principles of the art. Often this was reinforced by a conviction
that the art could be effectively transmitted only from teacher to chosen
disciple, for it was feared that if the teacher allowed the secrets of the
art to pass to an unworthy vehicle, they would be distorted or even
totally corrupted. Esoteric, or secret, transmission was a basic belief of
Shingon Buddhism, but it was also congenial to Japanese Confucianists,
who were sure that intensive study of the orthodox texts was not enough
to make a person wise; the physical experience of sitting at the feet of
a revered master was also essential.
In the past the Kokin Denju, the transmission of the secrets of
the Kokinshu, was a rare privilege accorded to extremely few disciples;
even a member of the imperial family might be refused if the possessor
of the secrets judged that he was too young or otherwise insufficiently
[6 Introduction
qualified to receive the teachings. The esoteric transmission of the secrets
of each art remains an important consideration even today, when most
secrets are likely to find their way into print. For example, the techniques
of performing certain roles in the Kyogen farces are taught by a master
to only one of his sons, not necessarily the eldest but the one who has
demonstrated that he is especially qualified to receive this precious
knowledge. The most esteemed novelist of the twentieth century, Na-
tsume Soseki, held weekly audiences for his disciples, who gathered
around him seeking not so much his guidance in writing literary works
as his wisdom. The novelist and poet Sato Haruo is said to have had
three thousand disciples.

THE PROFESSIONAL WRITER

It is difficult to say when writing first became a profession. The great

Kakinomoto no Hitomaro (fl. 689-700) served as a kind of poet laureate
to the Empress [ito, commemorating her excursions to various places
and other felicitous occasions, but he presumably also fulfilled his regular
duties as an official, and probably did not receive any special reward
for composing magnificent poetry. However, at a somewhat later date
it became the practice to promote officials on the basis of their dem-
onstrated poetic ability, whether at composing poetry in Japanese or in
classical Chinese, the language of official court documents. The father
of Murasaki Shikibu, dissatisfied with his appointment as governor of
an unimportant province, obtained a better governorship as the result
of one particular poem he wrote expressing his grievance. But normally
the most concrete reward to which a court poet could aspire was the
inclusion of one or more poems in an imperial anthology. Twenty-one
such anthologies were compiled between the first, the Kokinshu of 905,
and the last, a little-remembered collection completed in 1439. Inclusion
of even one poem in an imperial anthology was a guarantee of a kind
of immortality, and that, rather than financial reward, was undoubtedly
what the court poets desired most.
It can hardly be imagined, for that matter, that Murasaki Shikibu
benefited materially from having written The Tale of Genji. No doubt
her company was even more eagerly sought than before by admirers of
her book, and presumably she had no trouble in obtaining paper for
the continuation of her manuscript, but there was no possibility of
royalties. Contrary to usage in China, where the printing of works of
literature was normal by the eleventh century, the Japanese did not print
Introduction
books of poetry or prose until the end of the sixteenth century. This
was not because the Japanese were ignorant of the art of printing. Some
of the oldest examples of printing are from Japan, and Buddhist books
continued to be printed during the medieval period. We do not know
why the Japanese chose not to print works of literature, but the reason
may have been aesthetic rather than practical: a manuscript was not
only a text but a work of art, inscribed in beautiful calligraphy and
sometimes embellished with paintings. A printed edition, no matter how
elegantly carved the woodblocks, could not match the beauty of a man-
uscript, especially if it was in the hand of some well-known person.
The cost of having a copy made of an existing manuscript must have
been considerable. The scribe would have had to be paid for his labors
and his sustenance during the period when he was making the copy.
Paper was expensive and sometimes scarce-manuscripts were some-
times copied on the backs of other manuscripts. It would not have
occurred to anyone who had incurred these expenses to offer money to
an author (or to the descendants of the author) for the privilege of
making a copy. Not until books were printed in editions of five hundred
or more copies would royalties become feasible.
The first persons to make a living from works of literature were
probably not authors but performers. Such works as The Tale of the
Heik«, the superb account, first composed in the thirteenth century, of
the battles fought between the Taira and Minamoto clans, were recited
by professional storytellers all over the country, and these people were
no doubt given monetary or other compensation. The troupes of actors
who staged plays at temples and shrines from the fourteenth century
(or even earlier) were definitely professionals. Some of the actors, notably
Kanze Kannami and his son Zeami, wrote the plays they performed,
which made them professional authors as well as actors.
In the fifteenth century a new kind of professional author appeared,
the renga master. The composition of linked verse normally required
the participation of several poets, the different poets taking turns at
supplying successive "links" to form a single long poem. At first, the
composition of renga was a pastime, but gradually poets began to see
the literary possibilities in fusing the poetic expressions of different
people. By the fifteenth century a few renga poets had established them-
selves as masters of the art and were idolized. The greatest of them,
Sogi, though a man of obscure origins, rose to exceptional authority and
wealth, and was fawned over by nobles who sought introductions to his
distinguished acquaintances. Sogi lived through the Onin War that
devastated the capital in the fifteenth century, forcing him, like various
I8 Introduction

other renga masters, to take refuge in the provinces, where they were
welcomed by local potentates eager to acquire the culture of the capital.
Sogi seems to have been generously rewarded for the guidance he gave
in renga composition and for his patience as he listened gravely to the
inept attempts of his hosts to compose poetry in the manner of profes-
sionals. The dispersal of Sogi and other literary men to the provinces
had the further effect of spreading culture to the hinterland.
After his return to the capital, Sogi derived income from lectures
he delivered on the Japanese classics. No doubt he was also well paid
for correcting the manuscripts of would-be renga poets. Although his
income from various sources enabled him to live comfortably, he was
not living off his writings in a modern sense. The transcriptions of the
renga sessions in which he participated were copied but not sold, and
his works of renga criticism and instruction were part of his teaching,
not independent literary productions. This remained true of poets until
the nineteenth century. Even Basho, the worshiped master of haiku,
earned no money from the sale of his poetry. Apart from the monetary
presents made by his adoring disciples, he seems to have depended on
selling examples of his calligraphy and paintings.
The introduction of movable-type printing presses in the wake of
the Japanese military invasions of the Korean peninsula toward the close
of the sixteenth century brought about a dramatic change in the situation
of writers of fiction. Although the Japanese had long known how to
print books from woodblocks, they were unfamiliar with movable types,
and, perhaps at first as a curiosity or a private extravagance, splendid
editions of various classics of Japanese literature were printed from these
types. Among them the most famous are the texts of the No plays
designed by the painter, calligrapher, and potter Honnami Koetsu. These
books appeared in several editions. The most elaborate was printed on
special paper of different colors with stenciled mica patterns in many
designs. These were probably intended as gifts, but there were also texts
printed from the same movable types on ordinary paper, and these no
doubt were sold.
The first example of a work of Japanese literature printed from
movable type had, however, different origins. The Portuguese, who had
come to Japan in the middle of the fifteenth century, eventually brought
to Kyushu, the center of early missionary efforts, a printing press. Initially
they printed only texts of Christian doctrine, but in 1592 a version of
The Tale of the Heikc in romanized Japanese appeared. This book was
probably intended to help Portuguese and other non-Japanese to learn
the language and something of Japanese culture, but the text of Aesop's
Introduction [9

Fables (also in romanized Japanese), published in the following year,

may have been intended instead for Japanese converts. The publications
of the Jesuit Mission Press were not numerous, and they are today of
great rarity, but they provide an interesting sidelight to the first printing
of the classics of Japanese literature.
In terms of the emergence of the professional writer, the publication
in r612 of Urarninosuke, a story by a contemporary author, represented
a significant development. Although Uraminosube itself is oflittle literary
importance, it was apparently the first new work to have been printed
and published in the hope of earning a profit. From this time on, books
of a clearly commercial nature were frequently published in the main
cities of Kyoto, Osaka, and Edo. The names of over a thousand publishers
of the Tokugawa period are known. Most of these companies were
short-lived, but they produced a large number of books, and by the
middle of the seventeenth century there were authors who made their
living entirely by their writing. Asai Ryoi is often said to have been the
first professional writer in Japanese history. The great popularity he
enjoyed in his time did not outlive him, but his success paved the way
for Ihara Saikaku, one of the major Japanese novelists.
Saikaku was a thorough professional who could easily compose
works to meet the tastes of his seventeenth-century audiences. One can
imagine him writing his amorous tales for Kyoto, his tales of commercial
life for Osaka, and his tales of the samurai for Edo, corresponding to
the prevailing atmosphere of each of the three great cities of Japan. He
may not actually have planned his books so schematically, but he never
failed to take into consideration his probable audiences and the likely
sales of his books. Saikaku's popularity was such that some of his works
include his name in the title: Saikaku's Tales of the Provinces, Saikaku's
Parting Gift, Saikaku's Final Words of Advice. Publishers commissioned
Saikaku to write his stories, and paid him on the basis of the anticipated
sales. A thousand or more copies made up the original printing, which
could easily be supplemented by running off additional copies from the
same woodblocks. There was no protection against pirated editions.
Saikaku's first successful novel, Koshoku Ichidai Otoka (The Life of an
Amorous Man), printed in Osaka, was soon pirated by an Edo bookseller
and published with illustrations by the great Moronobu.
In the eighteenth century the publication of all varieties of literature
became commercially plausible, though the short life of most publishing
firms suggests that the market was capricious. The general increase in
literacy during the eighteenth century naturally led to an expanded
audience for books, whether fiction in the manner of Saikaku, works
20 Introduction
of practical guidance, or beautifully illustrated books that were bought
as much for the pictures as for the texts. By the late eighteenth century
authors were being paid by the page of manuscript paper, the same kind
of ruled paper still used by Japanese authors today. Books included
advertisements for other publications of the same author or for works
on similar subjects. There were publication parties at which books were
launched. Hardly an aspect of contemporary publication in Japan is
without roots in the traditions of the eighteenth and early nineteenth
centuries.
By the end of the Tokugawa period, book publishing was a major
business with a large audience. In particular, the growth of literacy
among women resulted in many well-known books of the time being
specifically addressed to women readers. New editions of the classics
and of commentaries on the classics (which had become difficult to
understand even for the best educated) are evidence that the rise in the
cultural level of readers did not stop at contemporary fiction. One
problem that had existed earlier became a distinct menace to writers of
the early nineteenth century-censorship by agencies of the government.
During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries it was understood that
references to politics or contemporary events of potential political sig-
nificance would not be tolerated in works of literature. Some authors
(especially dramatists) got around the censorship by transposing the story
to a former age: for example, the vendetta carried out by the forty-seven
retainers of the Lord of Aka in 1703 was disguised as an event of the
fourteenth century, and the characters were either given the names of
historical persons of that period or else had their names slightly altered
in order to circumvent the edict prohibiting the representation of actual
people on the stage.
The prohibition did not at first extend to plays or stories about
members of the chonin, or townsman, class, no doubt because the gov-
ernment deemed them to be of so little importance that they could be
freely portrayed without giving offense. Chikamatsu Monzaemon, the
foremost playwright of the theater of puppets, scored his greatest suc-
cesses with plays that dealt directly with the lives of commoners of his
time, especially the men and women who ended their lives in love
suicides. Chikamatsu's heroes and heroines in these plays are most often
shopkeepers and prostitutes. At first sight, nothing could be farther
removed from the characters who appear in the No plays of Zeami than
these mundane characters, but their emotions were equally pure.
The audiences for Chikamatsu's plays consisted largely of people
from the same milieus he wrote about. He demonstrated that their
Introduction 21

tragedies, though unheroic and about people whose only way of con-
trolling their fates was to kill themselves, were as worthy of tears as the
griefs of the Heian court ladies or the bitter chagrin of the defeated
warriors of the middle ages.
The elevation of Tokubei, a clerk who works in a shop that sells
soy sauce, and Ohatsu, a low-ranking prostitute, into the hero and
heroine of tragedy in Sonezahi Shinju (The Love Suicides at Sonezaki)
reflected the great changes that had occurred in society. In the Heian
period such people (if their professions had existed) would not even
have been noticed by the members of the court who wrote the poetry
and prose that are the glory of Japanese literature. In the middle ages
they might have figured in some peripheral capacity in the telling of a
war tale-a merchant who, despite his demeaning profession, is a human
being, or a prostitute who, despite her calling, is faithful to the soldier
she loves. But now they have become the central figures of tragedy.
If members of the upper classes chose to attend the theater, they
had to accommodate themselves to the tastes of the rest of the audience,
just as a samurai who visited the licensed quarter forfeited his privileges
and might be outbid for the favors of a prostitute by a lowly merchant
with more money.

JAPANESE LITERATURE DURING THE PERIOD OF ISOLATION

During most of the Tokugawa period, from the middle of the seven-
teenth to the middle of the nineteenth century, the country was cut off
from almost all contacts with the outside world by deliberate policy of
the shogunate. The government, fearing that the European powers might
attempt to colonize Japan, as they had already done in the Philippines
and elsewhere, and that Japanese converts to Christianity might ally
themselves with the foreigners, decreed that no Japanese might go abroad
and that no foreigners might enter Japan. Certain exceptions were made:
five or six Dutch traders were permitted to reside on a small island in
Nagasaki Harbor, and in the town of Nagasaki a few thousand Chinese
engaged in trade. A trickle of information about recent developments
in the West came into Japan through this one window on the world,
but the Japanese authorities were at pains to keep out works containing
Christian doctrine. A series of edicts, at first aimed at reducing the
strength of Christianity in Japan, culminated in a total prohibition of
the religion under penalty of death.
In rare instances Japanese who had been shipwrecked abroad when
22 Introduction

storms drove their ships to foreign shores were allowed to reenter Japan;
but their foreign rescuers, who had hopes that their generosity in re-
turning the castaways would be rewarded by the Japanese opening the
country to trade, went home disappointed. Only after strong pressure
had been exerted by the American and Russian fleets in the 1850S were
the first cautious steps taken toward ending isolation.
It has long been a matter of debate as to whether the long isolation
of the country benefited or harmed Japan. When one reads the literature
of the late seventeenth century (known in Japan as the Genroku era),
it is clear that a new and vital kind of literature had been created in
the poetry of Basho, the novels of Saikaku, and the plays of Chikamatsu,
and it can be argued that the period of isolation, by turning Japanese
writers on their native resources, promoted this new literature. But it
would be hard to pretend that the poetry, novels, and plays of the next
century equaled the writings of the Genroku masters, suggesting that
the isolation lasted too long. The end of the Tokugawa period was a
particularly dismal time for Japanese literature with the sole exception
of the plays written for the Kabuki stage. One gets the impression that
Japanese writers had exhausted the possibilities of the traditional liter-
ature and needed an infusion of foreign influence-of the kind that has
fertilized every literature at one time or another-if it was to survive.
During the years following the Japanese defeat in World War II in
1945, it was normal for Japanese to speak of sakoku, the period of
seclusion, as a "tragedy." Examples were given of how, as the result of
the refusal of the government to import grain from abroad, many thou-
sands of Japanese starved to death when volcanic eruptions and other
natural disasters destroyed the harvests. Again, the virtual lack of contact
with Europeans meant that Japan did not benefit from the industrial
and scientific revolutions that took place in Europe at the time. At the
beginning of the Tokugawa period, to judge by the reports of European
visitors, the level of the material life of the Japanese was higher than
that en joyed in the countries of Europe. The literacy rate was also higher,
and European visitors frequently commented on how little misery was
to be seen in the cities or the countryside. Above all, the protracted
peace under the Tokugawa regime contrasted with the innumerable
wars that afflicted Europe during the same period. But by the middle
of the nineteenth century Japan had fallen far behind the European
countries.
The cost of isolation was the ordeal that the Japanese suffered during
the Meiji period, when they were forced to absorb in a few years the
material advances achieved by the Europeans in the course of two cen-
Introduction
turies. Young Japanese learned Western languages so as to acquire the
necessary European science and technology. The government devoted
immense efforts to bringing compulsory education to all children. With
the help of foreign advisers, the Japanese laid railway tracks and tele-
graph lines. Not all Japanese benefited from the changes: the samurai
class, established by the Tokugawa regime as the foundation of the social
order, was deprived of its special privileges. For reasons of state, Bud-
dhism and Shinto, which had coexisted harmoniously for a millennium,
were wrenched apart. The Japanese at times seemed determined to
destroy everything of their past in the name of civilization.
It is difficult to draw up an objective balance sheet of the merits
and demerits of sakoku. In reaction to the publications of the immediate
postwar era, the writings of more recent Japanese scholars tend to praise,
rather than condemn, the policy of isolation, pointing out the many
achievements of the Tokugawa period. But the literature created after
the Meiji Restoration of 1868 would in effect represent a rejection of
the achievements of Basho, Saikaku, Chikamatsu, and the lesser masters
of the recent past, in favor of the newly introduced European literature.
Translations of European literature began to be made soon after the
country was "opened" to the world.
The Japanese sent abroad to study in the late Tokugawa and early
Meiji periods were expected to acquire practical learning. For a time
the officially advocated formula was "Eastern morality and Western
science," meaning that Japanese who studied in foreign countries should
not, in their eagerness to master the knowledge of the West, forget their
own spiritual traditions. Young Japanese scholars, whether they went
abroad or attended mission schools in Japan, were often subjected to
the well-intentioned efforts of foreigners to save their souls by converting
them to Christianity. Many intellectuals were converted, but most sub-
sequently lost interest in their new faith and turned instead to socialism
or some other intellectual rather than religious system of thought.

EUROPEAN LITERATURE AND THE RETURN TO JAPAN

Translations of European literature, begun chaotically in the I870s, soon

became a systematic enterprise. The Japanese have over the years since
then translated most of the important works of the Western tradition.
It has been said that if one could read no language but one's own, one
could read more of the world's literature in Japanese than in any other
language. The translations made in the Meiji period were eagerly read
 Introduction

by young people especially, and some of them began to write in a manner

conspicuously influenced by foreign example. Romantic love, probably
the most familiar theme in Western literature, was celebrated for the
first time by Japanese poets in the 1880s. Political matters, hitherto
banned by the censors, could be discussed with relative freedom, and
this encouraged intellectuals who were concerned for the future of Japan
to express their thoughts in novelistic form, as a means of reaching
readers who might not respond to political tracts.
The new literature of Japan originated in the opening decade of the
twentieth century. Even in the late nineteenth century, before European
influence could be fully digested, a few important novels and poems,
some of them pioneering efforts in the new manner, others charming
survivals of the old literature, were published, but the works for which
the Meiji period is admired came later.
Many Japanese if asked to name the two greatest writers of modern
Japan would respond with Natsume Soseki and Mori Ogai. Both men
were well acquainted with foreign languages-Soseki with English,
Ogai with German. Both men, initially at least, were much influenced
by the works of European authors. Soseki's early works are marked
with a humor that surely owes something to the British, Ogai's with
the romantic coloring of the nineteenth-century Germans. But both
writers in their different ways returned to Japan in later years. This
return was by no means total: the "oriental" thought in Soseki's late
works is not so prominent as to obscure his even greater indebtedness
to the European novel; and the "nonfictional novels" of Ogai's last
period, though tributes to the men and women of traditional Japan, do
not resemble any earlier Japanese novels. The two men belonged to a
generation that was perhaps the last to have absorbed Tokugawa-period
literature in boyhood, and nostalgia for that lost world sometimes came
to the surface, but they never forgot that they were modern men and
that their concerns were shared by writers all over the world.
The next generation of Japanese writers, typified by Nagai Kafu and
Tanizaki [un'ichiro, was familiar from childhood with European books
and objects. When Kafu left Japan in 1903 for America (and, later,
France) he seems to have desired nothing more than to live the rest of
his life abroad. Yet Kafu in fact returned to Japan, and he would become
known especially for his elegies evoking the fading beauty of old Tokyo.
Tanizaki related in a story published in 1915 that he had come to
realize that "I would have to seek from the West objects to satisfy my
craving for beauty, and I was suddenly overcome with passionate ad-
miration for the West. ... Everything labeled as coming from the West
Introduction

seemed beautiful and aroused my envy. I could not help looking at the
West in the same way that human beings look up to the gods. I felt
sad that I had been born in a country where there seemed to be no
possibility that any first-rate art could ever be nurtured.... And I made
up my mind that the only way to develop my art fully was to come into
ever closer contact with the West, if only by an inch closer than before,
or even by totally assimilating myself into the West."
Tanizaki never visited the West, and less than twenty years after
writing this story he had made his return to Japan. His own stories of
the 1930S were mainly set in the Japanese past, and at that time he made
the first of his three modern-language translations of The Tale of Genji,
a laborious undertaking that entailed the loss to the world of the original
works that Tanizaki would otherwise have written.
With each succeeding generation of Japanese authors the return to
Japan seems less and less probable. A successful writer of the 1990S
would surely have traveled abroad not once but several times, and would
have at least a nodding acquaintance with writers in half a dozen
countries. He would not be surprised to learn that translations of his
books had been published in the principal languages of Europe and
perhaps in Chinese and Korean as well. He might believe that he was
competing with writers in other countries in developing new narrative
techniques; and he might even have the pleasure of learning that some
American or French writer had been influenced by his works. He would
not be astonished to hear rumors that he was being considered for the
Nobel Prize in Literature.
Perhaps for the latest generation of writers the return to Japan is
meaningless. "Japan" does not mean classical literature (which they
probably have not glanced at since passing their university admission
examinations), and they are indifferent to traditional art and architecture.
They are apt to be better acquainted with the music of Stravinsky and
Bartok than with any Japanese classical music, old or new. Foreign
readers of their novels may be distressed that they are not more Japanese,
but these writers feel no need to cater to a craving for exoticism. They
have a market for their writings, a hundred million and more Japanese,
and although they are grateful for praise from abroad, it is not essential
to their work or their livelihoods. Their return to Japan, if it occurs, is
likely to take the form of the discovery in middle age that they really
like Japanese food better than even the most perfectly prepared French
cuisine,
During the "fifteen-year war" that began with the invasion of China
and developed into the conflict with America and Britain in the Pacific,
26 Introduction
some Japanese intellectuals, especially those of the left wing, felt pro-
foundly upset by the actions of the military, but extremely few attempted
to escape abroad. There was no tradition of Japanese taking refuge in
a foreign country rather than living under a hated regime at home, and
it was far more difficult for Japanese to escape from their islands than
for a German or Italian to cross into Switzerland. Above all, the fact
that the only language they spoke was Japanese, a language understood
nowhere else but in Japan, inhibited them. Nagai Kafu abandoned his
dreams of spending the rest of his life in America or France when he
realized that if he wished to become a writer, Japan was the only country
where that was possible.
The postwar writers, especially those born after 1945, have often
shown impatience with the Japanese language. They introduce into their
works innumerable foreign words, mainly English but also some French
and German, and in extreme cases have adopted the sentence structures
of foreign languages. Poets, bored by the imagery of traditional Japanese
poetry, have rigorously excluded cherry blossoms and maple leaves from
their works, preferring hyacinths or gloxinia. Some women authors,
resisting the normal distinctions between men's and women's language,
have chosen to cast their writings into a completely masculine style. But
revolutions in style have rarely lasted even the length of the originator's
career, and some writers in middle age have rejected the changes they
once advocated and returned to prewar spelling or found Japanese equiv- J

alents for the foreign words that had seemed the only ones that truly
conveyed their thoughts.

JAPANESE LITERATURE IN THE WORLD

In the modern period connections with the Japanese past have been
more commonly made by poets than novelists. For the latter, reading
Stendahl or Dostoyevsky or Kafka is likely to be a far more memorable
experience than what they can recollect of The Tale of Genji. Some
writers have denied that they learned anything from traditional Japanese
writings. Those who speak in this vein also tend to reject the belief,
shared by many of their countrymen, that the Japanese are a special
people whose literature cannot be understood by foreigners.
In the past the Japanese often cited Chinese examples to impart
greater importance and resonance to their works by insisting on their
affinity with those recorded in China. On the first page of The Tale of
Genji, for example, after giving a brief account of how the love of the
Introduction 27
emperor for Kiritsubo, a woman not of the highest rank, had stirred
criticism at court, Murasaki Shikibu wrote, "In China just such an
unreasoning passion had been the undoing of an emperor and spread
turmoil throughout the land."! In historical tales like the Taiheiki (Record
of Great Peace) the narration is interrupted again and again by the
recitation of parallel examples in Chinese history, much as the Romans
found parallels between the Greeks and themselves, or the French re-
volutionaries saw themselves as Romans. Similarly, when a Japanese
wrote a poem in Chinese he believed he was rising above the trivial
matters of his daily life and associating himself instead with grand
traditions that stretched back a thousand years or more. He was also
being cosmopolitan in rejecting the insularity of Japanese who insisted
on maintaining the purity of their language.
This cosmopolitanism has been extended to works of European
literature. The Japanese child who reads Treasure Island does not think
of it as a foreign book that relates events of a world he cannot understand.
There are no national boundaries to the appreciation of Long John
Silver, Mickey Mouse, or Cinderella. Influence in the opposite direction
has begun: books and television programs designed originally for Jap-
anese children have acquired popularity in many countries.
With respect to the major literary works of Japan, acceptance and
admiration have required more time than picture books. Until the advent
of the translations of Arthur Waley in the 1920S, Japanese literature
tended to be treated in the West in terms of the miniature, the unin-
tellectual, the exquisite. Poems more or less in the form of haiku were
written by the Imagist poets, some quite pretty but so pallid and wispy
as to create the impression that Japanese poetry was no more substantial
than evocations of dragonflies and cherry blossoms.
The translations by Waley of The Tale of Genji and The Pillow Book
of Sei Shonagon changed this impression. When the first volume of his
translation of the former work appeared in 1923, the stunned reviewers
groped for suitable comparisons with European literature. The com-
parisons they chose were farfetched, suggesting how difficult they found
it to accept the idea that a major work of fiction had been created in
Japan. Further translations of Japanese literature, both classical and
modern, were made into the principal European languages during the
1930S and 1940S, a few published commercially, others buried in learned
journals.
It has only been since the 1950S, however, that translations of japanese
literature have made an impact on the readers of the West. When the
Japanese learn of new translations, they are pleased, but they are apt to
 Introduction

attribute the choice of works translated to their exotic charm. Exoticism

has without question attracted some readers to translations from the
Japanese, just as the worst examples of Japanese art, those said by the
Japanese to be in foreign taste, actually do find customers among for-
eigners. But the pleasures of exoticism are quickly exhausted, and this
has been only a minor factor in the appreciation of modern Japanese
literature.
The lasting appeal of Japanese writing, whether classical or modern,
is surely in its subjectivity and universality. A European or American
who knows nothing about Japanese culture in the tenth or eleventh
centuries can nevertheless read such works as The Tale of Genji, The
Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, The Gossamer Years, or Sarashina Nikki
(The Sarashina Diary) without once feeling baffled. The experiences of
the author of The Gossamer Years may seem disturbingly modern, almost
too easily comprehended in terms of unhappy marriages known to the
reader. It is no accident that the authors of the four works I have
mentioned were all women. They were court ladies who seldom left
the palace except for visits to temples and shrines. They almost never
described in their works political events at court and they displayed
extremely little interest in people outside the court. But these women
studied their own hearts, and from their perceptions of themselves and
their surroundings they created works of literature that defy ti-ne.
It is not easy to agree with Japanese writers of the twentieth century
when they insist that they share more with their contemporaries in
foreign countries than with their literary ancestors. Almost any modern
novel, for all its modernity, is likely to contain passages that embody
the immediate, intuitive response to nature that is so much a part of
the older literature. A passage like the following, written in 1954 by
Kita Morio, a novelist who is known as a comic writer, rather than as
a "poet of nature," may suggest how contact with nature still has the
power to invigorate and inspire the Japanese:

Something should be said about the seasonal changes in this

region. The air in winter is bitterly cold, actually hurting one's bare
skin. The mountains soar up high, with a unique sense of weight
in their rise and fall; sometimes a range of black shapes with a mere
scattering of snow on them, sometimes white peaks blindingly re-
flecting the sun's rays. Blends of the most subtle shades occasionally
appear, then bursts of pure light to dazzle the eyes.
Spring comes, the snow melts on the banks of streams, and with
the sound of it falling into the water below, one looks out toward
Introduction

the distant Alps to find their shapes floating now behind a finespun
haze. Clouds of a thicker mist drift along the valleys, and in the
hollows the fuchsia's delicate flowers are already in bloom. But in
the mountains spring is inevitably late, and when the upper snows
have finally melted every valley is filled with the roar of floodwater,
turbid, thudding against the banks which collapse in places, while
paths are destroyed as trees borne down by the current are cast up
and left lying across them."

Kita's novel Yurei (Ghosts), the account of a boy's growth to man-

hood, is filled with such passages, not as an exercise in imitating the
Japanese of the past who lived much closer to nature than anyone of
the twentieth century, and certainly not as a mere pastiche, but as a
depiction of what he actually experienced during the period he was
growing up. He wrote even more vividly in the same book:

Then, from deep inside my body an ominous, unknown force

seemed to rise in me, and I threw myself facedown on the grass.
And so, under a downpour of high summer light, in the stifling
odor of the plants, to the erotic buzzing of the gadflies' wings, and
savoring the endless warmth and comfort of the earth I had my very
first emission.
I suppose people will probably laugh if I say that the object of
my desire was nature itself.'

Despite such expressions of a characteristically Japanese response to

nature, we know that this particular writer was deeply influenced by
Thomas Mann, and the novel Ghosts as a whole recalls a Bildungsroman
by some German master. Without such influence, Kita probably could
not have written what is likely to strike us as an unusually Japanese
work of modern literature. In this sense, his novel is faithful at once to
the past and to the literature of other countries.
The private world of the isolated, alienated Japanese of the twentieth
century, another feature of modern literature, may also remind us of
the diaries of the past, even though the concerns are likely to be spe-
cifically modern. Japanese literature has indeed become modern, a part
of world literature. If some new movement in literary criticism or politics
or philosophy affects writers in the West, it will probably affect the
Japanese, too, and often very quickly. It is by no means impossible, for
that matter, that some major new conception of literature affecting the
whole world will originate in Japan. However, as long as writers continue
30 Introduction
to express themselves in the Japanese language, there is little danger
that their literature will turn into a faceless component of some future
Earth literature; language and inherited traditions will probably continue
to distinguish modern Japanese writings.
The Japanese language is probably what gives the literature its most
conspicuous identity, but the marked differences between the Japanese
language-especially the written language with its combination of
Chinese characters and Japanese phonetic symbols-and other major
languages of the world is likely to continue to restrict direct knowledge
of Japanese literature outside Japan to the handfuls of persons who can
read the language easily. The rest of the world will have to depend on
translations that, however consciously executed, tend to obscure differ-
ences. But, rather than bewail what must inevitably be lost in translation,
we in the West should rather be grateful that Japanese literature has at
last been accepted as a full-fledged member of the literature of the
world.

Notes
1. Translation by Edward G. Seidensticker in The Tale of Genji, I, p. 3.
2. Kita, Morio, Ghosts, trans. Dennis Keene, p. 138.
3· Ibid., p. 134·

Bibliography
Kita, Morio. Ghosts, trans. Dennis Keene. Tokyo and New York: Kodansha
International, 1991.
Seiden sticker, Edward G. (trans.). The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred
A. Knopf, 1976.
 fa r I y

and

Hei a n

Literature
 1.
THE KO]IKI

Ae Kojiki (Record of Ancient Matters),' presented to the court in A.D.

712, is the oldest Japanese book. The preface mentions even older records,
most of which were destroyed in a fire of 645, and other early documents
are preserved in the Nihon Shoki (Chronicles of [apan)," compiled in
720. Both histories contain materials that probably antedate the intro-
duction of writing, notably the many songs. The Kojiki is of great
importance in the history of Japanese culture not only because of its
antiquity but because it has served, especially since the eighteenth cen-
tury, as the sacred book of the Shinto religion, and because it is our
best source of information about the beliefs of the Japanese at the dawn
of their civilization.' The work opens with the primeval matter of the
universe congealing and dividing into heaven and earth; continues with
an account of the creation of Japan (traditionally dated 660 B.C.) and the
reigns of the first emperors; and finally, in the last of the three books,
approaches the realm of history. It is considered today to be not only a
basic religious text but an important literary work, a reputation it owes
largely to the many poems and the engaging myths and fables scattered
throughout the text.
The first question confronting anyone who studies the Kojiki is how
the text was written down. The only system of writing known to Jap-
anese of the early eighth century was the Chinese characters. These had
been devised to represent Chinese words, most of them monosyllabic,
and they were therefore unsuited to the polysyllabic Japanese language;
but the Japanese had no choice. If, perhaps in conjunction with the
arrival of Buddhism in the sixth century, the Japanese had learned the
Sanskrit alphabet and used it for their own language, the writing of
Japanese would have been vastly simpler; but by the time some Japanese
monks acquired a knowledge of Sanskrit (late in the eighth century),
34 Early and Heian Literature

the wntmg of Japanese had been irrevocably linked to the Chinese

characters.
The preface to the Kojiki, written by 6 no Yasumaro (d. 723), briefly
explained the difficulty of writing Japanese with Chinese characters. It
was possible to treat them as phonograms, using them solely for their
sounds and disregarding their meanings, so as to represent the sounds
of the Japanese language-this, in fact, was how the Chinese themselves
had rendered Sanskrit terms when translating the Buddhist classics-
but the objection to this method of writing Japanese was that it was
cumbersome, necessitating a Chinese character for each syllable of a
long Japanese word. When the pronunciation was particularly important,
as in the names of gods who might be offended if their names were
improperly pronounced, Chinese characters were used as phonograms
despite the nuisance. They were used also in the transcriptions of songs,
presumably because these songs were not mere literary embellishments
but the utterances of gods and emperors. The actual sounds of the words
were often more important than the meanings of the poems, which
retained their ritual significance even when their meanings had been
lost.
A second method was to use the Chinese characters as ideograms,
taking their meanings into consideration. The character to, meaning
"rabbit," might be pronounced as usagi;4 in this instance, a single char-
acter sufficed instead of the three phonograms needed to represent the
syllables u-sa-gi, Regardless of the pronunciation, an ideogram com-
municates its meaning directly to the eye, rather as the number 125 is
immediately intelligible, whether one pronounces it as "one hundred
twenty-five," "cent vingt-cinq," or "hyakunijugo."
Almost all modern editions of the Kojiki supply "pure Japanese"
pronunciations for every character in the text, usually following the
reconstruction made by the great scholar Motoori Norinaga (r730-r80r),
who devoted over thirty years of his life to this task. Motoori determined
the Japanese readings by first establishing the Japanese words that were
known to have existed in ancient Japan, relying mainly on the phonetic
renderings in songs and similar texts, and then matching the characters
with the known vocabulary. It was a brilliant though not always con-
vincing achievement, but even the rare persons who have questioned
particular readings have usually accepted the basic premise that the Kojiki
was composed throughout in pure Japanese. This thesis is tenable when
discussing places in the text where Japanese constructions can be de-
tected, or where there is a use of honorifics in the Japanese style, but
The Koj iki 35

elsewhere, especially in the latter parts of the book, hackneyed Chinese

phrases frequently appear, and attempts to read them as pure Japanese
are bound to seem arbitrary.'
In 1957 a scholar of the Japanese language suggested that the prose
parts of the Kojiki-that is, the parts where Chinese characters are
almost always used for their meanings-were written down so as to
convey a message directly to the eye, without respect to pronunciation."
Others have doubted that it will ever be possible to reconstruct defin-
itively the pronunciation of the Kojik] because the system of punctuating
Chinese texts so that they could be read as Japanese was not developed
until some two hundred years after the compilation of the Kojiki.' Any
reconstruction is likely to be no more than guesswork. Motoori's version
continues to be preferred to more modern renderings because of its great
dignity and beauty, appealing to the Japanese much as the King James
version of the Bible does to English-speaking peoples.
Motoori's reconstruction has also been popular with those who would
like to think of bards reciting and singing the old stories long before
Japanese was written down or any Chinese influence was felt. The term
kataribe (guild of narrators) does not occur in the Kojiki, but it appears
in documents of 702 and 739. The kataribe were traditionally believed
to have recited the myths and legends found in the Kojiki, but the nature
of their role in the compilation of the work has been questioned by
many." It is clear that the kataribe recited songs, perhaps including some
contained in the Kojiki, during the ritual observances accompanying
such important occasions as the celebration of the Daijo-sai (Great Har-
vest Festival) after an emperor's accession to the throne; but there is no
evidence that it was their task to preserve the old legends or to recite
them to villagers." The existence of bards among the Ainu, the indig-
enous people of Japan, may have helped to confirm a belief that the
kataribe fulfilled their functions and were repositories of the old tra-
ditions, an impression strengthened by the bardic flavor of Motoori's
reconstruction of the language of the ancient texts.
If the Kojiki was not based on the poetry and prose recited by bards
(as was true of the epics of various other countries), what were its sources?
The preface mentions teiki (imperial chronicles) and honji (fundamental
dicta), written documents that probably recorded the ancient myths,
legends, and songs.'? The emperor, the preface informs us, was distressed
to discover in 681 that many errors and unjustifiable accretions had
seriously distorted the facts, marring the offical history, and he was
determined to correct these errors while the truth was still remembered.
 Early and Heian Literature
This was not merely a matter of historical accuracy: the emperor con-
sidered that these documents were "the framework of the state, the great
foundation of the imperial influence."!'
These written materials may have been based on the records com-
piled in 620 by the Crown Prince Shotoku and the Great Imperial
Chieftain Soga no U mako. With the fall from power of the Soga family,
the last chieftain, Soga no Emishi, burned in 645 almost all the records
compiled by his father and Prince Shotoku. A few volumes are said to
have been rescued from the flames, but nothing now survives of this
history. Perhaps a corrupt version of the text still existed in 681, and
the emperor, perusing it, was upset by the mistakes he noticed. At any
rate, he commanded the court attendant (toneri) Hieda no Are, then
twenty-eight years old, to memorize the teiki and kuji (ancient dicta)."
Are, it was said, "could repeat orally whatever met his eye, and whatever
struck his ears was indelibly impressed in his heart."!'
The sex of Hieda no Are has been a matter of dispute since Hirata
Atsutane opined in 1819 that Are was a woman, basing this conclusion
on an early Heian period record which stated that the descendants of
the goddess Arne-no-uzume lived at a place called Hieda, and thatsarume
(women dancers) were sent from this place to the court in 920. Are, he
declared, was none other than a descendant of the goddess who had
tempted Amaterasu, the sun goddess, from the cave in which she had
hidden herself." This theory, adopted by various authorities over the
next hundred years, was given the powerful support of Yanagita Kunio
(1875-1962), who not only repeated Hirata's arguments but suggested
that the choice of materials included in the Kojiki-songs and love
stories, rather than dryly factual deeds-reflected feminine tastes. IS More
recent scholars have declared that it is not merely of antiquarian interest
whether or not Hieda no Are was a woman, but a matter that affects
our understanding of the entire Kojiki:"
The uncertainty about the sex of Hieda no Are is compounded by
the statement in the preface that the Emperor Temmu commanded Are
to "recite and repeat?" the two source documents. The significance of
these words has been much debated. Those who believe Hieda no Are
was a man interpret "recite and repeat" as meaning that Are learned
the texts in the traditional manner of recitation aloud and repetition in
order to rectify, on the basis of prior knowledge of the old legends, any
errors they contained." If we accept this interpretation, it means that
Are read through documents (two are specified in the preface) whose
meaning had become obscure, supplying Japanese pronunciations for
the Chinese characters." It may be wondered why he should have been
The Koj iki 37
obliged to memorize materials that already existed in manuscripts, but
(considering the loss of the manuscripts in the fire) it was providential
that he did.
Those who believe that Hieda no Are was a woman not only cite
the importance given in the Kojiki to Arne-no-uzume, the ancestress of
the Hieda family, but deduce from the words "recite and repeat" that
Are intoned the Kojiki in accordance with the traditions of her family-
hereditary shamans who performed songs, dances, and other rites in
order to communicate with the dead and succour the living." They
consider, moreover, that the style of the Kojiki and the construction of
its most memorable episodes were dictated by shamanistic traditions;
Are did not merely read the manuscripts but recited them in accordance
with a prescribed intonation in order to preserve their magical prop-
erties."
These theories are intriguing, but a more prosaic approach to the
sex of Hieda no Are concluded that he was a man, on the basis of names
in eighth-century registers, where Are appears always as a man's name
(the similar name for women was Arerne)." On the other hand, an even
more recent theorist contended that the Kojiki was compiled by a woman
for recitation in the palace of the princess who later reigned as the
Empress Jito (685-697).23 The efforts that have been devoted to clarifying
this point, and the importance attached to the conclusions, suggest the
immensity of the task involved in explicating the Kojilti. A lifetime has
not been considered an excessive amount of time to consecrate to elu-
cidating details of this most basic text.
The importance of the Kojiki as the repository of Japanese myths
and legends can hardly be overestimated. During such periods of na-
tionalism as the years of the Greater East Asia War (1941-1945), the
Kojiki was exalted as the embodiment of "Japanese spirit," and its simple,
"masculine" grandeur was praised at the expense of The Tale of Genji
and other works of the "feminine" tradition. But even those who were
in no sense committed to the nationalistic ideals of the war years praised
the Kojiki not only for its historical significance but also for its high
artistic value." A reader who is not Japanese may experience difficulties
concurring with such praise. The stories related in the Kojiki contain
attractive passages, and the poems, though primitive by the standards
oflater Japanese poetry, have a certain rough-hewn charm, but the work
as a whole is marred by the absence of a shaping hand; much seems to
have been included simply because it was believed to be true, without
regard to artistic effect.
The difficulty a modern reader is likely to experience in trying to
 Early and Heian Literature
evaluate the artistic worth of the Kojiki stems largely from the lack of
unity even in relatively brief narratives, the internal contradictions, and,
above all, the prolixity. Many deities, we can assume, had local impor-
tance and were venerated by certain families as their ancestors, but the
narration often suggests that the imagination of the ancient Japanese,
though fertile, lacked sustained intensity.
The preface to the Kojiki by 0 no Yasumaro forms a marked contrast
with the rest of the work: it is almost ostentatious in its fluent use of
Chinese rhetoric." He summarizes, in language that is indebted espe-
cially to Taoism, the events of the three books of the Kojiki. Next follows
an account of the Emperor Ternrnu's decision to rectify the existing
documents. We are told of Temmu (in pompous language, making due
references to instances in Chinese history), "In the Way he excelled the
Yellow Emperor; in Virtue he surpassed the king ofChou."26 However,
for unstated reasons, the compilation of the corrected history-that is,
the Kojiki-was not carried out until the reign of the Empress Gemmei
(707-715).0 no Yasumaro served as the scribe while Hieda no Are, the
infallible, dictated the history of Japan from the most ancient times up
to the reign of the Empress Suiko (592-628), whose name means "con-
jecture of the past."
The first book of the Kojiki proper opens as three gods come into
existence in Takama-no-hara, the High Plain of Heaven. The land below
resembles floating oil and drifts like a jellyfish. The first signs of life in
this amorphous world look "something like reed-shoots." The philos-
opher Watsuji Tetsur6 (1889-1960) was struck with admiration by this
vivid image for the beginning of life, and contrasted its vitality and
wonder with the abstract language used for the Creation in the Book
of Genesis or in the Chinese legends."
Various other deities are presently created, including the god
Izanagi" and his spouse Izanami, who are commanded by the original
three deities to "create and solidify" the fluid land. Standing on the
Bridge of Heaven, Izanagi lowers a jeweled spear" into the fluid, stirring
it until it curdles to form an island. This island, which cannot be
identified with any existing island, is necessary to what follows: the
business of procreating the islands of Japan has to be carried out on
solid land. Izanagi and Izanami descend to this island and, after in-
specting each other's body, decide it would be fitting for Izanagi to join
what was excess in his body to what was lacking in Izanami's. By way
of preliminaries, they ceremonially circumambulate a pillar on the island,
whereupon Izanami greets her mate. Izanagi is disturbed that a woman
should have spoken ahead of a man, but they proceed with their task
 The Kojiki
39
anyway. Their first offspring is a "leech-child," which is so grotesquely
formed that they make a little boat and "float it away." Their next
attempt yields an island, but it is no more impressive than the leech-
child and is promptly disowned.
The couple consult the heavenly deities, who decide that the fault
(as Izanagi correctly guessed) lay with Izanarni's having spoken first.
The pair descend once more to the island and walk around the pillar,
but this time the man speaks first and the offspring are all well made.
The first group of progeny are islands, beginning with the Great Eight
Islands-Awaji, Shikoku, Oki, Kyushu, Iki, Tsushima, Sado, and Hon-
shu-and are followed by six of lesser importance. The insistence on
the number eight, in the total of islands begotten or of gods who sprang
into being, suggests that it was a magic number. Perhaps "eight" was
originally a vaguely large number that was later justified by specifying
the names of eight islands, eight gods, or eight mountains; in any case,
it constitutes a conspicuous exception to the preference for odd numbers
that characterizes much of Japanese culture."
Once they had completed the business of procreating the land, Iza-
nagi and Izanami moved on to create the deities of land and sea, of the
winds, mountains, and other aspects of nature. However, Izanami's
genitals were burned when she gave birth to the fire deity, and she fell
mortally ill. From her vomit, feces, and urine various deities were born
before she died of the aftereffects of the burns. Although Izanami had
already given birth to thirty-five deities, Izanagi was enraged that the
fire deity has caused her death, and cut off the head of this child. The
blood adhering to the top of his sword produced three more deities,
and before the procreative power of the blood was lost, five additional
deities came into existence. Another eight deities were born from various
parts of the slain fire god.
After the death of Izanami, her husband journeyed to Yomi, the
land of the dead, in search of his beloved. She came as far as the entrance
to the underworld to meet him. Izanagi urged her to return so that
they might finish the business of procreating islands, but Izanami re-
gretfully informed him that she could not return because she had eaten
the food of Yomi. She went off to beg the gods to permit her to return
to earth, but failed to reappear. The impatient Izanagi searched for her,
using as his torch in the darkness a tooth from the comb he wore in
his hair. To his horror he discovered the corpse of Izanami "squirming
and roaring" with maggots, and there were eight thunder gods in various
parts of her body. Izanagi fled in alarm. Izanami, crying out that she
had been shamed, dispatched the "hags of Yomi" to pursue him. Izanagi,
 Early and Heian Literature
as he ran, threw down first the vine binding his hair, which turned at
once into grapes that distracted the hags. Next, he threw down his comb,
which turned into bamboo shoots, and while the hags were pulling them
up and devouring them, he made his escape. Izanami sent in pursuit
the eight thunder gods who had just sprung from her body, but Izanagi
fended them off with his sword, and later threw three peaches at them,
effectively repelling them. Finally, Izanami herself came in pursuit, but
Izanagi with a huge boulder sealed the pass between the world of the
dead and the world of the living. Izanami vowed that she would kill
one thousand people each day to take vengeance for the humiliation,
but Izanagi replied that he would see to it that fifteen hundred people
were born each day.
Leaving the cave, Izanagi went to a river where he cleansed himself
of the pollution of Yomi. Each part of his body or clothes touched by
the water instantly turned into a deity, the most important being the
last three: to Amaterasu, born of his left eye, he assigned rule of the
High Plain of Heaven; to Tsukiyomi, born of his right eye, he gave the
realm of night; and to Susano-o, born from his nose, he delegated the
ocean.
The visit of Izanagi to the world of the dead recalls the journey of
Orpheus to the underworld where he, like Izanagi, is forbidden to look
at his wife's face; the misfortune of Izanami in having eaten the food
of Yomi is similar to Persephone's; and Izanagi's stratagem for eluding
his pursuers brings to mind Atalanta's. Japanese scholars have examined
these and other Kojiki myths and detected many resemblances with the
mythologies of other countries." Comparisons, however, tend to be dis-
advantageous to the Kojiki. If Izanagi had experienced the torments of
Orpheus when, importuned by Eurydice to look on her face, he finally
looked, knowing he would lose her, he might seem more worthy of
compassion; but the object of the narrator of the Kojiki was not to win
sympathy but to tell the unvarnished truth. There is a kind of logic in
a vine turning into grapes or a bamboo comb into bamboo shoots, but
Izanagi's powers are never defined, and it is unclear why he cannot
disperse his pursuers with a simple gesture. Again, the three peaches
make unconvincing weapons, even if one knows that the Chinese at-
tributed magical properties to this fruit; and when Izanagi, addressing
the peaches as if they were sentient beings, bestows on them the name
of a god and urges them to save mortal men, it is not only strange but
confusing. As yet there has been no mention of mortal men, and a
modern reader may feel that the inconsistency of viewpoint weakens
the literary effect.
The Kojiki
Some passages of the Kojiki, such as the creation of the world by
copulating deities, are probably unique in world mythology. Many Jap-
anese commentators have remarked on the "innocence" of this sexual
encounter, typical of many in the Kojiki, but as a result of the curious
ability of the divine couple to produce not only other gods but islands,
the ruler of]apan is considered the blood relative of the land he governs,
an unanswerable claim to sovereignty. (The political implications of the
myths become even more apparent in the Nihon Shoki.) It is surprising
that Izanagi and Izanami never developed into popular objects of wor-
ship, as did their numerous progeny, and that (apart from the islands)
the deities produced through copulation were of much less importance
than those created when Izanagi washed away the pollution of Yomi.
It is also puzzling that deities should have been born from Izanarni's
feces and urine, though one writer attributed this to the importance of
excreta as fertilizers in ancient agriculture."
The first pages of the Kojik] are likely to produce in the Western
reader a bewilderment that is not simply the result of unfamiliarity with
the materials. Why should so many deities have been produced only to
disappear instantly? Or why, considering the great attention paid to the
sun deity and the sea deity, should the third of the triplets, the moon
deity, not be heard of again? There is also a mystifying lack of interest
in the Kojiki in plants or trees, and only anecdotal mentions of animals
and fish, despite the importance of agriculture to the ancient Japanese.
It is obvious from the descriptions of the barbarians encountered by the
progeny of Izanagi and Izanami when they descended from the High
Plain of Heaven to the Japanese islands that the Yamato people were
not the only inhabitants. The existence of Koreans was also known to
the Japanese from remote antiquity, but no explanation is offered for
them either. The contradictions in the narrative have induced some to
discard sections of the Kojiki as "later accretions.?" However, the lack
of unity may have been due less to tampering with the text than to the
absence of a central divinity or hero. This is perhaps the most disap-
pointing aspect of the Kojiki to those who search for resemblances to
epic poetry composed in other parts of the world: Heroic traits are found
in some of the gods and godlike mortals, but no one merits the name
of hero in the sense that Achilles or Beowulf is a hero, and the stories
of these putative heroes are marred by disquieting inconsistencies of
characterization; heroic and extremely contemptible qualities are not
infrequently found in the same person.
The first "hero" is the god Susano-o who, when charged by Izanagi
to rule the seas, bursts into tears that "caused the verdant mountains to
 Early and Heian Literature
wither and the seas to dry Up."34 The puzzled Izanagi asks why Susano-
o weeps and howls instead of ruling the seas as directed, to which Susano-
o replies that he wishes to go to the land of his mother underground.
It will be recalled that Susano-o was born when Izanagi washed his
nose; it is therefore not clear who his mother was. Perhaps, as one
version of the story in the Nihon Shoki has it," Susano-o was the child
of Izanagi and Izanami; in that case, he was weeping because he wished
to visit his mother in Yomi, a perilous undertaking as we know from
the account ofIzanagi's visit. The request enrages Izanagi, who banishes
Susano-o, When the latter takes leave of his sister, Amaterasu, he insists
that his intentions were not evil, and to prove this, he suggests that they
should swear oaths and beget children; if the children are good, it will
demonstrate that his motives were unblemished.
The test is bizarre. Amaterasu takes Susano-o's sword, breaks it into
three pieces, chews the pieces, and spits them out in a misty spray,
producing three female deities. Susano-o takes the beads wrapped
around Arnaterasu's hair, rinses them, chews them, and spits them out,
producing five deities. The question at once arises as to whether the
deities Susano-o spat out should be considered his progeny or those of
Amaterasu, whose beads he used in this experiment. In any case, he
claims victory, and is so intoxicated by success that he breaks down
the ridges separating Arnaterasu's rice paddies, defecates and strews the
feces around a sacred hall, and (to crown his indignities) opens a hole
in the roof of Arnaterasu's weaving hall and drops through it a piebald
horse that he has flayed backward."
None of these actions is heroic except in scale. Indeed, the Nihon
Shoki characterizes Susano-o as a cruel and fierce-tempered god who
delights in destruction." The standards of behavior are not the same
for gods as for human beings, but Susano-o's wanton acts are in no
sense godlike. Amaterasu is so appalled by her brother that she hides
herself in a cave, plunging the world into darkness. She is tempted out
of the cave when she hears the mighty laughter of the other gods as
they watch the lascivious dance of Arne-no-uzurne. Susano-o is obliged
by the gods to pay a fine, cut off his beard and nails, and to be exorcised
before he is finally expelled from the High Plain of Heaven.
Once in the realm of mortals, however, Susano-o becomes a hero in
a more normal sense of the word, slaying the dragon who afflicted the
people of Izumo and marrying various ladies of the region. His character
has changed so completely that it is hard to believe that he is the same
Susano-o whom we have previously encountered. The association with
Izumo suggests that he may originally have been an Izumo god, adopted
The Kojiki 43
into the Shinto pantheon when the Yamato court extended its authority
to the Izumo region, but never forgiven his alien origins.
A poem attributed to Susano-o, on the occasion of his building a
palace for his bride, is traditionally considered to be the first Japanese
poem ever composed:

yaleumo tatsu Eightfold rising clouds

Izumo yaegaki Build an eightfold fence,
tsumagomi ni An eightfold Izumo fence
yaegaki tsuleuru Wherein to keep my bride-
sono yaegaki too Oh, splendid eightfold fence!

The poem has been variously interpreted as a marriage song, a work

song chanted by people building a new house, or as a ritual song that
asks the protection of the Izumo gods for a newly wed couple." The
poem is noteworthy in that it observes exactly the metrics of what would
become the classic verse form, the waka, written in five lines of 5, 7, 5,
7, and 7 syllables. Many poems in the Kojiki are irregular both in their
length and in the number of syllables in a single line, and it is difficult
to imagine that the very first poem would be absolutely regular. Perhaps
it was refashioned from an earlier, irregular form when it was set to
music," or when Hieda no Are declaimed it to 6 no Yasumaro. The
repetition of phrases, typical of primitive poetry but uncommon in later
waka, lends this poem the rhythm of an incantation, as does the insistence
on the number eight. The first line, literally "eight clouds rise," is a
makurakotoba or "pillow word," a fixed epithet usually placed before
the names of provinces, mountains, and various other nouns, not only
in the Kojiki but in much later poetry. Perhaps a makurakotoba was
originally intended to invoke the magic of a place by mentioning its
special attribute. Even when the significance of the makurakotoba was
forgotten, it continued to be used, no doubt as a mark of respect. Yaleumo
tatsu (eight clouds rise) was the makurakotoba for Izumo, a region on
the Japan Sea coast whose name was derived by folk etymologists var-
iously as "producing clouds," "producing seaweed," and "abundant
seaweed.':"
The most interesting of the Kojiki tales are in the mode of folktales
or fables. Immediately after the story of the adventures of Susano-o, for
example, we have the fable of the white rabbit of Inaba who, wishing
to cross over a body of water, tricks a pack of crocodiles into letting
him scamper over their backs. The last crocodile in the line, realizing
that he and his fellows have been tricked, skins the rabbit and leaves
44 Early and Heian Literature
him lying in the sun. Eighty deities, all brothers of Okuninushi, a god
associated with Izumo, appear and, feigning sympathy for the rabbit,
urge him to bathe in saltwater and lie in the wind. The rabbit takes
the advice, only to have his skin blister. He is in agony until Okuninushi
offers a soothing remedy. The grateful rabbit prophesies that Okuninushi
will wed the Princess Yagami, despite the hostility of his eighty brothers.
The story lacks the kind of conclusion that might have imparted uni-
versal interest to this fable, but it provides a welcome break in the
narration of wars and copulation."
The story of Okuninushi is continued in successive episodes. His
eighty evil brothers torment him and even twice manage to kill him,
but he is revived both times by his mother. He goes to Izumo where,
he is assured, the great deity Susano-o will protect him. Susano-o does
indeed invite him to stay in his palace, but the bedroom where Oku-
ninushi is put up for the night is full of snakes. Okuninushi emerges
unscathed by this trial thanks to Susano-o's daughter, who has provided
him with a snake-repellent scarf. The next night Susano-o offers a bed
in a chamber full of centipedes and bees, but the love-smitten daughter
again gives Okuninushi a scarf, this one an insect repellent. Susano-o,
abandoning his chamber of horrors, subjects Okuninushi to a new trial:
he shoots an arrow into a plain and orders Okuninushi to retrieve it.
When the latter reaches the middle of the plain, Susano-o encircles him
with fire. There seems to be no escape, but a mouse appears before
Okuninushi and delivers the cryptic message: "The inside is hollow-
hollow; the outside is narrow-narrow."? Okuninushi, solving this riddle
at once, responds by stamping his feet until he opens a hole in the
ground into which he disappears while the flames pass overhead. Later,
the mouse brings him Susano-o's arrow as a souvenir.
Susano-o supposes that Okuninushi has been burned alive, and is
much surprised when he reappears with the arrow. Not vouchsafing a
word of thanks, Susano-o orders Okuninushi to pick the lice and cen-
tipedes from his head. Okuninushi, in collusion with Susano-o's daugh-
ter, whom he has by now taken as his wife, cracks acorns in a convincing
imitation of a man biting open and spitting out centipedes. Touched by
his son-in-law's obedience, Susano-o for the first time entertains affec-
tionate thoughts about him. He falls asleep, whereupon Okuninushi ties
strands of Susano-o's hair to the rafters and blocks the entrance to the
chamber. He steals Susano-o's sword, bow, and arrows, as well as a
musical instrument, and escapes with his bride. Unfortunately, he bumps
the instrument against a tree and the sound wakens Susano-o. But it is
too late to apprehend the fleeing couple, so Susano-o, gazing into the
The Kojiki 45
distance, bestows his blessing on them, and predicts that they have a
great future awaiting them. He concludes with a derogatory remark
that suggests his blessing may have been made under duress. Okuninushi
is victorious over his eighty malevolent brothers, and he and his wife
set about the serious business of creating the land of Izumo."
Okuninushi's contribution to literary history consists of some songs
he exchanged with a princess from a neighboring land and, later, with
his jealous wife. These songs, especially the reply made by Princess
Nunakawa, have an erotic quality that is typical of the Kojiki at its most
beguiling:

aoyama nt Come in the dark,

hi ga kakuraba When the sun has disappeared
nubatama no And the night emerges
yo wa ide nan Behind the green hills.
asahi no Come smiling, like the morning sun
emisakaekite In all its glory,
taltuzono no And take in your embrace
shiroki tadamulti My arms white as
awayuki no Ropes of Taku fiber,
wakayaru mune wo My breasts, young and soft
sodatalii As the first fall of snow;
tatakimanagari Clasp me in your arms.
matamade Then you will sleep,
tamade sashimaki Your legs stretched out,
momonaga ru Your head pillowed on
1 wa nasan wo My jewellike hands;
aya nz So do not press your love
na koikikoshi Too importunately,
yachihoko no Great divinity
kami no miltoto Of eight thousand spears."

Okuninushi receives help from the deities of Yamato in building his

country, but when Amaterasu, who has decided that her son shall rule
the Central Land of the Reed Plains, sends two deities to Izumo to ask
Okuninushi's intentions, he is at first evasive. Only when his sons have
reluctantly accepted Amaterasu's command does he yield the land to
her, on condition that he be worshiped in Izumo."
Following the collapse of Izumo resistance, Amaterasu commands
not her son but her grandson, Ninigi for short, to descend from the
Bridge of Heaven and rule the land. She presents him with the three
 Early and Heian Literature

imperial regalia-the magatama beads, the mirror, and the sword-and

he makes his way through the clouds to the peak of Takachiho, where
he builds his palace.
The land is already inhabited, under circumstances that remain
obscure, and Ninigi soon finds a lovely maiden whom he wishes to
marry. The girl, however, has an elder sister, and their father has his
heart set on Ninigi marrying both daughters. Ninigi is reluctant to
marry the elder daughter, who is exceedingly plain, and the irate father
pronounces a terrible curse on him, vowing that Ninigi and his de-
scendants will henceforth be mortal. The Kojiki comments, "For this
reason, until this day, the emperors have not been long-lived.':"
The curse of mortality foreshadows the end of the Age of the Gods,
and with Book II we enter the world of men (though their activities
remain superhuman). We are told in Book II how the Emperor [irnrnu,
the great-grandson of Ninigi, extended his sovereignty over the land of
Japan from Kyushu to Yamato. His progress was leisurely, involving
stops of seven or eight years at various places, and [imrnu's conquests
were abetted by strange creatures he met on the way. At one point he
was accosted by a person "riding on a tortoise's back, fishing and flapping
his wings as he came.":" This creature, after identifying himself as an
earth deity, offered to accompany [immu on his journey. [irnrnu was
also helped by a giant crow and by men with tails, but he was opposed
by others, including eighty mighty Tsuchigumo (pit dwellers), also with
tails. Victory over the eighty mighty men was achieved not in open
combat but during the course of a banquet to which the men were
invited. At a signal, the singing of an ode to the men of Kume, the food
servers struck down the guests.
[irnrnu lived to the ripe old age of 137. The life-spans of his de-
scendants were more in keeping with their status as mortals, but ex-
tremely little is related about them until we reach the tenth emperor,
Sujin. He is credited with having initiated various political and social
changes, and some Kojiki specialists claim that Japanese history begins
with Sujin; the events of the Age of the Gods may have been added
later in order to enhance the antiquity of the Japanese past." With Sujin,
the compilers of the Kojiki began to give the dates of the deaths of the
successive emperors. These dates are stated in terms of the Chinese cycle
of sixty years, but it is difficult in the early periods to be sure just which
cycle was intended. Sujin probably died in either A.D. 258 or 318.
The second hero of the Kojiki appears in Book II. He is Yarnato-
takeru, the legendary son of the equally legendary Emperor Keik6. 49
The Kojiki 47
Mishima Yukio contrasted the prudence of the emperor, typical of mortal
men, with the godlike indifference to human conventions of Yamato-
takeru." Perhaps so, but the Emperor Keiko was hardly a run-of-the-
mill sovereign: he had eighty children and, late in life, married his own
great-great-granddaughter."
Yamato-takeru was asked one day by the emperor why his elder
brother had failed to appear for morning and evening meals. The em-
peror commanded the prince to admonish his brother, but still the
laggard brother failed to come to meals. The emperor sternly asked if
Yamato-takeru had in fact admonished his brother. Yamato-takeru re-
plied that indeed he had, but his admonition took a curious form: early
one morning when the brother was in the privy, Yarnato-takeru caught
him, crushed him, then dismembered his body, wrapping the pieces in
straw matting and throwing them away."
The emperor, taken aback by such ferocity, thought it expedient to
send the bloodthirsty prince far from the court to Kyushu, with the
mission of subduing the Kumaso, an alien people. Yamato-takeru arrived
shortly before a feast was held to celebrate the completion of a new pit
dwelling. Dressing himself like a woman, he went into the dwelling,
where he attracted admiring comments on his appearance. When the
feast was at its height, he took a sword from his bosom and stabbed
the elder chieftain. The younger chieftain demanded to know who he
was, whereupon Yamato-takeru revealed his identity. The Kumaso war-
rior, impressed, bestowed on him the name Yamato-takeru (Brave Man
of Yamato). The newly named warrior at once slew his godfather and
sliced him up like a melon. On his return to the capital Yamato-takeru
profited by the opportunity to subdue various mountain and river
dignitaries."
The next episode of Yamato-takeru's career is marked by the deceit
he employed in killing the Izumo chieftain Izumo-takeru, After pledging
his friendship, he made an imitation sword of wood, then invited his
new friend to bathe in the river. After their bath, Yamato-takeru, putting
on the wooden sword, proposed that they exchange swords as a mark
of trust and friendship. The gullible Izumo-takeru put on the wooden
sword, whereupon Yamato-takeru slashed him down with the real
sword. Yamato-takeru celebrated his victory with this song:

yatsume sasu The sword worn at the side

lzumo-takcru ga Of Izurno-takeru
hakeru tachi From the land of eightfold seaweed
 Early and Heian Literature

tsuzura sau/a maki Is wrapped with splendid vines,

sa-mi nashi ni aware But has no blade, ha ha!"

The emperor was not pleased to have Yamato-takeru back at court,

and wasted no time in ordering him to leave, this time to subdue and
pacify the unruly deities and people of the East. This was too much
even for the audacious Yamato-takeru, and when he stopped at the Ise
Shrine to visit his aunt, the High Priestess Yamato-hime, he asked, "Is
it because the emperor wishes me to die soon? ... Why did he dispatch
me once more after only a short while, without giving me troops to
subdue the evil people of the twelve regions to the East? "55 This does
not sound like the ruthless conqueror of the Kumaso, but is definitely
more appealing. His aunt gave him the sword Kusanagi (Grass-cutter)
and a bag to be opened in case of emergency.
When Yamato-takeru arrived in the East he was deceived by an
official of the land, who trapped him in the middle of an indefensible
plain and set fire to the grass. This was precisely the kind of emergency
Yamato-hime had in mind. Her nephew opened the bag, which proved
to contain flints, and started a counterfire. Eventually, Yamato-takeru
killed the deceitful official and all his clan. He continued his victorious
march to the East, subduing demons wherever he went. In the land of
Shinano he met Miyazu-hirne, the princess he had promised his aunt
he would marry. They exchanged songs, including:

hisakata no A white swan crosses,

Ama no Kaguyama Like a sharp-honed sickle
toleama ni Across the far-spreading sky
satoataru kubi By heavenly Kagu Mountain;
hiwaboso I would pillow my head
tawayagaina tao On your slender white arm,
makan to u/a Delicate as a swan's neck,
are uia suredo I would sleep with you-
sanen to wa But on the hems of the veil
are u/a omoedo That you are wearing,
na ga keseru The moon has risen."
osuhi no suso ni
tsuki tachinikeri.

The veil mentioned in the poem was a garment that concealed not
only the face but the whole head and came down to the knees; and the
mysterious reference in the last line refers, commentaries inform us, to
The Kojiki 49
the fact that Miyazu-hime's menstrual blood adheres to the long veil.
The triple image of the curving sickle, the swan's neck, and the lady's
slender arm brings us to the borders of poetry, but the last line is
disconcerting.
Following this pleasant interlude, Yamato-takeru had other adven-
tures, notably an encounter with a white boar that was as big as a cow.
The boar was in fact the transformed deity of a mountain, and was
powerful enough to arouse a storm that dazed Yarnato-takeru. From
this point on he was fatigued and lonely, a mere shadow of his former
self. Worn out by his exertions, he fell ill and, after composing several
poems that are more attractive than most in the Kojiki, he died. His
family came for the funeral, only to discover that he had been trans-
formed into a great white bird. His wives and children ran after the
bird, over land and sea, but it eluded them and finally soared off into
the heavens.
Ivan Morris placed the story of Yamato-takeru at the head of his
book The Nobility of Failure and treated him as the prototype of the
typical Japanese hero, a man who, though triumphant when young, is
deserted and defeated at the end of his life." Unlike Susano-o, who is
last seen surrounded by his large and happy family, Yamato-takeru's
career ends in lonely death, far from home. In his last hours, he is a
poet, rather than a martial hero, and perhaps his best-known poem
expresses nostalgia for Yamato, the place where he was born.

Yamato wa Yamato,
kuni no mahoroba Fairest of provinces,
tatanazuku Encircled by mountains
aogaki Like green fences,
yama komoreru Layer on layer-
Yamato shi uruwashi How lovely is Yamato!"

Morris wrote persuasively, and the poems in the Kojiki attributed

to Yamato-takeru lend him a romantic aura, but his victories were less
those of a hero than of a trickster, and his final transformation is not a
defeat but a victory over human limitations. His story, even if we com-
bine the different versions in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shalt], is not
sufficiently detailed for us to form an impression of him as a human
being, but the fact that his name (as distinct from those of most figures
in the Kojiki) lingers in the memory suggests why he has been elevated
to the ranks of the heroes. This hero is not like any in the West nor in
Japan in later times. He behaves outrageously, indulging in acts of
5° Early and Heian Literature
inexplicable brutality, and is redeemed only by his moments of weakness,
as when he turns to his aunt for comfort. The poetry composed by
Yarnato-takeru does not rank high among the poems of the Japanese
language, but it may have helped to form the ideal of the soldier-poet,
a familiar figure in later Japanese literary history."
The poetry of Yamato-takeru is not closely linked to what we are
otherwise told about the man. Indeed, the same poems are attributed
in the Nihon Shoki to other persons, and their content is often so un-
specific that they could be placed in almost any episode of the Kojiki
and not clash with the text. All the same, the poems were treated as
historical facts, along with the deeds of prowess. The inclusion of poetry
in historical works was rare in China, though it is found intermingled
with prose in works of Buddhist inspiration. Probably these texts influ-
enced the compilers of the Kojiki. 60 The prominence given in the Kojiki
to poetry would be followed in later historical works for good reason:
the poem a man com posed on a particular occasion, heard or read by
people around him, was more likely to be accurate than accounts of
deeds known only by report.
The reign of the fourteenth emperor, Chuai, brings us much closer
to history, though the supernatural continues to play an important role.
A divine oracle, speaking through the mouth of Chiiai's empress, in-
formed him of a land to the west that abounded in treasures and was
destined to pass into his hands. The emperor did not trust the oracle
because the only thing he could see when he looked westward was the
ocean. His disbelief so annoyed the deity that he struck Chuai dead.
Great rites of exorcism were held, during which another oracle was
heard, declaring that it was Arnaterasu's will that the land to the west
be subjugated. The Empress [ingu, assuming the duties of commander-
in-chief of the expeditionary force in the place of her late husband, set
off at the head of a fleet of ships, taking the precaution to delay the
birth of the child in her womb by attaching stones to her girdle. The
conquest of Korea was swift, and the empress presently returned to
Japan, where she gave birth to her child.
The invasion of Korea, though described in terms of a great conquest,
may have been little more than a raid, on the order of one in A.D. 364
mentioned in Korean records. From this time on it is occasionally possible
to verify facts in the Kojiki by consulting Korean or Chinese records,
and the tone of the Kojiki changes imperceptibly from legendary to
historical, though prodigies are not uncommon.
The reign of the fifteenth emperor, Ojin, is dated by the Nihon Shoki
as 270-310. Probably these years are two cycles (120 years) early. Some
The Kojiki

historians have therefore identified Ojin as the "Japanese king" who

sent emissaries to China in 421 and 425.6] OJ in's reign was marked by
the arrival of immigrants from Shiragi (Silla), one of the three Korean
kingdoms. The emperor also received gifts from the king of Kudara
(Paekche), another Korean kingdom. Ojin asked this king for a learned
man, and the king sent Wani-kishi, along with ten volumes of the
Analects of Confucius and the one volume of the Thousand Character
Classic." marking the beginning of literacy in Japan. Other immigrants
from Korea included a blacksmith, a weaver, and a sake brewer. This
account probably should not be accepted literally, but it indicates that
Ojin's reign was distinguished by the cultural influences that reached
Japan from the Asian continent, especially Korea."
Book III of the Kojiki is more solidly anchored in the world of men.
The first emperor described, Nintoku, is depicted as a Confucian ruler
who, when he sees that no smoke is rising from the chimneys of his
people, remits taxes and allows his palace to fall into disrepair. Only
when smoke once again rises from hearths across the land does he
reinstate taxes and conscription. Nintoku was also involved in various
romantic intrigues, one of which aroused the jealousy of his consort.
She ran away, ostensibly in order to have a look at a strange insect that
starts life as a worm, then becomes a cocoon and finally a flying insect-
presumably an oblique reference to the importation of silkworms.
The most interesting section of Book III is the romance between
Crown Prince Karu and his sister, also named Karu. Marriages between
half-brothers and sisters were tolerated, but they were full brother and
sister, and their love was forbidden. Prince Karu was attacked by a
brother, who enlisted the support of the populace, and Karu was exiled
to Iyo on the island of Shikoku. The princess followed him there, and
after he composed two love songs they committed suicide together, the
earliest example of the double suicide that is featured so prominently
in the Japanese literature of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries."
The younger brother of Prince Karu ascended the throne as the
Emperor Anko (454-456). One day, in the privacy of his bedroom, he
confessed to his empress that he had killed her former husband, the
father of her son. The son, who was playing nearby, overheard these
words and, waiting until the emperor was asleep, crept into the bed-
chamber and slit his throat. It is hard to imagine a child capable of
killing a man that way, but perhaps this murder was intended as back-
ground for the reign of the next emperor, a brother of Anko named
Yuryaku (457-479), who stands out, even in the Kojilii, for his violence
and cruelty.
 Early and Heian Literature

Yuryaku had a tender side, however." Once, when he saw a girl

washing clothes by a river, he was so struck by her beauty that he begged
her not to marry until he sent for her. The girl waited eighty years.
Then, at last yielding to despair, she went to visit the emperor. Touched
by her fidelity, he considered marrying her, but presented her with two
songs instead, including:

Hiketa no In Hiketa
wakakurusubara Young chestnut trees grow;
wakaku he ni If only we had slept together
inete mashi mono When you were still young-
oinikeru kamo But now you have become so 01d!66

Yuryaku lived to be 124, according to the Kojiki. We are not told

about political or cultural developments during his reign, but much
about his brutal efficiency in disposing of heirs presumptive to the throne.
His son Seinei (reigned 480-484), one of the few spared by Yuryaku,
died without issue, and at first it seemed as though there was no one
left to succeed him. Two princes were at length discovered, and they
reigned one after the other, to be succeeded by the Emperor Buretsu
(498-5°7), whose wicked deeds are lovingly enumerated in the Nihon
Shoki. Buretsu, no doubt as punishment for his crimes, died without
heirs. A descendant in the fifth generation of the Emperor Ojin was
called to the throne, the most remote instance of succession. The re-
maining sovereigns treated in the Kojiki are passed over with bare
accounts of their families, down to the thirty-third sovereign, the Em-
press Suiko.
The third book of the Kojiki is of conspicuously less literary interest
than the previous two. It contains poetry that is sometimes attractive,
but more often puzzling, as the following waka may suggest:

miyahito no Because the little bell

ayui no kosuzu On the nobleman's garter
ochinik] to Has fallen off,
miyahito toyomu The nobles raise a clamor;
satobito mo yume Country folk, don't do the same!"

Many interpretations have been offered for this poem. One commentator
suggested that it meant that a noble had seduced a woman of the
commoner class, arousing the jealousy of other nobles; commoners were
therefore urged to be careful lest similar relations be forced on them.
The Kojiki 53

Another commentator, taking the poem more literally, opined that the
poem implied the nobles were silly to have made a fuss over anything
so trivial; commoners were urged not to follow the nobles' example."
Other explanations, equally disparate, have been offered, but one can
only conclude sadly that whatever the poem may have meant to people
of the distant past, it is now, like many Kojiki poems, hopelessly
obscure.
The prose sections of Book III are also less enjoyable than the myths
and fables of the two previous books. Book III is largely given over to
accounts of how members of the imperial family were murdered by
close relations, often for incomprehensible reasons. The murders become
monotonous, and the book ends with a tedious series of names of the
wives and children of successive emperors.
The Kojiki as a whole is unlikely to satisfy readers who search its
pages for the emotional sensitivity that typifies later Japanese literature.
Enthusiasts of the Kojiki do not agree with this judgment. Kurano Kenji,
who devoted much of his life to elucidating the Kojiki text, declared,
"Today it is normal for the Kojiki to be treated as a single, coherent
literary work that enjoys an equal footing with the Man'yoshu, The Tale
of Genji, and similar works.?" Kurano summarily dismissed the views
of those who questioned the literary worth of a work written for non-
literary purposes and which contains sections totally devoid of literary
interest. He insisted on the artistic integrity of the Kojilii, regardless of
the purposes of the com pilers, and pointed out that other literary classics,
such as The Tale of the Heik«, were also marred by dull catalogues of
opposing forces in battle and similar factual materials. But, as Kurano
admitted, it was not until 1925 that the Kojiki was first treated as a
work of literature, rather than as a history;" he reached the conclusion
that it could be considered either as historical literature or else as history
composed with literary intent."
Regardless of whether or not one agrees with Kurano, it can hardly
be denied that in the years since 1925 the Kojiki has become established
as a literary classic. It is no longer treated (as the Nihon Shoki continues
to be) as a work of mainly historical and religious significance. The
adulation offered the Kojiki in the 1930S and early 1940s, when militarism
and emperor worship colored scholarship relating to Japanese classical
literature, did not produce any reaction against the Kojiki after the war
ended. Far from it: scholars of every variety of political belief began to
reexamine the Kojiki, now free of constraints. The historians attempted
to penetrate the obscure language of the text and to piece together from
fragmentary information a coherent picture of ancient Japan. Linguists
54 Early and Heian Literature
ventured to reconstruct the original pronunciations of the text." The
relations between Japanese and Korean historical materials were studied
without fear of reaching "wrong" conclusions. Folklorists traced sur-
vivals in contemporary Japan of rituals described in the Kojiki, and
related the poems to similar songs still known in remote regions of the
country. Comparative studies of Japanese and non-Japanese myths,
begun well before the war years, were carried out by experts in Ainu,
Okinawan, Korean, Burmese, Javanese, and other cultures." Finally-
but for our purposes most importantly-scholars of literature attempted
to fit the Kojiki into the history of Japanese literature, not simply as the
oldest surviving Japanese book, but as a work that contains seeds of
future literary developments."
The Kojiki stands close to the sources of Japanese literary expression.
For centuries it, together with the Nihon Shoki, provided Japanese with
all they knew about their ancient past, and there are innumerable ref-
erences in later literature to its myths and legends." Although the poems
are for the most part primitive in conception and expression, they pointed
the way to the development of the waka; and the origins of renga, the
characteristic poetic form of the medieval period, are traditionally traced
back to the completion of a single poem by two persons, Yamato-takeru
and an old man, as recorded in the Kojiki.76 More important still, we
can see in the Kojiki the essential role that poetry played not only in
commemorating heroic events but at every moment that called for
heightened expression. The inclusion of poetry in prose narratives would
be a feature of the literature of the next millennium.
A small band of convinced scholars insists that the Kojiki as a whole,
or the preface at any rate, is a forgery of Heian times, but their argu-
ments, however persuasively presented, seem to have affected the main-
stream of Kojiki scholarship very little." Still others have used the Kojiki
as source material in their quest of the homeland of the Japanese in
Southeast Asia, the Himalayas, Central Asia, or elsewhere. The mystery
of Japan, a subject of passionate interest to the Japanese, begins with
the Kojiki.

Notes
This chapter, in a somewhat different form, appeared originally in Transactions
of the Asiatic Society ofJapan, Third Series, vol. 18, 1983.
The Kojiki 55
I. Contrary to my usage elsewhere in these volumes, I shall refer to this
work by its Japanese title, rather than by a translation, because the existing
translations are called Kojik],
2. The translation by W. G. Aston is called Nihongi. Although some scholars
believe that this is the correct title, the work is almost universally known
as Nihon Shob).
3. In this chapter emphasis will be placed on the literary significance of
the Kojik], This does not do justice to a work that has more often been
studied for nonliterary reasons, and some details of the narrative are
likely to seem ludicrous when deprived of their religious aura; but the
interest of the Kojiki lies in its remarkable combination of disparate
elements.
4. I have given throughout the modern pronunciations, rather than the
ancient pronunciations as reconstructed by linguists. The translation of
the Kojiki by Donald L. Philippi uses the reconstructed pronunciations.
5. For example, the phrase yoshi tansei, found in the account of the reign of
the Emperor Nintoku, was rendered by Motoori as kao yoshi. (Motoori
Norinaga Zenshii, XII, p. 63') Kurano Kenji read the same characters as
katachi uruwashi (in Kojiki Zenchushak«, VII, p. 19), but did not explain
why he had departed from Motoori. The renderings by Kanda Hideo
and Ora Yoshimaro (in Kojiki, II, p. 199) abandoned "pure" Japanese
readings and gave the mixed Chinese-Japanese pronunciation of sugata
katachi tanjo, Differences in honorifics range downward from Motoori's
lavish use to Kanda and Ora's rather begrudging addition of honorific
endings. For example, the sentence "Thereupon the emperor, climbing
a high hill, looked in all four directions and said ..." was rendered by
Motoori as "Koko ni surncramikoto taltayama ni noborimashite yomo no kuni
wo mishitamaite noritarnaitsuraku . . . ." Kurano read the passage as "Koleo
ni sumeramikoto takayama ni noborite yomo no kuni wo mitamaite norita-
maishieu . . . ." Kanda and Ota gave "Koko ni sumeramikoto taeayama ni
nobori yomo no kuni wo mite noritamatoaleu . . . ."
6. Kamei Takashi, "Kojiki wa yomeru ka," in Kojiki Taisei, III, pp.
97- 154.
7. Kanda Hideo, Kojik i no Kozo ; p. 7·
8. Tsuda Sokichi in Kojiki oyobi Nihon Shoki no KenkYu, p. 57, stated (in
1924), "One can say quite positively that there is not the smallest scrap
of evidence that the kataribe of ancient times recited and transmitted the
old stories." More recent scholarship has tended to confirm Tsuda's
findings.
9. Saigo Nobutsuna, Kojiki KenkYu, pp. 158-61. For a different view, see
Mitani Eiichi, Kojiki Seiritsu no KenkYu, pp. 244-59. Mitani believed that
records plainly indicate that the kataribe recited legends about the gods
or about the origins of particular provinces or villages. He deduced this
 Early and Heian Literature
mainly from the norito religious chants and from documents transcribed
long after the compilation of the Kojiei.
10. Philippi, Kojiei, p. 41. The teiki contained basic information about the
Imperial Family, and the honji were of a more general nature.
I I. Ibid.
12. Ibid., p. 42. The term kuji (or kyuji) seems to have been used interchange-
ably with honji. The "pure Japanese" rendering of the preface gives
furugoto.
13· Ibid., pp. 41-42.
14. Saigo, Kojiki Keney«, pp. 10-11.
15. Teihon Yanagita Kunio Shu, IX, p. 310.
16. Saigo, Kojiki Kenkyu, pp. 40-41.
17. There are various translations of these two key words. Philippi (Kojiki,
p. 42) translated them as one word, "learn," but explained in a footnote
that the Chinese expression meant to familiarize oneself with a document
and to memorize it so that it can be recited without reference to a written
text. Kurano (Kojiki Zenchiishaleu, I, p. 187) insisted on the importance in
the old method of learning of repeating aloud and reciting. This is the
interpretation I have followed.
18. Kurano, Kojiki Zcnchushaeu, I, p. 196.
19. This theory of Takagi Toshio is quoted by Kurano, Kojiki Zenchiahaku,
I, pp. 193-94.
20. Saigo, Kojiki Kenkyu, pp. 34-41.
21. Ibid., p. 40.
22. Mizuno Masayoshi, "Kojiki to Kokogaku," in Ueda Masaaki, Kojiki, pp.
113- 17.
23· Mitani, Kojiki, pp. 2-54.
24. See Watsuji Tetsuro Zenshu, III, pp. 189-202. Watsuji, contrasting the
Kojiki with the Iliad, admitted that the latter possessed a unity of time,
place, and psychological development that was lacking in the Kojiki, but
praised the intuitive freshness of the perceptions in the Kojilti, These
comments appeared in his Nihon Kodai Bunka, originally written in 1920,
revised in 1939, and further revised on several occasions before being
included in his zenshii (complete works).
25. However, a "pure Japanese" rendering has been made of even this preface,
proof (if proof was needed) that one can read almost any Chinese text as
ancient Japanese. Kurano (Kojiki, Norito; pp. 59-60) left some words in
Sino-Japanese pronunciations, rather than insist on "pure Japanese"
throughout.
26. Philippi, Kojiki, p. 40.
27. Watsuji Tetsuro Zenshu, III, pp. 191-94.
28. The name is read as Izanaki by some scholars, as Isanaki by others, but
I have used the most common pronunciation.
The Koj iki 57
29· Hirata Atsutane believed that the jeweled spear represented a phallus.
30. It seems likely that ya (eight) was derived from iya, meaning "more and
more," "flourishing," and so on.
31. See especially Matsumura Takeo, Nihon Shinwa no KenkJu (A Study of
Japanese Myths) in three volumes. In III, pp. 425-96, he considered myths
relating to visits to the world of the dead.
32. Matsumura, Nihon, III, pp. 370-71.
33. See Tsuda Sokichi, "Isanaki Isanami Nishin ga Kokudo wo Uminashita
Monogatari," p. 19, where he expressed the belief that the begetting of
the Eight Islands was the original opening of the Kojiki, and that the
earlier doings of the gods, related in present texts of the Kojihi, were
accretions. On p. 22 he also dismissed the circumambulation of the pillar
prior to copulation as another accretion, perhaps reflecting religious or
magical practices of the ancient Japanese. The existence of a central pillar
in the creation myths of Europe, Central Asia, and elsewhere was discussed
by Mircea Eliade in The Sacred and the Profane, pp. 34~39, 53.
34. Philippi, Kojik i, p. 72 •
35. Aston, Nihongi, pp. 19~20.
36. Philippi, Kojiki pp. 79-80.
37. Aston, Nihongi, pp. 19-20.
38. Yamaji Heishiro, " 'Yakumo tatsu Izumo yaegaki' uta-ko," pp. 5~7.
39· Ibid., p. 5·
40. Ogihara Asao and Konosu Hayao, Kojiki, f6dai Kayo, p. 90.
41. Matsumura, Nihon, III, pp. 330-33, links this fable with similar stories
in Indonesia and other regions of Southeast Asia. Tokugawa Yoshichika
in his article "Inaba no Shiro-usagi Ko," published in 1931, first drew
attention to these similarities. Various animals appear in the different
versions of the fable, but the main lines of the story, up the point where
the rabbit (or deer or monkey) crosses to the opposite shore over the backs
of lined-up crocodiles, are identical. Crocodiles are not known to have
existed in Japan. Perhaps the word wani should be translated as "shark."
42- Philippi, Kojik i, p. 99·
43. This apparent contradiction with the story of Izanagi and Izanami seems
to reflect Izumo traditions.
44. My interpretation follows Ogihara and Konosu,Kojiki, p. 102. For another
translation see Philippi, Kojiki, pp. 106-7; also Robert H. Brower and
Earl Miner, Japanese Court Poetry, p. 64, where this and related poems
are treated unconventionally (but effectively) as a "quasi-dramatic
sequence."
45· Philippi, Kojik i, p. 99·
46. Ibid., p. 145. The statement that the emperors have not been long-lived
is puzzling in view of the extraordinary longevity of several emperors,
beginning with Jimmu.
 Early and Heian Literature
47. Philippi, Kojiki, p. 164.
48. Ibid., p. 208.
-19. According to the Nihon Shoki, he was the twelfth sovereign and reigned
from A.D. 71 to 130.
'jO. Mishima Yukio Zenshu, XXXIV, p. 130.
'j I. Philippi, Kojiki, p. 229.
'j2. See Saigo, Kojiki Kenkyu, pp. 231-35, for an explanation of Yarnato-
takeru's action: misunderstanding the emperor's words, or deliberately
twisting their meaning, he "patiently explained" to the brother that the
emperor was disturbed by his failure to appear at mealtime; the "patient
explanation" took the form of dismembering him. Perhaps the emperor
pronounced the words "patiently explain" with a meaningful leer.
'j3· Philippi, Kojik i, pp. 234-35·
'j+ I have followed Ogihara and Konosu, Kojiki, p. 216, in making this
translation. Okubo Tadashi, Kojiki Kayo, p. 68, also interpreted the final
word, aware, as a burst of mocking laughter. For a different interpretation,
see Philippi, Kojiki, pp. 236-37. The Nihon Shoki, as Philippi points out,
connects the narrative and song with entirely different people.
55. Philippi, Kojik i, p. 23 8.
56. My translation follows the interpretation ofOgihara and Konosu in Kojiki,
p. 222. See Philippi, Kojiki, pp. 244-45.
57. Ivan Morris, The Nobility of Failure, pp. 12-13.
58. Text and interpretation in Ogihara and Konosu, Kojiki, p. 138. For other
translations, see Philippi, Kojiki, p. 248, and Morris, Nobility, p. 12.
59. See Philippi, Kojiki, p. 248. One of Yarnato-takeru's last songs is a kata-
uta, or half-song, consisting of three lines of 5, 7, and 7 syllables. A little
earlier (Philippi, p. 242) he and an old man who is tending a fire together
compose one waka. This joint effort, which describes how long it has
taken Yarnato-takeru to pass Tsukuba, was traditionally cited as the be-
ginning of renga, or linked verse, and the art itself was often referred to
as "the Way of Tsukuba." For further details on the traditional history
of renga, see below, pp. 921-26.
60. Kanda, Kojiki no Kozo, pp. 1°4-20.
61. Philippi, Kojiki, p. 573.
62. Ibid., p. 285.
63. For an up-to-date, brilliantly reasoned study of this period, see Gari
Ledyard, "Galloping Along with the Horseriders."
64. Philippi, Kojik i, p. 340.
65. He is credited with having composed the first poem In the Man'yoshu.
See below, p. 93.
66. Ogihara and Konusu, Kojiki, p. 320. For another translation, see Philippi,
Kojik i, p. 354.
67. Text in Ogihara and Konosu, Kojiki, p. 190. See also Philippi, Kojiki,
P·335·
The Koj iki 59

68. See Philippi, Kojiki, pp. 335-36, for these and other interpretations.
69. Kurano Kenji, Kojiki, Norito, p. 23.
70. He referred specifically to the publicaton in that year of Takagi Toshio's
Nihon Shinwa Densetsu.
71. Kurano, Kojiki, p. 25.
72. The vowel system of eighth-century Japanese is mentioned by Philippi in
Kojiki, pp. 21-22. It is discussed at much greater length by Roy Andrew
Miller in The Japanese Language, pp. 174-91, and by Roland Lange in The
Phonology of Eighth-Century Japanese. The existence of eight vowels in
ancient times, as opposed to the present five, was first postulated by
Hashimoto Shinkichi in 1917.
73. See, for example, Ueda, Kojiki, or Matsumura, Nihon Shinwa.
74. Tsuchihashi Yutaka, "Kojiki to Uta Monogatari," in Ueda, Ko-
jiki.
75. For example, Susano-o's slaying the dragon (orochi) is the subject of the
No play Orochi. The combat between Susano-o and the dragon is the
climax also of the play by Chikamatsu Monzaemon, Nippon Furisode no
Hajime (1718), which has Susano-o as its principal character. References
to Susano-o and the other main deities of the Kojiki occur frequently in
later literature. To cite one example: we are told of the hero of Chika-
matsu's The Battles of Coxinga that he "shows the divine strength of the
god Susano-o when he flayed the piebald colt of Heaven." See Donald
Keene, Major Plays of Chihamatsu, pp. 226, 452.
76. See above, note 59, also below, p. 921.
77. Many doubts have been expressed since the time of Kamo no Mabuchi
(1697-1769) about the authenticity of the preface to the Kojiki, and some
twentieth-century scholars have questioned the authenticity of the whole
work. However, the theory that the Kojiki was a forgery of the Heian
period was refuted by the eminent linguist Hashimoto Shinkichi in his
study of the phonetics of the songs. There still remains the matter of the
preface. Ikada Isao, in his article "Kojiki Gisho-setsu wa Konkyo Ha-
kujaku de aru ka: Johyo to [o to no Kernbetsu," argued that the so-called
preface to the Kojiki is actually not a preface but a memorial, as Chinese
examples demonstrate. Umezawa Isezo in Kojiki, Nihon Shoki argued that
the Kojiki was written after the Nihon Shoki; the latter represents the
Chinese actually written by Japanese early in the eighth century, while
the Kojik] represents a transitional style between pure Chinese and the
Man'yoshu, Torigoe Kenzaburo, in Kojiki u/a Gisho ka, subscribed to the
theory that the Kojiki was written early in the ninth century, rather than
in the eighth century. Many other examples in this vein might be cited,
but none of these theories has significantly shaken the edifice of Kojiki
studies.
60 Early and Heian Literature

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published In
Tokyo.

Aston, W. G. Nihongi. London: Kegan Paul, 1896.

Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1961.
Bungei Tokuhon: Kojih]. Kawade Shobe Shinsha, 1980.
Chamberlain, Basil Hall, Ko-Ii-Ki, znd ed. Kobe: J. L. Thomson, 1932.
Eliade, Mircea. The Sacred and the Profane. New York: Harper Torchbooks,
1961.
Ikada Isao. "Kojiki Gisho-setsu wa Konkyo Hakujaku de aru ka: Johyo to [o
to no Kembetsu," Kokugo to Kokubungaku, June-July, 1962.
Kanda Hideo. Kojiki no Kozo. Meiji Shoin, 1959.
Kanda Hideo and Ota Yoshimaro. Kojiki, 2 vols., in Nihon Koten Zensho
series. Asahi Shim bun Sha, 1962.
Kato, Shuichi. A History ofJapanese Literature: The First Thousand Years. Tokyo:
Kodansha International, 1979.
Keene, Donald. Major Plays of Chibamatsu. New York: Columbia University
Press, 196 I.
Kojiki Taisei, 8 vols. Heibonsha, 1956-58.
Kurano Kenji. [odai Nihon Koten Bungaltu no KenkYii. Ofusha, 1968.
- - - . Kojiki, Norito, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Sho-
ten, 1958.
- - - . Kojiki no Seiritsu. Yamato Shobo, 1977.
- - - . Kojiki Zcnchushaku, 7 vols. Sanseido, 1973-80.
- - - . Nihon Shinwa. Kawade Shobe, 1952.
Lange, Roland A. The Phonology of Eighth-Century Japanese. Tokyo: Sophia
University, 1973.
Ledyard, Gari. "Galloping Along with the Horseriders," Journal of Japanese
Studies 1:2, Spring 1975.
Masuda Katsumi. Kik! Kayo. Chikuma Shobe, 1972.
Matsumura Takeo. Nihon Shinwa no KenkYii, 3 vols. Baifukan, 1954-55.
Miller, Roy Andrew. The Japanese Language. Chicago: The University of Chi-
cago Press, 1967.
Mishima Yukio Zenshii, 36 vols. Shinchosha, 1973-76.
Mitani Eiichi. Kojiki Seiritsu no KenkYii. Yuseido, 1980.
Morris, Ivan. The Nobility of Failure. N ew York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston,
1976.
Motoori Norinaga Zenshii, 21 vols. Chi kuma Shobe, 1968-77.
Obayashi Taryo. "The Origins of Japanese Mythology," Acta Asiatica 31, 1977.
The Kojiki 61

Ogihara Asao and Konosu Hayao. Kojiki, JOdaiKayo, in Nihon Koten Bungaku
Zenshu series. Shogakukan, 1973.
Okubo Tadashi. Kojik] Kayo, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series. Kodansha,
1981.
Philippi, Donald L. Kojiki. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1968.
- - - . This Wine of Peace, This Wine of Laughter. New York: Grossman
Publishers, 1968.
Reischauer, Robert Karl. Early Japanese History, 2 vols. Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1937.
Saigo Nobutsuna. Kojik] Chushaku, I. Heibonsha, 1975.
- - - . Kojiki Kenky«. Miraisha, 1973.
Teihon Yanagita Shu, 36 vols. Chikuma Shobe, 1962-71.
Tokugawa Yoshichika. "Inaba no Shiro-usagi Ko," Minzokugaku 3:5, 1931.
Tokumitsu Kyuya. Kojiki KenkYu Shi. Kasama Shoin, 1977.
Torigoe Kenzaburo. Kojiki wa Gisho ka. Asahi Shimbun Sha, 1971.
Tsuchihashi Yutaka and Konishi [in'ichi. Kodai Kayo Shu, in Nihon Katen
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1957.
Tsuda Sokichi, "Isanaki Isanami Nishin ga Kokudo wo uminashita Mono-
gatari," in Bungei Toleuhon: Kojik],
- - - . Kojiki oyobi Nihon Shoki no KenkYu. Iwanami Shoten, 1933.
Ueda Masaaki. Kojik], Shakai Shiso Sha, 1977-
- - - . Nihon Kodai Kokka Ronkyu, Hanawa Shobe, 1968.
Umezawa Isezo. Kojiki, Nihon Shok]. Kyoto: San'ichi Shobo, 1957.
Watsuji Tctsuro Zenshu, 20 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1961-63.
Yamaji Heishiro. "'Yakumo tatsu Izumo yaegaki' uta-ko," Kokubungaku
KenkY u 12:33·
 2.
WRITINGS IN CHINESE OF
THE NARA PERIOD

hte establishment of a permanent capital in 710 at Nara marked the

beginning of a period of extraordinary cultural developments. Previously,
the capital had been moved after the death of each sovereign, probably
because of the belief that his death had defiled the site.' The perishable
nature of the materials of native Japanese architecture had also made it
easier to abandon an old capital than if the wealth of the nation had
been poured into buildings. The decision to break with precedent and
to build at Nara an imposing capital was probably occasioned by the
desire to emulate China, and this sense of rivalry proved stronger than
the claims of native traditions.' The choice of the site was influenced
by Chinese geomancy: the hills and rivers were in the right places for
a capital. The new city, as Sir George Sansom put it, became "the
metropolis, the centre of administration, the home of the arts and the
Holy See of Buddhism."]
The new capital was laid out along the lines of Ch'ang-an, the
Chinese capital at the time, and the buildings were in Chinese styles of
architecture. A palace of impressive dimensions was constructed, and
various Buddhist temples, notably the Kofuku-ji (associated with the
Fujiwara clan), were moved here from elsewhere in the region. Many
Chinese administrative and legal institutions were taken over bodily, in
the belief that conformity to Chinese models was the best way to prove
that the Japanese were truly civilized. The language of the official
documents was Chinese, and members of the court, from the emperor
down, took pride in their calligraphy and in their ability to compose
poetry and prose in Chinese.
It would be hard to exaggerate either the suddenness or the brilliance
of the flowering in Japan of Chinese culture that occurred during the
six decades of the Nara period, from 710 to 774. The profusion of
architecture and sculpture produced at this time would never be sur-
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period

passed. The literary monuments include the Man'yoshu, the finest col-
lection of Japanese poetry, but the works in prose are less impressive,
perhaps because the Chinese language enjoyed such prestige at the time
that literary expression in Japanese was largely confined to lyric poetry.
The writing in Chinese, though mainly of interest because of the his-
torical information it transmits, is not without literary value, and it
created the necessary background for the superior works written in
Chinese during the Heian period.

THE FUDOK1

In 713, the year after the Kojiki was presented to the court, vanous
provinces were commanded to compile fudolti' (gazetteers) which would
include old tales, records of places, and descriptions of the crops, mineral
resources, topography, and wildlife of each region. The fudoki were
written mainly in Chinese, though some passages are in the mixed Sino-
Japanese style typical of the Kojiki, and the poems are phonetically
transcribed. Only five of the gazetteers compiled in response to this
imperial command have been preserved more or less intact, but some
forty others exist in fragments. The most complete is the Izumo Fudoki,
prepared between 713 and 733 by a group of scholars headed by Miyake
no Omi Kanatari.'
The Izumo Fudoki is not a book for browsing. With the exception
of two or three legends, notably the account of how the god Yatsukamizu
Omizuno added various islands and promontories to the territory of
Izumo by tugging (kunihiki) them to him with the aid of a rope," the
work consists of brief accounts of villages, mountains, rivers, islands,
and other geographical features, often with a folk etymology for each
place-name. There seems to have been hardly any attempt to achieve
literary distinction, as a typical section will suggest:

Community of Shitsunu. It is located two miles east of the district

office. The alternative name for Amatsu Kichikamitakahiko, a son
of Kami Musubi, is Komomakura Shitsunichi. The god resides in
this community. Therefore the community is called Shitsunu.'

We get very little idea of how the people of Izumo lived, though
the names of plants, animals, and the like at least indirectly reveal what
they ate. In the more elegantly written Hitachi Fudoki,B we also find
folk etymologies:
 Early and Heian Literature

The place where he is said to have killed them brutally (itaku)

is now the district ofltaku; the place where he is said to have slashed
them down swiftly ifutsu ni) is now the village of Futsuna; the place
where he killed them easily (yasuku) is now the town of Yasukiri;
and the place where he killed them well (yoku) is now the hamlet
of Esaki. 9

A passage more typical of the style of the Hitachi Fudohi reveals

obvious Chinese influence:

In the season of fragrant blossoms or the time of crimson leaves

people flock to Takahama in palanquins and boats to enjoy the
scenery. In spring the cherry trees along the shore are a thousand
hues; in autumn, the leaves on the banks are tinted a hundred shades.
The warbler's song is heard in the fields; cranes can be seen dancing
on the dried strand. Farmer boys and fisher girls throng the shore;
merchants and peasants pole boats to and fro. Especially on hot
summer mornings or on evenings when the sun broils down, people
invite friends and take along servants to sit along the beach, gazing
out at the sea. When a breeze begins to stir the waves bit by bit,
people escaping the heat shake off oppressive cares; as the shade of
the hills gradually lengthens, those who seek the evening cool express
their pleasure."

These lines, written in Chinese phrases of four or six characters each,

in an approximation of p'ien wen, or parallel prose, are followed by two
waka, transcribed with Chinese characters used as phonograms:

tahahama ni The waves off the shore,

kiyosuru nami no The waves that come approaching
ohitsunami Takahama beach
yosuru to mo yoraji Come close, but I don't go near
kora ni shi yoraba Because I am close to you.

tahahama ni Down T akahama beach

shitaleaze sayagu The wind blows tumultuously,
imo wo koi Like my love for you;
tsuma to iwabaya I wish I could call you "wife,"
shiko to meshitsu mo 11 Though you said I was ugly.

The combination of elegant Chinese prose with humble Japanese

poetry is characteristic not only of the Hitachi Fudoki but of the Nihon
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period

Shoki, presented to the court in 720. It would be natural to assume that

materials in the fudoki that existed before 720 would have been used
by the compilers of the Nihon Shoki when tracing local history, but they
do not seem to have contributed much to the first official history of
[apan."

NIHON SHOKI

The Nihon Shoki (Chronicles of Japan) was completed in 720, just eight
years after the Kojiki. It is uncertain whether its original name was
Nihon Shoki or Nihongi." but in the Heian period it was most often
called Nihongi, as we know from the nickname Nihongi no Tsubone (the
lady of the Nihongi) bestowed on Murasaki Shikibu in recognition of
her learning. In later times the name Nihon Shoki was almost always
used, though some nationalists objected to calling the work "Chronicles
of Japan" because that seemed to suggest that if "Japan" did not appear
in the title the book might be mistaken for the chronicles of some other
country; such men spoke simply of "The Chronicles." Less committed
scholars insisted that it was precisely in order to affirm Japan's position
in the world that the Nihon Shoki was compiled."
The Nihon Shoki lacks a preface, and the circumstances of compo-
sition are obscure. A section in the work, dated the tenth year of the
Emperor Temmu (681),15 relates how the emperor commanded various
nobles to commit to writing a chronicle of the emperors and matters of
antiquity." It is not clear whether or not this represented a first step in
the compilation of the Nihon Shoki, but most authorities agree that the
task of gathering materials for this history probably began about that
time. In any case, the circumstances of composition were strikingly
unlike those of the Kojiki. In place of one man (or woman) who mem-
orized the old traditions, a dozen noblemen recorded historical facts.
The final compilation was delayed for years at a time, whenever more
pressing matters arose, and the laborious preparations for an official
national history (as opposed to the unofficial Kojiki) did not bear fruit
for almost forty years.
It has long been a question, nevertheless, why the court felt it nec-
essary to produce two histories of Japan within the space of eight years.
Some believe that the Kojiki was intended for domestic consumption,
but the Nihon Shoki for Chinese and Koreans, with the hopes it would
impress them with the great antiquity of Japan. That may have been
the original intent, but this does not explain why the Kojiki disappeared
66 Early and H eian Literature

for centuries after it was compiled but the Nihon Shoki was revered by
the Japanese as the most authentic account of their past. Others have
suggested that the Nihon Shoki was compiled because of dissatisfaction
with the crude style of the Kojilei; but if this was so, the compilation of
the Nihon Shok] could not have been started until after the Kojiki was
completed in 712. We know from an entry in Sholeu Nihongi, the con-
tinuation of the Nihon Sholei, that in 714 two low-ranked officials, Ki
Kiyondo and Miyake Fujimaro, received an imperial command to com-
pile a national history. The problem is that the ranks of the two men
(junior sixth rank and senior eighth rank) seem too humble for so
important an undertaking, and it has also been doubted that they could
have finished the work of assembling and editing the necessary docu-
ments between 714 and 720.J! In the absence of firm information, scholars
have had no choice but to resort to guesswork.
The chief editor of the Nihon Shoki seems to have been Prince Toneri
(d. 735), the third son of the Emperor Temmu, a nobleman who filled
important positions during the reigns of Temmu and his daughter, the
Empress Gemmei. Probably a number of writers took part in the com-
position of the thirty books of the Nihon Shoki. Perhaps some of the
discrepancies in style can be attributed to the participation of immigrant
Chinese and Koreans in the writing of the final text."
The most striking difference between the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki
is evident on any page: the former is in crude though generally intel-
ligible Chinese, the latter in the polished language typical of histories
written in China itself. Indeed, whole passages in the Nihon Shoki were
taken bodily from Chinese sources, and the narrative as a whole was
embellished with phrases and allusions drawn from such compendia as
I-wen Lei-chi; (Literary References, 624) by au-yang Hsun (557-641).19
The writer of any given sentence of the Nihon Shoki had only to consult
this work to find appropriate locutions on his subject by the great stylists
of the past. The use of time-tested phrases strengthened the overtones
of the events described and gave them additional dignity. A few literary
works, such as the Wen Hsiian, a collection of Chinese poetry composed
before the Six Dynasties by Prince Chao-ming of the Liang dynasty
(501-31), were also tapped for stylistic decorations, as were a few Buddh-
ist works.
With the exception of the songs, recorded in a system similar to that
of the Kojiki but with more complicated characters, the Nihon Shoki
was written throughout in unmistakable Chinese, but there were tra-
ditions, going back even to the Nara period, of how words or phrases
might be read in pure Japanese pronunciations." By the early Heian
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period

period-the ninth century-lectures were delivered to the court on the

Nihon Shok], making necessary a rendering of the text into a language
that was aurally intelligible to Japanese listeners."

NIHON SHOKI and KOJIKI

The Nihon Shoki is by no means as interesting to read as the Kojiki.

The historical-as opposed to religious or literary-intent of the com-
pilers is everywhere apparent. Unlike the Kojiki, which gives only one
version of each legend, the editors of the Nihon Shoki painstakingly
supplied as many as eleven variant traditions concerning a single event.
Though these additional materials are of considerable interest to students
of the text, they interrupt the narrative flow and are sometimes repe-
titious. There is a distinctly scholarly attitude evident in the composition,
especially in the accounts of historical times, where one sometimes finds
cautious recommendations that urge further investigation of the facts.
The use of foreign sources, notably from the Korean kingdom ofPaekche
(known as Kudara to the Japanese), also distinguishes the Nihon Shoki
from the Kojiki, which relies only on native materials. Unfortunately,
the Paekche records are not preserved in Korea. The use in these records
of Nihon for Japan (a name not officially adopted until the Taika Reform
of 645) and of tenno for emperor (a title adopted during the reign of
the Empress Suiko, 593-628) as well as other bits of internal evidence,
suggest that the Paekche historical materials may have been compiled
by refugees in Japan after the fall ofPaekche to the rival Korean kingdom
of Silla in 663. 22
By this time the Japanese court possessed a fairly extensive acquain-
tance with Chinese historical and literary materials. Some men, especially
those who had served a tutelage under various emigres, could write
Chinese with confidence, rather in the manner of Europeans writing
Latin during the Middle Ages, and ostentatiously displayed their learn-
ing by using unusual characters in writing the Nihon Shoki, perhaps in
the hopes of impressing the Chinese and Koreans.
A concern over what readers abroad might think may also be de-
tected in the precision with which events are dated in the Nihon Shok],
Unlike the Kojiki, which seldom supplies a date of any kind, the Nihon
Shoki is quite specific not only on the years but on the months and even
the days when events occurred, starting with the legendary coronation
of the Emperor [immu in 660 B.C. The accuracy of the dating is hardly
68 Early and Heian Literature

credible, but the Japanese were evidently determined to impress for-

eigners with their historiography."
Although the Nihon Shoki makes no reference to the Kojiki, its
account of the creation of the Japanese islands is similar, and various
memorable episodes-the outrages of Susano-o and the withdrawal of
Amaterasu into the cave, for example-are much in the same vein;
these traditions appear to have become firm, though the names of other
deities and their achievements vary considerably between the two works.
In the opening description of the creation of the worlds, the Kojiki states
that three divinities were created even before the reed shoot sprang from
the floating oil, but in the Nihon Shoki one god called Kunitokotachi
was transformed from the primordial reed shoot, followed by two more
who were "spontaneously developed by the operation of the principle
of Heaven."24 After its main account of these events, the Nihon Shoki
gives six variant accounts, the name of the chief god depending on the
source.
The creation of Izanagi and Izanami, their circumambulation of the
central pillar, and their begetting of the islands of Japan are similar in
the two histories, but with one difference: in the Kojiki the female deity
Izanami speaks first and the couple consequently have imperfect chil-
dren; but in the main text of the Nihon Shoki Izanagi, annoyed that
Izanami has spoken first, insists on going around the pillar once more
and giving his greeting first, even before they set about procreating
islands." One version states that when Izanagi and Izanami decided to
copulate they did not know how until a friendly wagtail bird demon-
strated the process."
The first god-as opposed to islands-produced by the divine ances-
tors was Amaterasu, who seemed too glorious and resplendent for the
earth. The text states, "At this time heaven and earth were still not far
separated, and therefore they sent her up to Heaven by the ladder of
heaven.'?" This was certainly a more befitting manner of birth for the
chief of the heavenly gods than the description given in the Kojiki,
stating that Amaterasu was born from Izanagi's left eye when he washed
away the pollution of hell." One senses even in this early section of the
Nihon Shoki a political awareness that guided the composition: it was
not sufficient to record the old legends, confused and contradictory as
they were; the legends had to make sense, especially in terms of the
unbroken ancestry of the emperor and the uniqueness of his relationship
to the land.
Some traditions quoted in the Nihon Shoki explain matters over-
looked by the Kojiki-for example, the origins of fish, animals, and
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period 69

plants." The moon god (Tsukiyomi) plays a slightly more important

role than in the Kojiki: he was so reluctant to see the goddess of food
vomit rice, fish, and furred animals that he slew her. This action dis-
tressed his sister, Amaterasu, and she arranged the movements of the
celestial bodies in such a way that the sun and moon would never meet
again.'?
On the whole, the Nihon Shoh] is more rational, less apt than the
Kojiki to relate with wide-eyed wonder the miracles wrought by the
gods. This perhaps is why it is less entertaining as literature." Yamato-
takeru is credited with some of the heroic deeds he performs in the
Kojiki, including the subjugation of the Kumaso chieftains; but his
entrapment in the middle of a moor is the doing not of a hostile official
but of some brigands, and the specifically human touch in the story-
the bag his aunt gives the despondent Yamato-takeru to open in an
emergency-is missing from the prosaic Nihon Shoki account.
For centuries the Nihon Shoki was the work to which educated
persons turned for a knowledge of their country's early history and the
even earlier Age of the Gods, but ever since the rise of National Learning
(kokugaku) in the Tokugawa period," the Kojiki has displaced the Nihon
Shoki in the affection of the Japanese, and has exerted greater influence
on works of literature that touch on the ancient past.

PRINCE SHOTOKU

Among the historical personages described in the Nihon Shoki, none is

more impressive than Prince Shotoku (574-622), one of the major cul-
tural figures of Japanese history. Shotoku was the son of the short-lived
Emperor Yornei and, on his mother's side, a grandson of the Emperor
Kimmei. His personal name, Umayado, meaning "stable," was explained
by the Nihon Shoki in this manner:

The empress-consort, on the day when her pregnancy was to

come to an end, went round the forbidden precincts, inspecting the
different offices. When she came to the horse department, and had
just reached the door of the stables, she was suddenly delivered of
him without effort. He was able to speak as soon as he was born,
and was possessed of wisdom. When he grew up he could listen to
the suits of ten men at once and decide them all without error. He
could foresee what would happen in the future. Moreover he learned
the Inner Doctrine [Buddhism] from a Korean priest named Eji
7° Early and Heian Literature
[Hyo-cha], and studied the Outer Classics [Confucianism] with a
doctor called Kakuka. In both of these branches of study he became
thoroughly proficient."

Shotoku, his posthumous name, means "supreme virtue," and the

man himself was not only revered as a founder of Japanese civilization,
but became an object of worship to whom miracles were attributed."
The Nihon Shoki informs us that when he died at the age of forty-eight

The princes and grandees, and indeed, the entire populace of

the realm grieved so greatly the streets were filled with the sounds
of their lamentation; the old wept as over the death of a dear child,
and the food in their mouths lost its savor, the young as if they had
lost a beloved parent. The farmer cultivating his fields let fall his
plow, and the woman pounding rice laid down her pestle. They all
said:-"The sun and moon have lost their brightness; Heaven and
Earth must surely soon crumble-from this time forth, in whom
shall we place our trust? "35

Shotoku was the first Japanese to be made the subject of a biography,

and a portrait, said to be of him, is the oldest Japanese work of this
genre." Although he was not credited with martial exploits in the man-
ner of Yamato-takeru, he succeeded in establishing a state on Chinese
models, in fostering Buddhism with his commentaries on three sutras,
and, most celebrated of all, in expressing the ideals of the Japanese state
in his "Seventeen Article Constitution." The text of the Consitution is
given in the Nihon Shok]. Some scholars have questioned the attribution
to Shotoku, but the ideas accord with what we know of the man."
The opening article of the Constitution" is the best-known section:
"Harmony is to be prized," and an avoidance of wanton opposition to
be honored. All men are influenced by partisanship, and few are intel-
ligent. That is why some disobey their lords and fathers, or maintain
feuds with neighboring villages. But when those above are harmonious
and those below are friendly, and there is concord in the discussion of
business, right views of things spontaneously gain acceptance. Then,
what is there which cannot be accomplished? "40
Shotoku's insistence on "harmony" (wa) has been reiterated many
times ever since as the most essential feature of a well-run society. It
has even been cited as the secret of the success of Japanese industry in
the years since 1945. The wording of this section of Shotoku's Consti-
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period 71
tution was largely derived from the Analects of Confucius, but he em-
ployed the language freely to epitomize his thoughts on the necessity of
harmony in a country that was in fact torn by warfare."
The second article of the Constitution enjoined all to "sincerely
reverence the three treasures of Buddhism"-the Buddha, the Buddhist
law, and the monastic orders. In other words, Shotoku was urging in
the same document reverence for both Confucian and Buddhist teach-
ings. The two philosophies were not mutually compatible in every re-
spect, as we can gather from the bitterly anti- Buddhist attitudes displayed
by many Confucian scholars over the centuries; but Shotoku was at-
tempting to embrace both systems of thought, Confucianism for the
affairs of this world and Buddhism for the world of eternity. No ref-
erence to Shinto is made in the Constitution, an indication that Shotoku
desired to build a state on Chinese rather than Japanese lines. He was
determined to strengthen the central regime, following Chinese models,
rather than accept the more traditional Japanese concept of "eight million
deities," each with its sphere of activity.
The twelfth article of the Constitution commanded the provincial
authorities "not to levy exaction on the people," and declared, "The
sovereign is the master of the people of the whole country. The officials
to whom he gives charge are all his vassals. How can they, as well as
the Government, presume to lay taxes on the people? "42 This article,
too, seems to indicate that at the time the sovereign was not recognized
as the master of the people of the whole country.
The last of the seventeen articles states, "Decisions on important
letters should not be made by one man alone. They should be discussed
with many." Although this article surely reflected Shotoku's distress
over the existing situation-arrogant and dictatorial decisions reached
and carried out by some powerful member of the court-it has been
linked with the preferences of the Japanese of a much later day for
decisions reached by consensus.
Little attention has been paid to the purely literary qualities of
Shotoku's writings," but it is evident from his Constitution and from
his commentaries on three Buddhist sutras that he was completely con-
versant in the Chinese language appropriate for discussing Confucian
and Buddhist philosophy. Doubts have been expressed about the attri-
bution to Shotoku of the Buddhist commentaries," but minor mistakes
in Chinese (among other stylistic features) suggest that a Japanese, quite
likely Prince Shotoku, wrote these commentaries at the beginning of
the seventh century.
72 Early and Heian Literature
EARLY ACCOUNTS OF JAPAN IN THE CHINESE DYNASTIC HISTORIES

The most valuable historical information in the Nihon Shoki is found

in its description of events during the century immediately preceding
its compilation," but the foreign sources it quotes are also of special
interest. For example, the description of the reign of the Empress [ingu"
in the Nihon Shoki quotes from the Wei Shih (The History of the Wei
Dynasty), the earliest account of Iapan in any language. It is the narrative
of a Chinese traveler who visited the land of Wa in the third century
A.D. The traveler went by sea to the islands of Tsushima and Iki, and
from there to Kyushu. He eventually reached the land of Wa, also
known as Yamatai, a country ruled by Queen Pimiko. Over thirty
localities have claimed the honor of being the site of Wa, the two leading
contenders being northern Kyushu and the Yamato plain around Nara.
It is not clear how large a territory Pimiko governed, nor whether Wa
was the seat of central authority in the country later known as Yamato
(or Japan), or merely a local domain; but, as the first description of
Japan, the Wei history has long appealed to the imagination of the
Japanese.
The account of Wa and of an embassy from Wa that visited China
is found in the section of the Wei history devoted to barbarian neigh-
boring countries. The Nihon Shoki did not cite the description by the
Chinese visitor of the customs of the people of Wa, but only the part
of the history that concerns the Japanese embassy:

In the sixth month of the third year of Ching-ch'u [A.D. 238] in

the reign of the Emperor Ming Ti, the queen of the Wa [PimikoJ
sent the grandee Nashonmi and others; they visited the prefecture
and asked permission to proceed to the emperor's court and present
tribute. The governor, Teng Hsia, dispatched an official who escorted
them to the capital."

The Nihon Shoki at points misquoted the Wei Shih,49 but the inclusion
of this extract in the section of the work devoted to the Empress [ingu
makes clear the purpose of the Japanese compilers: it was to identify
Pimiko, the queen of Wa, with Jingu, and thereby impart greater his-
toricity to its account of a legendary figure. The activities of [ingu in
Japan and Korea, described at length in the Nihon Shoki,\O took place
about the time of Pimiko (at least according to the traditional chro-
nology), but surely there was no connection between the two women.
The compilers of the Nihon Shoki, faced with the task of filling up the
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period 73

great expanse of time from the coronation of [irnrnu in 660 B.C. to the
seventh century A.D. with a scant number of historical facts, eagerly
sought substantiating evidence in the Chinese and Korean histories.
The Chinese court encouraged amicable relations with the queen of
Wa, and when the Japanese sent an embassy to China, the emperor
bestowed on her the title "Queen of Wa, Friendly to Wei," together
with a gold seal." The gifts sent by the Wei court to Pimiko included
swords, bronze mirrors, and beads; these perhaps were the origins of
the Japanese imperial regalia.
The subsequent accounts of Japan in the Chinese dynastic histories
often repeat the information found in the Wei history, suggesting a lack
of contact or perhaps of interest." Not until the Sui Shu (History of the
Sui Dynasty, 629-636) was fresh information incorporated in the Chinese
descriptions of Japan. In its account of the K'ai-huang era (581-600) it
states that "the king of Wa" sent an envoy to the Chinese court. This
date, corresponding to the reign of the Empress Suiko, is of special
significance because it marked a period when many Chinese customs-
for example, distinguishing court ranks by headgear-were being
adopted in the hopes of making Japan appear a civilized country in the
eyes of the Chinese.
Other information recorded in the Sui Shu is invaluable because it
describes in detail aspects of Iapanese life that the Japanese histories pass
over in silence. Here, for example, is its account of crime and punishment
in sixth-century Japan:

Sometimes pebbles are put in boiling water and both parties to

a dispute made to pick them out. The hand of the guilty one is said
to become inflamed. Sometimes a snake is kept in a jar, and the
accused ordered to catch it. If he is guilty, his hand will be bitten.
The people are gentle and peaceful. Litigation is infrequent and theft
seldom occurs."

The Sui Shu also contains mention of the Japanese adoption of

Buddhism, and of the transmission of Buddhist scriptures from Paekche.
It adds, "This was the first time that they came into possession of
characters.':" The statement was untrue, as we know from inscriptions
(as well as from the Kojiki account of Wani-kishi), but this no doubt
was the impression formed by the Chinese who had met Japanese Bud-
dhist priests.
There is also a description of the Japanese embassy of 607 to the Sui
court. This embassy was sent to pay the respects of the Japanese court
74 Early and Heian Literature
to the Chinese emperor as a protector of Buddhism, and it included
"several tens of monks" who had come to study Buddhism in China."
The good impression produced on the Chinese by the Buddhist piety
of the Japanese visitors was impaired, however, by a message delivered
by the envoy. It bore the superscription: "The Son of Heaven in the
land where the sun rises addresses a letter to the Son of Heaven in
the land where the sun sets. We trust you are in good health." When
the Chinese emperor saw this letter, he was exceedingly displeased, and
told the chief official of foreign affairs that "this letter from the bar-
barians was discourteous, and that such a letter should never again be
brought to his attention.'?" The Chinese emperor did not easily brook
another monarch addressing him in terms of equality, and he was no
doubt annoyed to be called the ruler of the land of the setting sun. The
superscription is given in less provocative terms in the Nihon Shoki,5i
but in later centuries it was often praised by Japanese nationalists, as
affording proof that Prince Shotoku maintained a spirit of independence
toward China; it may be, however, that the prince was simply unfamiliar
with the proper form of address to be used by the sovereign of a small
country when sending a communication to the Chinese emperor.
By the time of the Sung Shih (History of the Sung Dynasty), which
treats the period 960-1229, the account of Japan was not only much
fuller than before but it cited at some length the Nihon Shoki.58 There
was also a short biography of Prince Shotoku that included this praise:

It is said that when he was three years of age, he could understand

the words of ten persons speaking at the same time. At the age of
seven, he understood Buddhism. While he was giving lectures 10
the temple ... lotus flowers rained down from Heaven."

The first work of unmistakable literary intent to be composed by Jap-

anese in the Chinese language was the collection of 120 poerns'" called
Kaifu.io (Fond Recollections of Poetry), compiled in 751. Some of the
poems go back eighty years, to within a half-century of Prince Shotoku's
death.
The belief that the composition of poetry was an essential accom-
plishment of a gentleman, long held by the Chinese, was adopted by
the Japanese, always eager to emulate their mentors. Gentlemen of the
court as a result composed poetry in a foreign language that none of
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period 75

them spoke, and whose tonal patterns had constantly to be verified in

tables. The tradition of composing kanshi, as poems in Chinese were
called, continued until late in the nineteenth century, and even in the
twentieth century a few kanshi poets maintained the dignity of the
medium.
The poems in the Kaifuso have often been dismissed as being little
more than exercises in which members of the Japanese court demon-
strated their ability to cope with the rules of Chinese prosody. For the
most part, the poems are cast in the style of elegance favored in China
during the eighth century, particularly among the poets of the Liang
and Ch'en dynasties to the south." In content, too, they tend to celebrate
banquets or excursions of the court, rather than treat the poet's deepest
feelings; but there are a few poems of greater urgency, such as one
composed by Prince Otsu (662-687) when he faced execution on the
charge of attempted rebellion:

The golden crow lights on the western huts;

evening drums beat out the shortness of life.
There are no inns on the road to the grave-
Whose is the house I go to tonightP'"

It is likely that Prince Otsu composed this poem in Chinese not because
he wished to display his erudition, but because he felt emotions that he
could not fully express in Japanese. This would be true of the best kanshi
poets of later times. Prince Otsu, like eighteen other Kaifiiso poets, was
also represented in the Man'yoshu, compiled later in the eighth century.
His Japanese poem on his impending death was in quite a different
vem:

momozutau Today, taking my

iware no ike ni Last sight of the mallards on
naku kamo wo The pond of Iware,
kYo nomi mire ya A hundred times familiar,
kumogakurinan 63 Must I vanish into the cloudsr"

Prince Otsu's kanshi not only employed such Chinese terms as

"golden crow" for the sun, but attempted to impart philosophical over-
tones to his experience. The Japanese poem more directly suggests an
intimate identification with his surroundings even in the moments before
his death.
 Early and Heian Literature
The Kaifuso poetry reveals how closely the Japanese poets of the
eighth century followed Chinese models, as in this example by Ki no
Suemochi:

I built my hut by the southern woods;

I dropped my hook from the northern lake-bank.
Someone came and sporting birds disappeared;
A boat crossed, and green duckweed sank.
The moss, trembling, tells me where the fish are;
My line, being paid out, I know the depths of the pool.
Vainly I sigh, and under the tempting bait
Alone I watch the presence of greedy hearts."

The unrelenting parallelism of this poem is typical of Chinese, though

not of Japanese, expression; and the poem itself was derived almost
verbatim from "Poem on my Fishing Pole," by the sixth-century Chinese
poet Chang Cheng-chien," But even in poems that are less obviously
derived from Chinese originals, mechanical parallelism is often at work,
as in a poem by Uneme Hirafu, a court official of the early eighth
century. The poem opens:

When he discusses the Way, he is the equal of Tang;

When he speaks of Virtue, he is neighbor to Yu,
He caps the charity of Chou who buried the corpse;
He outdoes the goodness of Yin who opened the nets .. ,67

These lines, in praise of a Japanese emperor, reveal less of his character

than the familiarity of the poet with the proper Chinese literary allusions.
When composing a kanshi it was not enough to write grammatically
accurate and metrically correct Chinese, difficult though this was for a
Japanese; the poet had to allude to Chinese poetry of the past and
demonstrate also his knowledge of Chinese history. Uneme Hirafu's
poem refers to the command of King Wen of Chou who, after the corpse
of an unknown man had been dug up in the process of enlarging a
pond, ordered that it be reinterred in a deeper place; and to the mercy
of King Tang of Yin who opened the bird nets to permit the birds to
escape. There is something contrived about these efforts, bringing to
mind an English schoolboy painfully including in his Latin poem men-
tion of Philomel or of the wise Cato. Yet for Japanese courtiers of the
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period 77
eighth century composing poetry in Chinese was no mere affectation;
if the poem won approbation at the court, it might even lead to a
promotion.
Few poems described specifically Japanese scenes, though one by
Fujiwara no Fuhito (659-720), a high-ranking courtier, told of a visit
to Yoshino, the site of a summer palace, and even incorporated legends
of two Japanese ladies of the past." Other poems refer in their titles to
banquets given in honor of visitors from Korea or to excursions to various
places, but most of the Kaifuso poems are hardly more than pastiches
of familiar Chinese imagery.
One distinctly Japanese aspect of the collection, however, is the title
itself, an early expression of the nostalgia for the past that typifies not
only these poems but much of Japanese literature. The unsigned preface
nostalgically described the glorious reign of the Emperor Tenji in these
terms:

The great dignitaries had surcease from their labors; the palace
galleries knew much leisure. At times the emperor summoned men
of letters; often great banquets were held. On these occasions the
imperial brush let fall prose; the courtiers offered their eulogies in
verse. Many more than a hundred were the pieces of chiselled prose
and exquisite calligraphy. But, with the passage of time, disorders
reduced all these writings to ashes. How heart-rending it is to think
of the destruction!
In later times men of letters occasionally appeared. A prince, a
dragon apparent, made cranes soar in the clouds with his brush; an
emperor, phoenix-like, floated his moonlit boat on misty waters....
My minor position at the court has permitted me the leisure to
let my fancy wander in the garden of letters and to read the works
left by the men of former days. When I recall now those sports with
the moon and poetry, how blurred are my remembrances-yet the
words left by old brushes remain. As I go over the titles of the poems
my thoughts are carried far away, and the tears flow without my
being aware. As I lift the lovely compositions, my mind searches the
distant past, and I long for those voices that now are stilled....
Since my reason for compiling this anthology was to save from
oblivion the poetry of the great men of former days, I think it proper
to call the collection Kaifu-Fond Reminiscences."

By the middle of the eighth century Chinese civilization had come

to exert immense influence over Japan. Native traditions seemed incap-
 Early and Heian Literature
able of resisting the overwhelming prestige of the older culture. A rough
parallel can be drawn with the situation in the 1870S and 1880s, when
the Japanese manifested an almost indiscriminate fascination with Eu-
ropean ways. In both instances a reaction set in, but the reaction was
not so great as to sweep away the received foreign influences. Indeed,
for the next eleven hundred and more years after the founding of the
capital at Nara, the model remained China, and although some writers
insisted on the importance of indigenous institutions, they continued to
use Chinese characters, and they never forgot what they had learned
from China. Even Shinto, the native religion, was bolstered with Chinese
concepts and terminology (largely Taoist) in order to help it survive the
competition offered by Buddhism and Confucianism. The Japanese,
having undergone the baptism of Chinese culture, would not return to
their primeval state.

Notes
I. The frequent shifting of the capital may also have been occasioned by
the custom that required the crown prince, who lived with his mother
(the chief of the emperor's many wives), to establish his capital at his
mother's residence when he succeeded to the throne.
2. See Robert Karl Reischauer, Early Japanese History, I, pp. 169-70.
3. George Sansom, A History of Japan to 1334, p. 82.
4. The three characters are normally pronounced fudoki, but the Go-on
pronunciation was followed in this instance. The word means, literally,
"account of winds and earth."
5. Nothing is known about this man, but it has been conjectured on the
basis of his surname that he may have been of Korean extraction. See
Michiko Yamaguchi Aoki, Izumo Fudohi, p. 145.
6. Aoki, Izumo Fudoki, pp. 82-83.
7. Aoki, Izumo Fudoki, p. 115·
8. The gazetteer for the province of Hitachi was compiled between 718 and
723. See Akimoto Kichiro (ed.), Fudoki, p. 27.
9. Ibid., p. 61. Although yoku and Esaki do not seem much alike, the same
character was used to begin both words, and the old pronunciation of e
and yo was probably closer than it is today.
10. Akimoto, Fudoki, p. 49.
I I. Ibid.
12. Some quotations in the Nihon Shoki may have come from the Tsuleushi
Fudolei, which survives today only in fragments. See Kojima Noriyuki,
"Kaisetsu," in Sakamoto Taro et al. (eds.), Nihon Shoki, I, p. 15.
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period 79
13. For an explanation in English of the difference between the two names,
see Sakamoto Taro, The Six National Histories of Japan, 30-33. A fuller
account is given in Kojima, "Kaisetsu," in Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki,
I, pp. 3-6. The oldest references to the work are to Nihongi, and the
continuation was called Shoeu Nihongi, but the old manuscripts uniformly
bear the title Nihon Shoki. The difference would seem to have been based
on which type of Chinese historical writing was being followed: those
called shu (sho in Japanese), exemplified by the Han Shu or Hou Han Shu,
were more comprehensive than the chronicles known as chi (ki in Japa-
nese). The Nihon Shoei, whose name combined both shu and chi, is in
thirty books like the Han Chi or Hou Han Chi, suggesting that they, rather
than the Han Shu, were the models; but perhaps the compilers desired
to make their books more than a mere chronology and therefore called
it Nihon Shoo This was the theory of Kanda Kiichiro, who believed that
someone, noticing that the Nihon Sho; despite its title, had failed to include
biographies in the manner of a standard Chinese history, added the word
ki to make shok]. See Kojima, "Kaisetsu," p. 5; also Yamada Hideo, Nihon
Shoki, pp. 48-5°.
14. Kojima, "Kaisetsu," p. 6.
15. Some reference works give the date as 682, presumably because of con-
fusion over exactly when Ternmu's reign began. Sakamoto (The Six Na-
tional Histories, p. xi) favored the 681 date.
16. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, II, pp. 445-46. Translation by Aston, Ni-
hongi, II, p. 350. See also Sakamoto, The Six, p. 34.
17. Yamada, Nihon Shoki, p. 28.
18. Kojima Noriyuki, on the basis of stylistic mannerisms, such as the use of
Chinese particles of speech, believed he could distinguish at least ten
"groups" among the compilers of the Nihon Shok], He felt sure that some
authors were responsible for a single book, others for as many as ten of
the total of thirty books. Certain books combine the stylistic features of
several different hands, suggesting a division of labor. See Kojima,
"Kaisetsu," p. I I.
19. Kojima, "Kaisetsu," p. 20.
20. Ono Susumu, "Kaisetsu," in Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, p. 35. (The
"Kaisetsu" to the volumes of Nihon Shoki in the Nihon Koten Bungaku
Taikei series, edited by Sakamoto Taro, Ienaga Saburo, Inoue Mitsusada,
and Ono Susumu, was written by three men-Kojima Noriyuki, Ono
Susumu, and Ienaga Saburo.)
21. We know that such lectures were given in 812, 843, 878, 904, 936, and

965, and memoranda (shiki) were prepared for each session on how the
texts should be read. The 843 lectures apparently had as their chief purpose
the establishment of authoritative Japanese readings. See Ono, "Kaisetsu,"
p. 36.
22. Yamada, Nihon Shoki, p. 56; Kojima, "Kaisetsu," pp. 16-17. The Paekche
80 Early and Heian Literature
works quoted in the Nihon Shoki are (in Japanese rendering) Kudara Ki,
Kudara Shinsen, and Kudara Hongi. See Sakamoto, The Six, pp. 48-49,
for further information on these sources.
23. The dating was by cyclical characters. According to the yin-yang divination,
practiced in Japan from early times, there were two "revolutionary" years
in the cycle of sixty when great changes were likely to occur, the first and
the fifty-seventh. No doubt that was why the "coronation" of the Emperor
[imrnu was recorded as having occurred on the first day of the first month
of a shin-yu year, the fifty-seventh of the cycle, corresponding to 660 B.C.
This became the starting point for calculating dates of early Japanese
history. See Ryusaku Tsunoda et al., Sources of the Japanese Tradition, pp.
57-59·
24. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, pp. 76 and 547. These three gods were
created by the yang spirit only, with no admixture of yin. See also Aston,
Nih 0 ngi, I, p. 4.
25. A variant text (Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, p. 82; also Aston, Nihongi,
I, p. 15) mentions the leech child, and the main text also mentions his
birth, unexplained, soon afterward.
26. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, p. 84. The translation by Aston in Nihongi,
I, p. 17, is in Latin.
27. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, p. 87. Aston, Nihongi, I, p. 18.
28. The Kojiki version is given as a variant tradition in the Nihon Shok], See
Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, p. 95; also Aston, Nihongi, I, pp. 27-28.
29. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, p. 101. Also Aston, Nihongi, I, pp. 32-33.
30. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, p. 102. Aston, Nihongi, I, p. 32.
3 I. One of the rare attempts to consider the Nihon Shoki and five other early
histories composed in Chinese-the Rikkokushi-as literature was made
by Sakamoto Taro in Koten to Rehishi, pp. 1-17. Sakamoto insisted that
the separation between works of literary and historical intent observed
today did not exist in the past, and that works of obvious literary intent,
such as the Shih Ching (Book of Poetry), were read as historical sources.
On the other hand, the compilers of the Nihon Sholei and the five later
histories were trained not only in Chinese historiography but in works
that we consider literary, and incorporated both aspects of their training
when writing these histories. Sakamoto's point is well taken, but this is
still a far cry from claiming that, say, the Montoleu [itsuroku, the fifth of
the six histories, is of literary interest.
32. For the kokugaku movement see my World Within Walls, pp. 301-3,
3 10-30.
33. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, II, p. 173- Takeda Yukichi, Nihon Shoki,
IV, p. 221. Translation adapted from Aston, Nihongi, II, p. 122. Eji arrived
in Japan from the Korean kingdom of Koguryo in 595, and remained
there for twenty years before returning to his country, where he trans-
mitted the text of Shotoku's commentary on the Lotus Sutra. He died in
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period 81

622. Nothing is known about Kakuka, but his name and rank of hakase
(doctor) indicate he was either Chinese or Korean.
34. See Ogura Toyofumi, Shatoku Taishi to Shatoku Taishi Shinka, pp.
1- 1 0 4.

35. Takeda, Nihon Shoki, IV, pp. 264-65. See also Aston, Nihongi, II, p. 148.
36. Ogura, Shatoku, pp. 57-60, discusses the origins of the cult of Shotoku,
which he places in the Hakuho era in the latter part of the seventh century.
The famous portrait of Shotoku and two attendants (nephews?), now in
the Imperial Household collection, dates from the same period, but may
be a generalized portrait of a nobleman, rather than specifically a portrait
of Shotoku, See ibid., p. 59.
37. Yokota Ken'ichi, in "[ushichijo Kempe no Ichi Kosatsu," compared the
frequency of certain key words used in the Constitution with their ap-
pearances in other sections of the Nihon Shoki, and also compared the
view of the state as expressed in the Constitution. Although he reached
no definite conclusions, Yokota demonstrated that the language and
thought of the Constitution were distinctive, and that they did not resemble
those of the periods of the alleged forgers. He called attention (p, 216),
moreover, to the somewhat similar edict in six articles proclaimed in 544
by Yu-wen T'ai (505-556) of the short-lived Western Wei dynasty, a
document that Prince Shotoku might have seen. However, an examination
of this edict, written by Su Ch'o (498-546), reveals only casual similarities;
it consists mainly of moral injunctions on the necessity for the ruler to
put into practice the Way of Confucianism. See Chauncey S. Goodrich,
Biography of Su Ch'o, pp. 16-36.
38. The word kempa, which was used also for the Meiji Constitution, obviously
had a different meaning in Shotoku's time. Perhaps Aston's "moral max-
ims" (Nihongi, II, p. 128) is closer than "constitution" to the meaning of
the word, though ken and ss, from which kempa is formed, both mean
"law."
39. Text in Sakamoto et aI., Nihon Shoki, II, pp. 180-82; Takeda, Nihon Shoki,
IV, pp. 232-36. Translation adapted from Aston, Nihongi, II, p. 129, and
Tsunoda et aI., Sources, p. 50.
40. From Analects, I, 12. The passage is also found in Li Chi, but in neither
case does it specifically refer to harmony among men. Arthur Waley, in
his translation The Analects of Confucius, p. 86, gives: "In the usages of
ritual it is harmony that is prized; the Way of the Former Kings from
this got its beauty." Waley supplied a note on harmony, stating that it
meant harmony between man and nature, as exemplified by playing the
musical mode that harmonized with the season, wearing seasonal clothes,
eating seasonal food, and the like. The difference in usage between wa
in Shotoku's Constitution and in the Analects has suggested to some schol-
ars that Shotoku used this Confucian term in a Buddhist sense. See
Sakamoto et aI., Nihon Shoki, II, p. 181.
 Early and Heian Literature
41. Tsunoda, Sources, pp. 39-44, gives a selection of passages from the Nihon
Shoki that reveal the civil strife in Japan at the time.
42. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, II, p. 184. Translation in Tsunoda, Sources,
p. 52; also Aston, Nihongi, II, p. 131.
43. Shuichi Kato, in A History of Japanese Literature, translated by David
Chibbett, p. 33, states, "The Seventeen Articles ... even when read in the
Japanese as opposed to the Chinese style, must be regarded as a splendid
piece of prose."
44. For example, one passage in his commentary to the Vimalakrrti Sutra has
been traced to a Chinese work composed thirty-six years after Shotoku's
death, evidence that he could not have written it; but this passage may
have been a later interpolation. Other evidence has been adduced that
strengthens the likelihood of his authorship. See Nakamura Hajime,
"Shotoku Taishi to Nara Bukkyo," pp. 73-74.
45. The Kojiki ends with the barely stated account of the reign of the Empress
Suiko (588-628), but the Nihon Shoki continues until the abdication of
the Empress [ito in 697.
46. The Empress [ingu is officially known as a kogo (empress consort), rather
than as a tenno (emperor or empress), but the Nihon Shoki treats her in
every respect as an empress regnant.
47. Wei Shih was compiled by Ch'en Shou (233-297).
48. Translation based on Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shoki, I, p. 351. See also
Ryusaku Tsunoda and L. Carrington Goodrich, Japan in the Chinese Dy-
nastic Histories, p. 14, and Aston, Nihongi, I, p. 245.
49. For example, the date should be the second year of Ching-ch'u, and the
name of the governor was Liu Hsia and not Teng Hsia.
50. See Aston, Nihongi, I, pp. 224-53. Aston, following Japanese practice of
his time, refers to her as Jingo, but [ingu is now preferred.
51. Tsunoda and Goodrich, Japan, pp. 14-15. An even older gold seal, ap-
parently presented by the Han emperor to the king of Wa in A.D. 57, was
unearthed in northern Kyushu in 1784.
52. This is true of the accounts in the Tsin Shu, Liang Shu, and Nan Shih.
(See Tsunoda and Goodrich,]apan, p. vi.) The Han Shu, though it describes
a dynasty earlier than the Wei, was actually written 150 years later, but
contains no original information about Japan.
53. Tsunoda and Goodrich, Japan, p. 31.
54. Ibid., p. 31.
55. Ibid., p. 32 .
56. Ibid.
57. Sakamoto et al., Nihon Shok], II, p. 192. Aston, Nihongi, II, p. 139. The
Nihon Shoki text states: "The Emperor of the East respectfully addresses
the Emperor of the West." The Japanese emperor is called tenno, and the
Chinese emperor kotei. In the letter, as given in the Chinese source, both
emperors are called tenshi (son of heaven).
Writings in Chinese of the Nara Period
58. Tsunoda and Goodrich, Japan, p. 50.
59. Ibid., p. 51. See also Aston, Nihongi, II, p. 122.
60. So stated in the preface, but extant texts lack several poems.
61. See Burton Watson, Japanese Literature in Chinese, I, p. 9.
62. Ibid., I, p. 18. The text in the Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series edited
by Kojima Noriyuki, Kaifuso, Bunlia Shurei Shu Honcho Monzui, p. 77,
has a somewhat different last line.
63. Poem 416 (Book III) of the Man'yoshu. See Takagi Ichinosuke et aI.,
Man'yoshu, I, p. 199.
64. Translation adapted from The Manyoshu (Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai
translation), p. 19.
65. Kojima, Kaifuso, p. 95. See also Watson, Japanese, I, p. 20.
66. Watson, Japanese, I, p. 20. Kojima, Kaifiiso, p. 95, also labels the poem a
plagiarism. The first two lines of the poem by Chang Cheng-chien will
suggest the similarities: I built my hut by the long river; / I dropped my hook
from the wide river bank. . . . Apart from minor changes in vocabulary, the
only difference between the two poems is that Suernochi's poem omits
four lines of the source. (See Kojima, Kaifiiso, p. 454')
67. Kojima, Kaifuso, pp. 1°9-10.
68. Ibid., pp. 100, 455-56.
69. Tsunoda et al., Sources, pp. 91-92.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Akimoto Kichiro (ed.). Fudohi, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei senes.

Iwanami Shoten, 1958.
Aoki, Michiko Yamaguchi. Izumo Fudoki. Sophia University, 1971.
Aston, W. G. (trans.). Nihongi, 2 vols. London: Kegan Paul, 1896.
Goodrich, Chauncey S. Biography ofSu Ch'o, Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1961.
Ichikawa Mototaro, Nihon Kambungaleushl Gaisetsu. Daian, 1969.
Inoue Mitsusada. "Nihon Shoki no Seiritsu to Kaishaku no Rekishi," in Nihon
Shoki, Nihon no Meicho series. Chua Karon Sha, 1971.
Kasai Masaaki. "[odaishi Kenkyu Nernpyo oyobi Kaisetsu," Nihon Shoki
KenkY u 3, 1968.
Kato, Shuichi. A History of Japanese Literature, translated by David Chibbett.
Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1981.
Kojima Noriyuki. [odai Nihon Bungaku to Chugoku Bungahu, 2 vols. Hanawa
Shobe, 1962-65.
 Early and Heian Literature
- - - . Kaifiiso, Bunlea Shiirei ssa, Honcho Monzui, in Nihon Koten Bungaku
Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1964.
- - - . "Kaisetsu," in Sakamoto Taro et al., Nihon Shobi,
Kurumisawa Ryukichi. Wayaku Shishu Kaifuso. Gakutosha, 1972.
The Manyoshii, translation of the Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1965.
Nakamura Hajime. "Shotoku Taishi to Nara Bukkyo," in Shotoku Taishi,
Nihon no Meicho series. Chua Koren Sha, 1970.
Ogura Toyofumi. Shotoku Taishi to ShOtoku Taishi Shinko. Kyoto: Sogeisha,
1972 .
Okada Masayuki. Gmi Nara Cho no Kambungaku, Tarnba-shi: Yotokusha, 1946.
Ono Susumu. "Kaisetsu," in Sakamoto Taro et aI., Nihon Shoki.
Reischauer, Robert Karl. Early Japanese History. Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1937.
Sakamoto Taro. Koten to Rekishi. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1977.
- - - . The Six National Histories ofJapan , trans. John S. Brownlee. Vancouver:
University of British Columbia Press, 1991.
Sakamoto Taro, Ienaga Saburo, Inoue Mitsusada, and Ono Susumu (eds.).
Nihon Shoki, 2 vols., in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami
Shoten, 1967.
Sansom, George. A History ofJapan to 1334. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Univer-
sity Press, 1958.
Takagi Ichinosuke, Gomi Tomohide, and Ono Susumu, Man 'yoshii, I, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1957.
Takeda Yukichi, Nihon Shoki, 6 vols., in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zensho series.
Asahi Shimbun Sha, 1948-57.
Tanaka Tsuguhito. "Hasseiki Zempan ni okeru Shotoku Taishi Shinko no
11tta1," Koten Kenkyu (Gango)l), 11, 1977.
- - - . "Shotoku Taishi-den no Seiri," Nihon ShokJ KenkYii, 11, 1979.
"Tomoda K1c'n1nosuke. Nihon Shoki Seiritsu no Kenkyu. Kasarna S'no1n, 1969.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene. Sources of
Japanese Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, and L. Carrington Goodrich. Japan in the Chinese Dynastic
Histories. South Pasadena, Calif.: P. D. Perkins, 1951.
Ueda Masaaki. Fudoki, Kyoto: Shakai Shiso Sha, 1975.
Waley, Arthur. The Analects of Confucius. London: George Allen and Unwin,
1938.
Watson, Burton. Japanese Literature in Chinese, 1. New York: Columbia Uni-
versity Press, 1975.
Yamada Hideo. Nihon Shoki. Kyoikusha, 1979.
Yamagishi Tokuhei. Nihon Kambungahushi Ronko. Iwanami Shoten, 1974.
Yokota Ken'ichi, "[ushichijo Kernpo no Ichi Kosatsu," Nihon Shoki KenkYii 3,
1968.
 3.
THE MAN'YOSHU

The Man'yoshii is the first and, in the opinion of most who have written
l

about Japanese literature, the finest collection of Japanese poetry. It is

the richest in terms of the variety of poetic forms and subjects, and the
poets included members of different social classes, though later collec-
tions consisted almost exclusively of poetry composed at the court. Above
all, it is the intensity of the emotions expressed that imparts immediacy
and strength to the poetry. Later Japanese poets often relied on sug-
gestion to amplify what could be explicitly stated in verse forms as short
as the waka or the haiku. A combination of statement and suggestion
gives the Man'voshi; its unique place among anthologies of Japanese
poetry.
The level of accomplishment of even the early poems is so much
higher than that of the songs in the Kojiki, the Nihon Shoki, and other
early works- that it comes rather as a shock to realize that many were
composed well before the compilation of the Kojiki in 712. Indeed,
connections between the poetry in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki and
those in the Man'yoshii have been demonstrated.' Probably the Man'yoshi;
poems, like those in the Kojiki, were originally sung; the word uta meant
both "song" and "poem."! Again, the Kojiki and Man'yoshii poems have
both been praised for their simple, "masculine" style. There is, however,
a world of difference between the two: many Man'voshi; poems were
silently absorbed into later collections without disturbing the prevailing
"feminine" mood, but few Kojiki poems could be introduced into the
Man'yoshii, let alone later collections, without jarring. Unquestionably,
the forms of the waka" and sedoka poems in the Kojiki also exercised
influence on the composition of Man'yoshii poetry, but we are likely to
be more aware of the dissimilarities separating the primitive utterances
of the Kojiki from the magnificent poetry of the Man'yoshii, notably the
86 Early and Heian Literature

long poems by Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, whose entire oeuvre was

completed before the compilation of the Kojik).
Political and social developments within the country, as well as new
conceptions of the functions of poetry, help to explain the differences
between the poetry of the Kojiki and of the Man'yoshu. The beginnings
of the Man'yoshu have been traced by some scholars to a political event,
the Taika Reform of 645-46,6 an attempt to put into practice in Japan
the systems of land tenure, provincial government, and taxation then in
operation in China." The elimination of the power of the chieftains, who
had hitherto ruled almost independently of the emperor, and the estab-
lishment of an absolute monarchy along Chinese lines were part of a
massive effort to strengthen the country. The rise of the powerful Tang
dynasty (618-907) represented a threat to Japanese security, the mag-
nitude of which was fully perceived in 660, fifteen years after the Taika
Reform, when the Chinese conquered the Korean kingdom of Paekche.
The Reform was a desperate attempt to "modernize" the country
by political and social measures, but the Japanese were aware that it
was not enough to consolidate the administration; they would have to
establish themselves in the eyes of the Chinese as a civilized country.
The Japanese, though proud of their own traditions, were well aware
that unless they absorbed Chinese civilization they would be considered
to be no better than barbarians and as such would be subject to "civilizing
missions" that might even take the form of invasion. Fortunately for
the Japanese, the Chinese conquest of Paekche led to a flood of refugees
making their way to Japan. These refugees included men who were
educated in Chinese learning, and they became tutors to the Japanese
upper class." It has been suggested that Yamanoue no Okura, one of the
finest Man'yoshi; poets, was originally a refugee from Paekche."
The absorption of Chinese learning, which may in the first instance
have been undertaken largely in the hopes of strengthening the country,
enormously enriched Japanese poetry. The parallelism typical of Hito-
maro's major poems was almost certainly inspired by Chinese poetry,
and his realization of the importance of imparting a unified meaning
to a poem, not a matter of much concern to the Kojiki poets, marked
the change from folk poetry to the poetry of individual poets who had
mastered their craft.
New themes, new modes of expression, and new uses of poetry were
quickly naturalized, but the Japanese remained reluctant to borrow
Chinese words for use in Japanese poetry." When, for example, the
Japanese came to celebrate the Chinese festival commemorating the two
stars that meet once a year, the seventh night of the seventh moon, they
The Man' y o s h u 87

called the occasion by a Japanese name, Tanabata, and carefully avoided

terminology that might suggest the festival had foreign origins.
The oldest surviving texts of the Man'yoshu indicate that Japanese
pronunciations were intended throughout, even when the underlying
conceptions of poems were directly borrowed from China. With two
exceptions, the only words pronounced in approximations of Chinese
sounds are found in the heavily Buddhist Book XVI.ll The fact that
almost all the dozen or so words in the Man'yoshi; given Sino-Japanese
pronunciations were related to Buddhism does not mean, however, that
they were always used in pious contexts. The following "poem of rid-
icule," addressed to a priest, and his reply, both in Book XVI, dem-
onstrate the contrary:

hoshira ga Do not tether a horse

hige no sorihui To the stubble
uma tsunagi Of my new-shaven priest's chin,
itaku na hiki so And pull too hard!
hiish] wa nahan For, poor priest, he will cry."

,
THE PRIEST S REPLY

dan'ochi ya Oh, say not that!

shika mo na ii so You too will cry,
sato osa ga Good parishioner,
edachi hataraba When the village master comes
imashi mo nahan To collect the taxes."

In the above poems the words hosh: (priest) and dan'ochi (parishioner)
are given in Sino-Japanese pronunciation. Such Chinese material things
as "incense" or "pagoda" occur in several poems of humorous intent
where the intrusion of an unfamiliar foreign word may have contributed
a comic note to an otherwise purely Japanese context." In any case, only
a tiny fraction of the 6,343 different words in the Man'yoshu were
pronounced in Sino-Japanese fashion, though many poems, whether
secular or Buddhist, reveal Chinese influence." A few words such as
ume ("plum," Chinese mei) and yanagi ("willow," Chinese yang) repre-
sent earlier borrowings that by this time had been assimilated into the
Japanese language.
The fact that (with extremely few exceptions) the words of the poems
were intended to be pronounced in Japanese meant that, in the absence
of a native Japanese system of writing, Chinese characters were used to
88 Early and Heian Literature

transcribe Japanese sounds. Characters were sometimes used as phono-

grams, in the manner of the poems in the Kojiki, but often also for their
meaning. The use of two essentially different systems of writing was
mercifully superseded with the invention of the kana in the ninth century,
but the change in writing meant that Man'yoshi; poems that were not
known orally tended to become obscure or even indecipherable. For
centuries not even the most learned scholars could read the Man'yoshi«,
and some poems have yet to be given definitive pronunciations." More-
over, even when the individual words of a poem can be ascertained, the
sense of the whole is sometimes elusive. Certain poems that seem to be
no more than lyrical cries from the poet's heart have been analyzed with
such care (and imagination) that to read all the researches on a single
poem may take weeks of study.
The meaning of even the title has engaged specialists for centuries.
The three ideograms used to represent man-yo-shu mean literally "Ten
Thousand Leaves Collection," and it has often been stated that this was
a figurative way of referring to the large number of poems in the
collection (shu), some 4,516 poems in all." "Ten thousand" (man), like
the English word "myriad," was used to express an indefinitely large
number. Another theory is that "leaf" (yo) stood for kotoba or the earlier
lroto no ha, meaning "leaves of words," and yielding the similar meaning
of a "collection of ten thousand words," but the term koto no ha seems
not to have existed at the time of the compilation of the Man'yoshu.J8
Still another theory, advanced originally by scholars of Chinese lit-
erature, was that "ten thousand leaves" was used to mean "ten thousand
ages," an expression found not only in numerous Chinese works but in
the Nihon Shoki and other early Japanese texts composed in Chinese."
This seems the most probable explanation, but it does not entirely solve
the problem of the title: should the title be interpreted as a "collection
of ten thousand ages" (that is, an exaggerated description of the perhaps
four hundred years of poetry included in the Man'yoshu) or as a "col-
lection to last ten thousand years," a somewhat immodest claim? The
great authority on Japanese literature, Origuchi Shinobu (1887-1953),
offered still another interpretation: that "ten thousand years" represented
a conventional prayer that the sovereign would enjoy a reign of that
duration."
The compiler and the time of compilation of the Man'voshi; have
also been much debated. The work lacks a preface or similar document
describing the compilation, and scholars have therefore had to rely on
old records or else on clues within the poems themselves in their efforts
to determine even the most basic facts. The earliest theory concerning
The Man I y o s h 0.

the compiler was given in the eleventh-century chronicle Eiga Monogatari

(A Tale of Flowering Fortunes), where it is reported that the Empress
Koken in 753 commanded Tachibana no Moroe, the minister of the
Left, to compile the Man'yoshu;" In the thirteenth century the priest
Senkaku (c. 1200-1272), who devoted much of his life to the study of
the Man 'yoshii , accepted Moroe as the compiler. However, scholars of
the Tokugawa period decided on the basis of internal evidence that the
compiler was the poet Otomo no Yakarnochi."
The most positively worded opinion was that of the priest and
National Learning scholar Keichu (164°-17°1), who wrote,

This was not an imperially sponsored collection (chokusenshii),

nor was Moroe the compiler. Yakamochi, aged twenty-seven or
twenty-eight at the time, chose and determined the contents of vol-
umes I to XVI by about 744-45, transcribing poems that he had
read and heard since the days of his youth. He brought together the
legacy of the past, ending with the poem in Book XVII dated the
fifth day of the fifth moon of 744.... He continued his work of
gradually assembling poems until he reached the end of Book
XX.... It was not until 759 that he completed his compilation."

The last dated poem in the Man'yoshii was indeed composed in 759,
and the identification of Otorno no Yakamochi as the chief compiler is
generally accepted today; but the compilers of individual volumes and
the time that the text assumed its present form are still disputed."
Origuchi reached the conclusion that the final compilation took place
during the reign of the Emperor Heizei (806-809), who was known as
the "Nara emperor" because of his attachment to the old capital.
Origuchi placed the compilation at this point because Yakamochi, who
died in the eighth moon of 785, was stripped of his rank in the following
month when members of his family were implicated in the murder of
the Middle Councillor Fujiwara no Tanetsugu. Yakamochi was not
involved in the crime, but he was posthumously dishonored all the same,
and not until 806, when the Emperor Kammu on his deathbed pardoned
him and restored his rank, could a work so closely associated with
Yakamochi be publicly recognized."
The vast majority of the more than 4,000 poems in the Man'yoshu
are waka, but the masterpieces of the collection are the 265 choka, or
long poems. There are also 62 sedoka and some poems in nontraditional
forms, including 4 in Chinese. The oldest poem in the collection, if we
9° Early and Heian Literature

can accept the attribution, is the first, said to have been composed by
the Emperor Yuryaku (reigned 457-79).
The Man'yoslu; is unique, first of all, in its variety of poetic forms.
It is true that the choka was vestigially preserved in the Kokinshu, but
in the Man'yoshu this form attained its highest development, and it would
never again serve as the medium of the best poetry of its time. The
sedoka, which soon became obsolete, was still functional in the hands
of the Man'yoshi: poets but would later become merely a curiosity. There
is also one poem in the Man'yoshu in the distinctive bussoleusehi-tai or
"style of the footprint of the Buddha," referring to the poems in 5, 7,
5,7,7, and 7 syllables carved into the stone representation of the footprint
of the Buddha consecrated in 749 at the Yakushi-ji in Nara." The variety
of poetic forms contributes to the appeal of the Man'yoshu, especially to
the Western reader who is likely to be daunted by the more normal
collections of thousands of poems, all in the form of the waka.
The diversity of forms is emphasized by the exceptionally rich vo-
cabulary of the Man'yoshu. Some words occur in no later poetry; it would
seem that the court poets found many items of vocabulary insufficiently
elegant to be employed in their compositions. The meanings of some
items of vocabulary, notably the makurakotoba, words or phrases that
often function as fixed epithets before the names of places, can also be
obscure." The syntax is likely to be involved, perhaps necessarily so: a
choka that is less than tightly constructed quickly drops into prose.
The subject matter of Man'yoshu poetry is also more varied than in
later collections. There are many poems about love (as was true also of
the Kojiki) , others describe nature and the passing of the seasons, and
many poems relate to travel. These themes would recur in all collections,
but certain subjects are unique to the Man'yoshu, The amplitude of
expression, possible in a poem of thirty or forty lines, as opposed to the
five of a waka, enabled the poets to compose narratives, elegies for
deceased princes or princesses, congratulatory poems on events of na-
tional importance, or poems expressing grief over parting from one's
family for the frontier in some distant province. These poems give the
Man'yoshi; its special cachet.
Many chronologically early poems in the Man'yoshu seem to be purely
Japanese in origin, but the later poems reveal unmistakable influence
from abroad: Taoist influence in the poems in praise of sake, Buddhist
influence in the specifically religious poems, Confucian influence in the
poems of Yamanoue no Okura, as well as a general influence of Chinese
literature, which became increasingly familiar to Japanese.
The authorship of the poems is also more heterogeneous than that
The Man I y o s h u 91
of the later anthologies. Many of the poets served at the court, but there
are also poems by frontier guards, by people of the eastern provinces,
and by many unidentified persons. It is possible that some poems, os-
tensibly by commoners, were actually composed by courtiers in the guise
of farmers or soldiers, but the poems seem genuine.
These factors distinguish the Man'voshi; from later collections of
poetry, but perhaps its chief distinction is that-unlike the poems in
later collections that may be marvels of mood and suggestion but are
too brief to state much-the Man'yoshu poems are usually direct in their
statements of the poet's emotions. The scholars of National Learning
characterized the pervading tone of the Man'yi5shu as masuraoburi ("man-
liness"), as opposed to the tawayameburi ("femininity") of the later col-
lections. Modern scholars tend to reject such characterization as
oversimplification, but the "manliness" of the Man'yoshu-real or imag-
ined-undoubtedly contributed to its popularity during the war years
of 1941-45, when the "spirit of the Man'yoshu" was frequently invoked
and the "femininity" of the Koltinshu fell into disfavor. It is by no means
difficult to find Man'yoshi; poems that anticipate the "femininity" of
later poetry, but the distinctive tone of the collection, sometimes also
called its "simplicity" in contrast to the effete elegance of the Heian
courtiers, is not wholly imagined. The combination of masculine and
feminine, direct and indirect, stated and suggested, contributes impor-
tantly to the richness and universality of the Man'yoshu.
The particular strength of the Man'yoshu lies in the ability of the
poets to treat the truly tragic, as opposed to the melancholic, the harshly
dramatic, as opposed to the touching. There is a whole repertory of
poems, for example, on such subjects as the poet's reflections upon seeing
a dead body by the side of the road or on the shore. Dead bodies do
not appear in the Kokinshu or Shin Kokinshu. The rules of good taste
had come to dominate poetic composition, and if the falling of the cherry
blossoms could stir an awareness of transcience similar to the sight of
a corpse, it was clearly in better taste to write about cherry blossoms.
Some poems on cherry blossoms do indeed convey so poignant a sense
of the passing of time as to bring tears to the reader's eyes, but the
dramatic impact of falling cherry blossoms is different from that of the
sight of a corpse.
The Man'vostu; is in twenty books. The significance of this number
is not known. Some believe it was an accidental result of a patchwork
compilation appended at various times to an "Ur-Man'yoshu," The first
two books may have been compiled by imperial commission and the
later books added as the editor or editors thought appropriate." The
 Early and Heian Literature

eventual format of twenty books would be arbitrary, but this accident

determined the number of books in almost all subsequent imperially
sponsored collections."

Nakanishi Susumu characterized the first period of the Man'voshu as

one dominated by kotoba no anna (women of words), a term he used to
designate women, probably in their thirties or older, whose duties at
court consisted chiefly of composing poetry on formal occasions, either
in their own voices or as surrogates. They may also have been charged
with preserving and reciting the poetry and tales of the past, in the
manner attributed to Hieda no Are." It may seem paradoxical that the
Man 'yosh u, usually treated as the most "masculine" of the anthologies
of court poetry, should have been given its characteristic tone by women,
but Nakanishi insisted that they were the central Man'voslu; poets during
most periods;" the love poems that make up the bulk of Man'yoshu
poems were either written by or to women, and male poets excelled
only in the public poems. This suggests the danger of contrasting the
Man'yoshu and later collections by using the convenient but inexact terms
"masculine" and "feminine"; it might be better to speak in terms of
"public" and "private" or perhaps (remembering masuraoburi and
tawayameburi) in terms of "strong" and "sensitive."
The poems in the first book of the Man'yoshu are classified as zoka
(miscellaneous poems) and those of the second book as somon (mutual
inquiries) and banka (elegies). These remained the three principal cat-
egories of poetry throughout the collection. The most important category
was the "mutual inquiries," an oblique way of referring to love poetry.
Over half the poems in the Man'yoshi; are about love. The love affairs
described are generally unhappy and frustrated, and this would be true
of most love poetry in the later anthologies. The elegies, often public
poems that treat the deaths of members of the court, were presumably
written in response to requests from the emperor or a high-ranking
official; but some elegies are private, mourning the death of members
of the poet's own family. The remaining poems-those that dealt neither
with love nor death-were classified as "miscellaneous.">' The term
zoka seems to have been derived from the Chinese term tsa-shih, also
meaning "miscellaneous poems," found in the Wen Hsiian and other
collections of Chinese poetry."
It is curious that Book I should have opened with "miscellaneous
The Man I y o s h u 93

poems," suggesting that it consisted of leftovers that belonged to no

category. Perhaps, as Nakanishi suggested, it was only after Book II
had been classified into love poems and elegies that the compilers decided
that the poems in Book I should also have a designation, and "miscel-
laneous" was the only term applicable to al1. 35
The poems in Book I are arranged in chronological order, beginning
with a poem attributed to the Emperor Yuryaku, This poem, like the
first in Book II, stands apart from others in the book. Yuryaku's is
immediately followed by one by the Emperor [ornei (reigned 629-42),
and the remaining poems of Book I (with the exception of a few late
works appended at the end) were composed in the second half of the
seventh century.
It is puzzling that a poem by the Emperor Yuryaku, described in
the Kojiki mainly in terms of his brutality, and who lived 150 years
before the other poets of Book I, should have been given such a prom-
inent place. It has been suggested that Yuryaku's poem, in the irregular
meter typical of Kojiki poetry, represented antiquity to the compilers of
the Man'yoshii, and that they chose a work by an emperor who, if not
admirable in his behavior, was both a warrior and a poet and, above
all, a man successful in his love affairs." The Emperor [omei, the author
of the second poem, was the successor to the Empress Suiko, the last
sovereign mentioned in the Kojiki; the Man'voshii can thus be interpreted
as opening with a bow toward antiquity, after which it takes up where
the Kojiki left off, presenting poems composed in the following reigns."
The poem by Yuryaku at first glance seems to offer no problems of
interpretation:

komo yo mikomochi Your basket, with your pretty

[uleushi mochi mibulrushi mochi basket
kono olea ni natsumasu ko Your trowel, with your little trowel,
ie kikana nanorasa ne Maiden, picking herbs on this
sora mitsu Yamato no kuni wa hill-
oshinabete ware koso ore I would ask you: Where is your
shikinabete ware koso imase home?
ware kosoba nanorame Will you not tell me your name?
ie wo mo no wo mo Over the spacious land of Yamato
It is I who reign so wide and far,
It is I who rule so wide and far.
I myself, as your lord, will tell you
Of my home and my name."
94 Early and Heian Literature

A close examination of this pastorale reveals a number of complex-

ities. Why, for example, does the emperor use honorifics when addressing
the girl? We might suppose that he was just being polite, or that he
was attempting to ingratiate himself with the girl, but scholars insist
that there must be some special significance: the girl is either a priestess,
to whom even an emperor must be polite, or else she is the daughter
of a powerful chieftain whose lands the emperor covets. Those who
believe that the girl is a priestess interpret the act of picking greens as
one of ritual significance. The places where greens were picked, the
time of day, and the amount picked were all ritually determined. Picking
greens was an act of tamafuri, or summoning of the souls of the dead,
and it was performed in the hopes of bringing back a loved one who
had died; the emperor used honorifics because the girl was engaged in
a sacred duty."
Those who believe that the girl was the daughter of a chieftain must
explain why the ruler of Yamato-of all Japan, one might suppose-
should have felt obliged to dally with a mere chieftain's daughter in
order to consolidate his territories. One authority's response to this
challenge was to aver that Yamato was not another name for Japan or
even for any well-defined administrative area, but merely designated
the visible surroundings, or possibly some particular province."
We proceed next to the questions the emperor asks the girl. Here
the reconstruction of the original pronunciations presents special prob-
lems. The usual reconstruction from the Chinese characters is ie norase,
na norasane ("Tell me your home, tell me your name"); but some prefer
ie kikan, na norasane ("I would hear of your home, tell me your name.")"
Apart from the academic interest in the correct pronunciation, there is
the question of why the emperor wants to know the girl's name. This
may seem so obvious as to require no explanation. But we are informed
that primitive peoples show extreme reluctance to divulge their names
because it is tantamount to giving other persons control over themselves."
Asking the girl's name was a bold, perhaps even an intimidating action.
At this point a break occurs. So far, the emperor has been addressing
the girl, but the rest of the poem is concerned with who he is. This,
again, offers no special problems for the casual reader; it is natural that
the speaker, having asked the other person's name, should identify
himself. But the fact that the poem consists of two parts has suggested
to some commentators that it was originally a dance, perhaps even an
embryonic drama." The nature of this drama was explained at some
length by Ito Haku, who believed that recognition by the reader of the
The Ma n Ly o s h u 95
break between the two parts of the poem was the most important factor
in understanding the whole. According to Ito, the emperor asked the
girl's name as an act of courtship, and if she had given her name it
would have meant she had consented. In that case, Yuryaku would not
have needed to continue his poem; but the fact that he felt it necessary
to identify himself is an indication that she must have hesitated or refused
outright to divulge her name. The emperor proclaimed his importance
in order to persuade her to reconsider. He also implied that even if the
girl were unwilling to reveal who she was, he was ready to make
the first move. At this point, the girl acceded. The poem ends with the
promise that the emperor and the girl will be united." Ito interpreted
the poem as a "primitive, ancient opera with Emperor Yuryaku for its
hero."" The purpose of the opera was to celebrate the union of the
emperor with the land (personified by the girl) and thereby to assure
prosperity and a bountiful harvest.
Even if one accepts this interpretation, the final lines are still puz-
zling. Why should the emperor, having already identified himself as the
ruler of the land, promise to tell the girl his name? Commentators, long
troubled by this point, have attempted to find alternative readings for
the Chinese characters that would permit a more logical conclusion to
the poem. The linguist Ono Susumu proposed the reading ware ni koso
wa norame ie wo mo (Tell me, your lord, about your horne)." This
rendering of the final lines makes the poem read more logically, but it
destroys the break which Ito, writing twenty years after Ono, thought
was the key to understanding the real meaning of the poem. Some
specialists, going even further than Ito, have asserted that the poem not
only contains a hiatus but was originally two independent poems. They
argue that if the poem had been a unified expression of courtship, it
would have been included among the "mutual inquiries" poems; but
its place at the head of a book of "miscellaneous poems" indicates that
the compiler did not consider it to be a love poem. Perhaps the original
poem consisted of only the first half, in which the emperor addresses a
girl who is picking sacred herbs; but in the process of oral transmission
the second half, originally unrelated to the first, was appended, trans-
forming the nature of the poem."
Many Man'yoshu poems have been studied with all but fanatical care
by scholars who have gladly consecrated their lives to elucidating trou-
blesome points. The slightest variation in readings has been deemed
worthy of a learned article, and there are specialized studies of the plants
mentioned in the Man'yoshu, biographies (though firm facts are scarce)
 Early and Heian Literature

of the major poets, and detailed considerations of the religious and

philosophical background." Such publications sometimes provide new
insights into the meanings the poems might have had for Japanese of
the seventh and eighth centuries, but they seldom increase the literary
enjoyment of modern readers. One further example from the early
Man'yoshu will make this even clearer. It is the second poem, attributed
to the Emperor [ornei."

eLI M BIN G K A G U-Y A M A AND L 0 0 KIN G U P 0 N

THE LAND

Yamato ni wa Countless are the mountains

murayama aredo in Yamato,
toriyorou but perfect is
Ame no Kaguyama the heavenly hill of Kagu:
noboritachi When I climb it
kunimi wo sureba and survey my realm,
kunihara wa Over the wide plain
keburi tachitatsu the smoke wreaths rise and rise,
unahara wa over the wide sea
kamame tachitatsu the gulls are on the wing;
umashi kuni zo a beautiful land it is,
Ahusushima Akitsushima,
Yamato no kuru wa the Land of Yarnato."

Even in translation one can sense the wonder and delight in the
land; and the forward movement of the poem to the climax in Yamato
no kuni wa may recall John of Gaunt's enumeration of the glories of
his country, concluding with "This England!" Most readers will prob-
ably not feel the need of explanations, but commentators have not let
this poem pass without scrutiny. Apart from a few questions of pro-
nunciation, the meaning of the makurakotoba toriyorou, a hapax lego-
menon, has variously been defined as "sheathed" (as with armor) by
vegetation, or as "perfect."?' There are also several problems of inter-
pretation. First, how was it possible for the emperor to observe the sea
from the top of Mount Kagu, a hill only 148 meters high? Not only is
the sea distant, but there are tall mountains intervening and blocking
the view. It has been suggested that perhaps the emperor was referring
not to the sea but to one of several ponds in the vicinity; alternatively,
it has been opined that the emperor did not actually have to catch a
The Man I y o s h u 97

glimpse of the sea in order to enter the mood of having seen it.? But
if he saw a freshwater pond and not the sea, what of the gulls? The
word kamame is usually interpreted as being a variant on kamome, the
seagull. If the emperor had been looking at a pond, ducks would be more
appropriate than seagulls; but Man'yoshu scholars, stopping at nothing
in their passion for accuracy, report that seagulls have been sighted
as far as twenty-five miles inland, and there is no reason why they
could not have found their way to a pond at the foot of Mount Kagu."
Again, the smoke seen by the emperor has often been interpreted
as a reference to hearth fires, on the analogy of the passage from the
Kojiki where the Emperor Nintoku, having climbed a tower, notices
that no smoke is rising from the hearths of his people, and he remits
taxes until he sees smoke rising once again. However, another theory
has it that the "smoke" refers to mist hovering in pockets of the hills."
Even more recently, a scholar has suggested that the smoke is not from
hearths but from campfires built in the fields by people celebrating the
spring festival at which greens were gathered and made into a soup;
the meal was followed by singing and an orgy. In support of this
interpretation, reference is made to the poems written by Takahashi no
Mushimaro on climbing Mount Tsukuba the day of a kagai (or utagaki),
an exchange of amorous poems by men and women that was often
followed by sexual intercourse:

washi no sumu On Mount Tsukuba

Tsulruba no yama no where eagles dwell,
Mohabitsu no By the founts
sono tsu no ue ni of Mohakitsu,
adomoite Maidens and men,
odome otolto no in troops assembling,
yukitsudoi Hold a kagai, vying in poetry;
kagau kagai ni I will seek company
hitozuma ni With others' wives,
wa mo maprawan Let others woo my own....
wa ga tsuma ni
hito mo kototoe55

An anonymous poem also seems to refer to the ceremony:

Kasuga no ni Yonder on the plain of Kasuga

kemuri tatsu miyu I see wreaths of smoke arise-
 Early and Heian Literature

otomera shi Are the young girls

harano no uwagi Boiling the starworts,
tsumite nirashi mo Plucked from the fields of spring i "

Apart from the different interpretations of details, there is the ques-

tion of the meaning of [omei's poem as a whole. Specialists believe that
the key word is kunimi, "looking at the land," a religious rite performed
by the emperor in the spring, anticipating autumn harvests." Perhaps
the mention of the smoke that fills the mountains and the birds that fill
the air over the sea were an augury of the crops that would fill the
fields. 58
The various theories that have been advanced concerning the mean-
ings of individual words and of the ritual background do not help us
much to grasp what is really memorable about [ornei's poem, his exultant
joy over the landscape, but most commentators seem to derive no more
pleasure from poems of this surpassing loveliness than from others, of
no literary importance, that offer equally demanding problems of analy-
sis. The use of the Man'yoshu (and other early poetry) as a means of
understanding ancient Japanese society and customs is of course not only
valid but important, but burdening each poem with such interpretations
tends to obscure its interest as poetry."
The third and fourth poems of Book I of the Man'yoshu are both
choka in eighteen verses followed by a hanlea, a poem in the same form
as a waka. From this point on we find one or more hanka appended
to each choka. The meaning of the word hanka has been much debated.
Some believe that it was derived from the short poems appended by
Chinese poets to the fu, a long prose-poem; but this has been disputed,
and no one has come up with a convincing explanation of why the
Japanese used the term. The han of hanka can mean "repeat" or "re-
spond," and as early as Nijo Yoshimoto's Tsukuba Mondo (Questions
and Answers on Renga, 1372) it was stated that the function of the
hanka was to repeat the content of a choka within thirty-one syllables."
It has also frequently been claimed that the narrative choka was com-
plemented by the lyric hanka."
These theories contribute to our understanding of how the hanka
has been understood over the centuries, but perhaps the English trans-
lation "envoy" conveys as much as we really know. In some instances
the hanka are called tanka62 either by the poet himself or the compiler.
It is hard to explain why Hitomaro referred to some "envoys" as tanka
and to others as hanka. Perhaps this represented no more than a change
in his vocabulary over the years, though it has been suggested that he
The Ma n yo s h u
I
99
intended the word tanka to indicate that the appended poem did not
merely repeat the themes of the choka but was to be read as an inde-
pendent work.f Regardless of whether the "envoys" are called hanka
or tanka, they are usually more personal than the choka they follow,
and point the way to the future development of the waka as a lyrical,
non-narrative poem. In the case of Hitornaro's hanka especially, the
mutual relationships of the two or more hanka appended to a choka
seem to have been considered as carefully as the relationship of each to
the choka,
The hanka to Poem 3 of Book I, a choka describing the emperor's
hunt in the fields of Uchi, effectively resumes the choka. This poem
bears the headnote: "Poem which Princess Nakatsu had Hashihito Oyu
present when the Emperor went hunting in the fields of Uchi."64 The
identity of Princess Nakatsu is disputed; one rather confusing theory is
that she was also called Hashihito. Such problems need not detain us;
the headnote is important because it provides evidence that poetry was
sometimes composed by one person in place of another. We therefore
cannot always accept at face value attributions of authorship. Members
of the court were at times obliged to compose poems, whether in response
to some event or to another person's poem. Obviously, not all at the
court were gifted as poets, and it was natural for some other member
of the court, someone of proven poetic ability, to compose a poem in
that person's stead. Nakanishi suggested (as noted above) that much
early Man'yoshu poetry was composed by a group of court ladies who
were charged with this task." Chief of these ladies was Princess Nukata,"
who emerged as the first poet of distinction of the collection even though
she is credited with relatively few poems-eight waka and three choka,
all but two of which are "public" poems. Poem 8 of Book I was composed
by Nukata in 66r after the Empress Saimei had left for Kyushu from
where she was to dispatch a fleet to relieve the kingdom of Paekche,
an ally, from the attacks of the combined armies of Silla and China.
Nukata's poem describes one stage of the voyage to Kyushu:

Nigitazu ni At Nigitazu
funanori sen to We have waited for the moon
tsuki mateba To board ship and leave.
shio mo kanainu At last the tide favors us-
ima wa kogiide na'? Now let us row out our boats!

The Man'voshi; credits this poem to Nukata, but a footnote adds

that it was also attributed to the Empress Saimei. Modern scholars divide
lOa Early and Heian Literature

on whether to believe the text or the note. Hisamatsu Sen'ichi stated,

without further elucidation, "Certain points in both the content and
tone of the poem make it seem more appropriate to take it as a work
by the Empress Saimei, rather than by Princess Nukata, but I prefer to
think of it as a poem by Princess Nukata."68 Others argue that the lost
collection by Okura no doubt intended it to be understood that the
author of the poem was officially the Empress Saimei although Princess
Nukata actually wrote it. One authority called Nukata the first ghost-
writer!" Ruiju Karin (Forest of Classified Poems) credited two others
of Nukata's Man'yoshi: poems to sovereigns, evidence that she served as
a surrogate poet during several reigns."
The Japanese expedition ended in disastrous defeat. The Emperor
Tenji, Saimei's successor, fearing an invasion by the victorious Silla
forces, hurriedly carried out reforms of the government in an effort to
strengthen the country, and moved the capital from Yamato to the more
easily defended Omi region." Princess Nukata, who had been married
to Tenji's brother, the future Emperor Temmu, and borne him a daugh-
ter, later became Tenji's wife and wrote, substituting for him, the lovely
choka and hanka on looking back on Mount Miwa after the capital had
been removed to Omi. 72 After Tenji's death in 671, poems of mourning
were composed by various women, including Nukata, who contributed
not only a waka in which she conveyed her private grief but a choka
expressing the public grief of the court." This choka anticipates those
of Hitomaro, who soon would fufill the function of a poet laureate
mourning the deaths of members of the imperial family.
The best-known poem by Princess Nukata was composed in 668
during the course of a hunt staged by the Emperor Tenji. Fearing that
the crown prince, her former husband, might attract attention by waving
at her, she wrote:

ahanc sasu On your way to the fields

murasakino yuki Of crimson-tinted lavender,
shimeno yuki The royal preserve,
. .
nomon u/a mizu ya Will not the guardian notice
kimi ga sode [uru" If you wave your sleeve at me?

The crown prince (later Emperor Temmu) replied:

murasahi no If I had cruel thoughts

ntoeru tmo wo About you, radiant as
nikuku araba Lavender blossoms,
The Man I y o s h o lOl

hitozuma yue ni Would I have fallen in love

ware koimeya m0 75 With you, another man's wife?

Temmu's poem, though he does not directly answer Nukata's fears

that his love will be noticed, implies that only extreme love could have
made him transgress social conventions to the extent of loving the wife
of another man, his brother.
Nukata's poem and Ternrnu's response, though they make perfect
examples of sornon, mutual inquiries, appear among the miscellaneous
poems of the first book of the Man'yoshu, presumably because they were
composed on the occasion of an imperial hunt rather than under more
private circumstances. Some commentators interpret Nukata's poem as
expressing fear that the guardian of the fields will notice if the prince
enters a forbidden hunting preserve, but although this interpretation is
grammatically possible, it destroys the interest of the poem."
Another well-known poem by Princess Nukata bears a headnote
stating that when the Emperor Tenji commanded the prime minister
to judge which was superior, the blossoms on the spring hills or the
glory of the autumn tints, Nukata settled the issue with this poem;"

fuyugomori When, loosened from the winter's bonds,

haru sarikureba The spring appears,
nahazarishi The birds that were silent
tori mo kinakz'nu Come out and sing,
salrazarishi The flowers that were prisoned
hana mo sakeredo Come out and bloom;
yama wo shimi But the hills are so rank with trees
irite mo torazu We cannot seek the flowers,
kusabukami And the flowers are so tangled with weeds
torite mo mizu We cannot take them in our hands.
akiyama no But when on the autumn hill-side
ko no ha wo mite wa We see the foliage,
momiji woba We prize the yellow leaves,
torite so shinou Taking them in our hands,
aoki woba We sigh over the green ones,
okite so nageleu Leaving them on the branches;
soko shi urameshi And that is my only regret-
akiyama so are wa 7S For me, the autumn hills!"

The debate over the relative merits of spring and autumn and the
parallelism in the expression plainly indicate Chinese influence, as does
I02 Early and Heian Literature

the salonlike atmosphere surrounding the composition. The poem starts

promisingly, but is curiously intellectual in its enumeration of the good
and bad qualities of the two seasons, and the reason Nukata states for
preferring autumn is not persuasive. The poem was rated by Tsuchihashi
Yutaka as the champion (Yokozuna) among the obscure poems of the
Man'yoshu because of its seeming illogicality: one expects from the pen-
ultimate line, expressing regret that some leaves remain green even in
autumn, that Nukata will choose spring as her favorite season, only to
be told that autumn is her choice." Aoki Takako, on the other hand,
imagining that the poem was recited before listeners who eagerly awaited
the revelation of which season Nukata would choose, complimented her
on her skill in keeping them guessing until the very last line, after
presenting in rapid succession six merits and four demerits of spring,
and four merits and three demerits of autumn." The poem is as a whole
unsuccessful, but it provides evidence of the degree to which Chinese
literary influence had reached women of the court, though Chinese
learning is often said to have been confined to the men." Chinese in-
fluence became even more striking during later periods of Man'yiishi;
poetry.

THE SECOND PERIOD (673-701)

The chief distinction of the poetry of the second of the four periods of
the Man'yoshi; is that it includes all the datable works of Kakinomoto
no Hitomaro, the greatest poet represented in the collection. The decade
of his poetic activity falls within the reign of the Empress [ito, who
succeeded to the throne after the death of her husband, the Emperor
Ternmu, in 686, and continued to reign in fact until her death in 702,
though she formally abdicated in favor of her grandson in 697. [ito's
relationship to her husband, Temmu, was complicated by her being the
daughter of Temmu's enemy, his half-brother, the Emperor Tenji.
Temmu had come to the throne in 673, following the Jinshin no Ran
(Disturbance of 672), a dispute over succession to the throne between
Temmu and Tenji's son, the Emperor Kobun, In the seventh month of
that year a battle was fought in the province of Omi. Kobun suffered
a humiliating defeat and committed suicide."
These political developments are of importance to an understanding
of the Man'voshii, For example, the longest choka in the collection,
Hitornaro's elegy on the death of Prince Takechi, consists largely of a
vivid description of the prince's valiant conduct during the fighting in
The Man' yo s h u 103

672. Takechi himself in 679 composed three poems of lamentation for

the Princess Toochi, the daughter of Temmu and Nukata, who was the
consort of the ill-fated Emperor Kobun. The complicated relationships
of the participants in the Disturbance of 672 occasioned conflicting
emotions, reflected in some of the Man'yoshu poems."
[ito was obsessively devoted to the memory of her husband and to
his efforts to implement the Taika Reform and build a strong monar-
chical state. She made no fewer than thirty-one pilgrimages to Yoshino,
apparently because of the connection with the memory of her late hus-
band, who had entered orders there." Confucian and Buddhist learning,
imported earlier from China, were given great attention during the
reigns of Temmu and [ito, but there was also renewed devotion to
Shinto, especially to the belief in the divinity of the sovereign. The deep
religious overtones that contribute to the grandeur of the choka by
Hitomaro and others owe much to the piety displayed by Jito and her
court.
Not much is known about Hitomaro's life 86 apart from his activity
as a kind of poet laureate to the Empress [ito, He commemorated in
his poetry her visits to Yoshino and other sites, and he also composed
eulogies for deceased members of her court. His devotion to [ito and
the imperial family was absolute. Many poems open with such words
as "Our Great Sovereign, a goddess," and it cannot be doubted that he
believed in the divinity of the empress he served." The following choka
by Hitomaro, acclaimed by the modern tanka poet Ito Sachio as one of
his two supreme masterpieces, suggest the depth of Hitomaro's faith:"

yasumishishi Our great Sovereign, a goddess,

wa ga okimi Of her sacred will
kamu nagara Has reared a towering palace
kamu sabi sesu to On Yoshino's shore,
Yoshinogawa Encircled by its rapids;
tagitsu kochi ni And, climbing, she surveys the land.
takadono wo The overlapping mountains,
taka shirimashite Rising like green walls,
noboritachi Offer the blossoms with spring,
kunimi wo seseba As godly tributes to the Throne.
tatanataaru The god of the Yu River, to provide the
aokaki yama royal table,
yamatsumi no Holds the cormorant-fishing
matsuru mitsuki to In its upper shallows,
ham he ni wa And sinks the fishing-nets
1°4 Early and Heian Literature

hana kazashimochi In the lower stream.

aki tateba Thus the mountains and the river
momiji kazaseri Serve our Sovereign, one in will;
yukisou It is truly the reign of a divinity.'?
kawa no kami mo
omike ni
tsukacmatsuru to
kami tsu se ni
ukawa wo tachi
shimo tsu se ni
sade sashi watasu
vamakatoa mo
yorite tsukauru
kami no miyo kamo"

Saito Mokichi, the finest of modern tanka poets and an important

Man'yoshu scholar, urged readers not to examine the poem analytically
but to recite it again and again and in this way to absorb its message."
But Saito himself provided a valuable analysis of the sounds-the rep-
etitions of kamu (god) at the heads of the third and fourth lines, the
repetitions of the syllable ta later on, and the combination of such sounds
as yama, matsu, tsumi, mitsu toward the end-as a key to understanding
the musical quality of this choka,
As far as the content of the choka is concerned, Hitomaro is saying
not only that the Empress [ito is a goddess, but that other gods-of the
mountains and rivers-pay homage to this supreme deity. The act of
"surveying the land" (kunimi) takes on special significance if one believes
in the blood relationship between the sovereign and the land.
Hitomaro's earliest dated work is his lament for Prince Kusakabe,
composed in 689, and his last dated work a lament for Princess Asuka,
composed in 700. Quite possibly some-or many-of the undated poems
in what is known as the Hitomaro Kashii (Hitomaro Poetry Collection)"
were composed by Hitomaro in his youth, before he attained eminence
as a court poet.
Hitomaro displayed from his first datable choka the magnitude of
his artistry. The eulogy of Prince Kusakabe opens typically, with a
statement of the Shinto cosmogony:

ame tsuchi no At the beginning of heaven and earth

hajime no toki no The eight hundred, the thousand myriads of gods
The Man I y o s h u

hisaliata no Assembled in high council

ama no kawara ni On the shining beach of the Heavenly River,
yaoyorozu Consigned the government of the Heavens
chiyorozu kami no Unto the Goddess Hirume," the Heaven-
kamu tsudoi Illuminating One,
tsudoi imashite And the government for all time,
kamu haleari As long as heaven and earth endured,
halearishi toki ni Of the Rice-abounding Land of Reed Plains
amaterasu Unto her divine offspring,
hirume no milroto Who, parting the eightfold clouds of the sky,
ame tao ba Made his godly descent upon the earth."
shirashimesu to
ashihara no
mizuho no kuni wo
ametsuchi no
yoriai no kiwami
shirashimesu
kami no rnihoto to
amabumo no
yae kakiwakete
kami kudashi93

This proclamation of the divine descent of the Japanese imperial

family was certainly not new, but it was expressed with the syntactic
tautness typical of Hitomaro, and with the matchless cadences of his
language. The translation given above comes to a full stop with "upon
the earth," but the original text continues without break for another
twelve verses. Some of Hitornaro's choka are held together by a single
syntactic construction from beginning to end, the profusion of the im-
agery held in tight control.
The central part of the eulogy for Prince Kusakabe describes the
speaker's profound regret that the prince, who seemed destined to rule
the country, should have died young, and the aimless frustration that
this tragedy has brought to all who served him:

uia ga okimi Alas, our mighty lord and prince,

mileo no mihoto no On whom the folk everywhere in the
ame no shita land leaned,
shirashimeshiseba Trustful as one riding a great ship,
ro6 Early and Heian Literature

haru hana no And to whom they looked up as

totoltaran to eagerly
mochizuki no tatatoashikcn to As to heaven for rain, hoping
ame no shita That if he came to rule the under-
yomo no hito no heaven
obunc no He would bring to his reign
omoitanomite A glory of the spring flowers
ama no mtzu And such perfection as of the full moon I
. . 96
aogzte matsu nt . . . .

Many commentators have noted the stiffness of this eulogy as com-

pared to the immediacy and personal involvement of Hitornaro's later
poems in this form, but certain images would often recur: the great ship
as a symbol of security; rain as a blessing from heaven; the perfection
of the full moon. These images did not necessarily originate with Hi-
tomaro, but he gave them his personal imprint. But there is an element
of confusion in this eulogy: if one did not know that Hitomaro was
describing in the first section of the poem the myth of Arnaterasu's
bestowing of rulership of the land on her grandson Ninigi, one might
suppose (as some have) that it was the Emperor Temmu who had made
his "godly descent" from heaven." Ninigi and Temmu seem to have
fused in Hitomaro's mind. Worship of this emperor as a god seems to
date back only to Temrnu's efforts to consolidate power after coming
to the throne. Affirmations in poetry of the divinity of the sovereign
were not confined to Hitomaro, but such phrases become scarcer in the
generation after his, no doubt reflecting a diminution in the intensity
of their belief. Hitomaro's worship of the imperial family gave his poetry
special strength even for us who do not believe in its divinity.
Hitomaro has been called a "professional court poet,'?" but there is
no mistaking the genuineness of his grief over the death of Prince
Kusakabe. In other eulogies he would relate with equal conviction the
desolate feelings of a prince or princess after the death of a wife or
husband, mentioning details of their bedchamber that he could not
possibly have known. Writing, as it were, on an assigned topic about
people he did not know might have resulted in the conventional sen-
timents that one associates with the poet laureate who is obliged to
produce poems on matters of public interest even if they are no concern
of his; but it seems that Hitomaro did not feel the sharp difference
between public and private, the individual and the group, that many
later poets would feel, and the exactness of his images when describing
The Man I y o s h 11 !OJ

the grief of a princess persuades us-against reason at times-that he

somehow shared her grief." Ironically, Hitomaro is so convincing
in poems that were not based on personal experience that doubts have
been expressed about the truthfulness of poems that ostensibly describe
his own emotions. 1011 But surely, no one reading Hitornaro's great
poems on the death of his wife could doubt the reality of the emotions
portrayed.
Regardless of the degree of literal truth in Hitomaro's poems, the
poetic truth is incontestable. Even in his first eulogy, the stiffness of
manner does not prevent the reader from becoming vividly aware of
the terrible confusion that swept over the court after the prince's death.
Prince Kusakabe, the son of Temmu and [ito, should have succeeded
his father on the throne, but the crisis that arose immediately after
Ternmu's death-the conspiracy of Prince Otsu against Kusakabe-
seems to have persuaded Jito to serve temporarily as the sovereign. It
was she who gave the order for the execution of Prince Otsu on the
grounds of treason.'?' Perhaps Jito intended to abdicate in Kusakabe's
favor after Temmu was ceremonially buried, but Kusakabe died only
five months after his father. His death meant that the direct successor
to the throne would not be Kusakabe's son, a boy of six, but a son of
Temmu by another consort. [ito's grief over Kusakabe's death was
intensified by her apprehension over the succession.
Hitornaro's choka was written during the temporary enshrinement
of Prince Kusakabe. The practice at the time was to place the body of
a deceased member of the imperial family in a temporary shrine tara-
kinomiya)11I2 for an indeterminate period of time. During this time the
person was considered not to be dead but in a kind of limbo from which
he might be called back to life. The reluctance of the Empress [ito to
admit that Temmu was truly dead probably accounted for the extraor-
dinarily long period (two years and two months) of his temporary in-
tennent.'?' The adoption of cremation as the official form of interment
obviated the need for the eulogies in the form of choka that had cus-
tomarily been sung during a temporary enshrinement; this was un-
doubtedly one reason for the disappearance of the choka as a poetic
form. Hitornaro's eulogies were all composed before 702, when the
Empress Jito became the first sovereign to be cremated rather than
buried.
The finest of his eulogies describing deaths in the imperial family
was the one composed during the temporary enshrinement of Prince
Takechi, who died in 696 at the age of forty-two.'?' This poem, in 151
roB Early and Heian Literature

verses not including the hanka, is the longest in the Man'yosiu«. The
first 138 verses are syntactically unbroken, bound together by a power
of expression unique in Japanese poetry. It required a genius like
Hitomaro to maintain the poem at maximum intensity throughout,
though he could not resort to the devices used by European poets to
keep long poems recognizable as poetry-rhyme, patterns of stress ac-
cents, quantity. The demise of the choka after the Man'yoshi; is attrib-
utable to other causes as well.!'" but surely a major factor was the
difficulty poets experienced in maintaining poetic tension over an ex-
tended work.
Hitornaro's eulogy for Prince Takechi opens with a panegyric of the
Emperor Temmu, and the central section is devoted to an account of
the fighting during the Disturbance of 672, when Prince Takechi dis-
tinguished himself. Temmu commanded Takechi to subjugate his ene-
mies, whereupon:

Forthwith our prince buckled on a sword,

And in his august hand
Grasped a bow to lead the army.
The drums marshalling men in battle array
Sounded like the rumbling thunder,
The war-horns blew, as tigers roar,
Confronting an enemy,
Till all men were shaken with terror.
The banners hoisted aloft, swayed
As sway in wind the flames that burn
On every moorland far and near
When spring comes after winter's prisonment.
Frightful to hear was the bow-strings' clang,
Like a whirlwind sweeping
Through a winter forest of snow.
And like snow-flakes tempest-driven
The arrows fell thick and fast.
The foemen confronting our prince
Fought, prepared to a man to perish,
If perish they must, like dew or frost;
And vying with one another like birds upon the wing,
They flew to the front of battle-
When, 10, from Watarai's holy shrine
There rose the God's Wind confounding them,
The Man' y6sh U 109
By hiding the sun's eye with clouds
And shrouding the world in utter darkness.I"

Hitomaro was probably too young to have witnessed the warfare he

so vividly described. The language he used is strikingly similar to the
account of the battle in the Nihon Shoki, in turn borrowed from the
Chinese dynastic history of the Latter Han. I07 Hitomaro doubtless had
access to this work, and its phraseology helped to give his account
strength and concreteness. This does not mean that Hitomaro merely
"translated" into Japanese an existing Chinese text; there is a specifically
Japanese "truth" in what he reports, down to the mention of the God's
Wind (kamikaze) that places the action firmly in a Japanese setting.
However, the existence of a Chinese model enabled Hitomaro to leave
behind the badly organized descriptions that were typical of the Kojiki
and other early Japanese poetry.
The final section of the eulogy describes the palace built by Prince
Takechi on Mount Kagu. The poet asks rhetorically if this palace, built
to last "ten thousand generations," will ever disappear, implying that
although Takechi is gone, his works will last forever. This seems to
have been a function of the eulogies in the Man'yoshu: to reassure the
dead person that his works will not be forgotten, thereby calming his
soul (chinkon) and persuading him that he need not return to this world
as an angry ghost.
Stressing the permanence of worldly things was by no means typical
of Hitomaro. A conviction that the world was transitory, a deceit, was
a Buddhist belief shared by Hitomaro with most other Man'yoshu poets.l'"
and the impermanence of even the most splendid works of man was
nostalgically lamented again and again. The first poem by Hitomaro in
the Man'yoshu (number 29 in the collection) describes his feelings as he
passed the ruined palace at Omi, the site of the Emperor Tenji's capital:

But now, though I am told his royal palace towered here,

And they say here rose its lofty halls,
Only the spring weeds grow luxuriantly
And the spring sun is dimmed with mists.
As I see these ruins of the mighty palace
My heart is heavy with sorrows!

Hitomaro, a worshiper of Ternmu's memory, surely did not regret

the destruction of Tenji's capital. He regretted instead the changes
IIO Early and Heian Literature

brought about by the passage of time. This theme runs through

Hitomaro's poetry: a yearning for the past, for whatever has disappeared.
A sense of contrast between eternal nature and the transcience of man
and his works gives poignancy to his observations and universality to
his sorrow. The capital at Orni, which many men had labored to build,
and which had seemed to epitomize the grandeur of an emperor, was
now in ruins. It did not matter if the ruins were beautiful (like the
Gothic ruins in Europe) or merely some foundation stones and a few
stray roof tiles; the irretrievable past could excite the tears not only of
Hitomaro but of all who visited the ruins. The changes effected by time
would become one of the grand themes of Japanese poetry.
Hitomaro's most moving elegies were not those he composed for
members of the imperial family, splendid though they are, but one on
an unknown man whose corpse he saw on a distant island, and another
about his own wife. The elegy on the death of a man on the small island
of Samine in the Inland Sea is deservedly one of Hitornaro's most
admired works. It consists of three parts: an invocation to the beautiful
province ofSanuki on the island of Shikoku; a description of Hitomaro's
voyage over the Inland Sea to Samine.!" and, finally, a description of
the corpse. Perhaps Hitomaro felt obliged to calm the soul of the unhappy
man who had died far from home, but there was already a tradition of
composing poetry about men who had died by the roadside. The earliest
is attributed to Prince Shotoku:

ie naraba Had he been at home,

imo ga tamakan he would have slept
kusamakura Upon his wife's dear arm;
tabi ni koyaseru Here he lies dead, unhappy man,
kono tabito aware On his journey, grass for pillow."?

Hitomaro on another occasion composed a waka describing his grief

on seeing a corpse on Mount Kagu:

kusamak ura Grass for his pillow,

tabi no vadori ni His lodgings on this journey-
ta ga tsuma ka Whose husband is this?
kuni wasuretaru Has he forgotten his homeland
ie matamahu nil!! Where his wife must be waiting?

The death of a man, far from home and abandoned by the world,
caused the poet to reflect on the man's fate, the wife vainly waiting at
The Man' y o s h ii III

home for the husband who would not return-and perhaps his own
mortality, though this is not openly expressed.!"
The third section of the Samine poem exercised the greatest influence
over later Man'yoshi; poets:

There I found you, poor man!-

Outstretched on the beach,
On this rough bed of stones,
Amid the busy voices of the waves.
If I but knew where was your home,
I would go and tell;
If your wife but knew,
She would come to tend you.
She, not knowing the way hither,
Must wait, must ever wait,
Restlessly hoping for your return-
Your dear wife-alas! J13

Perhaps the most affecting of the poems on this subject in the

Man'yoshu is found in a group of thirty-one poems known as the Tanabe
Sakimaro collection.!"

He lies unloosened of his white clothes,

Perhaps of his wife's weaving
From hemp within her garden-fence,
And girdled threefold round
Instead of once.
Perhaps after painful service done
He turned his footsteps home,
To see his parents and his wife;
And now, on this steep and sacred pass
In the eastern land of Azuma,
Chilled in his spare, thin clothes,
His black hair fallen loose-
Telling none his province,
Telling none his home,
Here on a journey he lies dead.!"

This poem is an example of how Hitomaro's themes would affect

later Man'yoshu poets, sometimes inspiring no more than pastiches of
his imagery, occasionally (as in the above example) resulting in poems
TT2 Early and Heian Literature

that rivaled their source. Perhaps Hitornaro's most seminal poems

were the two choka on parting from his wife and two other choka
composed after her death. The latter two are not only Hitornaro's finest
achievement but are the most impressive extended poems in the
Japanese language. Here is a translation of the first of the two
elegies:

Since in Karu lived my wife,

I wished to be with her to my heart's content;
But I could not visit her constantly
Because of the many watching eyes-
Men would know of our troth,
Had I sought her too often.
So our love remained secret like a rock-pent pool;
I cherished her in my heart,
Looking to after-time when we should be together,
And lived secure in my trust
As one riding a great ship.
Suddenly there came a messenger
Who told me she was dead-
Was gone like a yellow leaf of autumn.
Dead as the day dies with the setting sun,
Lost as the bright moon is lost behind the cloud,
Alas, she is no more, whose soul
Was bent to mine like the bending seaweed!

When the word was brought to me

I knew not what to do nor what to say;
But restless at the mere news,
And hoping to heal my grief
Even a thousandth part,
I journeyed to Karu and searched the market-place
Where my wife was wont to go!

There I stood and listened,

But no voice of her I heard,
Though the birds sang in the Unebi Mountain:
None passed by who even looked like my wife.
I could only call her name and wave my sleeve.!"
The Man I y o s h u II]

Mention of "watching eyes" refers to the custom among members

of the aristocracy of keeping their marriages secret; men visited their
wives, especially women who were not legal consorts, stealthily and by
night. The imagery is familiar from other poems by Hitomaro-the
great ship as a symbol of trustworthiness, the yellow leaves of autumn
to indicate the passage of time, the bending seaweed that suggests the
wife snuggling against her husband, the hidden moon that deprives the
world of light-but the effect is new because the grief is so intense.
The unforgettable passage where the poet, even though he knows his
wife is dead, goes to look for her at places where she often went is
almost unbearable in its truth. At the end, he calls her name and waves
his sleeve, a familiar gesture of summoning the dead.!" The poem's
intensity owes much to its unremitting tension: all fifty-three verses
form a single syntactical unit.!" Even the different makurakotoba (not
rendered in the translation above)'" add to the relentless, incantatory
effect, suggesting a nightmare from which there is no awakening.
The imagery of this poem would be borrowed by later poets even
in quite dissimilar contexts. For example, Lady Otomo of Sakanoue's
"Lover's Complaint" (enkonka), relating a woman's annoyance at the
lover who has failed to pay a promised visit, also mentions swaying sea-
weed, her trust in her love as in a great ship, the messenger with an un-
welcome letter, the setting sun."? Again, an anonymous poem, possibly
by the wife of a frontier guard, describes a woman's grief on learning
from a messenger that her husband was "gone like the autumn leaf."121
The later poems are no match for Hitornaro's elegy in literary quality,
but they bear witness to the pervasive influence of his poetry, even in
remote parts of the country.
The second of Hitomaro's poems on the death of his wife also forms
a single syntactical unit almost to the end, when it stops, only for
Hitomaro to add a final five verses, as if an additional memory of his
wife, too strong to suppress, had surged back at this point. Some scholars
have opined that the two eulogies describe different women. They point
out, for example, that only in the second poem is there mention of a
child. More likely, however, both poems refer to the same woman,
though the second, clearly set in the past from its opening lines, may
have been written later, recalling a now distant sorrow."? It is possible
that neither poem was actually inspired by Hitomaro's grief, and that
he composed both at the request of some man who was himself incapable
of expressing his sorrow, but nothing in the poem suggests this.
Apart from the poetry attributed to Hitomaro by the compilers of
 Early and Heian Literature

the Man'voshu, there are also 364 poems, including 2 choka and 35
sedoka, that are said by the editors to have come from the Hitomaro
Kashu.'" These poems are scattered over nine books of the Man'yoshu,
wherever the editors found an appropriate place for them. The Hitomaro
Kashu, it is clear, was a source of a large number of poems in the
Man'yoshu, but the authorship of the poems is a matter of dispute.!"
Some scholars have insisted that none of the poems is by Hitomaro and
that the collection was compiled by him from poems by other men.
Others have credited all of the poems, except those specifically attributed
to other poets, to Hitornaro.!"
Nakanishi Susumu took a middle ground, expressing the belief that
some poems were by Hitomaro but others were added later. He found
it difficult, for example, to accept the possibility that the thirty-eight
poems on the Tanabata Festival could have been composed by Hitomaro,
if only because this festival, imported from China, did not take hold in
Japan until at least twenty years after Hitornaro's death.!" Similarly,
themes such as deer crying in the forest were not used in Japanese poetry
until after Hitornaro's time.
Regardless of who wrote these poems, some seem worthy of a master,
like the following:

. .
mtzu no ue ru I have pledged my life,
kazu kaku gotoki Insubstantial as numbers
wa ga inochi wo Written on water,
imo ni au/an to Asking the gods for a sign
ulteitsuru kamo 127 That I may meet my sweetheart.

Other poems 10 a lighter mood have charm, like these dialogue

poems:

narukami no Will not the thunder

sukoshi toyomite Roll for a little while,
sashikumori The sky cloud over,
ame mo [uranu ka And the rain come pouring down?
kimi wo todomen Then I can keep you with me.

narukami no Even if the thunder

suliosh: toyomite Rolls just a little bit,
jurazu tomo And no rain falls at all,
The Man I yo s h ii

ware wa todomaran I will stay beside you,

imo shi todomeba'P If you only ask me to.

A prominent feature of the Hitomaro Collection is the body of poems

in the form known as sedoka, poems in six lines with a total of thirty-
eight syllables. The exact meaning of the term is not clear. According
to the theory advanced by Hisamatsu Sen'ichi in 1928, sedo meant a
"repetition" of the first three lines (5, 7, and 7 syllables) in the second
three lines of a single poem. (The "repetition" was not of the words but
of the thought, expressed in different words.) This theory was later
modified by the suggestion that the two halves of a sedoka (each known
as a kata-uta) were originally in the form of a question and answer, as
in the earliest example of the form, the exchange between Yamato-
takeru and an old man concerning the distance to Tsukuba, found in
the Kojiki. However, Nakanishi Susumu, noting that sedoka in the form
of a question and answer were rare, considered that the main factor in
the composition of the second half of a sedok a was a continuation of
the original thought, rather than a response to a question. He believed
that the original inspiration for composing sedoka was the existence of
similar poetry in China, notably linked-verse poems (renkushi); and he
detected a popular, even folkish tone in many sedoka that suggested to
him that Hitomaro might have collected them on his travels around the
country as a member of the entourage of the Empress Jito. 129 A typical
example of a "folkish" sedoka is Poem 128I:

kimi ga tame I have exhausted

tajikara tsukare The strength of my hands weaving
oritaru kinu zo This robe for you, my lord;
haru saraba When spring has come,
ika naru iro ni What color would you like me
suriteba yoken 130 To print and dye it for you?

This sedoka is not in the form of a question and answer, but there
is a definite caesura between its two halves. A caesura could occur at
the end of any line of Man'yoshi: waka, or even more than once in a
single waka, but the break in a sedoka always occurs after the third
line.!"
If, as Nakanishi suggested, Hitomaro collected this poem on his
travels, the poem would not be of his own composition (at least according
to modern standards of authorship) even if he polished a line or two.
But, regardless of who wrote the thirty-four sedoka in the Hitomaro
rr6 Early and Heian Literature

Kashii, their prominence is noteworthy: they constitute more than half

of the sixty-two sedoka in the Man'yoshu, and about a tenth of the poems
in the entire Hitomaro Kashii.
One other matter concerning Hitomaro has been the subject of
unusually acrimonious debate-the place and circumstances of his death.
It was long assumed that he died in the province ofIwami on the Japan
Sea coast, but whether in the mountains, by a river, or in the sea has
been much contested. Saito Mokichi felt so sure that he had identified
the site of Hitomaro's death that he erected a monument on an otherwise
unremarkable mountain and proclaimed it to be the Kamoyama of
Hitornaro's valedictory poem:

Kamoyama no All unaware, it may be,

iwane shi makeru That I lie in Kamoyama,
ware wo kamo Pillowed on a rock,
shira ni to imo ga She is waiting now-my wife-
machitsutsu aruran Waiting for my return.!"

The poem, regardless of the location of Kamoyama, strongly suggests

death in the mountains. Saito conjectured that Hitomaro might have
died in 707 when an epidemic, especially severe in the provinces of
Izumo and Iwami, claimed many victims.v"
Two poems by Hitomaro's wife, Yosami, given in the Man'yoshu
immediately after Hitomaro's last poem, cast doubt on the place of his
death:

kYo kYo to Day in, day out,

wa ga matsu kimi wa I wait for my husband-
Ishikawa no Alas! he lies buried, men say,
kai ni majirite In the ravine of the Stone River.
ari to iwazu ya mo

tada ni awaba There can be no meeting

ai katsu mashlji Face to face with him.
Ishikawa ni Arise, 0 clouds,
kumo tachiwatare Hover above Stone River
mitsutsu shinowan That I may watch and remernber.!"

No river near the present Kamoyama is known as the Ishikawa

("stone river"). Saito thought that Ishikawa might be an old name for
The Ma n/ y o sh u Il7

the upper reaches of another river. The text speaks of kai, meaning
shells, in the river, appropriate only if the river is near the sea, but Saito
and others adopted the variant (also given in the Man'yoshu) of kai,
meaning "ravine." Scholars who reject this explanation and accept the
meaning of "shell" have interpreted the poems as meaning that Hitomaro
died near the mouth of a large river, not in the mountains. Finally,
there is a poem by Tajihi no Mabito, replying to the wife in the persona
of Hitomaro:

aranamt nt Who will tell her

yoriliuru tama wo That I lie here,
maltura ni oki My head pillowed
ware koko ni ari to On the stones brought to shore
tare ka tsugeken 135 By the rough waves?

The scene of this poem seems definitely to be the sea. "Rough waves"
would not fit a mountain stream, but the distinguished scholar Omodaka
Hisataka, unwilling to abandon Saito's theory that Hitomaro died in
the mountains, decided that Tajihi no Mabito had mistakenly supposed
that kai meant "shell," rather than "ravine," and had therefore written
in terms of death at sea.!" But Umehara Takeshi decided, on the con-
trary, not only that Hitomaro had perished at sea but that he was put
to death by drowning. He interpreted Kamoyama as the name of an
island off the Iwami coast, and declared that Hitornaro's last poem was
his farewell to the world, just before he was executed.l" Ito Haku,
adopting an even more controversial position, argued that Hitornaro's
valedictory poem and the wife's responses were part of "The Play of
Iwami," a story of love and death in Iwami enacted by Hitomaro and
a court lady who took the part of Yosami, the wife in the country. Ito
believed that this formed part of a "salon drama" in which participants
composed poetry befitting the roles that had been assigned them. Ito
insisted on the close relationship between Kamoyama and the Ishikawa,
found in other sources, and was sure that the poem of Tajihi no Mabito
was originally an unrelated poem that the compilers of the Man'yoshi;
tacked on to the "salon drama" of death in the country.!"
These different explanations will suggest the insatiable interest
aroused by the life and death of the greatest of the Man'yoshu poets,
and the never-ending persistence of scholars who attempt to make ex-
tremely scarce facts yield pertinent information. It is possible that the
poems attributed to Yosami and Tajihi no Mabito, around which such
lIS Early and Heian Literature

complicated theories have evolved, did not even refer to Hitornaro.!"

Tsuchihashi also doubted the authenticity of Hitomaro's death verse,
finding it too self-indulgent for such an occasion, and concluded that
someone else, imagining Hitomaro's feelings as he was about to die in
some remote part of the country, had composed the poem in Hitomaro's
voice."?
We are left in that case with almost nothing in the nature of bio-
graphical information. Hitomaro's name does not appear in any official
documents, presumably because he was not of sufficiently high rank to
be mentioned."! and no family records or memorabilia survive. It will
make little difference to lovers of Hitomaro's poetry even if the enigma
is never solved. Other poets of the Man'yoshii command our admiration
and respect, but Hitomaro became a god.

It has often been stated that with the death of the Empress [ito in
702 a marked change occurred in the nature of the poetry composed by
the Man'yoshii poets. Certainly, a dramatic break occurred in the tradition
of court poets celebrating the visits of the sovereign to different parts
of the country. With only one exception (a private rather than a public
poem), no poems were composed between 702 and 720 on the subject
of imperial progresses, though this had been a frequent theme of earlier
poems, and we know from the official history of the period, Shoku
Nihongi, that there were many excursions.'? Quite possibly the break
in tradition reflected the preference of the statesman Fujiwara no Fuhito
(659-720) for poetry in Chinese. Fuhito first rose to prominence in 700
when he was commanded to compile the legal code Taiho-ryo, When
he completed this task in the following year he was given the rank of
major counsellor, and in 708 he became minister of the Right. One
daughter was the consort of the Emperor Mommu, and another of the
Emperor Shomu. Fuhito was the leading political figure of his age and
the chief architect of the move to the new capital at Nara in 710. His
contribution to the creation of a centralized state authority functioning
under a legal code was his most outstanding achievement, but he also
laid the foundations for Fujiwara control of the successive emperors by
the marriages of his daughters.
Fuhito studied Confucianism and was a devout Buddhist. His cul-
The Man I yo s h ii

tural interests were directed almost exclusively toward China, and he

became a proficient writer of kanshi (poetry in Chinese). Four of his
kanshi were included in the Kaifiiso, The Emperor Mommu, who was
much under his influence, also contributed three poems to the Kaifuso.
Fuhito's poetry does not appear in the Man'yoshu,143 and it is clear that
while he lived the court favored Chinese rather than Japanese poetry.
After his death in 720, poems describing the visits of the sovereign to
Yoshino and other well-known sites resumed, most of them plainly in
the tradition of Hitomaro.
During the ten or twelve years before 720, while Fuhito's power
was at its height, there occurred a marked decline in the quality of
Man'yoshi; poetry. The only new poet of importance was Takechi no
Kurohito. His extant poems consist of eighteen waka, all of them on
travel and devoted to scenic descriptions. Despite the scarcity of his
poems, their distinctive tone and atmosphere have won for him a secure
place among the major Man'yoshu poets, and several waka have been
acclaimed as masterpieces. Ikeda Yasaburo chose the following waka by
Kurohito as one of especially high literary value, a poem that not only
confirmed his importance as a poet but enhanced the whole Man'yoshu:

izuleu ni ka Where, I wonder,

wa ga yadori sen Shall I find shelter tonight
Takashima no Now that the day is ending
Katsuno no hara ni Over the fields of Katsuno
kono hi kurenaba 144 In Takashima?

Discussions of this poem, whose surface meaning seems to present

no problems, have revolved around matters of relatively slight interest
to persons other than Man'yiishi; specialists. One point of somewhat
wider interest is whether the final line of the original-"now that the
day is ending"-signifies that it in fact has already become dusk or that
the poet is imagining what it will be like after it grows dark. Ikeda, as
a scholar of folklore in the tradition of Origuchi Shinobu, favored the
former interpretation: twilight for Japanese of the Man'yoshu period had
sinister overtones, a time of day when people were most susceptible to
the evil spirits that rose from their surroundings. Even if Kurohito did
not consciously inject such overtones into his poem, he may have had
at the back of his mind the spells that were recited to ward off ghosts
that wandered in the twilight hour, and people who heard his poem
I20 Early and Heian Literature

would also remember them. But Tsuchihashi Yutaka, who admired

Kurohito because he showed a curiously modern sensibility, believed
that the poem was an imagined experience, described in order to convey
in the most poignant manner the poet's feelings of forlornness.':"
Regardless of the interpretation, it is noteworthy that all of Kurohito's
poems in the Man'yoshi; are about travel, and the importance of travel
to the poets is attested by many other examples throughout the collection.
All but one of Kurohito's poems contains a place-name. This in itself
is not surprising in poems about travel, but it suggests the fascination
that place-names continued to exert over the Japanese. Thirteen poems
in the Man'yoshu, most of them in the manner of folk songs, describe
Katsuno in Takashima, evidence of the associations that this place-name
evoked.!"
Kurohito's poems are melancholy, establishing a mood for travel
poems that were quite unlike the cheerful descriptions of journeys by
the earlier Man'yoshu poets. Tsuchihashi described Kurohito as a poet
whose theme was the disappearing things of the world, whether a ship
over the horizon, a bird in the clouds, or a season with the passage of
tirne.!" In five of his extant poems Kurohito describes a boat seen from
a distance, imparting a feeling of poignancy that goes beyond mere
observation. In other poems Kurohito himself is aboard the boat:

wa gafune wa Our boat will surely

Him no minato ni Soon be rowed to safe shelter
kogihaten In Hira Harbor;
oki e na saliari Let it not stray far from shore,
sayo fukenikeri148 Night is already upon us.

This poem is of special interest because a close variant, believed by

Ikeda to be a folk song, is found elsewhere in the Man'yoshu:

wa gafune wa Our boat will surely

Akashi no mito ni Soon be rowed to safe shelter
kogihaten In Akashi Harbor;
oki e na saleari Let it not stray far from shore,
sayo fukenikeri149 Night is already upon us.

Ikeda was convinced that Kurohito's poem, known orally, had "traveled"
to different localities in the manner of a folk song, with only the place-
name altered to suit the particular circumstances. Many poems in the
The Man I y o s h u 121

Man'yoshii have "doubles"-variants that sometimes (as in this example)

differ by only a few words.
This poem is one of a group of eight travel poems by Kurohito that
seem to form a poetic sequence-a series of poems intended to reinforce
one another. Sometimes the poet himself composed the poems with this
intention, at other times it was the compiler who arranged independently
composed poems to form a sequence. A sequence could overcome the
limitations imposed by the shortness of an individual waka to expand
on the expressive possibilities of the opening poem, rather in the manner
of a theme and variations. ISO It was possible for Man'voshi; poets to write
choka if what they wished to say did not fit into the thirty-one syllables
of a waka, but the choka form was generally reserved tor public, and
generally solemn, circumstances. Kurohito seems not to have composed
any.
Some poems by Kurohito were so admired by later poets that they
openly borrowed from him;'?' the Man'yoshii poets did not believe that
a poem belonged exclusively to its creator. They seemed to think instead
that poems on the same subject and even using the same language as
existing poems represented attempts by successive generations of poets
to touch the core of the sentiments expressed. The following poem by
Kurohito has a twin in a poem by Yamabe no Akahito:

Sahurada e To Sakurada
tazu nalruoataru The cranes cross, crying.
Ayuchi-gata At Ayuchi Lagoon,
shio hinikerashi The tide seems to have ebbed:
tazu naleiu/ataru 152 The cranes cross, crying.

The daring repetition of the second line at the end of the poem is
particularly effective. Akahito's poem is more conventional, but is also
lovely:

Waleanoura ni At Wakanoura
shio michikureba The tide, rising to the full,
kata wo nami Has engulfed the strand;
ashihe wo sashite Heading for the reedy store,
tazu nakuoataru'" The cranes cross, crying.

Adaptation of earlier poetry, frequent in the Man'yoshii, would be

elevated in later times into the principle of poetry known as honka-dori,
122 Early and Heian Literature

or allusive variation.'>' This was by no means plagiarism; the later poet

not only expected that readers would be familiar with the poem on
which he made variations but also hoped that his skill in borrowing
some materials unaltered but changing others would convince people
that he had improved on the original poem.
Kurohito often broke his waka into three parts, with caesuras after
the second and fourth lines as in the Sakurada poem, or after the third
and fourth lines as in the poem about Hira Harbor. This poetic device
seemed to have originated with Kurohito.l" perhaps as a part of the
melody to which it was sung.!" The repetition of lines two and five in
the Sakurada poem contributes to the rhythm, suggesting a refrain.
Akahito's poem, on the other hand, consists of a single syntactical unit:
"Because the tide has come to the full at W akanoura and obliterated
the beach, the cranes [deprived of their usual perches] head for the reeds
on the shore, crying."
The poet from whom Kurohito learned the most was undoubtedly
Hitomaro, but they were quite dissimilar in both poetic techniques and
attitudes. Nothing better illustrates their differences than the poems each
composed on visiting the ruins of the capital in ami. Hitomaro, after
first describing the decision of the Emperor Tenji to break precedent
by establishing his capital not in Yamato but in ami, related what he
now saw: weeds growing where once a palace stood, and the spring sun
dimmed by mist. He concluded:

omiya tokoro As I see these ruins of the mighty palace

mireba kanashimo My heart is heavy with sorrows!'?

Kurohito wrote three waka describing his visit to the ruins. Unlike
Hitomaro, who wanted to see the former capital, even though he knew
the ruins would make him sad, Kurohito says that he would have
preferred not to see the ruins:

kaku yue ni That's precisely why

miji to iu mono wo I never wished to see the place,
sasanamt no But you insisted
furuki miyalio wo On showing me the old capital
misetsutsu motona'" Of little waves-for no reason.

Hitomaro was moved by the ruins and the profusion of spring weeds
to remember the days, not so long ago, when this was the capital; but
Kurohito reproaches someone-probably a friend-for having insisted
The Man I y o s h u 123

that he look at a place which, he knew in advance, would make him

sad. In another poem composed at the site of the old capital, he asks
rhetorically if he feels so sad because he himself is a relic of the past.!"
Obviously, he is not; but if not, why should the ruins depress him so?
For Hitomaro the question would not have arisen: he was an elegist of
the past-of the palaces and people of former times-but Kurohito was
an elegist of the fugitive moment, of his own mortality.
Kurohito's name is often linked with those of two other poets who
were probably his contemporaries. The first, Naga no Imiki Okimaro,
an obscure figure, may have been of foreign origin."? He and Kurohito
apparently traveled together in the imperial progresses of 701 and 702,
but their ranks were not high enough for their names to be preserved
in official records. Okimaro's most distinctive poems are on assigned
words or topics. For example, in one poem he was obliged, as part of
a poetic game played at the court, to include the words ko (incense), to
(pagoda), kawaya (privy), kuso (excrement),Juna (carp), and yakko (ser-
vant).!" The resulting poem is more notable for its ingenuity than its
sense. On a similar occasion Okimaro was assigned the subject of "a
white heron pecking at a tree, then flying away." The poems composed
in response to such tests of ingenuity are not of much literary interest,
but they prefigure the butsurnei poems (in which a word is hidden in
the text) in the Kokinshu and the poems on set topics (dai) at poem
competitions. Not all of Okimaro's poems were displays of wit, but most
were inspired by a particular event or a request for a poem. Perhaps
his most affecting poem is atypical, the description of a bleak day without
shelter:

kurushiku mo How sad and dismal

furikuru arne ka The rain that comes pouring down;
Miwa no saki At the Sano ford
Sano no watari ni On the headland of Miwa,
ie rno aranaleu ni!62 There is not even a house.

The second poet with whom Kurohito's name has been linked was
far more celebrated than Okimaro; indeed, Yamabe no Akahito (fl. 724-
737) has often been ranked alongside Hitomaro. For centuries when the
Man'yoshu was little read, Hitomaro and Akahito were the only two
Man'yoshu poets whose names were generally known. The Japanese
preface to the Kokinshu asserted that Hitomaro could not be ranked
above Akahito, nor Akahito below Hitomaro, an indirect way of saying
that the compilers considered Akahito to be even superior to Hitomaro.
 Early and Heian Literature

A curious legend developed that Hitomaro, having been exiled because

of a love affair with an empress, was forgiven so that he might write
more poetry, but when he returned to the court he took the name
Akahito.'>'
Akahito's name is today more often linked with Kurohito's, rather
than Hitornaro's, because critics no longer rank Akahito nearly so high
as Hitomaro; in fact, he is given considerably less attention than either
Yamanoue no Okura or ()tomo no Yakamochi, and some authorities
rank him lower than Kurohito.'?' The two men are linked for another
reason: unlike Hitornaro, Okura, or Yakarnochi, whose best poems were
their choka, Akahito (like Kurohito) excelled at the waka. Although no
fewer than thirteen of the total of fifty poems by Akahito in the
Man'yoshi; are choka, scholars as far back as Kamo no Mabuchi have
shown relatively little interest in these poems, reserving their praise for
Akahito's waka." Akahito's choka are competent, but his talent was
best displayed in his waka and hanka. The hanka appended to Hito-
marc's choka are always of interest, but they never cause the reader to
feel that these encapsulations of the content of the choka make the choka
unnecessary; but that is exactly true of Akahito, as the following choka
and two hanka will suggest:

yasumishishi Here in a beautiful dell where the

wa go okimi no river runs,
taka shirasu The Yoshino Palace, the high
Yoshino no miya u/a abode
tatanazuku Of our Sovereign, reigning in
aokakigomori peace,
kawanami no Stands engirdled, fold on fold,
kiyoki kochi so By green mountain walls.
haruhe ni wa In spring the flowers bend the
hana sakioori boughs;
aki sareba With autumn's coming the mist
kiri tachluiataru rises and floats over all.
Ever prosperous like those
mountains,
And continuously as this river
flows,
Will the lords and ladies of the
court
Come hither.
The Man I y o s h o 125

sono yama no
. .
lya masumasu nt
kono kawa no
tayuru koto naleu
momoshihi no
omiyahito no
tsune ni kayowan
mi Yoshino no Oh, the voices of the birds
Kisayama no ma no That sing so noisily in the treetops
konure ni wa Of the Kisa Mountain of Yoshino,
kokoda mo saioalru Breaking the silence of the vale!
tori no koe kamo
nubatama no Now the jet-black night deepens;
yo no fukeyukeba And on the beautiful river beach,
hisagi ouru where grow the hisagi-trees,
kiyoki kawara ni The sanderlings cry ceaselessly.
chidori shiba naku. 166

The choka is pleasant, but it has little content, and the images with
their heavy parallelism seem stale. In Hitomaro's choka on a similar
subject, the visit of the Empress [ito to Yoshino, the most striking features
of the Yoshino scenery, the mountains and clear streams, are given reality
by concrete details,"? but in Akahito's choka the mountains are reduced
to being symbols of permanence and prosperity. However, in the envoys
Akahito expressed everything that is missing from its choka; in them
he captured the essence of Yoshino superbly.
It may be that modern readers fail to appreciate the full significance
of Akahito's mention of birds in the envoys. The ancient Japanese
considered birds to be messengers from the world of the dead. The
folklorist Ikeda Yasaburo described them in these terms:

Birds were not simply fauna. They were the keepers and conveyors
of souls (reikon). They were also creatures who tempted forth the
tranquil souls of people by calling and singing to them. That is why
there were periods when birdsong, longed for and prized in later
times, was dreaded. People listened to the singing of birds less with
appreciation than with awe. This awe, differing according to the
time and place, originated in the fear and deference paid the gods
or birds as the messengers of the gods.!"
 Early and Heian Literature

The approach of night, the twilight hour when souls wandered, was
perhaps also intended to convey an ominous note in the second of the
envoys. But is is almost impossible for a modern reader, even one ac-
quainted with the beliefs of the ancient Japanese, to read Akahito's
envoys as expressions of dread and awe. Even if Akahito himself derived
no pleasure from the cries of birds he so magically described, we cannot
but interpret these poems in the way that makes sense to us; surely no
one after reading the choka is likely to detect frightening messengers
from the world of the dead in the exquisite words of the envoys.
Akahito's reputation is as a poet of nature, but he wrote poems on
many other subjects. All the same, even when a choka is a narrative of
events that took place in the past or is the description of a journey, the
parts one is likely to remember are the evocations of nature. Sometimes
Akahito even seems to exaggerate:

ham no no ni Forth to the field of spring

sum ire tsumi ni to I went to gather violets-
koshi ware so Enamoured of the field
no wo natsulrashimi I slept there all night through.
hito yo nenikerul69

It is hard to imagine a grown man actually spending the night in

the open because he was enchanted with a field of violets. This doubt
has given rise to the suggestion that the violets were a euphemism for
the fleshpots of the day."? Perhaps so, but even if Akahito indulged in
hyperbole, he may well have felt reluctant to tear himself away from
so lovely a place. One commentator went so far as to liken Akahito's
worship of nature-not only of flowers but rivers and mountains-to
Hitomaro's emperor worship."! Akahito belonged to the same court-
poet tradition as Hitomaro, but his poems, even those intended to cel-
ebrate the glories of the sovereign, are mainly concerned with sights
before the poet's eyes.
Hitornaro's poetry possesses elusive depths, and there will always be
room for fresh commentaries, but Akahito's poetry seems to be clarity
itself. If there is a mystery surrounding him, it is why for so long he
was ranked as Hitornaro's peer. A half-dozen of his waka are extremely
beautiful, and perhaps that is enough to win poetic immortality, but it
is puzzling that Akahito, rather than Okura or Yakamochi, should have
been paired with Hitomaro by the Kokinshu and later poets. It is also
The Man I yo s h u 12 7
possible that the diminution of Akahito's reputation in the twentieth
century says more about that century than about the ultimate value of
his poetry.
We know very little about Takahashi no Mushimaro, apparently a
contemporary of Akahito. Only one poem, composed in 732, is dated.
It has been conjectured that both Akahito and Mushimaro died in the
smallpox epidemic of 737. Mushimaro's best poems, included in the
"Mushimaro Collection," are not specifically identified as his, but they
are stylistically and atmospherically similar to the known works. The
"Mushimaro Collection" includes thirty choka, some on legendary sub-
jects like the story of U rashima Taro, the man who returned to the
world after sojourning what he supposed was three years with the
daughter of the sea god in their palace under the sea, only to discover
that (like Rip van Winkle) he had actually spent many years away from
home."? Other choka tell of the unhappy Maiden Tekona, or the even
unhappier Maiden Unai, who was loved by two youths and killed herself
because she was unwilling to choose between them. (The two young
men also committed suicide.)!"
The choka dated 732 that Mushimaro presented to his protector
Fujiwara no Umakai on his departure as inspector general of the Sai-
kaido is of interest not only because it is one of the rare facts we know
about Mushimaro but because it is an occasional poem of the kind often
found in collections of Chinese poetry but relatively unusual in Japan:

shirakumo no At this time of year when the white-clouded

Tatsuta no yama no Tatsuta Hill
tsuyu shimo ni Begins slowly to crimson with dew and
irozuleu toki ni frost,
uchikoetc You cross it to go on a journey.
tabi yuku kimi wa Over five hundred hills you will tramp your
lOeyama way
iyuki sakumi Till you reach the land of Tsukushi
ata mamoru Where men guard the shore against the
Tsultushi ni itari alien foes.
yama no sok] There, despatching your subordinates for
no no soki miyo to inspection
tomo no he wo To the extremities of hill and plain,
akachitsukawashi You will survey the land's defenses
yamabiko no everywhere,
I28 Early and Heian Literature

kotaen kiwami Even in that far place where Echo makes

taniguleu no reply
sawataru kiwami And at the remotest nook whither creeps
kuni kata wo the toad.
meshitamaite But with the approach of spring time,
fuyugomori Come back swiftly like a bird on the
haru sariyukaba wing!
tobu tori no
hayaku kimasana
Tatsutaji no
oleabe no michi ni Yes, when the red azaleas glow by the
ni tsutsuji no wayside
niowan toki no Amid the knolls along the Tatsuta road,
sahurabana And when the cherry-trees are in bloom,
saltinan toki ni I will come to meet you-to greet you on
yamatazu no your return.'?"
multacmaidcn
kimi ga kimasaba

Mushimaro gave new life to the choka by using it for themes that,
although they lack the elegiac grandeur with which Hitomaro filled the
form, sustain the reader's interest with a content easily recognizable to
Chinese (or European) poets; but the choka had not much longer to
live, and Mushimaros efforts, though interesting in themselves, led
nowhere. Splendid choka would be composed by some later Man'voslu;
poets, but the Japanese had made the presumably unconscious decision
that poetry must be completely poetic. Narrowly interpreted, this could
only lead to short poems in which poetic perfection was attainable.
Legends like that of U rashima did not disappear from literature but
survived in the folktale, and the choka came to seem an inappropriate
and constricting form for the content.
One other important Man'voshu poet is thought to have died in the
epidemic of 737, Kasa no Kanamura, who composed mainly choka,
including several commemorating visits of the sovereign to Yoshino.
These choka, composed between 723 and 733, would seem to be a
reversion to the manner of Hitomaro, but a comparison of Kanarnura's
most striking choka, composed in 725, with celebrated ones by Hitomaro
on similar subjects, quickly reveal the differences:
The Man I y o s h u [29

Though the land of wave-bright Naniwa

Regarded by all men as a ruined place
No better than an old reed-fence,
Was left all forgotten and unfriended-

Now that our Sovereign is pleased to dwell

Here at the Palace of N agara,
Pillared stout and high,
Thence to rule his wide domain,
And the courtiers of the eighty clans
Have built their cottages on Ajifu Field,
This place has become an Imperial City,
If for but the time of their sojourn.!"

This choka suffers when compared with poems on ruined capitals

by Hitomaro and Kurohito if only because it is so cheerful. One expects
melancholy reflections, and instead Kanamura rejoices that the old
capital is once more the scene of imperial pomp, if only briefly. It
would take a more skillful poet than Kanamura to make this subject
exciting.
It is tempting to put Kanamura down as a sycophantic court
poet who could turn out a poem on commission without difficulty and
without much distinction, but some of his poems do not fit this descrip-
tion. His choka composed on the occasion of the Emperor Shomu's
visit to Inami in 726, for example, does not even mention the osten-
sible subject, but laments instead that the poet lacks a boat to convey
him to Awaji Island where, he has heard, lovely fisher maids "cut
dainty seaweed in the morning calm, and in the evening stillness burn
salt-fires." There is something almost Proustian in Kanamura's fasci-
nation with girls he knows of only through report, but the poem itself
hardly resembles what Hitomaro would have composed on such an
occasion.!"
Kanamura's most affecting poem was composed in 725, during the
Emperor Shornu's visit to the Detached Palace at Mika-no-hara:

A sojourner in Mika's plains

I saw you on the road,
A stranger to me like a cloud of heaven:
The words I could not speak to you,
130 Early and Heian Literature

Quite choked my heart.

Yet we two, by mercy of the gods,
Are now wedded in love and trust,
Lying upon each other's sleeve.
Ah, tonight! Would it were as long
As a hundred autumn nights together!

ENVOY

I have leaned, body and soul,

Towards you, beloved,
From the moment I saw you-
A stranger like a cloud of heaven."?

These poems prove that Kanamura was more than a conventionally

competent court poet. In his own day he seems to have ranked higher
than Akahito.!" Kanamura certainly wrote many conventional poems,
but he may have found the role of the court poet wearying and taken
refuge at times in poems that were dictated not by his position but by
his heart.
The first major Man'yoshu poet whose career can be traced in the
official histories was Otomo no Tabito (665-731). Of course, we possess
considerable information about members of the imperial family and
high-ranking court officials who contributed a poem or two to the
collection, but Tabito was both a major poet and an important official.
His name first appears in an entry of the official history Shoku Nihongi
for 710, when he was in his forty-sixth year. In his capacity as general
of the Left he led a procession of Hayato and Emishi captives in a parade
before the Empress Gemmei on New Year's Day. In 720 he was ap-
pointed as General of the Hayato Pacification Headquarters in Kyushu,
but was recalled to the capital later in the same year, after the death of
the minister of the Right, Fujiwara no Fuhito. Tabito remained in the
capital during the period known as "the age of Prince Nagaya," so called
because the prince was the central figure in the political world. In 728
Tabito was once again sent to Kyushu, this time as commanding general
of the Dazaifu.!"
Not long after Tabito left the capital, Prince Nagaya was denounced
by the four sons of Fuhito for having resorted to black magic in the
attempt to seize control of the country. The death of the infant born to
The Ma n Lyo s h u IJI

the Emperor Shomu and his consort K6my6 (the daughter of Fuhito)
was blamed on Nagaya's sinister practices, and the prince was forced
to commit suicide. It is not clear whether Tabito was affected by these
developments, though it has been suggested that his famous poems
celebrating the pleasures of drink were occasioned by his disgust with
a world where such events could take place."?
Only two poems composed by Tabito before he went to the Dazaifu
have been preserved. Perhaps earlier poems were lost, but this is unlikely
in view of the great care with which Tabito's son Otomo no Yakomochi
collected his father's writings. One of the early poems describes the visit
to Yoshino of the Emperor Shornu in 724, just a month after his accession
to the throne. This short choka seems on the surface to be no more
than a hackneyed compendium of familiar reactions to the much-
admired sights:

mi Yoshino no At holy Yoshino

Yoshino no miya u/a The palace of Yoshino,
yama kara shi Thanks to the mountains,
totoku arashi Seems nobility itself;
mizu kara shi And thanks to the water,
sayakeku arashi Seems purity itself.
ame tsuchi to Long as heaven and earth,
nagaku hisashihu It will last eternal;
yorozu yo ru Through ten thousand ages
kawarazu aran It will remain unchanged,
idemashi no miya 181 This palace of delights.

Tsuchihashi Yutaka pointed out, however, that Tabito, instead of

employing the word kawa (river), invariably mentioned in connection
with the Yoshino landscape, spoke instead of mizu (water). He attributed
this variation to a passage in the Analects: "The wise man delights in
water; the good man delights in mountains."182 A prediction that a place
will last as long as heaven and earth was also commonplace in Chinese
literature. The exact sources of Tabito's allusions are of less importance
than his unspoken attempt to lend depth to familiar Japanese sentiments
about that overly familiar place, Yoshino, by referring to Chinese ex-
amples. Many Japanese in later centuries would do the same.
The words "through ten thousand ages it will remain unchanged"
on the surface seem no more than the usual hyperbole, but Tsuchihashi
I3 2 Early and Heian Literature

traced them to thesemmyo (imperial edict), issued by the Emperor Shornu

at the time of his coronation, in which the same phrases occurred; these
words were derived in turn from the sernmyo of the Empress Gemmei
at her coronation. In context, Gemmei's words apparently meant that
she would continue the practice of relying on the Fujiwara family for
assistance in governing the country. The unremarkable claim of Tabito's
poem, that the palace of Yoshino would last forever, can therefore be
interpreted as meaning that Tabito favored perpetual Fujiwara domi-
nation of the sovereign. The hanka appended to the choka, which also
seems at first glance to be no more than predictable praise for Yoshino,
has also been given a quite different meaning:

muleashi mishi The stream of Kisa

Kisa no ogawa wo That I saw long ago,
ima mireba When seen again now
iyoyo sayakeku Appears to have become
narilteru kamo I8l Even more pellucid.

Tsuchihashi interpreted this poem as meaning that at last the Empress

[ito's desire to have on the throne an emperor belonging to the senior
line of Prince Kusakabe has been fulfilled, and the delighted Tabito is
voicing his praise.!" However, a note appended to the above choka and
hanka states that the poems were not actually presented. It would seem
that Tabito, after all his efforts to impart special relevance to what could
easily be taken for hackneyed expressions of praise of Yoshino, never
had the pleasure of having his handiwork admired. It is also possible
that Tsuchihashi's interpretation was excessively ingenious.
Tabito's other early poem (its date is not known) is a moderately
interesting waka expressing his hopes that falling rain will not melt the
snow accumulated on the trees on the mountain.!" The early poems are
so few that we cannot but be surprised that Tabito emerged as a major
poet in 728, at the age of sixty-three. The first poems of this period were
occasioned by the death of his wife, who had accompanied him to Kyushu
from the capital in that year. There is some uncertainty concerning
which poems of the sequence Tabito himself composed and which were
by his friend Yamanoue no Okura, at the time serving as governor of
Chikuzen in Kyushu. Most editors now believe that Okura wrote all
the poems except the first, but in the persona of Tabito.!" Even if the
poems were not by Tabito himself, the tragic experience of his wife's
death and the companionship of a poet of about his own age seem to
have induced in Tabito the urge to write poetry. Many poems describe
The Man I yo s h u 133

his longing for his wife or his yearning to be back in the capital. Among
these are "Three poems written in the fifth year of Jinki, the Year of
the Dragon, by the Commander of the Dazaifu, Lord Otomo, in affec-
tionate remembrance of a dead person":

utsukushiki Will ever there be

hito no mahiteshi Someone else who will rest
shileuae no Her head on my arms
wa ga tamahura aio As once my beloved wife
maeu hito arame ya 187 Made her pillow there?

A note says that the above poem was written "some ten days after being
bereaved."

kaerubeku The time has arrived

toki wa narihcr: To go back home again;
miyako nite In the capital
ta ga tamoto wo ka On whose sleeve
a/a ga makurakan Shall I pillow my head?

miyako naru When I sleep alone

aretaru ie ni In that long-forsaken house
hitori neba In the capital,
tabi ni masarite It will be much more painful
kurushikarubeshi188 Than even on my journey.

A note after the above two poems indicates that they were composed
as Tabito neared the capital on the return journey. Other poems written
along the way contrast his present feelings as he passed various places
with those he had when he passed the same places with his wife on the
outward journey. For example, here is the poem he composed at Cape
Mimune, east of the present harbor of Kobe:

yuleusa ni wa As I go by, alone,

futari wa ga mishi The cape we saw together
kono saki wo On the outward voyage,
[34 Early and Heian Literature

hitori sugureba How it breaks my heart!

kokoroganashimo 189

Once back in the capital, his dream for years, the loneliness of his
house was even more heartrending:

toagimoko ga Every time I see

ueshi ume no ki The plum tree planted
miru goto ni By my beloved,
kokoro musetsutsu My heart is choked
namida shi nagaru'" And the tears flow.

T abito's poems on the death of his wife reveal unmistakable grief;

yet we know that during his stay at the Dazaifu he was "consoled" by
various women of pleasure, notably one Koshima, who wrote two poems
that are included in the Man'yoshu:

o naraba If you were an ordinary man,

kamokamo sen wo I would behave as I please,
kashikomi to But out of deference
furitaki sode wo I keep myself from waving
shinobite aru kamo 19 1 The sleeve I would like to wave.

Tabito was not insensible to Koshima's grief, as he revealed 10 a

poem he composed before leaving on the homeward journey:

Yamatoji no When I pass by

Kibi no Koshima wo Koshima in Kibi along
sugite yuleaba The Yamato road,
Tsukushi no Koshima I shall surely remember
omoen kamo'?' Koshima of Tsukushi.

Shortly before Tabito returned to Nara he presented a Japanese koto

(zither) of paulownia wood to Fusasaki, one of the four Fujiwara broth-
ers responsible for the death of Prince Nagaya.!'" The gift was accom-
panied by an explanation in Chinese of how the koto had appeared in
his dream in the form of a girl who expressed joy that she (who had
formerly been a tree) had been fashioned into a koto; she had feared
that her wood might be put to unworthy use. The girl in the dream
composed a poem to celebrate the occasion, and Tabito replied in kind.
The Man' y o sh ii 135

Fusasaki acknowledged the gift with a letter in Chinese and an indif-

ferent waka.
Apart from the possible political significance of the gift and what it
reveals of Tabito's attitude toward the Fujiwara family, the sources of
the Chinese phraseology in his letter of presentation are of interest.
Allusions have been traced back to the Wen Hsiian, to the celebrated
erotic tale Yu hsien k'u, and to the philosopher Chuang TZU.194 Such
borrowings make it plain that works of Chinese literature and philosophy
were known to educated Japanese.
Tabito's pleasure in plum blossoms, attested by a series of waka
written by him and his friends just before he left the Dazaifu in the
first month of 730, are another sign of his Chinese tastes, plum blossoms
having traditionally been associated by the Chinese with the scholar.!"
Thirty-two poems, with a preface in Chinese, describe the occasion and
bear witness to the hold that the cult of plum blossoms had come to
exert over upper-class Japanese, who enjoyed imagining they were
Chinese composing poems on the falling blossoms.'?" In later collections
of Japanese poetry, cherry blossoms would largely displace plum blos-
soms in the affections of the poets, as they moved from Chinese to
Japanese aesthetic preferences. None of the thirty-two poems on plum
blossoms composed by Tabito and his friends is really distinguished, but
four appended waka on plum blossoms, apparently by Tabito, are more
interesting. Here is the first:

nokoritaru Plum blossoms

yuki ni majireru Lingering on the boughs
ume no hana Amidst the snow-
hayaku na chiri so Do not fall too quickly.
yuki wa kenu tomo'" Even if the snow melts away.

Although unremarkable in conception and simplicity itself in expression,

the poem is affecting, largely because the poet addresses the plum blos-
soms as if they were sentient, recalling the personification in the tale
about the koto. The last of the four appended waka gives the response
made by the blossoms:

ume no hana The plum blossoms

ime ni kataraku Addressed me in a dream:
miyabitaru "We consider ourselves
 Early and Heian Literature

hana to are mou Most elegant f1owers-

sake ni uleabe kOSOJ 98 Please let us float on sake."

The blossoms' desire to float in elegance in a gentleman's sake cup, in

a manner befitting their special status among the flowers, suggests the
degree of refinement that had been attained in emulation of Chinese
culture. Another poem by Tabito, composed on this occasion, is explicitly
Taoist:

kumo ni tobu Better than an elixir

kusuri hamu yo wa For flying in the clouds,
miyako miba If I saw the capital
iyashiki a ga mi It would make even a wretch
mata ochinubeshi'?' Like myself young once again.

Mention of an "elixir" that permits whomever drinks it to soar into the

clouds brings to mind the various elixirs consumed by the Taoists. The
poem not only expresses Tabito's longing to return to the capital but
his profession of Taoist beliefs. Taoism would be given careful presen-
tation by Kukai in his Indications of the Goals of the Three Teachings,
but at this time it probably meant mainly a professed indifference to
worldly things. It was popular among nobles of the Nara court, as we
know from poems in the Kaifasti, but it was generally linked with
Buddhism or Shinto and was not itself professed as a religion.t'"
Chinese influence colored not only Tabito's writings but those of
the people who exchanged poetry and correspondence with him. The
rapid absorption of Chinese culture by the court led at times to an
ostentatious display of learning. A letter to Tabito from his friend
Yoshida no Yoroshi is a tissue of allusions to Chinese texts, as this
excerpt may suggest:

I entreat you, Lord, to spread virtue like Lu Kung, who tamed the
pheasant in the morning, and to leave behind benevolent acts like
K'ung Yu, who freed the turtles in the evening-so that your name
may be spoken of, like Chang Ch'ang's and Chao Kung Han's, a
hundred generations hence, so that your life like Chih Sung Tzu's
and Wang Tzu Ch'iao's may extend a thousand years.?"

More effective than such ponderous attempts to display mastery of

foreign literary traditions are the thirteen poems in praise of sake by
Tabito, probably composed soon after his return to the capital from the
The Ma n i yo sh u I37

Dazaifu. The sequence is loosely constructed, though scholars have de-

tected a traditional Chinese pattern in the arrangement.s'" The sequence
opens with this poem:

shirushi naki Instead of fretting

mono wo omowazu wa Over things of no avail,
hitotsulti no It would seem better
nigol'eru sake wo To drink a cupful
nomu beku arurashi'> Of clouded sake.

"Clouded sake" tnigorcru sake) occurs elsewhere in the sequence and

means unrefined (or unfiltered) sake.
The specifical1y Taoist tone of the sequence is most apparent in the
third poem:

inishie no It was true also

nana no sakashiki Even of the seven sages
hitotachi mo Who lived long ago:
horiseshi mono wa What they had a craving for
sake ni shi arurashi'" Was very likely sake.

Tabito here was referring to the "Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove,"
a group of hermits of the Chin dynasty (265-316) who fled the turbulence
of society to live amicably together, their relations cemented by the sake
they consumed. They were often held up as perfect examples of how
Taoists should behave in this world.
The last poem of the thirteen, though it seems to be much of a piece
with the others, has been interpreted rather differently:

moda orite Keeping glum silence

sahashira suru wa In the role of a wise man
sake nomite Is stil1 not as good
ei naki SUI'U ni As drinking one's own sake
nao shikazukeri205 And weeping drunken tears.

This poem seems to refer to the maudlin thoughts that often overtake
the drinker late in a party; the poet says that it is better to experience
them (and the accompanying tears) than not to drink at all. Tsuchihashi,
however, interpreted the poem as an expression of Tabito's disgust with
court society, occasioned perhaps by the ruthlessness with which Prince
Nagaya was hunted down. Tabito's only escape from brutal realities
 Early and Heian Literature

was in liquor. If true, it means that he had rejected the comfort of

Buddhism and did not experience the satisfaction that Confucianism
should have instilled of serving the government. 206
It is hard to know how much credence to give to such an interpre-
tation, but the Taoist tone of the poem is undeniable, and it is possible
that the world of the immortals, evoked by plum blossoms and attainable
with the aid of drink, became in the end the only real world for Tabito.
He died in 73 I, not long after returning to the capital. One of his last
poems was composed in response to some poems that the priest Mansei
had sent him:

koko ni arite N ow that I am here,

Tsukushi ya izuchi I wonder where Tsukushi is.
shiralrumo no It would seem to be
tanabihu yama no Off by yonder mountains
kata ni shi arurashi/" Where white clouds lie in layers.

Tsukushi-the Dazaifu, presumably-where he had spent years of

service, had lost reality now that he was back in the capital. Was it
perhaps on the other side of those mountains where the clouds trailed?
Did it really exist?
Tabito is a memorable poet, though relatively few of his poems
appear in the Man'yoshu, Chinese influence is manifest, not only in the
themes of his poetry but in his attitudes toward his materials; his decision
nevertheless to compose his poetry in Japanese, rather than Chinese,
indicates that for all the influence and comfort he received from the
Chinese poetry of the past, he believed that the appropriate language
for the matters he wished to describe in his poetry was his own.
Tabito's name is often linked with that of his friend Yamanoue no
Okura (660?-733?). Okura's reputation has sharply risen in the twentieth
century until he ranks second only to Hitomaro. The elevation of his
reputation can be explained in part by the increased importance now
attached to the choka, as compared to the past, when the waka of the
Man'yoshu were more highly praised. But the fact that Okura, rather
than some other poet known for his choka, has benefited by this re-
valuation is due to the content of his poetry. Most Japanese poems, at
least those written before the twentieth century, are devoid of intellectual
or social concerns, no matter how beautifully they capture the emotional
states of the poets or their perceptions of nature. Okura's poetry provides
rare examples of such concerns. His poems are often introduced by long
prefaces in Chinese that explain not merely the circumstances of com-
The Man I y o s h ii 139

position but the underlying philosophical truths, whether Confucian,

Buddhist, or Taoist. Okura's poetry tends to be so earnest in its tone
that he has often been contrasted with the lyric Akahito or the sake-
loving Tabito, as if they were totally dissimilar. The differences sepa-
rating Okura and other Man'voshi; poets have in fact been exaggerated,
but the individuality of his voice is apparent.
Okura's distinctive style has in recent years been attributed not only
to his personality but to his birth in Korea. According to this thesis, he
fled with his father and others to Japan from Paekche in 663, the year
of the disastrous defeat of the Japanese forces in Korea at Hakusukinoe.f"
The main literary significance of Okura's having been of Korean descent
and a refugee at the age of three or four is that he probably obtained
from his father a better education in the Chinese classics (and possibly
also Buddhist texts) than Japanese of equivalent social standing.
We possess almost no information about Okura before he was ap-
pointed in 701 as a member of an embassy to China.i" Although he was
only a junior scribe (shoroku), an inconspicuous figure, without rank or
title, in a large delegation, it was presumably his knowledge of Chinese
that had earned him his position. Perhaps, as has been suggested, he
served as a copier of sutras before being sent to China.:" Okura had
attended the court and had accompanied imperial progresses, composing
poetry in the manner of Hitomaro, but he was not an official and was
not required to compose eulogies in the manner of a recognized court
poet.
The embassy to China was the seventh sent by the Japanese to the
Tang court (the first was in 630), and the first since the fall ofPaekche.
Embassies were dispatched at irregular intervals, sometimes as close as
a year apart, but sometimes after long periods of time, as became in-
creasingly true toward the end: when the eighteenth and last embassy
was supposed to leave for China in 894 after a lapse of sixty years, it
was canceled at the insistence of the ambassador, Sugawara no Michi-
zane. The embassy of which Okura was a member probably consisted
of five thousand or more men, divided among four ships, but only a
small number of Japanese-perhaps no more than thirty-five-were
permitted by the Chinese to proceed from the coast to the capital at
Ch'ang-an.'!'
Okura probably remained in Ch'ang-an for two years, returning
with the other members of the embassy in 704, but there is some reason
to think he might have stayed until 707. This was a time when the
Japanese were rapidly absorbing many elements of contemporary
Chinese civilization: they learned to play kickball (kemart"), backgammon
 Early and Heian Literature

(sugoroku), and go, as well as various musical instruments; they acquired

a taste for glutinous rice, tea, and sweets; and they began to celebrate
such festivals as Tanabata.i" The embassies served as the channels
through which this knowledge of China passed into Japan. We do not
know, however, how Okura spent his time in Ch'ang-an. Perhaps he
met literary men,"! but nothing in his writings reveals his Chinese
acquaintances.
One of Okura's earliest poems may have been written in 701, ill
between the unsuccessful attempt of the embassy to cross the sea to
China and the actual departure:

amagaheri Soaring like a bird

ari ga yoitsutsu across the sky,
miramedomo he is present and he sees.
hito koso shirane Men do not know it,
matsu wa shiruran but the pine must know.'!'

This cryptic poem, a rejoinder to one by Naga no Okimaro, is believed

to refer to the ghost of Prince Arima, executed for treason in 658: Arirna's
ghost can see the world of men, but they cannot see it; only the pine is
aware of the ghost's presence.
About the time that Okura was to leave China and return to Japan
he composed what has been called the only poem in the Man'voshi;
composed in a foreign country:

iza kodomo Come on, my lads,

hayaku Yamato e Let's hurry back to Japan-
Otomo no The pines on the beach
Mitsu no hamamatsu At Mitsu in Otomo
machileoinuran'" Must wait longingly for us.

Okura was promoted to the lower junior fifth rank in 714 and
appointed governor of Hoki in 716. In 721 he became a tutor to the
crown prince, the future Emperor Shomu, It may have been at this time
that he compiled Ruijii Karin, a classified collection of Japanese poems
that survives only in passages quoted in the Man'yoshii.
Okura remained in the capital after Shornu ascended the throne in
724. A postscript states that Okura composed a Tanabata poem at the
residence of the minister of the Left, Prince Nagaya.!" In the twelfth
month of 730, at a farewell banquet for Otorno no Tabito, who was
about to return to the capital, Okura composed this poem:
The Man I y o s h u

amazakaru Now that I have lived

hina ni itsu tose Five years in the provinces
sumaitsutsu At the end of the world,
miyalto no teburi I have quite forgotten
ioasuraeniecri"? The ways of the capital.

If the figure (five years) given in the poem is accurate, Okura's appoint-
ment as governor of Chikuzen in Kyushu took place late in 725 or early
in 726. He seems to have returned permanently to the capital in 732.
The post of governor of Chikuzen was by far the most important
Okura ever held, not only because Chikuzen was a major province but
because many other officials with literary interests were stationed in the
area. Okura's friendship and literary association with Tabito in particular
inspired some of his finest works. Book V of the Man'yoshu is devoted
mainly to poems by the two men. They bear prefaces in Chinese that
present Buddhist and Confucian doctrine:

Thus have I heard: that the birth and death of the four modes of
life are comparable to the emptiness of all dreams, that the course
of life through the three realms is like the endless spin of a
cycle.... Man's existence is no more than the flash of a white steed
across the evening as glimpsed through a crevice in a wall. Oh how
painful it is! The maiden's crimson face is gone forever with the
woman's three duties to obey, and young white flesh is destroyed
forever with the wife's four virtues.... 218

Another poem, with the title "Poem to Set a Confused Heart

Straight," opens with this preface in Chinese:

There is a certain type of man who knows he should honor his

father and mother, but forgets to discharge his filial duties with
devotion. He does not concern himself with his wife and children,
but treats them more lightly than a pair of discarded shoes ....
Though his spirit may soar free among the blue clouds, his body
still remains among the dust of this world. He shows no sign of
being a sage who has undergone ascetic discipline and mastered the
Way.219

The poem itself is an attack on the indifference to worldly obligations

taught by the Taoists. Not only does it insist on the importance of family
 Early and Heian Literature

relationships as taught by the Confucianists and on the ascetic discipline

expected of Buddhists, but includes such injunctions as:

When you go to heaven,

You can do as you please;
But on the earth
There is the emperor.
Under the sun and moon
That shine in the heavens,
To the ends of the sky
Where the clouds stretch far away,
To the ends of the earth
Where the toads creep about,
He reigns over all.
A wonderful land it is!220

The import of these lines would seem to be that no man, even a professed
Taoist who has renounced worldly ties, can ignore the emperor's claim
to his loyal service.
Other poems by Okura with a seemingly simple message are aug-
mented with philosophical prefaces that state their real intent, whether
to describe the poet's conviction that nothing is more precious than one's
children, or his insistence that provincial governors must familiarize
themselves with local customs. He also wrote graceful waka about plum
blossoms in the manner appropriate to a gentleman-scholar. But Okura's
reputation rests mainly on three or four choka that are unique among
the poems of the Man'yoshii. His themes were by no means unique: the
impermanence of human life and the sufferings that come with old age
are universal themes, and the Man'yoshi; contains a number of such
poems; but Okura's expression is so powerful and compelling that what-
ever similarities exist with other poems are quickly forgotten. His poem
on the "difficulty of living in this world" contains this memorable
passage:

Few are the nights they keep,

When, sliding back the plank doors,
They reach their beloved ones,
And sleep, arms intertwined,
Before, with staffs at their waists,
The Man'y6shu
They totter along the road,
Laughed at here, and hated there.!"

Okura's poems on "suffering from old age and prolonged illness,

and thinking of his children,'?" are preceded by an essay in Chinese
that opens with a declaration of abiding faith in the Three Treasures
of Buddhism-Buddha, the Law, and the Priesthood. He wonders why
he has nevertheless been afflicted for ten years with an illness that has
left him debilitated. In vain he has sought some doctor who could cure
him. He has considered also the practices followed by the Taoists to
achieve immortality, but declares his willingness to forgo immortality,
providing he is relieved of his illness. A poem in Chinese resumes these
sentiments, and this is followed by a choka and envoys in Japanese.
Unlike the abstract prefatory matter, the poems abound in images drawn
from daily life:

So long as lasts the span of life,

We wish for peace and comfort
With no evil and no mourning,
But life is hard and painful.
As the common saying has it,
Bitter salt is poured into the smarting wound,
Or the burdened horse is packed with an upper load,
Illness shakes my old body with pain.
All day I breathe in grief
And sigh throughout the night.
For long years my illness lingers,
I grieve and groan month after month,
And though I would rather die,
I cannot, and leave my children,
Noisy like the flies of May.
Whenever I watch them
My heart burns within.
And tossed this way and that,
I weep aloud.

The most celebrated of Okura's poems is his "Dialogue on Poverty."

The dialogue is between two men, the first a poor but proud man who
wonders how people worse off than himself manage to survive, the
second a destitute man who indirectly answers the first man's questions
by describing his misery:
 Early and Heian Literature
On the night when the rain beats,
Driven by the wind,
On the night when the snow-flakes mingle
With the sleety rain,
I feel so helplessly cold.
I nibble at a lump of salt,
Sip the hot, oft-diluted dregs of sake;
And coughing, snuffling,
And stroking my scanty beard,
I say in my pride,
"There's none worthy, save I!"
But I shiver still with cold,
I pull up my hempen bed-clothes,
Wear what few sleeveless clothes I have,
But cold and bitter is the night!
As for those poorer than myself,
Their parents must be cold and hungry,
Their wives and children beg and cry.
Then, how do you struggle through life?

Wide as they call the heaven and earth,

For me they have shrunk quite small;
Bright though they call the sun and moon,
They never shine for me.
Is it the same for all men,
Or for me alone?
By rare chance I was born a man
And no meaner than his fellows,
But, wearing un wadded sleeveless clothes
In tatters, like weeds waving in the sea,
Hanging from my shoulders,
And under the sunken roof,
Within the leaning walls,
Here I lie on straw
Spread on bare earth,
With my parents at my pillow,
My wife and children at my feet,
All huddled in grief and tears.
No fire sends up smoke
At the cooking-place,
The Man' yo s h ii 145

And in the cauldron

A spider spins its web.
With not a grain to cook,
We moan like the "night-thrush."
Then, "to cut," as the saying is,
"The ends of what is already too short,"
The village headman comes,
With rod in hand, to our sleeping-place,
Growling for his dues.
Must it be so hopeless-
The way of this world?

ENVOY

Nothing but pain and shame in this world of men,

But I cannot flyaway,
Wanting the wings of a bird.!"

During the next thousand years not another such poem would be
composed in Japanese. Okura's ability to enter into the feelings of two
poor men-the first, perhaps the village headman mentioned in the
second man's narration, taking bare comfort from the existence of people
who are worse off than himself, the second, overcome by the misery of
his life-may well have been the product of actual observation during
his time as the governor of a distant province. For later poets, farmers
or fishermen were usually small figures in a panorama of sky and
mountains, much like those depicted in Chinese landscape paintings;
and their dwellings, if represented, were picturesque rather than mis-
erable. The poetic diction that would be established at the beginning of
the tenth century would not permit the ugliness evoked by Okura's
poem either in language or subject matter.
The differences between Okura's "Dialogue on Poverty" and other
poems of its time can be demonstrated with numbers: thirty of the words
are not found elsewhere in the Man'yoshu. 224 Even so common a word
as mazushiki (poverty-stricken) does not occur in any other Man'yoshu
poem and certainly not in the Kokinshi: or the later court anthologies.
Okura seems to have decided to eliminate conventional elegance from
this poem, whether in the language or the thought. 225 The irregularity
in the length of some lines suggests a poetic impulse so powerful it could
not be confined by the rules of metrics. The accent of truth in Okura's
 Early and Heian Literature

words owes much to his refusal to beautify his expression. His concern
for the cold and hungry of the world undoubtedly reflected his Confucian
training, but later Japanese poets, even if they were officials and had
passed examinations on the Chinese classics, would not express these
concerns, though they are found in the poetry of the great Chinese
masters.
Not all of Okura's poetry was composed at this level of intensity.
He wrote so many poems on Tanabata, the festival held on the seventh
night of the seventh moon to celebrate the meeting of two stars, that
some scholars credit him with having first made this Chinese legend
popular in [apan.?" He also wrote many poems at parties, including:

0kurara wa I, Okura, will leave now;

ima wa makaran My children may be crying,
ko naleuran And that mother of theirs, too,
sore sono haha mo May be waiting for me!
wa wo matsuran S0227

This poem has sometimes been cited as evidence of Okura's dislike of

parties.:" an impression that accords with the seriousness of most of his
poetry; but the poem was probably a compliment to his host on leaving
a party that he had thoroughly enjoyed, a transparent excuse not really
meant to convey concern over his wife and children.
But even if Okura enjoyed parties and composing poetry with his
friends under the plum blossoms, it is not for such subjects that his
poetry is remembered today but for the choka describing sickness, death,
and misery, themes that bespeak his indebtedness to Chinese literature,
though Okura lived before the great T'ang poets whom he most
resembled.

THE FOURTH PERIOD (730-759)

The final period of the Man'yoshii was dominated by one poet, Otomo
no Yakamochi (7I8?-78S). His importance was not confined to his
poems; he was the editor of the bulk of (if not the entire) Man'yoshii,
and the last four books in particular are given over so largely to his
poetry that they have been referred to as Yakamochi's "poem-diary."
His poetry lacks the grandeur of Hitomaro's and the social concern of
Okura's, but his voice is distinctive. Anticipating the Kokinshii, his poetry
is often melancholy rather than tragic, exquisitely phrased rather than
The Man' y o s h ii
explosively intense. This does not mean that his poetry lacks variety;
on the contrary, Yakamochi wrote in almost every mode, from highly
personal lyrics to public poems composed in response to a command
from the court. So many of his poems have been preserved that it is
inevitable that some are not of first quality, but the best rank near the
summit of Man'yoshu expression.
Yakamochi was the son of Otomo no Tabito. His mother was not
Tabito's legal consort, but Yakamochi seems not to have suffered on
that account, presumably because Tabito had no other son. In 727, when
Yakamochi was nine years old.?" he was taken by his father to the
Dazaifu. Yakamochi's stepmother, Tabito's consort, accompanied them.
After her death in 728, Tabito sent for his half-sister, Lady Otomo of
Sakanoue (c. 700-c. 750), presumably to aid in Yakamochi's education.i"
It is not clear how much the boy Yakamochi learned about poetry from
his aunt, herself a minor yet accomplished poet; but a poem he wrote
in 750 seems to echo the poetry composed at a party held at the Dazaifu
in 730 to celebrate the plum blossoms, suggesting that the boy had already
acquired sufficient competence as a poet to be present on such an
occasion.?"
Tabito died in 731, the year after his return to the capital, but Lady
Sakanoue continued to look after her nephew. Before long-perhaps
in 732232-the precocious Yakamochi was addressing love poetry to her
daughter, then aged eleven or twelve. Eventually, about 740, they would
be married. This was Yakamochi's first poem of courtship:

haru no no ni In the springtime field

asaru kigishi no A pheasant, searching for food,
tsumagoi ni Lets the hunters know
ono ga atari wo His hiding place by his cries
hito ni shiretsutsu'" Of yearning for his wife.

The pheasant, like ardent young Yakamochi, cannot help but voice his
love, even if he is risking danger. Another early poem, dated 733, was
apparently written on an assigned topic, as we can infer from a poem
composed at that time by Lady Sakanoue on the same subject, the
crescent moon.s" Yakamochi's likening of the crescent moon to an eye-
brow, a simile also found in her poem, was familiar from Chinese poetry.
A more interesting poem was about the uguisu, a kind of song thrush:

uchileirashi The sky is fogged over

yuki wa furitsutsu And snow keeps up a steady fall,
 Early and Heian Literature

shihasugani Yet all the same,

. .
wagle no sono nt In the garden of my house
uguisu naleu mo 235 An uguisu is singing.

This poem is indebted to earlier Man'yoshu poetry, evidence that he had

carefully studied the works of his precedessors. Many poems in the
Man'yoshu echo older examples, but Yakamochi borrowed more ob-
viously than, say, Tabito or Okura. His poem on the snow and the
uguisu presents a familiar contrast between nature and the calendar:
the fog and snow seem to say that it is still winter, but the singing of
the uguisu proclaims that spring has come. This kind of contrast, at
first quite charming, would become hackneyed before long. Yakamochi's
poem echoes two others composed in 730 at the Dazaifu on the occasion
of plum-blossom viewing. The first was by Tabito:

wa ga sono tu In my garden
ume no hana chiru Plum blossoms are scattering;
hisakata no Or is it snow
ame yori yuki no That, from the overarching sky,
nagarekuru kamo 236 Comes pouring down from above?

This was the response by Oromo no Momoyo:

ume no hana Where do you suppose

chiraleu wa izuku Plum blossoms would be falling?
shikasuga ni Yet all the same,
kono ki no yama ni Here at Castle Mountain,
yuki wa furitsutsu The snow keeps up a steady fall. 237

Two of the five lines of Yakamochi's poem were lifted bodily from
Mornoyo's poem, and mention of the garden seems to come from Ta-
bite's. The main difference between Yakamochi's poem and the two
others is that he does not profess to confuse the snow and white plum
blossoms. This most hackneyed of tropes, traceable as far back as the
Chinese poetry of the Six Dynasties (220-589), is found in a poem by
Tabito in the Kaifuso. Yakamochi substituted for plum blossoms the
uguisu, a bird often found in paintings in the proximity of these blossoms,
but this was his only contribution. An even more conspicuous example
of Yakamochi's borrowing occurs in the poem he composed after the
death of his first wife:
The Man I y6sh u 149

imo ga mishi Flowers are blooming

yado ni hana saki In the garden my wife knew.
toki wa henu How time has gone by!
wa ga naku namida And yet the tears I shed then
imada hinaku m"238 Have still not had time to dry.

This poem was obviously borrowed from one by Okura:

imo ga mishi The bead-tree blossoms

iich: no hana wa My wife knew
chirinubeshi Surely have scattered;
wa ga naku namida And yet the tears I shed then
imada hinahu ni 239 Have still not had time to dry.

Yakamochi borrowed three of five lines from Okura's poem and changed
the conception very little, but the specific mention of the passage of
time points to this being a later work: the passage of time and the
changes it brings would be a favorite theme of Kokinshu and subsequent
poets.
Yakamochi borrowed not only from Okura's poetry but from his
prefaces in Chinese in which he described the backgrounds of some
important poems. Yakamochi borrowed from other poets too, notably
Hitomaro and Kanamura, but the influence of Okura, whom he surely
met as a boy, was the strongest. In the preface to one of his poems
Yakamochi confessed that he had never "found his way to the gates of
Yama and Kaki." For centuries this was interpreted as meaning that
he felt inadequate before Yama(be) no Akahito and Kaki(nomoto) no
Hitomaro; but some twentieth-century scholars believe that "Yama"
referred not to Akahito but to Yama(noue) no Okura.i'"
Yakamochi's adaptations of the writings of Okura were on the level
of language, not of intellectual content. He nowhere touched on harsh
subjects such as the infirmities of old age or the misery of poverty, and
his prefaces lack the Buddhist or Confucian convictions that gave ad-
ditional depth to Okura's poems. This does not mean, however, that
Yakamochi's poems lack individuality, or that his high reputation was
undeserved. Modern commentators continue to find new interest in his
poetry. Yamamoto Kenkichi, for example, was particularly impressed
by the poems in which Yakamochi spoke of his ibusemi, a term suggesting
a sense of frustration or of melancholy. The word occurs in some of
I5° Early and Heian Literature

Yakamochi's best-known waka. One bears the title "Higurashi" (Dusk

Cicadas):

komori nomi Melancholy because

oreba ibusemi I had been shut up all day,
nagusan to To divert myself
idetachi kikeba I went outside and listened:
kinaku higurashi 241 Locusts had come and were singing.

A second poem at first glance seems quite similar:

amagomorl Melancholy at heart,

kokoro ibusemi Having been shut in by rain,
ide mireba I went out and looked:
Kasuga no yama wa The mountains at Kasuga
irozukinikeri242 Had taken on fall colors.

Despite the resemblances between the two poems, the last lines create
a different mood: in the first poem, the poet's melancholy is prolonged
and confirmed by the monotonous dinning of the locusts, but in the
second poem his dissatisfaction is relieved by the discovery that the
nearby hills have changed colors. Yamamoto believed that ibusemi was
a key word in understanding Yakamochi.i" and contrasted it with oboshi,
a word of rather similar meaning that occurs in poems by Hitomaro
and others: obiishi was used to describe a state of depression for which
some cause existed, but ibusemi referred to a causeless dissatisfaction and
lassitude that struck Yamamoto as being specifically modern.?" These
poems of Yakamochi's youth suggest a state of mind reminiscent of the
ennui described by nineteenth-century European poets, and the mood
is found also in waka of the Heian period and later.
Ibusemi by no means typified Yakamochi's poetry. Apart from his
public poems, which are naturally not melancholy, he wrote many love
poems that express a positive personality far removed from the languor
of ennui:

chidori naleu Over the river ferry at Saho,

Saho no kawato no Where the sanderlings cry-
kiyoki se wo When can I come to you
The Man I y o s h u 15 1

uma uchiwatashi Crossing on horseback

itsulea kayowan The crystal-clear shallowsj?"

Another poem in the same group of seven addressed to a woman suggests

his irritation at not being able, in a more masculine manner, to control
his emotions:

masurao to How I waste and waste away

omoeru ware wo With love forlorn-
kaku baleari I who have thought myself
mitsure ni mitsure A strong man!
hatamoi wo senr"

Although this expression of exasperation over his susceptibility to

love seems genuine, Yakamochi enjoyed the company of women. In
addition to the many poems he addressed to his wife and aunt, poems
were sent to no fewer than fourteen named women as well as a number
of unnamed women.?" Among the women he loved, Lady Kasa was
the best poet. All of her surviving twenty-nine poems were addressed
to Yakamochi, and all are love poems. If Yakamochi had not decided
to include these private poems when he edited the Man'yoshu, we would
know nothing about this poet of exceptional ability. Her "feminine"
expression perfectly balances Yakamochi's masculinity:

wa ga yado no In the loneliness of my heart

yukagekusa no I feel as if I should perish
shiratsuyu no Like the pale dew-drop
kenugani mota na Upon the grass of my garden
omoyuru kamo In the gathering shades of twilighr.i"

Another poem in the same group contains a note of desperation:

omoinishi If it were death to love,

shini suru mono ni I should have died-
aramaseba And died again
chitabi so ware wa One thousand times over.
shinihacramashi?"

Lady Kasa's love seems to have grown the more intense as she
realized that it was not fully reciprocated:
152 Early and Heian Literature

atomotuanu To love you who love me not

hito wo omou wa Is like going to a great temple
otera no To bow in adoration
gaki no shine ni Behind the back of the famished devil.
nulea tsuku gotoshi'>

Kasa in this poem compared with bitter irony her attempt to win Yaka-
mochi's love with the idiotic gesture of bowing one's head to the ground
before the statue of a hungry demon, a sinner condemned to hell because
of his avarice, and bowing at the image from behind! The word gaki
(hungry demon) is a rare instance of a word used in its Sino-Japanese
pronunciation, and as a metaphor is unique. The last two poems of the
sequence bear a note stating that they were sent to Yakamochi after
their separation.
Yakamochi seems to have been overwhelmed by Lady Kasa's love,
and he tried to escape her."! He responded with two poems, in the first
declaring that he felt oppressed at the thought they would not meet
again, possibly not a sincere statement of his feelings. The second ex-
pressed despair over his inability to be successful in love:

naleanaha ni Silence, actually,

moda mo aramashi wo Would have been preferable.
nani su to ka What had I in mind
aimisomekcn When first we began to meet?
togezaramaku ni 25! There was no chance of success.

These and other poems exchanged with court ladies provide proof
of Yakarnochi's complicated involvements with women. He responded
to their poems with appropriate gallantry, but love was not the most
important element in his life. He took his responsibilities as an official
seriously, in keeping with the long tradition of Otorno family service
to the emperor. He seems not to have become involved in court politics,
but he was associated with Tachibana no Moroe, and this connection
would have unpleasant consequences when the latter's enemy, Fujiwara
no Nakamaro, came to power. In 744 Prince Asaka, the heir of the
Emperor Shornu, died under mysterious circumstances. Some think he
may have been the victim of a plot by Nakamaro to remove the prince
from the succession and to clear the way for Shomu's daughter, whose
mother was a Fujiwara, to follow him on the throne.t" Yakamochi
wrote six elegies for the dead prince, including this stirring hanka:
The Man' yo s h ii I53

atomo no My heart, that bears the fame of Otorno

na ni ou yuki obite My trust to serve, quiver on back,
yorozu yo nt For a myriad ages,
tanomishi kokoro Where shall I take it now? 254
izuleu ka yosen

Yakamochi was proud to allude to his family's ancient reputation

as the quiver bearers, or personal guards, of the imperial family. In this
poem he asks how he is to carryon family traditions when, because of
the prince's death, there will be no legitimate sovereign to serve.
In 745 Yakamochi was appointed as governor of Etchu, a province
on the Japan Sea coast. Etchii was remote, but it was an important
province, and its area had been increased four years earlier by an imperial
decree that joined to it the small province of Noto. The five years that
Yakamochi spent in Etchii were the most productive in poetry of his
entire life, both in quantity and quality.i"
A choka by Yakamochi favored especially during periods of nation-
alism was composed in 749 after the discovery of gold in the province
of Mutsu. This was the first time gold had been found in Japan, and it
could not have occurred at a more opportune moment: the great statue
of Roshana Buddha, erected in Nara by command of the Emperor
Shomu.?" could now be given a coating of gold leaf. The delighted
emperor declared at the ceremony when the statue was consecrated that
he was the servant of the Three Treasures of Buddhism. The reign
name (nengo) was changed from Ternpyo to Tempyo Kampa, kampo
meaning "gratitude for the treasure."
Shornu also issued a sernmyo to his officials in which he quoted the
oath of loyalty to the throne made many years before by the Otomo
family. Yakamochi was overcome by this imperial recognition of the
service of his family which, despite its ancient lineage, had at times
suffered eclipse, and was particularly moved by the emperor's reference
to the Otorno and Saeki families as warriors who directly protected the
emperor iuchinoileusa ).257 In the choka celebrating the discovery of gold,
Yakamochi, after first describing the event, moved on to an account of
his family:

I ponder more deeply than ever

How to the Otorno clan belongs a great office
In which served our far-off divine ancestor
Who bore the title of Okume-nushi.
I54 Early and Heian Literature
Weare the sons of fathers who sang,
"At sea be my body water-soaked,
On land be it with grass overgrown,
Let me die by the side of my Sovereign!
Never will I look back";
And who to this day from olden times
Have kept their warrior's name forever clean.
Verily Otomo and Saeki are the clans
Pledged to the maxim, as pronounced
By their ancestors: "Extinguish not, sons,
The names of your fathers! Serve your sovereign!"
o let us grip birchwood bows in our hands,
Wear on our loins double-edged swords,
And stand guard morning and evening!
There are no men but we to defend the imperial gate-
I exclaim with a fervent heart
When I hear His Majesty's gracious words,
That overwhelm me with awe.i"

The song "At sea be my body water-soaked ..." was often quoted
in the first half of the twentieth century as a self-sacrificing ideal for the
Japanese to emulate. But there is no mention in the poem of the divin-
ity of the imperial family; the Otomo and Saeki clans are supremely loyal
to the throne, but their ancestry can also be traced back to the Age of the
Gods, and the successive emperors have never failed to acknowledge
their gratitude for the protection afforded by these ancient guardsmen.
In the fifth month of 756 the Retired Emperor Shornu, the protector
of the Otomo family, died. A week later Otomo no Kojihi, the governor
of Izumo, was accused of having slandered the court. He was later
released, probably because of his wife's close connections with the Fu-
jiwara family, but Yakamochi felt impelled to address a choka of ad-
monition to his clansmen in which, after reciting the deeds of the founder
of the clan, who accompanied Ninigi-no-rnikoto when he descended
onto Mount Takachiho from the High Plain of Heaven, he insisted that
absolute loyalty to the imperial house was the sacred duty of members
of the clan. They must not permit even the possibility of false reports
being circulated at the court to the effect that they have been disloyal.
The choka concluded:

So cherished and clean is the name of our clan.

Neglect it never, lest even a false word
The Man I y o s h u I55

Should destroy this proud name of our fathers,

You clansmen all, who bear the name of atomo. 259

After the death in 757 of Tachibana no Moroe, another protector of

the Otomo family, Fujiwara no Nakamaro decided that the time was
ripe to deal a mortal blow to the atomo and Saeki clans. In the sixth
month an order was issued by the court prohibiting the clans from
assembling more than their allotted number of retainers, soldiers, and
horses. Two weeks later, word of a plot to surround Nakamaro's res-
idence leaked out, and a week after that a sernmyo was proclaimed that
blamed the Otomo and Saeki clans for failing to perform their traditional
duty of protecting the court."? On the same day, the principal members
of both clans were arrested and later put to death. The glory of the
Otomo and the Saeki clans was brutally ended.
Yakamochi was not involved in this disaster, and made no overt
reference to it in his poetry. At a gathering at the residence of Prince
Mikata toward the end of the year he composed this waka:

aratama no The old year has gone

toshi yukigaeri And the new one has come.
haru tataba If spring is really here,
mazu wa ga yado ni Sing, uguisu,
uguisu wa nake 261 At my home first of all.

This poem, though not of much literary interest, may obliquely

express Yakamochi's desire to forget the past and turn his thoughts to
the future, symbolized by the uguisu, the harbinger of spring.>"
In the sixth month of 758 Yakamochi was appointed as governor of
Inaba, a remote and unimportant province. This was tantamount to
exile. On New Year's Day of 759, at his post in Inaba, Yakamochi wrote:

atarashihi May good things

toshi no hajime no Pile up more and more
hatsu haru no Like the first snow
kYo furu yuki no That falls today,
iya shike yogoto263 Beginning the New Year.

This is the last dated poem in the Man'yoshu. Yakamochi was in his
forty-second year when he composed it. He lived on until 785, but not
a single datable poem survives from the last twenty-six years of his life.
No doubt he devoted much of his attention to official duties, as we can
 Early and Heian Literature

gather from the belated promotions that he received toward the end of
his life, after he had spent twenty-one years in the upper junior fifth
rank.
Some have criticized Yakamochi for the lack of the kind of intel-
lectual concern displayed by Okura in his poems of Buddhist or Con-
fucian intent and for his failure to express interest in the people of the
provinces he governed,264 but no poet of the Man'yoshii covered a greater
range of subjects, whether gallant verses addressed to ladies of the court,
the narration of his dream about a stray hawk, his reproaches directed
at a man who has been unfaithful to his wife, an elegy on the death of
his brother, or poems voicing the emotions of men who must leave their
homes to guard the frontier.>'
Yakamochi's most appealing poems, however, are perhaps three
waka he wrote in 753 while in Etchu, and of them the third is the best:

uraura nt In the tranquil sun of spring

tereru haruhi ni A lark soars singing;
hibari agari Sad is my burdened heart,
kokoroganashi mo Thoughtful and alone. 266
hitori shi omoeba

A note is appended to this poem: "In the languid rays of the spring
sun, a lark is singing. This mood of melancholy cannot be removed
except by poetry: hence I have composed this poem in order to dispel
my gloom."267 In this entirely private mood, when Yakamochi wrote
out of internal necessity, rather than in response to some public occasion
or in the tone he deemed appropriate for a member of the Otomo clan,
he is most attractive to modern readers. The melancholy, stemming
from frustration and isolation, that colors his best-known waka is closer
in tone to the Kokinslu; poets than to the earlier Man'yoshii poets, but
for this very reason, readers who prefer the "unsophisticated" expression
of more typical Man'yoshii poets are apt to be critical of Yakamochi.
Another cause for complaint is the large number of poems by Yaka-
mochi himself included in the collection. His reputation might be higher
if he had chosen only his best poems, but instead there are (in addition
to the masterpieces) derivative practice pieces and even some downright
bad poems.?" He was a major poet, but perhaps our greatest debt to
him is as the chief compiler of the Man'yoshii. Presumably, this was his
chief literary activity after 759. We do not know why he compiled the
collection, but it can be surmised that he wished to leave behind a record
The Ma n yo s h u
i I57

of the literary achievements of the Otomo family, after it had been

harshly denied its traditional role as guardian of the emperor.
Apart from the last four books of the Man'yiishic, undoubtedly com-
piled by Yakamochi, it is hard to be sure precisely which volumes he
edited. No single principle of compilation was followed by Yakamochi
and whatever other persons had a hand in the editing. The poems are
generally arranged in chronological order within each book, but there
are also divisions of the poems (as mentioned above) into such categories
as "mutual enquiries" and so on.
Several books of the collection are devoted almost exclusively to
anonymous poems. It is possible that some of these poems may have
been written by poets who are otherwise represented in the collection,
even the poems attributed to frontier guards or composed in the Azuma
(Eastland) dialect. But such poems cannot all have been written by
courtiers playing at being shepherds. The two "beggar poems,"269 for
example, seem to have been written by professional entertainers who
improvised poems in the marketplace in the hope of being rewarded by
listeners. The poems are written in the personae of a deer and a crab,
describing the hardships each suffers in the service of his master. No
doubt, as commentators have suggested, the original listeners sympa-
thized with the deer, whose body is converted into ornaments, inkstands,
mirrors, bow-ends, writing brushes, leather boxes, mincemeat, and salt
pickles for his master's use, or the crab who, when summoned to his
lordship's mansion, supposes that he is wanted as a musician only to
have his eyes smeared with salt as preparation for being eaten.?" During
the Tokugawa period (and later) these poems were often read allegor-
ically as expressions of selfless devotion to the throne, even at the cost
of one's life, but this can hardly have been the original thought behind
the poems.
An unmistakable flavor of authenticity also marks many of the rustic
poems, making one doubt that a courtier could have composed them,
even as a demonstration of virtuosity:

haru no no ni The mouth of the mare

kusa hamu kama no Grazing in the spring meadow
kuchi yamazu Never stops; nor do her lips at home,
a wo shlnouran She talks of me-my wife!"!
ie no koro hamo

The Azuma poems, of which the above is an example, were col-

lected from the regions east or northeast of the province of T6-
 Early and Heian Literature

torni, as far north as Michinoku at the northern tip of Honshu. The

poems often provide glimpses into the lives of ordinary people who do
not otherwise figure in poetry of the time, like the young woman who
wrote:

ine tsuheba My hands so chapped from rice-pounding-

kakaru a ga te wo Tonight again he will hold them, sighing,
koyoimo ka My young lord of the mansion l-"
tono no wakugo ga
torite nagclran

Most of the Azuma poems, though not the two examples above,
contain place-names, as in this charming example from the province of
Kamitsukeno (the later Kozuke):

Ikaho ne ni Do not rumble, 0 Thunder,

kami na nari so ne Over the mountains of Ikaho!
wa ga he ni a/a Though to me it is no matter,
yue u/a nakedomo You frighten this little darling of mine.i"
kora ni yorite so

The poems by frontier guards, many of them contained in Book

XIV, mainly describe the hardships of separation from the guards' fam-
ilies and the loneliness of posts in remote parts of the country. They are
peculiarly affecting because of the note of truth we seem to hear, even
when they are not otherwise memorable. One of the finest does not
refer specifically to the hardships of frontier life, but the mood is
conveyed:

ashi no ha ni I will think of you, love,

yugiri tachite On evenings when the grey mist
kamo ga ne no Rises above the rushes,
samuhi yube shi And chill sounds the voice
na wo ba shinowan Of the wild ducks crying.'?'

This poem apparently referred to a departure from the harbor of

Naniwa, famed for its reeds, for Iki, Tsushima, or one of the other
islands at the "frontier" with Korea. It recalls the poem written by
Prince Shiki in 706 when the Emperor Mommu visited the Naniwa
Palace:
The Man I y o sh ii

ashihe yuku I recall Yamato

kamo no hagai ni In the cold of evenings when
shimo furite The frost is falling
samulti yube wa On the wings of the wild ducks
Yamato shi omoyu 275 Heading for a patch of reeds.

The similarity between the two waka suggests that the poem composed
at the court had become known to people of humble station who lived
far from the circle of aristocrats. Relatively few people would have had
access to manuscripts of the poems, but oral transmission was common,
as we know from accounts of people reciting or singing well-known
poems at banquets and elsewhere. The court poets of the early Man'yoshi;
had borrowed the forms and sometimes the materials of songs in the
Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, adding to them the imprint of their society
and of their own talents. These more refined poems eventually made
their way back to the common people. Similar cycles of borrowing would
occur in other traditional Japanese literary and performing arts; the
court would again and again seek stimulation from the countryside only
to return it eventually in a more evolved form. The anonymous poems
in the Man'yoshu, even if they were really composed by unlettered soldiers
or peasants, show a poetic sophistication not to be found in the Kojiki
poetry; the old poetry had in the meantime passed through the sensi-
bilities of the early Man'yoshu poets.
The Man'yoshu stands in solitary grandeur at the head of Japanese
poetry both in its antiquity and its quality. The submergence of the
Man'yoshu during the century immediately after its completion was due
largely to the overpowering prestige of Chinese literature at the time.
The importance of Chinese learning threatened the very existence of
literature in Japanese, and only the short poems of the Man'voslu; would
influence poetry in Japanese when it was revived a century and a half
later. Even though the Man'yoshu was little known during the Heian
period, it was not forgotren.?" The recovery of the full text of the
Man'yoshu, begun sporadically in the medieval period and continued in
earnest from the seventeenth century, reached fruition in the twentieth
century with the preparation of excellent editions with ample commen-
taries. There are still problems in the interpretation of some poems, but
the Man'yoshu as a whole has been established as the supreme monument
of Japanese lyricism.
[60 Early and Heian Literature

Notes
I. Most scholars in the West now prefer to write the name as Man'yoshii,
though in the past Manyoshu was usual. The name is occasionally rendered
as Mannyoshii, and this in fact is how many people pronounce it.
2. In addition to the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, old songs can be found in
the Shoku Nihongi, in various of the fudoki, and in such collections of
songs as Kinltafu. These songs are intensively treated by [in'ichi Konishi
in A History of Japanese Literature, I, especially pp. 81-170 and 266-86.
For texts of the ancient songs see Tsuchihashi Yutaka and Konishi [in'ichi,
Kodai Kayo Shu.
3. See, for example, Nakanishi Susumu, Man'yoshu Genron, pp. 143-45. Konishi
(in A History, I, p. 167-68) gave examples of poems that appear in identical
or strikingly similar forms in both the Nihon Shok] and the Man'yoshu.
4. A tradition of singing poetry still exists. Tanka are sung to a fixed melody
at a ceremony in the Imperial Palace each January. There is also a style
of singing kanshi (poems in Chinese) known as shigin, confirming the
importance of melodic declamation even of Chinese poems rearranged in
Japanese word order.
5. I shall henceforth use the word waka for the classical verse form, in thirty-
one syllables, though sometimes uta would be better, sometimes tanka.
6. Nakanishi, Man'yiishu Genron, p. 127.
7. George Sansom, A History ofJapan, I, p. 57. See also Ryusaku Tsunoda,
Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene, Sources ofJapanese Tradition,
pp. 70- 80.
8. I have referred to such men above, p. 66.
9. See Aoki Kazuo, "Okura Kikajin-setsu Hihan," pp. ::>.65-66, for the evi-
dence put forward in favor of this theory. Aoki was perhaps the most
articulate opponent, but his summary is useful. The theory, first put
forward by Watanabe Kazuo in 1963, was given the strong support of
Nakanishi Susurnu, who published in the November 1969 issue of Ko-
kugakuin Zasshi the article "Okura Kikajin Ron." Nakanishi subsequently
expanded his researches in the article "Okura Toraijin Ron" and in his
book Yamanoue no Okura. See also below, p. 139.
10. This reluctance persisted, especially in the waka, until late in the nine-
teenth century when foreign words, of not only Chinese but European
origins, became acceptable. Words of Chinese origin were, however, com-
monly used in the haiku.
II. Nakanishi, Man'yoshi: Genron, p. 318.
12. Man'yoshu, XVI:3847. See Kojima Noriyuki, Kinoshita Masatoshi, and
Satake Akahiro (eds.), Man'vosni; (in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series,
henceforth abbreviated NKBZ), IV, p. 137. Translation from Nippon
Gakujutsu Shinkokai (henceforth abbreviated NGS), Manyoshu, p. 287.
The Man' y o s h u 161

13. Man'yoshu, XVI:3847. NKBZ, IV, p. 138. Translation in NGS, p. 287.

14. In a few instances scholars disagree as to whether a Japanese or a Sino-
Japanese reading is correct. See Nakanishi, Man'yoshu Genron, p. 319.
15. Ibid., p. 322. Nakanishi stated that only five words not of Buddhist origin
are in Sino-Japanese pronunciation.
16. For an account of the rediscovery of the Man'yoshu by the kokugaku
scholars during the Tokugawa period, see Peter Nosco, "Man'yiishii studies
in Tokugawa Japan."
17. The problem in giving a firm figure for the number of poems stems from
the duplications or slight variations of certain poems; some scholars count
them as separate poems, others do not.
18. Okubo Tadashi, Man'yoshu no Shosii, p. 17.
19· Ibid., p. 19·
20. Origuchi Shinobu Zenshu, IX, p. 124.
21. See the translation by William H. and Helen Craig McCullough, A Tale
of Flowering Fortunes, I, p. 79.
22. See Itami Sueo, "Mari'yoshu no Henja." Itami believed that Tachibana
no Moroe probably had at least nominal responsibility for editing the
"original Man'yoshu," compiled by Yakamochi by 746. He believed that
Moroe, defeated politically and deprived of his authority by Fujiwara no
Nakamaro, who rose to power in 745, may have looked to future gen-
erations for lasting recognition and for this reason planned the "Collection
for Ten Thousand Ages." Itami lists (pp. 106-7) reasons why Yakamochi
was chosen as the editor, and why he accepted this responsibility.
23. Quoted by Itami, "Man'yoshu," p. 95, from Keichu's Man'yo DaishOki.
24. Summaries of the views of various twentieth-century scholars are pre-
sented by Itami in "Man'yoshu," pp. 96-99.
25. Origuchi believed that Yakamochi had essentially completed the compi-
lation of the Man'yoshu, which had originally been planned as a private
collection of poems of the Otomo family, relatives, and friends, by the
spring of 759, but that because of the unsettled circumstances of his last
years he never finished the task of editing the work. The Chinese preface
to the Kokinshu, written in 905, stated that the compilation of the
Man'yoshu was completed during Heizei's reign, about a century earlier.
(For a translation of this passage, see Helen Craig McCullough, Kokin
Wakashu, p. 258.) Origuchi decided that Heizei, himself a poet and the
ancestor of the celebrated Ariwara no Narihira, must have authorized the
compilation of the Man'yoshu, and that it was therefore the first imperially
sponsored anthology, a distinction normally accorded to the Kokinshu.
Okubo, who quoted Origuchi in Man'yoshu, p. 267, did not believe that
the role of Heizei was of great importance, and was unwilling to accept
Origuchi's use of the term chokusenshu.
26. These poems constitute a unique document of eighth-century poetry be-
cause, having been carved in stone, they have not been subjected to cor-
[62 Early and Heian Literature
ruptions of the text, but their literary interest is limited. Seventeen of the
twenty-one poems describe the footprint. For a study and translation of
the poems, see Roy Andrew Miller, "The Footprints of the Buddha": An
Eighth-Century Old Japanese Poetic Sequence.
27. The makurakotoba (literally, "pillow word") is a word or phrase that
occupies the short line in a short-long alternation of waka prosody. It
may be composed of a noun, a verb, or a phrase and may function as
either an adjective or adverb. See Edwin A. Cranston, "Toward a Re-
consideration of Maleuraliotoba;" p. 18.
28. See Narahashi Zenji, "Man'yoshu no Hensan Nendai," p. 125.
29. Nakanishi Susumu, however, believed that the final compilation of the
Man'yoshu did not occur until long after the Kokinshi; was completed in
905, and that the number of books in the Man'yoshu conformed to the
pattern of the Kokinshu, rather than the other way round. He offered
evidence from the writings of Sugawara no Michizane that the Man'yoshu
may originally have consisted of "tens of books" instead of the present
twenty. See Nakanishi, Man'yoshu Genron, p. 158. Nakanishi's opinion is
as yet not widely shared.
30. In dating the periods of the Man'yoshu I have followed Nakanishi Susumu,
Man'yo no Sehai, p. 101. The Taika Reform took place in 645, and 672
was the year of the [inshin Rebellion. It should be noted that the poems
in the Man'yoshi; are not arranged in strict chronological order. Notes
specifically stating that poems have come from "an old collection" (koshu)
are found in Books VII and IX (after poems 1246 and 1771), rather than
in the first books. On the other hand, poems by Otomo Yakamochi occur
as early as Book III. The period division I have followed is based on
known biographical and other historical data, not on the position of poems
within the collection.
31. Nakanishi, Man'yo no Sekai, pp. 20,47-5°, 53-54, IOI.
32. Ibid., pp. 170-71. See also Nakanishi, Man'yo no Shi to Shijin, P: 19.
33. Nakanishi, Man'yo no Shi to Shijin, p. 27. But see also his Man 'yo no Seleai,
p. IS, where he interpreted the zoka as "public poems"; and Narahashi,
"Man'yoshu," p. 127, where he stated that the original meaning of zoka
was poems with a historical background.
34. Nakanishi, Man'yiishi; Genron, p. 117·
35. Ibid., p. I I 8.
36. Ito Haku, "Yuryaku Gyosei no Seikaku to sono Ichi," pp. 8-9.
37· Ibid., pp. 7- 8.
38. Man'yoshu, 1:1. NKBZ, I, p. 63. Translation from NGS, p. 3. For another
translation, see Ian Hideo Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 37.
39. Shirakawa Shizuka, Shoki Man'yo Ron, pp. 40-66. Shirakawa quoted at
length the writings of Origuchi Shinobu, especially his Man'yoshu Kogi,
Origuchi was also followed in general by Yamamoto Kenkichi in Man'yo
Hyakka, pp. 7-8. Yamamoto believed, however, that the girl was the
The Man I y o s h u
daughter of a powerful Yamoto chieftain who, in order to acquire full
qualifications for marriage, went into the mountains with other girls of
her age to perform the sacred rite of picking greens. Origuchi believed
that the ultimate significance of the poem had to be considered in the
light of what is known about the quick-tempered Yuryaku, The poem
was composed in order to restrain his normally tempestuous feelings; it
was therefore at once a poem of self-restraint and of spiritual calm for
other people. (Origuchi Shinobu Zenshu, IX, p. 158.)
40. Saigo Nobutsuna, Man'yii Shiki, p. 20.
41. Omodaka Hisataka, Man'yoshu Chiishaku, I, p. 12, and Aoki Takako et
al., Man'yoshu, I, p. 43, emended the text to read ie norase, na norasane.
Kojima in NKBZ, I, p. 63, gave ie kikana, na norasane. Hisamatsu Sen'ichi,
Man'yo Shuka, I, p. 50, gave ie kikan, na norasane.
42. Saigo, Man'vo Shiki, p. 19.
43. Ibid., pp. 15, 21.
44. Ito, "Yuryaku," pp. 2-3·
45. Ibid., p. 5· See also Aoki et al., Man'yoshu, I, p. 43.
46. Ono Susumu, "Man'yoshu Kaikan Daiichi no Uta," pp. 65-67. Yamamoto, re-
luctant to accept this emendation, interpreted the lines of the emperor as mean-
ing, ''I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours." (Man'yo Hyakka, p. 11.)
47. Shirakawa, Shoki, p. 66.
48. Many of these studies are disappointing. For example, Furuya Akira in
"Mari'yoshu Hensan no Doki to Mokuteki" (The Motivation and Purpose
of the Composition of the Man'yoshU) ambles along to the last page only
to reveal he has nothing to contribute on the subject of his article.
49. Nakanishi in Man'yo no Sehai, p. 25, states, without expanding his view,
that the poem was probably not by the emperor himself but by some
"appropriate" court poet. Hisamatsu, Man 'yo Shuka, I, pp. 58,63, expressed
confidence that [ornei himself had written the poem.
50. Man 'yoshu, 1:2. NKBZ, I, p. 64. Translation from NGS, p. 3. Another
translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 38.
51. See Omodaka, Man'yoshu Chushaku, I, pp. 40-44. See also Kawaguchi
Katsuyasu, "[ornei Gyosei no Kunimi-uta no Genryu," pp. 15-18.
52. Nakanishi, Man'yo no Sehai, p. 26.
53. Omodaka, Man'yoshu Chushaleu, I, pp. 47-48.
54. Hisamatsu, Man'yoshu Ksza, I, pp. 61-62.
55. Man'yoshu, IX:1759. NKBZ, II, pp. 418-19. Translation in NGS, p. 222.
56. Man'yoshu, X:1879. NKBZ, III, p. 60. Translation in NGS, p. 268.
57. For a discussion in English of kunimi, see Gary L. Ebersole, Ritual Poetry
and the Politics of Death in Early Japan, pp. 23-29. Ebersole listed (p, 23)
three ordered parts: "the sovereign or some other ritual functionary (I)
climbed a hill, (2) then visually surveyed the countryside below, and (3)
recited words of praise of the specific site." See also Ian Hideo Levy,
Hitomaro and the Birth ofJapanese Lyricism, p. 25.
 Early and Heian Literature
58. See Yamaji Heishiro, "Kunimi no uta futatsu." Also Origuchi Shinobu
Zenshu, IX, pp. 165-67, 176-79.
59. Ebersole's Ritual Poetry provides an excellent example of how the early
poetry illuminates ancient practices that are not recorded elsewhere.
60. Kido Saizo and Imoto Noichi, Rengaron Shu, Hairon Shu, p. 90.
61. See Nakanishi Susumu, Man'yoshu no Hikaku Bungakuteki KenkYu, pp.
59 8-602.
62. "Short poem," in contrast to choka, or "long poem." Tanka was used at
this time (and also in modern times) as another name for the waka.
63. Inaoka Koji, "Hitomaro 'hanka' 'tanka' no Ron," pp. 183-239.
64. Translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 38.
65. Nakanishi, Man'yo no Sekai, pp. 47-49.
66. The name is also read as N ukada,
67. Man'yoshu, 1:8. NKBZ, I, p. 69. The pronunciation Nigitatsu is preferred
by some scholars. I have followed Omodaka, Man'yoshu Chiishaku, I, p.
103. For another translation see Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 42. Levy translates
Nigitazu as Nigita Harbor.
68. Hisamatsu, Man'yo Shuka, I, p. 75.
69. Tsuchihashi Yutaka, Man'yo Kaigan, I, p. 78. The first scholar to consider
Nukata as a "substitute poet" (daisaku kajin) was apparently Origuchi
Shinobu in his essay "Nukata no Okimi" (Origuchi Shinobu Zenshu, IX,
pp. 444- 60).
70. Rut/u Karin was the title of a now-lost waka collection by Yamanoue no
Okura. Remarks from this work are quoted in the text of the Man'yoshu.
71. The Empress Saimei died in Kyiishii before the fleet could sail for Korea.
She was succeeded as commander of the expedition by the crown prince,
the future Emperor Tenji (the name is also read Tenchi), who did not
officially assume the crown until 668. In 663 the Japanese forces in Korea
and those of their Paekche allies were dealt a crushing defeat in the naval
engagement of Hakusukinoe (Hakusonko), The Japanese survivors, to-
gether with many Paekche refugees, fled back to Japan on the remaining
ships. Fearing a Silla invasion, the Japanese fortified the area of the Dazaifu
in Kyiishii, and in 667 Tenji moved the capital to the area of Otsu in
Omi. The feared invasion did not materialize, but Tenji went ahead with
planned reforms of the government.
72. Man'yoshu, 1:17. NKBZ, I, pp. 73-74. Translations by NGS, p. II, and
Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 47. Omodaka iMan'yoshi; Chiishaku, I, P: 186) ex-
pressed the belief that the poem was actually written by Tenji, as the note
to the poem in Ruiju Karin stated, but Tsuchihashi iMan'yo Kaigan, I, p.
87) treated it as another substitutional poem.
73. Man'yoshu, 11:I55. NKBZ, I, pp. 145-46. Translations by NGS, p. 12, and
Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 109.
74. Man'yosh«, 1:29· NKBZ, I, p. 75. Another translation by Levy, Man'yoshu,
I, p. 48. The meaning of Tenji's gesture of waving the sleeve has been
The Man I yo sh ii
variously interpreted as one of affection (Omodaka, Man'yashu Chiishaliu,
I, p. 203, and Aoki et al., Man'voshii , I, p. 55); of calling attention to his
presence (Hisamatsu, Man'yoshu Shuka, I, p. 96); or as a magic gesture to
summon the soul of the beloved (Nakanishi Susumu, Man'yo no ]idai to
Fudo, pp. 54-79). Ito Haku, in Man'voshi; Somon no Sekai, p. 119, stated
that Nukata's profession of embarrassment over the prince's sleeve-waving
was coquetry, and that she was actually pleased.
75. Man'yoshu, 1:21. NKBZ, I, p. 75. Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu,
I, p. 49.
76. Saigo, Man'yo Shih], p. 125. Nakanishi, who believed that Nukata was of
Korean (Silla) extraction, found it significant that the prince should have
associated her with murasaki, a plant whose use as a dyestuff had been
taught to the Japanese by Koreans. (Nakanishi, Man'yo no ]idai, pp. 109-
12, 122-27.)
77. Man'yosh«, 1:I6. NKBZ, I, pp. 72-73. I shall not give the romanized texts
of every choka.
78. Man'yoshu, 1:I6. NKBZ, I, pp. 72-73-
79. Translation in NGS, pp. 10-11. Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu,
I, p. 46.
80. Tsuchihashi, Man'vo Kaigan, I, pp. 91-93.
81. Aoki et al., Man'yoshu, I, p. 53.
82. See Nakanishi Susumu, Man'yo no Utabitotachi, p. 39. Also his Man'yo no
]idai, p. I I I, where, in the course of argumentation to prove that N ukata
was of Silla origins, he mentions that although disputes on the relative
merits of spring and autumn appeared in Chinese writings as far back as
the Huai-nan Tzu (compiled under Liu An, prince of Huai-nan, d. 122
B.C.), this was the first mention of them in Japan before The Tale of
Genji.
83. The events leading up to the [inshin no Ran are confusing. The Emperor
Tenji's younger brother, the future Temmu, had been appointed as crown
prince in 668 as a reward for his services at the time of the Taika Reform,
but Tenji really wanted his son, Prince Otomo (the future Kobun), to
succeed him instead. As a first step, he appointed Otomo as the prime
minister in 671. Soon afterward, he fell ill and, summoning Temmu to
his bedside, asked him to carryon after his death. Temmu, who apparently
wanted to assume power on his own terms, refused and, resigning his
position as crown prince, entered Buddhist orders. After Tenji died, his
son accordingly succeeded, and was known as the Emperor Kobun. Six
months later, Temmu left his monastery and raised an army, which (with
the help of local rulers, who opposed the reforms of Tenji) defeated
Kobun's forces.
84. For a brief description of the connections between the Jinshin no Ran
and the Man'yoshu, see Kanda Hideo, "[inshin no Ran to Man'yoshu," in
Bungei Tokuhon: Man'yoshu, pp. 141-45.
r66 Early and Heian Literature
85. See Yamamoto Kenkichi, Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, pp. 106-7, for a dif-
ferent explanation of [ito's many visits to Yoshino: she was desperately
desirous of becoming young again, and believed that visiting Yoshiro was
an act of purification (misogi) that could bring about the desired result.
Tsuyuki Noriyoshi, in "Ternmu Gyosei no Seikaku," pp. 114-15, presents
the more conventional explanation that [ito visited Yoshino as a mark of
devotion to Temmu.
86. Everything known about his life can be found in Levy, Hitomaro.
87. See Nakanishi Susumu, Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, pp. 14-17.
88. For Ito's comment, see Omodaka, Man'yoshu ChUshaku, I, p. 295.
89. Man'yoshic, 1:38. Text in Kojima et aI., Man'yssh«, I, pp. 84-85.
90. Translation from NGS, p. 29. Another translation in Levy, Man'yosh«, I,
pp. 57-58.
91. Quoted by Omodaka in Man'voslu; ChUshaku, I, p. 295.
92. For more on this collection, see below, notes 123 and 124.
93. Man'yoshii; 1:167. Kojima et al. Man'yoshu, I, pp. 150-51.
94. Another name for Amaterasu Omikami, the sun goddess.
95. Man'yoshu, II:167. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 151-52. Translation in NGS, p.
34. Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, pp. 114-15.
96. Man'yoshu, II:167. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 162. Translation in NGS, p. 35.
Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 115.
97. See Sasaki Yukitsuna, Kakinomoto no Hitomaro Nota, p. 163.
98. For example, by Yoshida Yoshitaka in "Shikokka no Tenkai," p. 81.
99. See, for example, Man'yoshu, II:194-95. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 159-160.
Translations in NGS, pp. 36-37, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, pp. 123-24.
100. For example, Nakanishi (in Kahinomoto, p. 152) expressed uncertainty as
to whether Hitornaro's poems about Iwami were truthful accounts of
personal experiences.
101. Sakamoto Taro et al., Nihon Shoki, II, pp. 486-87. Translation in W. G.
Aston, Nihongi, II, p. 383.
102. Also called araki and mogari (or mogarinomiya). For a good account of
these shrines, see Ebersole, Ritual Poetry, pp. 127-29.
103. Temmu died in the ninth month of 686, but the ceremonial burial did
not take place until the eleventh month of 688. This was an exceptionally
long period of temporary burial. The practice of temporary burial of
members of the imperial family was discontinued during the reign of
Tenji's daughter, the Empress Gemmei. The first recorded cremation
(that of the priest Dosho) took place in 700.
104. Hitomaro's eulogies were almost all composed for persons who had died
young. Prince Takechi was the longest-lived person he eulogized. See
Sasaki, Kahinomoto, P: 138.
105. Notably, the discontinuance of ceremonies at the arakinomiya mentioned
above.
106. Man'yoshu, II:199. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 164-66. Translation in NGS, pp.
The Man' yo sh ii
39-40. Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, pp. 128-29. See also
the analysis of the poem in Ebersole, Ritual Poetry, pp. 72-78.
107. Nakanishi, Kakinomoto, p. 76.
108. See Yamamoto Kenkichi, Dtomo no Yakamochi, pp. 72-73.
109. The island, now called Shami, has been joined to the "mainland" and
boasts recreational facilities. By carefully positioning oneself, one can ob-
tain a view of the Inland Sea similar to the one Hitomaro saw.
110. Man'yoshu, III:415. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 259. Translation in NGS, p. 8.

Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 212.

III. Man'yoshu, 111:426. NKBZ, I, p. 264. See also Levy, Man'yoshu ; I, p. 218.
112. See Konoshi Takamitsu, "Koro Shinin no Uta," pp. 174-87.
II 3. Man'yoshu, 11:220-21. Translation from NGS, pp. 46-47. Another trans-

lation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, pp. 142-43.

114. Twenty-one poems in Book VI and another ten in Book IX are described
in notes to the original text as existing in the Tanabe Sakimaro (or Tanabe
no Sakimaro) collection. The rest of the collection has been lost, and the
dates of the poet are unknown.
115. Man'yoshu, IX:I800. NKBZ, II, p. 435. Translation from NGS, pp. 233-34.

116. Man'voshu, 11:35. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 136-37. Translation from NGS,

p. 33. See also Levy, Man'yoshu, I, pp. 132-33.

117. Nakanishi, Kakinomoto, p. 143. But see also Hisamatsu, Man'yoshu Shuka,
I, p. 96, and Omodaka, Man'yoshu Chushaku, I, p. 203, where the waving
of the sleeve is interpreted merely as a gesture of affection.
118. Nakanishi, Kaleinomoto, p. 119.
119. For makurakotoba, see above, note 27. Levy made the effort to include
in his translations the makurakotoba, and they are often effective, as the
following section of his version of the same poem will suggest (Levy,
Man'yoshu, I, pp. 134-35):

I stood at the Karu market

where often she had gone,
and listened,
but could not even hear
the voices of the birds
that cry on Unebi Mountain,
where the maidens
wear the strands of jewels,
and of the ones who passed me
on that road,
straight as a jade spear,
not one resembled her.

In translating the makurakotoba (given in italics above) there is a danger

of overemphasis. For example, the makurakotoba tamahoko no, translated
168 Early and Heian Literature
here as "straight as a jade spear," may conceivably have meant just that,
but spears made of jade probably never existed. "Jeweled spears" (another
possible rendering of tamahokoi may have been a way of praising the
beauty or strength of a spear, but this makurakotoba does not in itself
imply straightness. In later times the word came to be used as a synonym
for "road," without implication either of beauty or straightness. One must
admire Levy's honest attempt to make sense of words that are usually
passed over in silence by Japanese commentators as meaningless ornaments
to the text, but such phrases tend to confirm the atmosphere of a line
rather than add to its meaning.
120. Man'yiishii, IV:619' Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 342-44. Translation in NGS,
p. 125; also, Levy, Man'yoshu I, P: 289.
12i. Man'yoshu, XIII:3344. Text in NKBZ, III, pp. 436-37. Translation in
NGS, p. 313.
122. Nakanishi, Kakinomoto, pp. 123-25.
123. The Hitomaro Kashii does not now exist independently of the Man'yoshu,
though such a collection probably existed at the time of the compilation
of the Man'voshii.
124. A major problem in determining the authorship of the Hitomaro Kashii
is caused by the two distinct systems of orthography used in recording
the poems. The first system used an absolute minimum of Chinese char-
acters, suggesting to various scholars that these were notes made by Hi-
tomaro in order to remember other people's poems. The second system,
which indicates postpositions and other grammatical features of Japanese,
would have been used for Hitomaro's own poems. This theory was first
advanced by Aso Mizue in 1956. It is described by Umehara Takeshi in
Uta no Fukuseki, I, pp. 219-24. See also Konoshi Takamitsu, "Kakinomoto
no Hitomaro [iten," in Man'yoshi: Hikkei, II, pp. 125-33, for a summary
of scholarship on the Kakinomoto no Hitomaro Kashii, See also Aso Mizue,
"Kakinomoto no Hitomaro no Sakuhin," pp. 238-46.
125. Umehara, in Uta no Fukuseki, I, pp. 113-15, rejecting the evidence adduced
by other scholars, insisted that poems written in the persona of a woman
or in other guises can be explained as literary conventions, and that poems
in a romantic manner that contrasts with the Hitomaro of the choka can
be understood as works of his youth, Hisamatsu Seri'ichi had advanced
similar arguments as long before as 1925, as Umehara acknowledges (I,
pp. 178-81 and 185). He believed that Hitomaro was the same man as
Kakinomoto no Saru, who died in 708. Kamo no Mabuchi had suggested
dates of c. 660-709 for Hitomaro, but U mehara rejected these dates,
insisting that Hitomaro did not die before he was fifty but (as medieval
tradition had it) in his sixties. This necessitates pushing back his birthdate
to about 645. See Umehara Takeshi, Mmasoko no Uta, I, p. 209, and II,
p. 108.
126. Nakanishi, Kakinomoto, pp. 215-16; also, Nakanishi, Man'yoshti Genron,
The Man' y o s h u
p. 129. The Tanabata poems are dated with cyclical characters that indicate
they were composed either in 680 or 740. Hitomaro was certainly not
alive in 740, so if he wrote the poems, it must have been in 680, long
before the festival was observed in Japan. However, various scholars have
adduced evidence that the festival was in fact known to the Japanese
before 680. See Umehara, Uta, I, p. 239.
127. Man'yoshu, XI:2433. Text in NKBZ, III, p. 190. Another translation in

NGS, p. 57.
128. Man'yoshu, XI:25 13- 14. Text in NKBZ, III, pp. 207-8. Another translation
in NGS, p. 58.
129. Nakanishi, Man'voshi; Genron, p. 125. See also Inaoka Koji, "Hitomaro
Kashii Sedoka no Bungakuteki Igi," pp. 56-58.
130. Man'yoshu, VII:I28I. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 251. Another translation in
NGS, p. 54. "My lord" is rather an overtranslation of kimi, a pronoun
often used by a woman to a man. The verb sum, translated as "to print,"
refers to the practice of rubbing cloth against an inked surface, rather in
the manner of a stencil, to obtain a pattern.
131. See Ooka Makoto, Tachibana no Yume, pp. 65-66.
132. Man 'yosh a, II:223. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 181. Translation from NGS, p.
51. Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 143.
133. Quoted by Omodaka, Man'yoshu Cht1shoku, II, p. 504.
134. Man'yoshu, II:224-25. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 181-82. Translation from
NGS, p. 52. Other translations in Levy, I, p. 144.
135. Man'yoshu, II:226. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 182. Another translation in Levy,
Man'yiishu, I, p. 144.
136. Omodaka, Man'yoshu Cht1shaku, II, p. 509.
137. Umehara, Minasoko, I, pp. 179ff. Umehara referred to old traditions that
Kamoyama was an island off the Iwami coast that was submerged in the
tidal wave of 1026, and he identified the river Ishikawa with one called
Takatsugawa in old accounts. He cited evidence that islands were tra-
ditionally places of exile (ibid., p. 185), and cited medieval works that
stated Hitomaro died at Kamoshima (an island), not Kamoyama (ibid.,
pp. 196-97). Umehara interpreted the headnote to the poem, which de-
scribes Hitomaro as "grieving over his death," as evidence that he did
not die of sickness, and certainly not by suicide, but by another person's
hand (ibid., p. 203). Umehara was led to believe that Hitomaro must have
been drowned by the fact that no site has ever been identified as the place
where he died (ibid., p. 210). The special reverence offered to Hitomaro
in the preface to the Kokinshu, where he is referred to as a hijiri (sage),
also suggested to Umehara that his vengeful spirit had been appeased by
elevating him to the rank of a god.
Umehara's conclusions were not widely accepted by Man'yoshu schol-
ars. Tsuchihashi (Man'yo Kaigan, I, p. 175) sharply disagreed with Ume-
hara's reconstruction of the death of Hitomaro.
I7° Early and Heian Literature
138. Ito Haku, Man'yoshi: no Kajin to Sakuhin, I, pp. 333-36.
139. Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, I, p. I8S'
140. Ibid., p. 180.
141. Umehara, who believed that Hitomaro was of at least the fifth rank (and
therefore should have been mentioned in official documents), identified
him with Kakinomoto no Saru, whose name does appear. The name Saru
(meaning "monkey") would have been imposed on Hitomaro when he
fell into disgrace.
142. Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, I, pp. 190-93.
143. Mommu is represented by one poem (1:74), which may well have been
written by someone in his entourage. See Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, I,
pp. 193-94-
144. Man'yoshu, III:27S. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 213. Other translations in NGS,
p. 63, and Levy Man'yoshu, I, p. I6S. Omodaka, Man'yoshi; Chushaku, III,
p. 127, gives a somewhat different reading: "Izuku ni ka / ware wa yadoran
/ Takashima no / Kachino no hara ni / kono hi kurenaba."
I4S. Ikeda Yasaburo, Takcchi no Kurohito, Yamabe no Aleahito, p. 8; Tsuchi-
hashi, Man'yo Kaigan, I, p. 199.
146. Ikeda, Takechi, pp. 22-27.
147. Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, I, p. 196.
148. Man'yoshu, 111:274. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 212-13. Other' ranslations in
NGS, p. 63, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. I6S. Ikeda's explanation of the
dread aroused in Man'yoshu poets by the coming of night is found in
Taeechi, pp. 7- IO•
149. Man'yosh«, VII: 1229. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 239. See also Ikeda, Takechi,
PP·4 2-43·
ISO. Ikeda, Takechi, pp. 3S-36. See also Roy Andrew Miller, "The Lost Poetic
Sequence of the Priest Mansei," in which he reconstructed seven poems,
scattered in the Man'yoshu, to form a single, cohesive sequence.
lSI. For a discussion of poems by Kurohito and their later adaptations, see
Tanabe Yukio, "Takechi no Kurohito," in Bungei Tokuhon: Man'yoshu,
pp. 89-94·
152. Man'yoshu, 111:271. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 212. Other translations in NGS,
p. 63, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 164.
153. Man'yoshu, VI:9I9. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 134. Another translation in NGS,
p. 191.
IS4. I have borrowed this translation of honea-don from Robert H. Brower
and Earl Miner, Japanese Court Poetry. For further discussion of honka-
dori, see below, pp. 644-647.
ISS. Omodaka, Man'yoshu Chushah«, III, p. 127.
IS6. Ikeda, Takechi, p. I09. Seven varieties of songs are given in the Nihon
Shoki and nineteen in the collection Kinhafu (Songs to Koto Accompan-
iment), probably compiled in the ninth century. In the latter work there
are indications of how vowels were prolonged to fit an existing piece of
The Man' y o s h u 17 1

music. Seven of the twenty-two poems in Kinkafu were taken from the
Nihon Shoki, Sholeu Nihongi, and other early texts, but the orthography is
not the same, suggesting that the Kinkafu versions more closely fitted the
music to which the poems were at that time sung. See Konishi, A History,
I, pp. 266-67.
157. Man'yoshu, 1:29. Text in NKBZ, p. 8r. Translation from NGS, p. 27. See
also Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 54.
158. Man'yoshu, III:305. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 221-22. Other translations in
NGS, p. 63, and Levy, Man'yoshic, I, p. 174. See also Ikeda, Takcchi, pp.
17-83, and Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, I, p. 204. The poem has an
appended note saying that in one text the poem is attributed to another
man, but modern commentators accept this as a poem by Kurohito.
159. Man'yoshu, 1:32. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 82. Translations in NGS, p. 62, and
Levy, Man'yoshU, I, p. 55.
160. Ito, Man'yoslu; no Kajin, I, p. 363.
16r. Man'yosh«, XVI:265. Text in NKBZ, IV, p. 130. Translation by Paula
Doe in A Warbler's Song in the Dusk, p. 81. The poem occurs in Book
XVI, which is strongly Buddhist in tone; this explains the use of Sino-
Japanese readings.
162. Man'yoshu, III:265. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 210. Other translations in NGS,
p. 61, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 162.
163. Umehara Takeshi, Samayoeru Kashii, pp. 26-30.
164. For example, Ikeda in Tahcchi no Kurohito to Yamabe no Akahito, ostensibly
devoted to both poets, devoted conspicuously more space to Kurohito than
to Akahito.
165. This opinion, echoed over the centuries, was disputed by Umehara in
Samayoeru Kasha.
166. Man'yoshu, VI:923-95. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 136-37. Translation from
NGS, p. 192.
167. Hitomaro's poem is 1:36. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 83-84. Translations in
NGS, p. 28, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, pp. 56-57.
168. Ikeda, Tahechi, p. 205. See also Umehara, Samayoeru, pp. 37-40.
169. Man'yoshu, VIII: 1424. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 30r. Translation from NGS,
p. 196.
170. See Tsuchihashi, Man'yii Kaigan, I, p. 253, for various interpretations of
"violets."
17r. Ibid., I, p. 233.
172. Man'yoshu, IX:1740. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 407-8. Translation in NGS,
pp. 216-18. Urashima is called Mizunoe no Urashima in the title of the
poem.
173. Man'yoshu, IX:1809. Text in NKBZ, pp. 440-42. Translation in NGS, pp.
224- 25.
174. Man'yoshu, VI:97r. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 156-57. Translation from NGS,
pp. 214-1 5.
[72 Early and Heian Literature
175. Man'yoshu, VI:938. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 138. Translation from NGS, pp.
101-2.
176. Man'yoshu, VI:935. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 141-42. Translation in NGS,
p. 102.
177. Man'yoshu, IV:546-47. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 323-24. Translation from
NGS, p. 99. Another translation in Levy, Man'yiishic, I, pp. 267-68.
178. See NKBZ, I, p. 434.
179. His title was dazai no sochi.
180. Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, II, pp. 16, 44.
181. Man'yoshii, 111:315. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 225. Other commentators read
rnizu as Kawa (river), ruining Tsuchihashi's interprepution.
182. Analects, VI:2I. Translation from Arthur Waley, The Analects ofConfucius,
p. 120.
183. Man'yoshu, 111:316. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 225. Other translations by NGS,
p. 116, and Levy, Man'yoshii, I, p. 177.
184. Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, II, p. 22.
185. Man'yoshu, 111:299. Aoki et al., Man'yoshu, I, p. 184, noting that the pre-
fatory note seems uncertain about which member of the Otorno family
wrote the poem, suggested instead that it might have been atomo no
Yasumaro, but Tsuchihashi (Man'yo Kaigan, II, p. 16) showed no hesitation
in crediting it to Tabito. The text in NKBZ, I, P: 220, leans toward
Yasumaro. Translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 172.
186. The poems are Man'yiishu, V:793-99. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 47-52.
Translations in NGS, pp. 380, 605-10, and in Levy, Man'voshu, I, pp.
343-47. On the authorship, see Aoki et al., Man'yoshu, II, p. 49; Hisamatsu,
Man'yi) Shuka, III, pp. 27-31; Kojima et al., Man 'yoshu, II, p. 50; and
Levy, Man'voshii, I, p. 343.
187. Man'yoshu, 111:438. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 268. Other translations in NGS,
p. 118, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 370.
188. Man'yoshu, 111:439-40. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 268-69. Other translations
in NGS, p. 119, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 222.
189. Man'yoshu, 111:450. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 273. Other translations in NGS,
p. 120, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 226. A variant in the last line, rni mo
saleazu kana, means that the poet is so unhappy that he does not even
glance at the cape as he passes it now.
190. Man'yoshu, 111:453. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 274. Other translations in NGS,
p. 120, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 227.
191. Man'yoshu, VI:965. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 154. See also Nakanishi, Man'yo
no Seeai, pp. 96-97.
192. Man'yoshu, VI:967. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 155.
193. Fusasaki was apparently the most respectable of the brothers and had
least to do with the killing of Nagaya. (Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan , II,
p. 33.) Nevertheless, Tabito's present of the koto suggests he wished to
ingratiate himself with the powerful Fujiwara family. His promotion to
The Man I yo sh u 173

dainagon (major counselor) in the following year and his recall to the
capital indicate that this stratagem was effective.
194. See Aoki et al., Man'yoshu, II, pp. 57-58. For example, the tree maiden's
fear that her wood might be put to an unworthy use echoes the passage
in Chuang Tzu describing a tree that refused to serve any useful purpose.
(For an English translation of the passage, see Burton Watson, The Com-
plete Works of Chuang Tzu, pp. 63-65,)
195. The Dazaifu is still known for its many plum trees. They were planted
because of their associations with the scholar Sugawara no Michizane,
who is worshiped at the shrine.
196. Man'yoshu, V:815-46. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 68-75. Partial translation
in NGS, pp. 241-42; complete translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, pp.
35 8-59.
197. Man'yoshu, V:849' Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 76. Another translation in Levy,
Man'voshu , I, pp. 358-59-
198. Man'yosh«, V:8S2. Text in NKBZ, p. 76. Other translations in NGS,
p. 242, and Levy, Man'yoshii, I, p. 271.
199. Man'yoshu, V:848. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 75. Other translations in NGS,
p. 242, and Levy, Man'yosh«, I, p. 370.
200. A good introduction to the relations between Taoism and Japanese culture
can be found in Fukunaga Mitsuji, DokYo to Nihon Bunlea,
201. Preface to Man'yoshu, V:864' Translation from Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 376.
Text in NKBZ, II, p. 81. This preface is (naturally) in kambun.
202. See Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, II, p. 39. He referred to the "open, fol-
low, change, conclude" sequence observed in the lines of a traditional
quatrain.
203. Man'voshu, III:338. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 234. Other translations in NGS,
p. 117, and Levy, Man'yoshic, I, p. 186.
204. Man'voshu, III:340' Text in NKBZ, I, p. 324. Other translations in NGS,
p. 117, and Levy, Man'yiishu, I, p. 187.
205. Man'yoshu, III:3So. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 237. Other translations in NGS,
p. 117, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 189.
206. See Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, II, pp. 40-42.
207. Man'yoshu, IV:574. Text in NKBZ, I, pp. 332-33. Other translations in
NGS, p. 122, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 277.
208. This theory, first published in 1963 (see above, note 9), was given the
support of the Man'yoshii scholar Nakanishi Susumu, who in 1969 pub-
lished an article expressing his conviction that Okura was an immigrant.
The unusual name Okura suggested to him a foreign connection, and his
researches revealed that two Koreans mentioned in the Nihon Shoki had
names beginning with the character oeu; one, a physician, may have been
Okura's father. See Nakanishi, Yamanoue, p. 41.
209. The embassy first attempted in 701 to make the voyage to China, but the
ships were driven back by storms. The next attempt, made in 704, was
J74 Early and Heian Literature
successful. It seems likely that in between the two attempts the members
of the embassy returned to the court.
210. Nakanishi, Yamanoue, p. 68.
21 r, Ibid., pp. 93-94.
212. Ibid., p. r o i.

2 I). Nakanishi (Yamanoue, pp. 120-2 I) listed Chinese men of letters whom
Okura might have met in Ch'ang-an.
2'4. Man'yoshu, II:145. Text in Omodaka, Man'yoshii, II, pp. 192-93. Trans-
lation from Levy, Man'yoshic, I, p. 105. NKBZ (I, p. 141) gives for the
first line tsubasa nasu.
215. Man'yoshu, I:63. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 97. Another translation in Levy,

Man'yoshu, I, p. 70.
216. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 330. The note is to Poem 1519.
217- Man 'yoshu , V:880. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 89. Other translations in NGS,
p. 203, and Levy, Man'yoshii , I, p. 282.
218. Man'yoshu, V:793. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 48-49. Translation by Levy,

Man'yoshii, I, p. 344.
219. Man'yoshu, V:800. Text in NKBZ, p. 53. Translation from Levy,

Man 'yoshu , I, p. 347.

220. Man'yoshii, V:800. Text in NKBZ, p. 54. Translation from NGS, p. 200.

Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, 349.

221. Man'voshu, V:804. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 58-59. Translation from NGS,

p. 202. See also Levy, Man'voshu, I, pp. 392-4°1.

222. Man'yoshu, V:897. Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 100-114. Translations in NGS,

pp. 208-9; Levy, Man'yosh«, I, pp. 392-4°1.

223. Man'yoshu, V:892-93' Text in NKBZ, II, pp. 95-97. Translation from

NGS, pp. 205-7. Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, pp. 387-89.

224. Takagi Ichinosuke, Binga Mondoka no Ron, p. 45.
225. Takagi, Binga, p. 51. See also Watanabe Kazuo, "Kuso no aru Uta," for
a discussion of what Japanese poetry lost when coarse language was
forbidden.
226. See Kume Tsunetami, "Okura Bungaku ni okeru Kayosei," p. 204.
227. Man'yoshii, III:337. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 234. Translation from NGS, p.
198. Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 186.
228. See Kume, "Okura," pp. 214-16.
229. The date of Yakamochi's birth has been much disputed. Yamamoto
(in Gtomo, pp. 5-9), after examining the evidence and the various tradi-
tions, concluded that Yakamochi was born in 720. Tsuchihashi (Man'yo
Kaigan, II, p. 178) stated unequivocally that Yakamochi was born in
718. For a brief review of the evidence, see Doe, A Warbler's Song,
pp. 13- 14.
230. Other theories have been advanced as to why Tabito sent for Lady Sa-
kanoue, including one that she became his mistress. I have accepted Tsu-
chihashi's view (Man'yo Kaigan, II, P: 200) that she was charged with his
The Man I y o sh ii 175
education. Yamamoto (Dromo, p. 12) expressed the belief that she replaced
Tabito's late wife in performing rites of the Otomo clan.
231. Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, II, p. 200.
232. Ibid., p. 203.
233. Man'yiishu, VIII: 1446. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 307. Another translation by
Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 70.
234. Man'yoshu, VI:993. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 164. Translation by Doe, A
Warbler's Song, p. 67. Yamamoto (in Dromo, pp. 39-40) dates the poem
before 732.
235. Man'yoshu, VIII: 1441. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 306. Another translation in
Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 69.
236. Man'yoshu, V:822. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 70. Other translations by NGS,
p. 242; Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 362; and Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 31.
237. Man'yoshu, V:823' Text in NKBZ, II, p. 70. Another translation by Levy,
Man'yosha, I, p. 362.
238. Man'yoshu, III:469. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 281. Other translations by NGS,
p. 131; Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 347; and Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 47.
239. Man'yoshu, V:798. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 52. Other translations by NGS,
p. 199; Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 347; and Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 47.
240. See, for example, Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaigan, II, p. 225. This opinion is
not, however, unanimous. Some insist that Yakamochi would not have
shown such deference toward Okura, who was, after all, a subordinate
of his father. Tsuchihashi, on the other hand, thought that when Yaka-
mochi spoke of "Yama" and "Kaki" he really only meant Okura, and
that Hitomaro was mentioned for the sake of parallelism in a preface
written in Chinese.
241. Man'yoshu, VIII:1479. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 318. Another translation in
NGS, p. 135.
242. Man'yoshu, VII1:I568. Text in NKBZ, II, p. 344.
243. The word ibusemi is used only ten times in the Man'yoshu. Five examples
appear in poems by Yakamochi, four others are in anonymous poems,
and one is in the Takahashi Mushimaro Collection. See Tsuchihashi,
Man'yo Kaigan, II, p. 207.
244. Yamamoto, Otomo, pp. 50-51.
245. Man'yoshu, IV:715. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 371. Translation from NGS, p.
134. Other translations in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 317; and Doe, A Warbler's
Song, p. 83.
246. Man'yoshu, IV:719. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 372. Translation from NGS, p.
134. Other translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 319. Kojima (in NKBZ)
pointed out that the poem was modeled on one by Tabito (VI:968) and
that it borrowed unaltered three lines from the anonymous poem XI:2584.
247. See Yamamoto, Dromo, p. 151.
248. Man 'yosha, IV:594. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 338. Translation from NGS, p.
106. Another translation in Levy, Man'voshu, I, p. 283.
I?6 Early and Heian Literature
249. Man'yoshu, IV:603. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 340. Translation from NGS, p.
107. Another translation in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 285.
250. Man 'yoshu, IV:608. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 341. Translation from NGS, p.
108. Other translations in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 286; and Doe, A Warbler's
Song, p. 86.
251. Yamamoto, Gtomo, p. 157.
252. Man'yoshu, IV:6I2. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 342. Other translations in Levy,
Man'yoshu, I, p. 287; and Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 68.
253. See Tsuchihashi, Man'yii, II, p. 216. The daughter ascended the throne
as the Empress Koken,
254. Man'yoshu, III:480. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 285. Translation from NGS, p.
133. Other translations in Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 239; and Doe, A Warbler's
Song, p. II4. Aoki (Man'yoshu, I, p. 253) reads the second line as na au
yuki obite.
255. Tsuchihashi (Man'yo Kaidan, II, p. 219) gave these statistics: during the
thirteen years before Yakamochi went to Etchu he composed 5 choka and
153 waka, While in Etchu he composed 35 choka, 187 waka, and I sedoka,
During the eight years after his return to the capital from Etchu he
composed 6 choka and 86 waka.
256. The proclamation, made in 743, is translated in Tsunoda et al., Sources,
pp. 106-7·
257. For a short account of the Otomo family, see Doe, A Warbler's Song, pp.
14-15; also Yamamoto, Gtomo, pp. 93-106.
258. Man'yoshu, XVIII:4094' Text in NKBZ, IV, pp. 262-63. Translation from
NGS, pp. 151-52. Another translation in Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 185.
259. Man'yoshu, XX:4465. Text in NKBZ, IV, p. 432. Translation from NGS,
p. 179. Another translation in Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 225.
260. The sernrnyo is quoted by Yamamoto in Gtomo, p. 240.
261. Man'yoshu, XX:4490. Text in NKBZ, IV, p. 441.
262. Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaidan, II, p. 251.
263. Man'yoshu, XX:4516. Text in NKBZ, IV, p. 450. Another translation in
Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 231.
264. See, for example, Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaidan, II, pp. 226-27.
265. See especially poems VIII: 1507; XVII:3957; XVII:401 I; XVIII:4106;
XX:433I; and XX:4408.
266. Man'yoshu, XIX:4292. Text in NKBZ, IV, p. 362. Translation from NGS,
p. 172. Another version in Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 214.
267. Translation from NGS, p. 172. See also Doe, A Warbler's Song, p. 214.
268. For example, XIX:4160. Text in NKBZ, IV, p. 304. Translations by NGS,
p. 163, and by Doe, A Warbler's Song, pp. 180-81. The poem is a tissue
of cliches on the uncertainty of life.
269. Man'yiishii, XVI:3885-86. Text in NKBZ, IV, pp. 151-55. Translation in
NGS, pp. 275-77-
270. See Tsuchihashi, Man'yo Kaidan, I, p. 222.
The Ma n y o sh u
t
177
271. Man'yosn«, XIV:3532. Text in NKBZ, III, p. 494. Translation from NGS,
p.282.
272. Man'yoshii, XIV:3459. Text in NKBZ, III, p. 476. Translation from NGS,
p. 281.
273. Man'yoshu, XIV:3421. Text in NKBZ, III, p. 466. Translation from NGS,
p.280.
274. Man'yoshu, XIV:3570. Text in NKBZ, III, p. 503. Translation from NGS,
P· 283·
275. Man'yoshu, 1:64. Text in NKBZ, I, p. 97. Other translations in NGS, p.
20, and Levy, Man'yoshu, I, p. 71.
276. Nakanishi, Man'yoshU Genron, p. 158, stated his belief that the Man'yoshu
was given its present form late in the Heian period.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Aoki Kazuo. "Okura Kikajin-setsu Hihan," in Gomi and Kojima, Man'yiishi;

Kenkyu, II.
Aoki Takako, Ide Itaru, Ito Haku, Shimizu Katsuhiko, and Hashimoto Shiro.
Man'yoshu, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series, 5 vols. Shinchosha,
1976-84.
Aso Mizue. "Kakinomoto no Hitomaro no Sakuhin," in Man'yoshi; Kiiza, V.
Aston, W. G. Nihongi. Tokyo: Tuttle, 1972.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1961.
Bungei Tohuhon: Man'yoshu. Kawade Shobe Shinsha, 1979.
Cranston, Edwin A. "Toward a Reconsideration of Makurakotoba," in Gomi
and Kojima, Man'yoshu Kenkyu, V.
Doe, Paula. A Warbler's Song in the Dusk. Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1982.
Ebersole, Gary L. Ritual Poetry and the Politics ofDeath in Early Japan. Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1989.
Fukunaga Mitsuji. Dokyo to Nihon Bunea. Kyoto: Jimbun Shoin, 1982.
Furuya Akira. "Man'yoshu Hensan no Doki to Mokuteki," in Man'yoshu
Kiiza, I.
Gomi Tomohide and Kojima Noriyuki (eds.). Man'yoshu Kenkyu. Hanawa
Shobe, 1972-.
Goto Toshio. "Man'yoshu no Seiritsu," in Man'yoshu Kiiza, I.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi. "Man'yoshu no Meigi," in Man'yoshu Kiisa, I.
- - - . Man 'yo Shuka, 5 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series. Kodansha,
1976.
 Early and Heian Literature
Ikeda Yasaburo, Takcch: no Kurohito, Yamabe no Akabito. Chikuma Shobe,
1970.
Inaoka Koji. "Hitomaro 'hanka' 'tanka' no Ron," in Gomi and Kojima,
Man'yoshu KenkYu, III.
- - - . "Hitomaro Kashii Sedoka no Bungakuteki Igi," in Gomi and Kojima,
Man'yoshu KenkYu, III.
Inukai Takashi Hakushi Koki Kinen Rombunshu Kanko Iinkai (ed.). Man'yii
sono go. Hanawa Shobe, 1959.
Itami Sueo. "Man'yoshu no Henja," in Man'yoshi; Kiiza, I.
Ito Haku. Man'yoshi; no Kajin to Sakuhin, 2 vols. Hanawa Shobe, 1975.
- - - . Man'yoshu Somon no Sekai. Hanawa Shobo, 1959.
- - - . "Yuryaku Gyosei no Seikaku to sono Ichi," in Ito Haku and Inaoka
Koji, Man'yoshu wo manabu, I.
Ito Haku and Inaoka Koji. Man'yoshu wo manabu, 8 vols. Yuhikaku, 1977-78.
Kawaguchi Katsuyasu. "[omei Gyosei to Kunimi-uta no Genryii," in Ito and
Inaoka, Man'yoshu, I.
Kido Saizo and Imoto Noichi, Rengaron Shu, Hairon Shu, in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Kitazumi Toshio. Man'yo no Sekai, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko senes.
Kodansha, 1979.
Kojima Noriyuki. "Utawanu Okura," in Man'yoshu, III.
Kojima Noriyuki, Kinoshita Masatoshi, and Satake Akahiro (eds.), Man'yoshu,
4 vols. in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshii series. Shogakukan, 1971-75.
Konishi, [in'ichi. A History ofJapanese Literature, I. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 1984.
Konoshi Takamitsu. "Koro Shinin no Uta," in Ito and Inaoka, Man'yoshu, VI.
Kume Tsunetami, "Okura Bungaku ni okeru Kayosei," in Gomi and Kojima,
Man'yoshu KenkYu, V.
Levy, Ian Hideo. Hitomaro and the Birth ofJapanese Lyricism. Princeton, N.J.:
Princeton University Press, 1984.
- - - . Man'yoshu, I. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1981.
Man'yoshu, 3 vols., in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo series. Yuseido, 1969-
77·
Man'yoshi; Hikkei, ed. Inaoka Koji, 2 vols. Gakutosha, 1979-81.
Man'yoshi; Kiiza, ed. Hisamatsu Sen'ichi, 7 vols. Yuseido, 1973.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Kokin Wakashu. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Univer-
sity Press, 1985.
McCullough, William H. and Helen Craig. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, 2
vols. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1980.
Miller, Roy Andrew. "The Footprints of the Buddha": An Eighth-century Old
Japanese Poetic Sequence, in American Oriental Series, vol. 58. New Haven:
American Oriental Society, 1975.
- - - . "The Lost Poetic Sequence of the Priest Mansei," Monumenta Nip-
ponica 36: 2, 1981.
The Ma n y o s h u
l
179

Nakanishi Susumu. Kaltinomota no Hitomaro. Chikuma Shobe, 1970.

---. Man'yii no Jidai to Fiido, Kadokawa Shoten, 1980.
---. Man'yo no Sekai, in Chuko Shinsho series. Chuo Koren Sha, 1973.
---. Man'yo no Shi to Shijin. Yayoi Shobe, 1972.
---. Man'yoshi; Genron. Ofiisha, 1976.
---. Man'yostu; no Hikaku Bungakuteki KenkYu. Nan'undo Ofusha,
1963.
- - - . Man'yoshi; no Utabitotachi. Kadokawa Shoten, 1980.
- - - . "Okura Kikajin Ron," Kokugakuin Zasshi, November 1969.
- - . "Okura Toraijin Ron," in Man'viishii, III.
- - - . "Yakarnochi Uta Nikki no Hitsuroku," in Man'yoshu, III.
- - - . Yamanoue no Okura. Kawade Shobe Shinsha, 1973.
Narahashi Zenji. "Man'yoshu no Hensan Nendai," in Man'yoshi; Koza, I.
Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai, Manyoshu. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1965.
Nosco, Peter. "Man'yoshi; Studies in Tokugawa Japan," in Translations of the
Asiatic Society of Japan, 4th series, I, 1986.
Ohama Itsuhiko. Man'yo Genshi Ko, Shueisha, 1978.
Okubo Tadashi. Man'yoshu no Shosii. Meiji Shoin, 1980.
Omodaka Hisataka. Man'voshi; Chushaku, 20 vols. Chuo Koren Sha, 1957-68.
Ono Susumu. "Man'yoshu Kaikan Daiichi no Uta," in Bungaltu, April 1956.
The article is reprinted in Man'yoshii, III.
Ooka Makoto. Tachibana no Yume. Shinchosha, 1972.
Origuchi Shinobu Zenshu, 32 vols. Chuo Koron Sha, 1976.
Philippi, Donald L. Kojik], Tokyo: Tokyo University Press, 1966.
Saigo Nobutsuna. Man'yo Shiki. Miraisha, 1970.
Sakamoto Taro, Ienaga Saburo, Inoue Mitsusada, and Ono Susumu (eds.),
Nihon Shoki, 2 vols., in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami
Shoten, 1967.
Sansom, George. A History ofJapan , 3 vols. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1958-63.
Sasaki Yukitsuna. Kahinimoto no Hitomaro Nota. Seidosha, 1982.
Satake Akahiro. Man'yoshu Nukigaki. Iwanami Shoten, 1980.
Sato, Hiroaki, and Burton Watson. From the Country of Eight Islands. New
York: Doubleday, 198r.
Shirakawa Shizuka. Shoki Man'yo Ron. Chuo Koren Sha, 1979.
Takagi Ichinosuke. Bingu Mondoea no Ron. Iwanami Shoten, 1974.
- - - . Dtomo no Tabito, Yamanoue no Okura. Chikuma Shobe, 1972.
Tsuchihashi Yutaka. Man'yo Kaigan, 2 vols. Nihon Hose Shuppan Kyokai,
1978.
Tsuchihashi Yutaka and Konishi [in'ichi. Kodai Kayo Shu, in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1957.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene. Sources of
Japanese Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958.
I80 Early and Heian Literature
Tsuyuki Noriyoshi. "Temrnu Gyosei no Seikaku," in Ito and Inaoka,
Man'yoshu, I.
Umehara Takeshi. Minasoko no Uta, 2 vols. Shueisha, 1973.
- - - . Samayoeru Kashu, Shiieisha, 1974.
- - - . Uta no Fukuseki, 2 vols. Shueisha, 1979.
Waley, Arthur. The Analects of Confucius. London: George Allen & Unwin,
1938.
Watanabe Kazuo. "Kuso no am Uta," in Gomi and Kojima, Man'yoshi; KenkYu,
VIII.
Watson, Burton (trans.), The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1968.
Yamaji Heishiro. "Kunimi no Uta Futatsu," in Man'yoshu, III.
Yamamoto Kenkichi. Kakinomoto no Hitomaro. Shinchosha, 1962.
- - - . Otomo no Yakamochi, Chikuma Shobe, 1971.
Yamamoto Kenkichi and Ikeda Yasaburo. Man'yo Hyakka. Chua Karon Sha,
1963.
Yoshida Yoshitaka. "Shikokka no Tenkai," Bungaku 16:7, 1948.
Yoshino Hiroshi. Sakimoriuta no Kiso Kozo. Ochanomizu Shobe, 1956.
 4.
POETR Y AND PROSE
IN CHINESE OF THE
EARLY HEIAN PERIOD

In 784, fifteen years after the last dated poem in the Man'yoshu, the
capital was moved from Nara. There must have been compelling reasons
behind the decision to desert a city where culture had flourished, a city
not only filled with magnificent temples and palace buildings but sur-
rounded by the lovely scenery of Yamato. Most modern historians seem
to think that the probable cause for abandoning Nara was the deter-
mination of the court and the Fujiwara family, then in its ascendancy,
to move the capital away from the center of Buddhist authority.' The
unsuccessful attempt of the priest Dokyo, the favorite of the Empress
Shotoku, to have himself named as her heir had aroused widespread
consternation, and after Shotoku's death in 770, Dokyo was forced into
exile by Fujiwara officials. A grandson of Tenji was brought to the
throne, the ineffectual but harmless Konin (reigned 770-781), exactly
the kind of ruler the Fujiwaras desired. His son Kammu (reigned 781-
806), a far more considerable figure, would be intimately involved in
the founding of the new capital.
The site chosen for the capital was Nagaoka in the province of
Yamashiro, and the move took place in 784. However, before the lavishly
planned city could be completed, the crown prince (Karnmu's younger
brother) was implicated in the murder of Fujiwara no Tanetsugu and
deprived of his position. This calamity, auguring ill for the new capital,
induced the government to abandon Nagaoka and to choose a new site
with the utmost care. In terms of geomancy, there were mountains in
three directions (a yang number) and rivers on two sides (a yin number).
The city, planned on the model of the Chinese capital at Ch'ang-an,
was laid out with nine east-west and eight north-south streets, again
observing principles of yin-yang divination. The imperial palace was
situated in the north, where the emperor faced south, in the traditional
position of authority. And, as if to protect the capital from evil influences
 Early and Heian Literature
emanating from the northeast, the "demon gate" (kimon), a Buddhist
monastery was founded on Mount Hiei in 788 by the priest Saicho, This
monastery developed into the center of Tendai Buddhism, which grad-
ually acquired the importance of a state religion. All these precautions
proved to be effective: the city of Heian-"Peace and Tranquillity"-
would remain the imperial capital of Japan with minor interruptions
for over a thousand years, until 1868, when a new capital was established
in Tokyo. The capital city, Heian, lent its name to the literature com-
posed between 793 and !I8S, the most glorious period of Japanese lit-
erature (with the possible exception of the twentieth century). Heian,
or Kyoto as it is now called, continued to be the residence of the emperors
after II8S when the shoguns established their capital at Kamakura.
The surviving literature of the early Heian period is in Chinese.
The prestige of composing poetry and prose in Chinese, already evident
during the Nara period (as the compilation of the anthology Kaifuso
demonstrated), was further enhanced at the end of the eighth century.
Some Japanese Buddhist priests who had studied in China acquired
such proficiency in Chinese that they were able to express their thoughts
freely and gracefully, often with an almost ostentatious display of their
familiarity with Chinese literature and philosophy. The predilection of
the early Heian court for Chinese learning occasioned the compilation
of the first imperially sponsored anthologies-not of Japanese but of
Chinese poetry. For a time, indeed, there was a danger that Chinese
might wholly supplant Japanese as the medium of literary expression,
rather as Norman French overwhelmed Anglo-Saxon; but instead the
Japanese language, and especially Japanese literature, benefited im-
mensely from this intensive exposure to the riches of the older literature.

The preeminent figure in the creation of the literature in Chinese during

the early Heian period was the priest Kukai, familiarly known by his
title, Kobo Daishi, the Great Teacher who Promulgated the [Buddhist]
Law. He was born in 774 on the island of Shikoku into the Saeki family."
He himself believed that he belonged to the old Saeki-Otomo clan,' but
recently it has been suggested that the Saeki clan of Sanuki province
was quite different from the Saeki of the capital, and may originally
have been of Ainu stock.' It has also been argued that Kukai may have
chosen to become a Buddhist monk because the normal path of ad-
vancement for a bright young man, service in the government, was
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 183

blocked by the implication of the Saeki family in the murder of Fujiwara

no Tanetsugu.'
Even as a boy Kukai demonstrated such promise that his maternal
uncle, a Confucian scholar, gave him special instruction in the Confucian
classics and Chinese poetry. The uncle took the boy to the capital, and
in 791 entered him in the Confucian college in Nagaoka. In 797, when
Kukai composed the first draft of Sango Shiiki (Indications of the Goals
of the Three Teachings), he mentioned in the preface that while he was
at the Confucian college a Buddhist monk showed him a text of Esoteric
Buddhist meditation that so impressed him he decided to follow the
prescribed technique of reciting a formula one million times in order
to be able to "memorize passages and understand the meaning of any
scripture.?" The technique apparently worked: Kiikai recorded that
when he later wandered around Shikoku "the valley reverberated to
the sound of my voice as I recited, and the morning star appeared in
the sky."? Turning his back on worldly fame and wealth, he resolved
to become a Buddhist priest. He recalled, "My relatives and teachers
opposed my entering the priesthood, saying that by doing so I would
be unable to fulfill the Five Cardinal Virtues or to accomplish the duties
of loyalty or of filial piety.:"
But Kukai, after weighing the merits of Buddhism, Confucianism,
and Taoism, reached the conclusion that, though they differed in pro-
fundity, all three were the teachings of sages, and therefore an individual
who chose to follow anyone of them would "not necessarily repudiate
loyalty and filial piety."9 It was partly to refute the Confucian arguments
of his relatives, and partly also to enlighten a wayward nephew who
indulged in drink and women, that Kukai wrote Indications,"
Indications is in the form of a discussion among a Confucianist,
fancifully named Kim6 (Tortoise Hair), a Taoist named Kyobu (Noth-
ingness), and a Buddhist named Kamei Kotsuji (Nameless Mendicant)."
The presentation is intentionally dramatic, and the work has been called
the first Japanese drama, or even the first Japanese novel. The form has
been traced to the dramatic and novelistic elements in the Chinese erotic
story Yu-hsien ku,12 but the similarities are not obvious. The dramatic
elements in Indications are not central to the argumentation, but they
lend interest to what would otherwise be a dry recitation of philosophical
doctrines. Near the beginning, for example, Kim6 visits his friend To-
kaku (Rabbit Horn), and they talk about Tokaku's profligate nephew
Shitsuga (Leech Tusk), who is "dishonest by nature." We learn that he
refuses to listen to other people's advice, indulges in gambling and
hunting, and is arrogant and untrustworthy."
 Early and Heian Literature

The arguments of Kirno, the Confucianist, are put forward in the

pedantic manner typical of Japanese members of his school, with nu-
merous references to Chinese precedents, as in this exhortation to
Shitsuga:.

Shitsuga, if you change your heart and devote yourself to filial piety,
you could be among those who are well known for this virtue. Think
of the men who shed tears of blood; of the man who struck a jar
of gold; of Men Tsung; of the man who caught carp; or of Ting
Lan. 14

Loyalty, also urged on Shitsuga, elicits allusions to such paragons as

the man who broke the railing, the man who broke a window, the man
who exchanged his liver with his lord's, and the man who was stabbed
through the heart-all examples drawn from Chinese tradition. IS The
persuasiveness of the Confucian arguments breaks down-at least for
a Buddhist-when Kimo, having enumerated a man's duties to his
parents and country, stresses the importance of happiness in this world
in terms of the pleasures of married life and of friendship. These plea-
sures are made to sound attractive, but after one has read what the
Taoists, and especially the Buddhists, have to say about worldly delights,
they are likely to seem hollow and delusory.
Kukai does not state that he prefers Taoism to Confucianism, but
the language of his Taoist is at times quite close to Buddhist belief.
Kyobu says, for example, "To an unfit person, we do not open our
mouths; unless a man be a proper vessel, we hide our book in a wooden
box deep down in the earth. When the occasion comes, we open the
box and transmit the secret to those who have been selected.':" The
insistence on finding the proper vessel for the highest teachings was
congenial to Kukai, a believer in Esoteric Buddhism. The rejection of
"worldly pollutions" is as absolute with the Taoist as the Buddhist: "You
must surrender wealth as if it were a thorn, and an emperor's position
as if you were casting off your straw sandals. When you see a beautiful
girl with a slender waist, think of her as a devil or a ghost."" But the
goal of the Taoist was not enlightenment but magical powers: "After
you have followed these practices, you will be able to make your shadow
vanish, even when out under the sun, and to write in darkness during
the night; you will be able to see through the earth and walk on
water. ... You will be able to swallow swords and fire, stir winds, and
produce clouds."18 The ultimate aim of the Taoist, unlike the Buddhist,
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 185

was to prolong life: "You will live as long as the heaven and earth;
enjoy life for an eternity together with the sun and moon."!"
The third speaker, the Buddhist, is apparently a Japanese. He says
of himself, "I have no permanently fixed birthplace or parents. However,
in the present temporal existence, the visionlike being you see before
you is residing at a bay in Japan, where a large camphor tree spreads
its shadow. Having yet to attain what I am searching for, I have already
reached the age of twenty-four.':" Twenty-four (by Japanese reckoning)
was Kukai's age when he wrote most of Indications, and there still stands
a huge camphor tree in the precincts of the Zentsu-ji, the temple in
Shikoku most intimately associated with Kukai, perhaps the very tree
he mentioned. These and several other correspondences lend additional
interest to the utterances of the Buddhist, who otherwise betrays few
personal touches in his views. He quickly disposes of the arguments of
the Confucianist and the Taoist, and recites two prose-poems on im-
permanence and transcience, reducing his opponents to abject submis-
sion. Indications concludes with a poem in ten rhymes clarifying the
three teachings. The Buddhist, after giving credit to what is admirable
in Confucianism and Taoism, affirms his conviction that Mahayana
Buddhism is the highest of truths.
Kukai did not state why he chose to express philosophical beliefs in
a literary form-parallel prose with interspersed poems and rhyme-
prose-but there were precedents in the Buddhist tradition. Kukai's
mastery of the different styles of Chinese poetry and prose is apparent
throughout. He most frequently employed the variety of parallel prose
known as p' ien wen, perfected in China during the Six Dynasties (220-
589). In this style, units of four or six characters are balanced against
similar units in succeeding lines. The use of so constricting a medium
for conveying philosophical truths that were more normally expressed
in unmistakable prose may recall Lucretius or perhaps Pope in An Essay
on Man. Kukai, far from considering that formally regulated language
impeded the free communication of ideas, evidently assumed that an
artistic presentation would lend additional authority to the context. His
style, even in this early work, has been praised as unusually beautiful
t .
p len wen.
Kukai's journey to China in 804 was probably the chief formative
experience of his life. While in Ch'ang-an visiting the famous temples,
as he related in Shorai Mokuroku (A Memorial Presenting a List of
Newly Imported Sutras), he met the great priest Hui-kuo, the abbot of
the Ch'ing Lung (Green Dragon) Temple. As soon as Hui-kuo laid eyes
on the young Japanese he intuitively recognized that here was the sue-
[86 Early and Heian Literature

cessor he had long awaited, and he immediately asked Kukai to prepare

for ordination. Part of this ceremony consisted of throwing a flower
from a distance onto each of two mandalas, representations of the cosmos
under the two aspects of potential entity and dynamic manifestations;
the flower's fall, beyond the control of the thrower, revealed which of
the many Buddhas represented in the mandala was the one with which
he had special affinity. The flower Kukai threw on the Matrix Mandala
fell on Vairochana (Dainichi in Japanese), the supreme Buddha, con-
firming Huo-kuo's intuition that Kukai was destined to be his successor.
A month later, when Kukai was initiated into the rites of the Diamond
Mandala, his flower once again fell on the image of Vairochana, to the
amazement of all.
While Kukai was in China he studied the mantras (chants) and
mudras (accompanying hand movements) necessary to esoteric practices
and also learned Sanskrit. The abbot Hui-k uo, satisfied with Kukai's
progress, informed him that "the Esoteric scriptures are so abstruse that
their meaning cannot be conveyed except through art.'?' He ordered
various painters to execute scrolls of the two mandalas and a bronzesmith
to cast ritual implements for Kukai to take back to Japan. Kukai not
only emphasized the importance of art in religious experience but he is
popularly regarded today as the supreme Japanese calligrapher, and
many paintings and sculptures are dubiously credited to him. Irrespective
of Kukai's personal contributions to Buddhist art, Shingon Buddhism
always placed enormous importance on the mandalas, to the degree that
it might be said to be a religion that explains the mandalas.
Another aspect ofShingon Buddhism described in Kukai's Memorial
is the importance of the line of transmission of the teachings from
Vairochana Buddha to the present. The emphasis given to pedigree was
congenial to the Japanese, as we can infer from the unbroken line of
emperors or, in later times, the insistence on the fiction that actors or
musicians are direct descendants of the founders of their arts. Hui-kuo
had received instruction from the Indian master Amoghavajra, but he
had been unwilling to transmit the teachings to his Chinese disciples
because none of them seemed to be an adequate vessel for such profound
and recondite philosophy. The Esoteric teachings were not for every-
body, and secrecy in the transmission was essential if unworthy recipients
were not to corrupt or pervert the truths of Buddha. The insistence on
secret teachings was not confined to Shingon; in time almost all the
secular arts in Japan also came to possess secret traditions that were
transmitted only to chosen disciples, and usually only on payment of
established fees.
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 187

Hui-kuo died soon after he had completed the necessary transmission

of teachings to Kukai. The night after he died, he appeared in Kukai's
dream, urging him to return to Japan and propagate the Esoteric teach-
ings there. His last words were, "If I am reborn in Japan, this time I
will be your disciple.'?'
Kukai's Memorial is not, as a whole, of literary interest. It consists
mainly of the names of sutras and commentaries that Kukai had obtained
in China; but the sections describing the relationship between Hui-kuo
and his Japanese disciple are beautifully expressed, suggesting the uni-
versality of a religion that had been transmitted from India to China
and from China to Japan.
Kukai owes his place in literary history to his poetry and prose in
Chinese, found mainly in Seirei Shu (Collected Inspirations)." Most of
his poems are specifically Buddhist. He describes in one poem, for
example, maggots and bluebottle flies infesting the corpse of a once
beautiful woman, an allegorical statement of the transitory nature of
worldly joYS.24 In other poems or prose-poems Kukai suggested the
Buddhist teachings more obliquely:

Valley water-one cup in the morning sustains life;

Mountain mist-one whiff in the evening nurtures the soul.
Hanging moss, delicate grasses suffice to clothe my body;
Rose leaves, cedar bark-these will be my bedding.
Heaven's compassion spreads over me the indigo canopy of the sky;
The Dragon King's devotion passes round me curtains of white
clouds.
Mountain birds sometimes come, each singing its own song;
Mountain monkeys nimbly leap, displaying incredible skill.
Spring flowers, autumn chrysanthemums smile at me;
Dawn moons, morning winds cleanse the dust from my heart."

Kukai believed that poetry, even the difficult Chinese poems he

himself composed, provided a valuable means of teaching Buddhist
doctrine. Poetry was also prized by Confucian scholars because they
believed it helped in governing a country; this would be the chief
justification for composing poetry in Chinese during the early part of
the Heian period. A statement of this principle is given in Kukai's
preface to BunkYo Hifu Ron (Secret Treasure-house of the Mirrors of
Poetry), a massive study of Chinese poetics compiled by Kukai in 820.
The preface opens:
I88 Early and Heian Literature

The basis of the Buddha's teachings to sentient beings was in his

words. Literary composition was fundamental also to the Confucian
scholars who sought to remedy the conditions of their time. This is
why the truths of the former were revealed in writing that appeared
spontaneously in the sky and in this world of dust, and of the latter
as writing that formed of itself on the backs of tortoises and dragons."
Their observations of changes in the sun, moon, and stars enabled
them to discover how to enlighten and nurture the people of the
entire world, and harmonies of gold and jade, melodies of pipes and
reeds, ornamented their compositions, enabling them to guide the
people. What elegance and what brilliance illuminated the compo-
sitions that brought them dominance over the mass of men! Just as
one marks the beginning of numbers, so writing is the fountainhead
of instruction. If we accept instruction by means of words as the
first principle, literary compositions constitute the keystone of order
within the nation. How can anyone, layman or priest, neglect literary
composition? Ii

Kukai's justification for ornamented language, notably the parallel

Chinese prose he wrote with effortless mastery, was that it made truths
more palatable than bare statement, rather as Lucretius justified his
poetry as honey on the lip of a cup of medicine. Even the man of shallow
intelligence will be attracted to pleasingly phrased truths; and the ed-
ucated man will be repelled by ugly language, even if he is capable of
accepting the content. Kukai quoted the passage in the Analects where
Confucius, rebuking his disciples for not being interested in poetry,"
declared that the expressive possibilities of poetry are conducive to the
performance of acts of filial piety and loyalty.
The value of poetry had often been affirmed by the Chinese. The
anthology of Six Dynasties poetry, Wen Hsiian, compiled about 530,
contained this statement by the Wei emperor Wen-t'i (Ts'ao P'i, 187-
226): "Literature is without doubt a great enterprise for ruling the
country, as well as an imperishable glory. The years of a man's life are
finite, and with the passage of time reach their end; the joys of wealth
and rank terminate with the person. Life and worldly fame both clearly
have allotted spans, and are not to be compared to the inexhaustible
nature of literature.t'v This opinion-familiar to the West in the formula
"art is long, life is short"-was not a glorification of art but a Confucian
justification of its value. It was known in Japan by the end of the eighth
century and is mentioned in Kukai's Indications, but it did not develop
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 189

into a theory of literature until the reign of the Emperor Saga (8°9-23),
when it became a fashionable cliche."
Kukai's contributions to Japanese culture extended to many fields.
He was the founder in Japan of Shingon, one of the most important
sects of Buddhism, and contributed not only to the arts but to the
scholarship associated with this sect. He is credited with the inven-
tion of the kana syllabary, a reasonable conjecture in view of his knowl-
edge of Sanskrit; but there is no evidence for this ascription. Nor is it
possible to accept the attribution to Kukai of the iroha, a poem that uses
each of the forty-seven kana symbols only once."
Such traditions, though of dubious authenticity, reflect popular
awareness of the magnitude of Kukai's achievements. In any case, Ku-
kai's contributions to Japanese literature were written not in Japanese
but in Chinese. Indeed, just before the triumph of the kana literature
of the tenth century, there was almost a century during which Chinese
writings predominated."
The literature in Chinese of the ninth century was often neglected
by historians of Japanese literature, perhaps because they resented the
fact that Kukai and others of his time wrote in what was, after all, a
foreign language; but the kanshi and kambun composed at this time have
gradually gained acceptance as part of the Japanese literary heritage,
and they are no longer dismissed as being mere exercises in imitation
of Chinese models. The works of Kukai, composed in difficult Chinese,
have been translated into Japanese and given the benefit of commentaries,
assuring him of a place in the literary as well as the religious history of
Japan.

The Emperor Saga, who succeeded his brother Heizei on the throne in
809, was a passionate admirer of Chinese culture. He was also a skilled
poet of kanshi and a superb calligrapher. Under his guidance the admin-
istration of the country was reorganized on Chinese lines, and he en-
couraged the composition of literary works in the Chinese language.
Three anthologies of poetry bear witness to the flourishing state of
writing in Chinese during his reign."
The first of the three collections, Ryoun Shinshi; (New Collection
Soaring Above the Clouds), more commonly known as Ryoun.;hu,34 was
completed in 814. It contains ninety-one poems composed by twenty-
four poets between 782 and 814. The poets, with one exception, were
 Early and Heian Literature

all members of the imperial family or the high-ranking nobility, and

the poems were arranged in descending order of rank, rather than
chronologically or by subject." The collection is headed by two poems
by Heizei, followed by twenty-two poems by Saga, the largest number
of poems by any single poet." Unlike the eighth-century collection Kai-
fuso, in which poems with lines of five characters predominated, half
the poems in the Ryounshu are in seven-character lines, suggesting that
poets felt more assurance in handling poems of longer lines and also
probably reflecting literary tendencies in China during the middle of
the Tang dynasty."
The preface to the Ryounshu by Ono no Minemori (777-830)38 opens
with the statement by the Wei emperor Wen-t'i (quoted above) on the
important role literature plays in good government, and is otherwise
devoted mainly to an encomium of Emperor Saga, who is praised equally
for his benevolence and literary genius. The immediate occasion for the
compilation of the Ryounshu, we are told, was the emperor's regret that
so many poetic compositions had been lost. Minemori accepted with
gratitude the emperor's request that he compile a collection, though he
was well aware of his incompetence and sure that he would fail to do
justice to the task. More than once, overwhelmed by the magnitude of
the assignment, he had thought of resigning, but the emperor would
not permit this. Now that the compilation had been completed, it was
possible to see how the poems by the Emperor Saga spread light through
the whole collection, as jewels in a pond make the waters bright. Mi-
nemori declared that he had not chosen the poems arbitrarily, but only
after consultation with other officials, and when no decision could be
reached, the emperor himself was consulted.
The collection opens with the two poems by Emperor Heizei, the
first on peach blossoms, the second on cherry blossoms. These conven-
tionally pretty compositions are unimpressive, but it is worth noting the
prominence of cherry blossoms; they would be as typical of the Heian
capital as plum blossoms were of Nara. Despite the assertion in the
preface that literature is of service to the government, the poetry of this
collection is prevailingly of the kind that was composed at banquets and
similar occasions. A typical poem, by the Emperor Saga, is entitled
"Going Deep into the Mountains of an Autumn Day":

In my wanderings I encountered the sadness of autumn's coming;

As I went deep into the mountains, I recalled Sung Yu's words.
Midway in the sky, over a steep summit, the fog hovered;
Silent valleys on the dark side were slow to receive the sun.
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 191

I listened: monkeys' cries sounded shrill in the old trees;

I looked: crows crisscrossed desolately in the cold wind.
Here even in the steamy summer heat the wind is chilly;
How much more so after sunset at the height of autumn!"

Apart from one mistake in the tones," the poem is formally unex-
ceptionable. The allusion to Sung Yu, who was famous for having
described the sadness of autumn in his "Nine Arguments,":" had already
been made by Kaifuso poets and would be made many times again.
There is not much either to praise or condemn in Saga's poem, and the
same is true of most in the Ryounsh«, Occasionally a poem will have an
intriguing title, promising something that goes beyond gallant or self-
consciously noble thoughts, but one is likely to be disappointed by the
poem itself. The poem that Saga addressed to Kukai when he bestowed
on him a gift of silk floss is no exception.

You, serene priest, have long dwelled on a peak in the clouds;

My thoughts travel to those distant mountains where the spring is
still cold.
The pines and oaks can guess the profound silence of your life;
But the clouds and mist do not know how many years you have
eaten coarse food.
Of late word has not reached us from your meditation retreat;
Now the blossoms and willows are at their height in the capital.
Do not scorn, oh bodhisattva, this paltry gift,
But for the donor's sake, deliver the people from hardship."

Kukai's response, in a similar vein, is preserved, though not in this

collection." There are no poems by Buddhist priests in the Ryounshu,
but some poems by Kukai found their way into Bunlta Shurei Shu, the
second imperially sponsored collection.
Perhaps the tone of the Ryounshu is best suggested by the poem by
Fujiwara no Fuyutsugu (775-826) entitled "Hearing Flutes Along the
Road in the Autumn Night: To Match a Poem by the Director of the
Imperial University Sugawara no Kiyotata":

A feel of autumn in the tall sky of dusk;

hastening officials, through at court, descend from the palace.
In the new night strolling players sound their flutes,
the long notes, the short notes, that stir men's thoughts.
 Early and Heian Literature

Wind from the willows bears the cry of a luan bird,

the moon in the ash tree lights the figure of a phoenix:
soon we'll hear such music as they played for the sage Shun
when the birds and beasts danced in his royal city."

This poem, like many others in the Ryounshu, was written to "match"
a poem by another person. The poem by Sugawara no Kiyokimi which
inspired Fuyutsugu's has not been preserved, but another poem, by the
Emperor Saga, included in the Ryounshu, "matches" the same poem:

Now that autumn is ending, I hear a strange sound:

The strains of flutes capture the phoenix's song.
Melodies issue from the flute, a plaintive, foreign strain;
Woodwinds send forth tunes, harmonizing with elegant strings.
Fresh voices, ever changing, tremble in the long night;
Wondrous echoes, long drawn out, fade in the wind from afar.
I listened a while on the road and felt my heart would break;
But how much more profoundly the music would have stirred
your heart."

The poems of the Ryounshu are far more accomplished than those
in the Kaifuso, but the range is still limited. Poets were restricted both
by the circumstance of composing at the court and by their reliance for
inspiration on Chinese poetry of the Six Dynasties. Extremely few of
these Japanese had ever visited China, and this, no doubt, is why they
depended on such old models. Their poetry tended to be allusive, rather
than direct, carefully turned, rather than forceful, elegant, rather than
sincere. Quite apart from the basic factor of individual talent, these
conditions made the kanshi of the early ninth century less affecting than
even minor Man'yoslu; poems. Although one can recognize the poet's
skill in handling Chinese metrics, the poems seem curiously distant. It
is difficult to believe that the poet could not have found subjects that
might be successfully treated in his own language.
The second of the imperially sponsored collections of kanshi, Bunka
Shure: Shu, was compiled in 818. The title means something like "Col-
lection of Masterpieces of Literary Flowers.":" Unlike the Ryounshu, the
Bunka Shiirci Shu does not insist that literature is of service in governing
the country; the collection is aesthetic both in its tone and professed
aims. The poems are superior to those in the Ryounshu, perhaps because
in the four years since the earlier collection was prepared the poets had
gained greater confidence in their ability to describe their emotions, as
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 193

opposed to flowering trees or the sounds of distant flutes. The poems

are arranged by categories, all but one adopted from the Wen Hsiian:"
The occasions for composing poetry, however, remained much the same
as for the Ryounshu.
Many poems commemorate excursions by the emperor to hillsides
or lakes or describe other courtly matters. The visits of envoys from the
country of Po-hai, a kingdom in northern Korea and Manchuria that
lasted from 698 to 926, inspired many works, chiefly in the nature of
mutual compliments; these poems were naturally in Chinese, the cultural
language of all of East Asia, but there are more poems in Bunlta Shurei
Shu about Japan than in the Ryounshu. The importance of Chinese
traditions was reflected in the poems that describe Chinese (but not
Japanese) historical events. Although the Emperor Saga was still the
central poet of the collection, and most of the other poets were members
of his court, a few poems are by Buddhist priests. The style, prevalently
that of the Wen Hsiian, reveals some influence from early T'ang poetry.
Bunlia Shurei Shu reflects closely the activities of the circle of kanshi
poets surrounding the Emperor Saga. The first poem, by Saga himself,
set the tone of the collection, opening a section devoted to excursions.
It is called "Spring Dawning on the River":

The pavilion on the river turns its back on worldly things;

As I lie, propped on my pillow, I hear only cockcrows from the
old fort.
I know from the mist dampening my robe how close I am to the
peak;
I realize from the spring's murmur, rousing me from sleep, how
near the valley is.
The lone moon at the sky's edge swiftly disappears on the water
it rides;
Hungry monkeys in the mountains cry till the dawn's approach.
The landscape and the weather have yet to take on warmth and
mildness, it is true,
But the spring grasses in the river shallows are all but bursting
with buds."
By no means all of the poems in the collection are in the voice of
the bunjin, the man ofletters, though this poem is typical. The following
work by Prince Nakao, from the section "Presentations and Replies,"
bears the prefatory note, "Banished from the Palace, I have recorded
something of my feelings and respectfully present them with a letter to
the Palace Guard Yoshimine no Yasuyo."
 Early and Heian Literature

Wine and feasts I followed with a host of officials;

Unworthy, yet I stood in the Court of the Emperor.
With reverence I received the rites of investiture-
Next day I was banished from the council chamber.
On that noble ground, no room for my anxious feet;
From high heaven came accusations, to whom could I cry?
I left the company of the virtuous, the ranks of the adorned;
To me alone the sea-encircling dew came not.
I listened outside the palace to the sound of singing;
Below the stairs, apart, I watched the ladies on the terrace.
I returned at dusk to face my wife in shame;
Through the night I lay talking with my children in bed.
Great faults and small merits were mine, I know.
For mercy and light penalty I am forever grateful.
Though I may never again enter the gate of my lord,
I shall speak from this far land and Heaven may hear me."

We do not know the nature of the accusation against Prince Nakao,

but the poem is in a familiar Chinese mood: the slandered (or possibly
justly accused) courtier is obliged to leave "the company of the virtuous"
and is deprived of the imperial favor ("the sea-encircling dew"). The
speaker trusts, however, that the emperor, in his mercy, will forgive the
offender and admit him once more to the circle of the elect. Perhaps
Yamanoue no Okura could have conveyed similar content in a choka,
but by now it was easier for educated Japanese to express such thoughts
in Chinese, relying on the existence of Chinese traditions of poetry in
this vein. As the Japanese became familiar with Tang poetry of greater
social and intellectual content, the tendency to use Chinese for their
public convictions became even more pronounced, and Japanese poetry
was reserved for private emotions.
One more imperially sponsored anthology of poetry in Chinese ap-
peared at this time, the Keikokushu (Collection for Governing the Coun-
try), completed during the reign of Saga's successor, [unna, in 827.soThis
was by far the biggest of the three anthologies, consisting of twenty
books (kan) and containing over one thousand poems and prose selections
by 178 poets. However, only six of the twenty books have survived, and
the ambitious compendium of compositions in Chinese between 707 and
827 is unfortunately incomplete. As the title of the collection indicated, the
compilers emphasized the role of poetry in "governing the country"; but
the poems that move us are personal rather than instructional. A poem
by the Emperor Saga about a lady on a swing is particularly engaging:
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 195

As the jewellike hands take turns in pushing her,

Her slender waist, encircled, flies off like a bird.
Her shoes, treading the clouds, graze the trees;
Her long skirts, trailing the ground, brush the flowers."

Several woman poets, including Princess Uchiko, a daughter of Saga

who served as the high priestess of the Kamo Shrine, are represented
in the three imperial collections of kanshi. A century later it would be
considered unladylike for a woman to learn Chinese, as we know from
the diary of Murasaki Shikibu, but at this time some women of the
court read Chinese collections of poetry and composed kanshi them-
selves. Their poems are more like the kanshi composed by men than
the poetry in Japanese by other women, if only because of the common
dependence on Chinese sources; but occasionally we hear a personal
note, as in Princess Uchiko's poem expressing joy over a visit from her
father,52 or Lady Otomo's poem "Late Autumn Thoughts":

This is a time of loneliness, the year past its prime;

The doors of the women's palace are silent, the autumn day chill.
In the cloudy sky, distant geese, their cries easily heard;
On the tree by the eaves a late cicada-its voice is spent.
At the chrysanthemum pool the remaining blossoms, dew-laden, are
cold;
By the lotus basin old leaves, frost-stricken, look like broken sake
cups.
Solitary and lonely, I grieve over the seasons' insistent rush;
I cannot bear to look at the fluttering, falling leaves."

Reference to the women's palace is evidence that this poem was

composed by a woman, but men sometimes also wrote in the persona
of a woman. For example, the lost poem by Emperor Saga on "Spring
Sorrow in the Women's Quarters" inspired replies from several courtiers,
the men writing as if they were court ladies. The poem by Asano no
Katori opened, "I grew up in Ch'ang-an, accustomed to every luxury I
desired; / My clothes were perfumed, my face like a flower." Kose no
Shikihito's response opened, "When I was a winsome sixteen years old /
My face was bright as blossoms, my appearance fair as peach or
damson.':" Such poems obviously could not be wholly sincere, but the
practice of men writing from a woman's point of view would be carried
over into the composition of waka in the Kokinshu,
 Early and Heian Literature

HAK USHI MONJV

The single most important event in the development of Chinese poetry

and prose in Heian Japan was the introduction of The Collected Works
of Po Chii-i, known in Japan as Haleushi Monju or sometimes simply as
Monju (Works) because of its great celebrity. An envoy to China who
returned in 837 brought with him the collection, which he had received
from the priest Ennin, then studying in China. When Ermin himself
returned to Japan in 847 he brought other copies. No doubt he had
heard of the popularity in China of Po Chu-i (772-836) and felt it was
Important that his countrymen be acquainted with the most admired
Chinese poet of the time. There was generally a time lag of fifty or
more years between the creation of works of literature in China and
their transmission to Japan, but Po's poetry was known in Japan while
he was still alive. Within a few years The Collected Works of Po Chic-:
all but made the Japanese forget the existence of Wen Hsiian,
The success of the poetry of Po Chu-i in Japan has been variously
explained. The primary reason, it need hardly be said, was the intrinsic
quality of the poetry, though this does not explain why the poetry of
Tu Fu, usually rated even higher by the Chinese themselves, was rel-
atively little read in [apan." The simplicity of Po's style undoubtedly
contributed to his popularity in Japan, and the Japanese felt they knew
him from his poetry in a way that it was hard to know the Wen Hsuan
poets. Finally, as Burton Watson pointed out, the social concerns of Po
Chu-i and the attention he devoted to the sufferings of the common
people struck a responsive chord in the Heian nobles and inspired them
to write similar poems about their own country."
The poems of Po Chu-i were popular almost from the day they were
introduced to the Japanese, but their special importance is generally
traced to the reign of the Emperor Nimmei (833-850). The Fujiwara
clan was then in its ascendancy, and family lineage, rather than skill at
composing poetry, became the chief qualification for promotions at the
court. The best kanshi poet of the time, Ono no Takamura (802-852),
was admired not for his poetry but for the preface he wrote to the legal
code, Ryo no Gige, an excellent example of Chinese prose but hardly of
literary interest. At such a time of disappointment, it was natural that
poets should have turned from the festive manner of the earlier kanshi
compositions to the more serious, sometimes tragic tones of Po Chil-i's
works. Takamura straddled the two styles of Chinese poetry: his early
poetry was in the Wen Hsiian tradition, but his later poetry shows the
influence of Po Chu-i. A new age had begun in the history of the kanshi.
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 197

SUGAWARA NO MrcHizANE (845-903)

Sugawara no Michizane was by far the most important kanshi poet of

the second half of the ninth century, and in the opinion of many he
was the most distinguished kanshi poet of all time. He came of a scholarly
background. His grandfather, Sugawara no Kiyokimi (770-842) had
served as a Confucian scholar and tutor to the future Emperor Heizei
when he was crown prince. Kiyokimi journeyed to China on the same
ship as Saicho as a member of the ambassadorial delegation, and after
his return to Japan he established himself as the leading Confucian
scholar of the day. Works by Kiyokimi appeared in all three imperially
sponsored anthologies of kanshi and kambun."
Kiyokimi's son (and Michizane's father), Sugawara no Koreyoshi
(812-880), was also a distinguished scholar." We know how his learning
inspired Michizane from the latter's long poem "Hardships of a Pro-
fessor. "59 His most illustrious service to the court was as an editor of
Montoleu [itsurohu (The Chronicles of the Emperor Montoku), the fifth
of the Six Dynastic Histories."
Michizane far eclipsed his grandfather and father in scholarly ac-
complishments and poetic skill, but he demonstrated his pride in the
House of Sugawara by editing three collections of writings in Chinese-
one by his grandfather, one by his father, and the third by himself-
and presented all three to the Emperor Daigo in 9°0.61 His own collection,
Kanlo: Bunsii, consists of six books of poetry and six of prose. Michizane's
late poems, most of them written in exile, were collected in Kank« Kosha.
In addition to the Chinese poetry contained in these collections, Michi-
zane also composed some well-known waka."
Michizane's schooling began when he was four. 63 When he was ten
his father appointed his disciple Shimada no Tadaomi (828-89r) as
Michizane's teacher. Tadaomi was then twenty-eight, but despite the
difference in age, he and Michizane became lifelong friends, and at
fourteen Michizane married Tadaorni's daughter, who was apparently
only nine at the time." Michizane, who had composed his first kanshi
at the age of ten,65 was fortunate to have the opportunity also to study
with a Chinese emigrant from whom he learned to read the texts in
the original pronunciations and word order."
Michizane entered the university at the age of seventeen, younger
than most other students." He remained at the university as a graduate
student, and did not take the civil service examinations until 870, when
he was twenty-five. He was examined by the Confucian scholar and
poet Miyako no Yoshika (834-879), one of the compilers of Bunlea Sharei
 Early and Heian Literature
Shu. He was asked to write on two subjects, Chinese surnames and
earthquakes." He passed, but Yoshika rated him as only "above average."
Yoshika was a severe marker, and he seems to have given all the can-
didates he examined the same poor mark. Michizane was nevertheless
qualified for an official career. He was promoted in court rank and
given a secretariat position. In 871 he was chosen to receive the am-
bassadors from Po-hai, but his chief duty at the time was drafting
documents. For the next six years he served as a minor bureaucrat and
wrote little poetry. A poem written in the second month of 874, entitled
"Through the Snow to Early Duty at the Office," suggests his routine
at the time:

Wind wafts palace bells sounding the hour of dawn;

I hurry along the road through tumbling flurries of snow.
Clad in my three foot coat of fur,
mouth nicely warmed with two portions of wine.
I wonder if the chilly groom has daubed willow fluff on his collar,
amazed to see my tired horse tramping through drifting clouds.
At the office, no time for a moment's rest;
huffing on my hands a thousand times, I scribble official drafts."

Michizane's poems, however, were by no means restricted to descriptions

of his public life. His most affecting poems are private, notably "Dream-
ing of Amaro," written in 883. Amaro was the nickname for Michizane's
eldest son, who died that year at the age of six.

Since Amaro died I cannot sleep at night;

if I do, I meet him in dreams and tears come coursing down.
Last summer he was over three feet tall;
this year he would have been seven years old.
He was diligent and wanted to know how to be a good son,
read his books and recited by heart the "Poem on the Capital."
Medicine stayed the bitter pain, but only for ten days;
then the wind took his wandering soul off to the Nine Springs.
Since then, I hate the gods and buddhas;
better if they had never made heaven and earth! .. ,70

Michizane in his private poems showed how much he had learned

from Po Chu-i and other Tang poets. He was not consciously imitating
any particular Chinese poem when he described his yearning for his
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period I99

dead son, but what he had read surely affected his expression. He had
discovered that poetry, even if it failed to aid good government and
even if it was not couched in elegant language, could convey the pro-
foundest emotions of the poet. This lesson may seem transparently
obvious, but it was rare for earlier kanshi poets to accomplish more than
to voice appropriately graceful sentiments. Michizane's poetry is most
affecting when most personal. Even when he modeled himself directly
on Po Chu-i, he wrote not about China but about places he had visited
and people he knew."
In 880 Michizane was appointed as a professor at the university, but
as he related in the poem "Hakase Nan" (Hardships of a Professor,
881), he had taught only three days when some students he had
failed in an examination accused him of having marked them unfairly.
Michizane insisted in this poem that he had been absolutely fair,
and that no fault could be found with his teaching, but he was
nevertheless dismissed from his post." The complaints of the students
alone could not have caused his dismissal unless they had been backed
by jealous rivals of Michizane." Michizane described this rivalry among
scholars in various writings." Anger, like the grief he experienced over
the death of his son, gave his poetry an intensity not found in earlier
kanshi.
In 882 an anonymous poem criticizing the minister Fujiwara no
Fuyuo was circulated at court. It was so skillfully composed that people
attributed it to Michizane, but he indignantly denied authorship, and
in a long poem called on the gods to clear him of this accusation." Once
again, irritation spurred Michizane into writing a poem of exceptional
power.
Michizane wrote various other poems in anger. A particular target
was the constant bickering among scholars. He was so carried away by
his wrath over insults and false accusations that he failed to mention
that it was a particularly brilliant time for literature, the "golden age"
of the kanshi and kambun in Japan. One of his chief grievances was
that nobody seemed to recognize the true worth of his poetry, as he
complained in a poem written a year after he was accused of being the
author of the anonymous poem:

Last year everybody was amazed how clever the poem was;
This year people abuse the clumsiness of my poems ...
A signed poem is not necessarily contemptible, nor an anonymous
poem a treasure;
200 Early and Heian Literature
And even if one's early works were splendid, it doesn't mean the
later ones are bad.
One man opens his mouth and ten thousand join the chorus;
When a clever man starts a rumor, the fools happily chime in.
Ten miles, a hundred miles, a thousand miles it flies;
A carriage with four horses, fast as a dragon, is no match for a
tongue ...
My enemies slander me solely as a scholar and a poet;
Last year's row seems to have died a natural death.
My detractors have finally decided I really wrote the unsigned poem;
That's why I cannot take their criticism this year for truth."

In 886 Fujiwara no Tokihira (871-9°9, also known as Shihei), the

son of the chancellor, Fujiwara no Mototsune, had his coming-of-age
ceremony in the palace. The occasion was lavishly celebrated, the Em-
peror K6k6 himself placing the ceremonial hat on the youth's head.
Two weeks later orders were issued transferring twenty-eight high-
ranking officials, including Michizane, to posts away from the capital,
suggesting that the ceremony may have had political implications. To-
kihira would one day emerge as Michizane's archenemy, but the decision
to send Michizane to the province of Sanuki was obviously the work
not of the boy but of his father, the chancellor. Sanuki was by no means
a disagreeable post, but it nevertheless was tantamount to an exile for
Michizane. The four years he spent in Sanuki, 886-890 with two short
breaks in the capital, were frustrating to a man who had hitherto lived
at the heart of Heian intellectual life, but they imparted a new dimension
to his poetry. We are told that Michizane first saw poverty, old age, and
human suffering while in Sanuki. This legend, reminiscent of the stories
told of the Buddha's experiences on first leaving his palace, cannot have
been literally true, but it is undeniable that such themes first appear in
his poetry at this time.
The works of Michizane's years in Sanuki include a sequence of ten
poems on "early cold" in which he described how the approach of winter
afflicted various unfortunates-a peasant who has fled from another
province, an old man who has lost his wife, a packhorse driver, a
fisherman, a vagrant, an orphan, an herb gardener, a sailor, a salt peddler,
and a woodcutter." He was able in these poems to come close to the
essence as well as the expression of the poetry of Po Chu-i because he
had become personally acquainted with the kind of misery that his great
predecessor had so often described. Michizane, though profoundly in-
fluenced by Po Chu-i, referred in such poems as "On the Road I Met
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 201

a White-haired Old Man" to his experiences in Sanuki. The old man

of the poem related unhappy events of the past in these terms:

In the late years of Jogan, beginning of Gangyo,

the government had no mercy or love, laws too often unjust.
Though drought plagued us, no word of it went to the capital;
though our people died of contagion, no one pitied or cared.
40,000 homesteads or more overrun with thorns and brambles,
eleven districts where no smoke of cooking fires rose."

The tone of concern recalls Yamanoue no Okura, the only previous

Japanese poet to write in such terms, but Michizane had derived his
expression from Po Chii-i and probably did not know Okura's poems
which, in any case, were in Japanese-not the classical Chinese in which
Michizane wrote. Another poem composed in Sanuki, "Written on the
Twenty-sixth Day of the Third Month of 888," described his feelings
in a way that transcended imitation:

With whom can I discuss the smallest part of my griefs?

This distant place has made them all the more unbearable.
Only four days left to the spring of my fourth year here;
This will be the third end of spring away from home.
I'll wait for the summer clothes my wife sends;
Last year', sake is ready to drink, I'll invite the old men
of the village.
Goodbye song thrushes, blossoms-from today on
Indifferent to spring, I'll devote myself to crops and
silkworm cultivation."

This poem opens with an expression of Michizane's frustration at

being cut off from his friends, people with whom he could discuss his
thoughts freely. He waits for the clothes made by his wife, rather than
wear locally made garments. He will pass the last days of spring not
with other poets but with old men of the village. Their celebration will
not last long; in the capital he and his friends had regretted the passing
of spring, but here the governor is too busy with agricultural matters
to dally over such elegant concerns.
Michizane's absence from the capital at least spared him involvement
in the aka incident that created bitter divisions among the nobility in
887. In that year the Emperor Uda ascended the throne. He was not
the son of a Fujiwara mother, but Fujiwara no Mototsune had rec-
202 Early and Heian Literature

ommended him as K6k6's successor, and the grateful Uda commanded

the official Tachibana no Hiromi (837-890) to draft a rescript appointing
Mototsune as the chancellor. Instead of using the familiar term kampaku
for "chancellor," Hiromi used aka, an archaic word with the same
meaning. Some scholars at court asserted that aka in China had signified
a purely honorary title. Mototsune himself before long accepted this
interpretation and withdrew from the government, to the emperor's
consternation. The incident was resolved by making Tachibana no Hi-
romi bear responsibility (though only for a few days), and Mototsune,
who had proved himself to be the strongest man in the government,
graciously accepted the office of karnpaku."
Michizane made two brief visits to the capital during the period of
the aka incident. The first was at the time of the coronation of Uda,
before the full force of the dispute had made itself felt, the second was
in response to a request for help from Tachibana no Hiromi, who had
seen all of his other friends and students turn against him. In between
the two visits, while in Sanuki, Michizane sent a poem to Shimada no
Tadaomi titled "Thinking of Various Poet-Friends":

Not many first-class poets are left in the capital;

And those still left are exhausted with arguing about ako ...
Nothing can be done about the drought in this southern province;
What feelings inspire the ferocity of eastern barbarians?
Now that your duties have ended, you will have ample leisure;
Days and months, misty landscapes, will be yours to command."

This poem alludes to the disputes in the capital over the word aka.
Those who prefer poetry to arguments have left the capital. But life is
difficult for a provincial governor, too: Michizane had to cope with a
drought in Sanuki, and governors in the eastern provinces with bar-
barians on the frontier. Finally, Michizane says with a touch of envy,
Tadaomi has completed his service as a governor and can spend his
days as he pleases, admiring misty landscapes.
Michizane while visiting the capital in support of Tachibana no
Hiromi wrote a letter to Mototsune insisting on the correctness of the
term aka as used by Hiromi. The letter had no effect on the incident,
which had already been settled, but brought Michizane to Uda's attention
as someone who could stand up against the powerful Fujiwara family.
After Michizane returned to the capital in 890 he resumed his official
duties. He was granted several promotions by Uda, who favored him,
especially after Mototsune's death in 891. A new chancellor was not
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 203

appointed, and the emperor reigned without one until his abdication in
897. The most conspicuous mark of Uda's favor was his appointment
of Michizane in 894 as ambassador to China, with Ki no Haseo as his
second in command. No doubt Uda imagined that Michizane would be
overjoyed to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather as ambassador,
but about a month before the emperor ordered the mission Michizane
learned from a Buddhist priest who had been studying in China that
the country was in disorder and pirates infested the seas. Soon after he
was appointed as ambassador, Michizane petitioned the court to recon-
sider its decision to send an embassy, declaring that there was strong
reason to believe that the Tang dynasty was coming to an end, and that
there was nothing now to be learned from the Chinese." Two weeks
later the order was rescinded. The decision, objectively considered, was
correct: the T'ang dynasty was faltering, and it was hardly a time
propitious for Japanese to learn (as so often in the past) of new devel-
opments in Chinese civilization. But it is possible that Michizane's re-
luctance to go to China stemmed from fear that in his absence jealous
rivals might undermine his position at court.
The atmosphere at the court was gradually becoming hostile toward
poets. Confucianists denounced the breed as "useless" to the nation."
Michizane in a famous poem of 901, "On Lo-t'ien's Poem on the Three
Friends of the Northern Window.'?" declared that although Po Lo-t'ien
(Po Chu-i) could count on three friends-his lute, wine, and poetry-
he himself had only one, poetry. Michizane had a powerful protector
in the Emperor Uda, but Uda abdicated in 897 in favor of his twelve-
year-old son, Daigo. Uda had named two men, Fujiwara no Tokihira
and Michizane, as advisers to the boy emperor. Tokihira was appointed
minister of the Left in 899 and Michizane became minister of the Right.
Michizane three times attempted to decline the honor, but each time
his request was refused. In any case, Tokihira's position was superior,"
and before long he would take advantage of it to get rid of Michizane.
Others in the government, resenting Michizane's success, refused to
attend meetings of the council of state if he was present. Michizane sent
a letter to the Retired Emperor U da in 898 complaining of their behavior
and asking him to order the others to attend the council." Uda's inter-
vention was effective in this instance, but he himself had sincerely turned
toward Buddhism, and showed himself increasingly reluctant to become
entangled in such troublesome rnatters.s?
In 900 Michizane presented the youthful Daigo with collections of
poetry by successive generations of his family. Daigo expressed his thanks
with a poem stating that, although he had always been a devoted reader
2°4 Early and Heian Literature
of the Works of Po Chu-i, he realized now that the writings of the
Sugawara family were superior, and the Works would henceforth be
stored at the back of his bookcase." Six months later the emperor would
send Michizane into exile. People at the court seem to have foreseen
that this might happen: the scholar Miyoshi no Kiyoyuki (847-918) sent
Michizane a letter late in 900 urging him to "know where to stop, where
to be satisfied with honors already received." He used these words of
Lao Tzu as part of his concluding recommendation that Michizane
withdraw to the mountains and be revered by people of future gener-
ations." Michizane ignored this counsel.
In the first month of 901 Tokihira and Michizane were both pro-
moted to the junior second rank, but ten days later, without warning,
an imperial edict was issued that banished Michizane to Kyushu on the
grounds that he was ambitious, had attempted to seize undivided power,
and intended to disrupt the imperial succession by replacing Daigo on
the throne with a younger brother." All the charges were false," but the
last accusation was slanderous, originating with Tokihira, who played
on the fears of the inexperienced young emperor. Michizane was not
given the chance to defend himself. Uda, in monk's attire, went to the
palace in the hope of getting the decree rescinded, but guards refused
to admit him. Michizane was ordered to leave for exile the same day
and placed under heavy guard.
Michizane was sent to the Dazaifu. In the Nara period and earlier
this had been a place of importance, the site of the governor generalship
of Kyushu. Otorno no Tabito and Yamanoue no Okura had served there
as officials and gathered around them a circle of poets. But the place
was now deserted, the buildings derelict, and roving gangs of bandits
made it dangerous. A poem in two hundred lines by Michizane vividly
described the physical hardships of life at the Dazaifu." He also suffered
the mental anguish of being separated from his wife and most of his
many children; only the two youngest were allowed to accompany him.
His poem "To Comfort My Little Son and Daughter," written in 901,
described without irony how much worse off some people were than
themselves, enumerating the various disasters that had struck others."
"Rainy Night," written in the following year, revealed that he suffered
from malnutrition:

... When the heart is cold, the rain too is cold;

nights when you can't sleep are never short.
The gloss is gone from my skin, my bones dry up;
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 205

tears keep coming to sting my eyes;

boils and rash, beriberi in my legs-
shadows of sickness darken my body .... 94

A few months before his death he composed two poems with the
title "The Lamp Goes Out." This is the first:

It was not the wind-the oil is gone.

I hate the lamp that will not see me through the night.
How hard-to make ashes of the mind, to still the body!
I rise and move into the moonlight by the cold window."

Questions of sincerity or of received influences dwindle into insig-

nificance in the face of the real grief and hardships that inspired these
poems. No court poet, protected by the decorum of his surroundings,
could have achieved the intensity of Michizane's last poems. These were
not mental exercises, the poet imagining what it must be like to be
hungry or an exile, but truth shaped by talent and sensitivity.
Michizane died in exile in the spring of 903. Not long after his death
the Great Audience Hall (Shishin-den) of the palace was struck by
lightning, and the capital was flooded by rain and shaken by thunder-
bolts." People wondered if these calamities were not the work of Mich-
izane's wrathful spirit (onryo), and when Tokihira died in 909 at the
early age of thirty-eight, they were sure of this. In order to pacify
Michizane's vengeful spirit, shrines to his memory were erected at var-
ious places, notably at Kitano in the capital and at the Dazaifu. He was
worshiped at these shrines as a god with the name Tenjin (Heavenly
Deity).97 This tradition continues: students still pray to him and make
offerings in the hopes of passing their examinations. The shrines to
Tenjin are marked by groves of plum trees because of the association
(imported from China) of plum blossoms with scholars. Tokihira, on
the other hand, is portrayed in Kabuki plays as a sadistic, lecherous
villain without a redeeming feature.
Regardless of the degree of historicity in the legend of Michizane,
the importance of his poetry cannot be doubted. Other Japanese before
him, notably Kukai, had demonstrated a mastery of the techniques of
Chinese poetry and prose, but Michizane ranks as a major Japanese
poet, though his preference for Chinese as a medium of expression had
the unforeseeable consequence of estranging him from future generations
of readers whose education did not extend to the subtleties of Chinese
206 Early and Heian Literature

prosody. There are Japanese touches in Michizanc's Chinese, as scholars

have pointed OUt.9~ Such departures from normal Chinese usage were
unintentional, but they pointed the way to a freer use of Chinese by
later kanshi poets and eventually to a specifically Japanese style of
Chinese prose.

OTHER WRITERS

Michizane was not the only important writer in Chinese of the early
Heian period. Perhaps he has enjoyed a disproportionate prominence
because so much of the writing of his contemporaries has been lost. Of
the fourteen volumes of the collected poems of Ki no Haseo (845-912)
only one survives, though he was much esteemed in his own time."
Perhaps the best-known writer of Chinese after Michizane was Miyoshi
no Kiyoyuki, who is said to have been of royal Paekche descenr.v?
Although Kiyoyuki also wrote kanshi, his forte was prose, an example
of which is the letter of advice to Michizane mentioned above. His
composition "Iken Hoji [unikajo" (Opinions in a Sealed Document in
Twelve Articles) has been praised as the finest example of Heian karn-
bun.'?' The Twelve Articles are recommendations to the government
concerning prayers to aid agriculture, the dangers of extravagance, the
necessity of increasing the food allowance to students at the university,
and so on. Not all the articles are important, and the work as a whole
lacks literary significance, but the document is admired for its mastery
of balanced prose, its clarity of expression, and its objective manner of
presenting historical facts. 102 None of Michizane's contemporaries rivaled
him as a literary figure, but the level of accomplishment in kanshi and
kambun at the court was impressive.

ACCOUNT OF MIRACLES IN JAPAN

Both Ki no Haseo and Miyoshi no Kiyoyuki wrote stories about ghosts

and prodigies. We know the titles of their collections, though the works
themselves have been lost.'?' They were not the oldest Japanese examples
of miracle stories: one older collection survives, Nihon Ryoiki (Account
of Miracles in Japan) or, to give the work its full title, Nihonkoku Gempo
Zennaku Ryoiki (Account of Miracles in Response to Good and Evil
Deeds of the Land of Japan). The collection of 116 stories was compiled
by the priest Kyokai (also known as Keikai) of the Yakushi Temple in
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 207

Nara, probably soon after 822, the date of the last story in the collection.
Unlike the works of poetry and prose in Chinese considered above,
Account of Miracles was not written at the court for the pleasure of
courtiers but by a priest, probably of humble status, for other priests.
The stories of the collection, though composed in Chinese, seem to have
been intended to serve as the framework for sermons to be delivered
in Japanese, with suitable elaborations, by priests to their congregations.'?'
Account ofMiracles, the oldest collection of setsuwa,105 had an undoubtedly
didactic purpose: to demonstrate that good or bad deeds performed in
this world are appropriately rewarded.
We know almost nothing about Kyokai except for the fragmentary
bits of information he scatters in the prefaces to the three books that
make up the work. In addition, in one story (111:38) he relates two
dreams and identifies himself as a monk of the Yakushi Temple, but
his connection with the temple is unclear.v" It has been conjectured on
the basis of materials in the book that Kyokai was born between 750
and 770 and died after 822.
Many stories describe miracles performed by Kannon, the bodhi-
sattva of compassion, in response to some act of piety such as copying
the Lotus Sutra or daily worship of Kannon. Strong emphasis is given
to the fact that these miracles occurred not in distant India or China
but in Japan, at clearly identified places, and not in some distant age of
miracles but recently, during the reigns of specified emperors or em-
presses. Unlike the writings in Chinese composed at the court, Account
of Miracles does not give weight to Chinese precedents for the events
related; it was far more important to establish that miracles had actually
happened in Japan than to dignify these miracles by alluding to similar
Chinese examples. The stories are mainly Buddhist in orientation,
though some (including the first, about a man who caught the thunder
and kept it under his control) are secular and belong to a folk tradition.
Many stories relate how a man or a woman who has long offered
special devotion to Kannon is threatened with death, only to be saved
by Kannon's intercession. Here is one such tale:

Oma Yamatsugi of the upper senior sixth rank was a native of the
village of Ogawa in the district of Tama in Musashi Province. His
wife belonged to the Shirakabe clan. Yamatsugi became a military
official and was despatched to conquer the hairy men in the land
of the bandits. While he was traveling in enemy territory, his wife
fashioned a wooden statue of Kannon, hoping that it would preserve
him from harm at the hands of the bandits. She prayed to it devoutly,
208 Early and Heian Literature

making suitable offerings. When her husband returned safely from

the land of the bandits, he joyfully joined his wife in worship, filled
with gratitude.
Several years passed. In the twelfth month of the eighth year of
Ternpyo Hoji [764], during the reign of the Empress Abe [Shotoku],
Yamatsugi took part in the rebellion of the traitorous minister Na-
kamaro, and was one of thirteen men condemned to death. The
other twelve men were beheaded, and Yamatsugi was in a state of
panic. At this juncture the wooden statue of Kannon that his wife
had carved and worshiped asked Yamatsugi reprovingly, "Oh, what
are you doing in such a dirty place?" She raised her foot and stamped
into Yamatsugi's body from the neck down, then wrapped his body
around her waist. Just as the executioner had stretched out Yamat-
sugi's neck and was about to behead him, an imperial messenger
rode up and asked, "Is Orna Yamatsugi among those here?" "Yes,"
was the reply, "we are about to cut off his head." The messenger
commanded, "Do not kill him. He is to be exiled to Shinano
Province."
Yamatsugi was exiled, but after not too long a time he was
recalled and given an official position as second-in-command of the
district of Tama. The marks of the time when he had been so
unfortunate as to have his neck stretched out for the executioner
remained on his neck to remind him of the occasion. Yamatsugi
escaped death and lived out his full allotment of years because of
the intercession of Kannon. Whoever performs such meritorious
deeds as making and worshiping an image of Kannon and, awak-
ening to the faith, serves the Buddha with all his heart will enjoy
great happiness forthwith and, with the help of the Buddha, escape
all harrn.!"

The story is crudely told, and some passages, notably the actions of
Kannon in stamping on the man's body and wrapping it around her
waist, are mystifying because nothing indicates this was either a dream
or a vision. But the story is noteworthy because it is clear that Yamatsugi
was punished for taking part in the rebellion of Fujiwara no Nakamaro
against the priest Dokyo in 764, and that he was restored to his rank
after Dokyo's downfall in 770. Mention of the "hairy men" seems to
refer to a campaign against the Ainu. The story is given reality by these
specific connections with events of history known to all who might hear
it. The moral at the end of the tale, that the Buddha rewards those who
pray to him, is repeated again and again throughout Account ofMiracles;
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 209

no doubt it was to make this moral lesson more engrossing that the
story was set down to help priests making sermons on a time-honored
theme.
The ninth century has often been dismissed as a "dark age" of
Japanese literature because the memorable works are not in the Japanese
language. Only in recent years have the writings in Chinese been ac-
corded a place in the Japanese literary heritage, and the term "dark
ages" has come to be used ironically. The real irony, however, is that
five years after 900, when Sugawara no Michizane presented to the
Emperor Daigo collections of poetry that demonstrated Chinese writing
had come of age, the Kokinshu, the anthology that defined the nature
and scope of classical Japanese poetry and ended the domination of
writings in Chinese, was offered to the same emperor.

Notes
1. This is not, however, the opinion of several non-Japanese scholars who
have studied the question. Ronald P. Toby in "Why Leave Nara?" called
attention to Karnmu's descent from Tenji; this might explain his desire
to move the capital away from the power base of the Temmu line in
Yamato to Yamashiro, near Tenji's old palace site at Otsu and close to
his tomb in Yamashina. Toby discounted the factor of hoped-for escape
from the Buddhist authority in Nara, pointing out the continued impor-
tance of the Buddhist clergy in Kyoto.
2. Ueyama Shumpei in his Kukai exhaustively examined all the evidence
relating to the date of Kukai's birth, and decided (p. 61) that 774, rather
than 773 (as many people believed), was correct.
3. See Yoshito S. Hakeda, Kukai, p. 14·
4. Shiba Ryotaro, Kukai no Fiikei, I, pp. 3-6, made this suggestion. He
referred to the following passage in the Nihon Shoki: " 'The Emishi who
were placed beside the sacred mountain have by nature the hearts of
beasts. They cannot be allowed to dwell in the inner country.' So he
caused them to be stationed without the home provinces, in any places
which they pleased. They were the ancestors of the present Saeki Be of
the five provinces of Harima, Sanuki, Iyo, Aki, and Awa.' (Translation
by W. G. Aston, Nihongi, I, p. 212.) Shiba also likened (p. 5) the sound
of foreigners jabbering (saeku) to the name Saeki.
5. See Hakeda, Kukai, pp. 18- 1 9.
6. Ibid., pp. 19, 102.
7. Ibid, p. 102.
8. Ibid.
210 Early and Heian Literature
9. Ibid.
10. The first title of the work was Roko Shiiki (Indications of the Goal for
the Deaf and Blind). See Hakeda, Kiikai, p. 15.
I I. Translation by Hakeda in Kukai, pp. 101-39.

12. Kawaguchi Hisao, Hcian-cho no Kambungaltu, p. 45.

13. Hakeda, Kukai, p. 104.
14. Ibid., p. 109. Hakeda identified all these models of filial piety.
15. Hakeda (Kukai, p. 109) identifies these men. The most interesting is Chu
Yun of Han who "while being dragged away by an official to be put to
death, broke the railing of the Imperial Palace in his earnest effort to give
advice to the Emperor Ch'eng." Remonstrating with one's lord, regardless
of whether or not he wanted advice, was a duty incumbent on Confucian
advisers. Shih Ching of Wei, the man who broke the window, "tried to
hit Marquis Wen with a harp in order to correct the marquis's fault of
not listening to another's advice."
16. Ibid., p. 115.
17. Ibid., p. 117·
18. Ibid., p. 118.
19· Ibid., p. 119.
20. Ibid., p. 129.
21. Ryusaku Tsunoda, et al., Sources of Japanese Tradition, p. 145.
22. Ibid., p. 146.
23. The full name of this work is Henjo Hakki Seirei Shu (there are also
alternative pronunciations), but it is usually referred to by the short title,
Seirei Shu. The compilation was probably made between 827 and 835 by
Shinzei (800-860), a disciple of Kukai,
24. Watanabe Shoko and Miyasaka Yusho, Sango Shiiki, Seirei Shu, pp. 462-
63. For a translation into modern Japanese of the same poem, see Harada
Ken'yu, Nihon Kanshi Sen, p. 14.
25. Watanabe and Miyasaka, Sango, pp. 174-75. The translation is part of a
work of mixed poetry and prose called "What Pleasure is There in the
Mountains?" See Kawaguchi, Heian-cho no Kambungaku, p. 18. Kawa-
guchi, in "Kobo Daishi no Bungaku ni tsuite," pp. 249-55, makes com-
parison between this work by Kukai and a ninth-century Chinese poem
found at Tun Huang.
26. According to one Chinese tradition about the origin of writing, in ancient
times a dragon emerged from the Yellow River with patterns on its back
that inspired the Chinese characters. Another tradition has it that a tortoise
emerged from the Lo River with similar patterns on its carapace. (See
Richard Wainwright Bodman, Poetics and Prosody in Early Medieval China,
p. 164') References are being made to l-ching (The Book of Changes),
Wen Hsuan, the Analects, and various Buddhist texts. Almost every word
is an allusion to one of these books, and the writing is extremely dense.
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 2II

The allusions are patiently explained by Fukunaga Mitsuji in Saicho,

Kiikaz, pp. 4 80ff.
27. Text (original Chinese and Japanese translations) given in Fukunaga,
Saicho, Kiikai, pp. 303-5. For a more literal translation, see Bodman,
Poetics, p. 162.
28. He was speaking specifically about Shih Ching. The passage occurs in
Analects XVIII:9, the Yang Ho chapter. See Arthur Waley, The Analects
of Confucius, p. 212.
29. Quoted in Kojima Noriyuki, Kokufi: Ankoku Jidai no Bungaki«, II. pp.
1326- 27.
30. Ichiko Teiji (ed.), Nihon Bungaeu Zenshi, II, pp. 30-31.
31. For a series of articles for and against the attribution to Kukai, see Hisaki
Yukio and Oyamada Kazuo, Kiikai to Iroha Uta.
32. See also p. 221.
33. The third of the anthologies was in fact completed during the reign of
Saga's successor, but included many poems from Saga's reign.
34. For an explanation of the title, see Kojima, Kokufii, II, pp. 1248-52.
35. The same arrangement was found in Kaifuso ; the first collection ofkanshi.
36. For a list of poets, number of poems, and number of poems by the same
men in the next imperially sponsored collection, Bunlea Shiirei ssa, see
Kojima, Koleufu, II, pp. 124°-41.
37. Ibid., p. I283·
38. See ibid., pp. 1849-50, for a biographical notice of the man, derived from
official sources.
39. Ryaunshii 9. See Kojima, Kokufii, II, pp. 1413-18.
40. Chinese "regulated verse" (lit-shih) required tonal parallelism (see Burton
Watson, Chinese Lyricism, pp. III-I2.) However, Japanese is not a tonal
language, and Japanese poets writing in Chinese were apt to make mistakes
on the tones.
41. For Chiu pien or "Nine Arguments," see Burton Watson, Early Chinese
Literature, pp. 25 I -52.
42. Ryaunshii 24. See Kojima, Kokufii, II, pp. 1487-92.
43. See also the poem written by Saga lamenting the death of the priest
Gempin in Burton Watson, Japanese Literature in Chinese, I, p. 45.
44. Ryaunshii 31. See Kojima, Kokufii, II, pp. 1520-24. Translation by Watson
in Japanese, I, p. 47. Watson said of Sugawara no Kiyotata (77°-842), the
grandfather of Sugawara no Michizane, that his personal name may also
be read Kiyotomo (the reading given in Nihon Koten Bungaku Dazjiten,
V, p. 364') The name is even more frequently pronounced Kiyokimi, and
that is how I shall call him except when directly quoting Watson. (For
an account of Kiyokimi's life, see Robert Borgen, Sugawara Michizane and
the Early Heian Court, pp. 30-50.) The luan bird mentioned in the poem,
like the phoenix, was one of the auspicious birds and beasts that gathered
212 Early and Heian Literature
in the capital of the ancient Chinese ruler Shun to acclaim his enlightened
reign; by extension, Saga's reign is also being praised.
45. Ryounshu 17· Kojima, Kokufu, II, pp. 1458-62.
46. This is an allusion to the preface to the Wen Hsuan . Bunka Shurei Shu
contains 143 poems by twenty-eight poets, mainly works composed during
the four years since the compilation of the Ryounshu, The chief compiler,
Fujiwara no Fuyutsugu, was assisted by Sugawara no Kiyokimi and others.
47. The one category not adopted was Buddhist poems. See Kojima Noriyuki,
KaifUso, Bunlta Shurei Shu, Honcho Monzui, p. 22, for a comparison of the
Chinese and Japanese names for the different categories.
48. Ibid., pp. 196-97.
49. Translation by Burton Watson in Donald Keene, Anthology of Japanese
Literature, pp. 163-64. For the original, see Kojima, Kaifuso, pp. 220-22.
50. The editors included Shigeno no Sadanushi, Yoshimine no Yasuyo, and
Sugawara no Kiyokimi.
5I. Japanese translation by Kawaguchi in Heian-cho no Kambungak«, p. 4I.
52. See the translation by Watson in Keene, Anthology, p. 164.
53. Kojima, Kaifuso, p. 237. Nothing is known about Lady Otorno except her
poem and the response by Kose no Shikihito, an early ninth-century poet.
See Kojima, Kaifuso, p. 512.
54· Ibid., pp. 241,243.
55. See Kawaguchi Hisao, Hana no Utage, pp. 183-84.
56. Watson, Japanese, pp. 79-80. The tradition of writing poetry in Japanese
about social conditions began and ended with Yamanoe no Okura, as
we have seen, but poems of social content continued to be com-
posed in Chinese, in large part because of the associations with Con-
fucianism.
57. Poems by Kiyokimi are given by Borgen in Sugawara, pp. 44, 47.
58. An excellent account of his life (including translations of some of his
poems) is given in Borgen, Sugawara, pp. 50-67.
59. Kawaguchi Hisao, Kanh« Bunso, Kankc Koshu, pp. 175-76. The original
title is "Hakase Nan." See above, p. 199, for further reference to this
poem.
60. Kiyokimi tutored Montoku (reigned 850-858) while he was the crown
prince, and after Montoku ascended the throne served him in various
important positions. See Kawaguchi Hisao, Helan-cho Nihon Kambun-
gaku-shi no Kenky«, pp. I I 1-22.
6r. See Borgen, Sugawara, p. 222-23, for the circumstances of compilation.
62. Translations are given by Watson in Japanese, I, pp. 125-30.
63. In giving Michizane's age at various times in his life I have followed the
Western rather than the traditional Japanese count.
64. Kawaguchi, Kanke, p. 27·
65. It is given in translation by Borgen in Sugawara, p. 89. The title is "Viewing
the Plum Blossoms on a Moonlit Night." The text is given in Kawaguchi,
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 213

Kank«, p. I05, with Michizanc's note that this was his first poem, composed
at the age of eleven (Japanese count).
66. Kawaguchi, Kanlte, p. 28. See also Borgen, Sugawara, pp. 97-98, for
mention of Michizane's study with Wang Tu. Michizane wrote an affec-
tionately satirical poem about Wang Tu's manner of playing go, translated
by Borgen on p. 98; original text in Kawaguchi, Kank«, p. 129. Almost
nothing is known about Wang Tu apart from his having taught the
Analects to Michizanc's father before he became Michizane's tutor.
67. The university and the examination system, taken over from China by
the Japanese, is illuminatingly discussed by Borgen in Sugawara, pp. 71-
80. Only sons of the aristocracy were eligible for admission to the uni-
versity, and the purpose of study at the university was to prepare candidates
to take the civil service examinations. While at the university students
studied specific Confucian texts and their commentaries. At the end of a
year there were final examinations, and those who passed were eligible
to take the civil service examinations. In later times these examinations
largely lost their meaning as offices tended to become hereditary, but at
this time they seem to have been carefully and fairly conducted.
68. Borgen discusses Michizane's responses to the two questions in Sugawara,
pp. 1 °7- 1 1.
69. Translated by Watson in japanese, I, p. 88.
70. Ibid., I, pp. 90-91. (The poem is about three times as long as I have
quoted.) For the original, see Kawaguchi, Kanh«, pp. 200-201. For another
poem describing a dream of Amaro, see Watson, japanese, I, p. 92, and
Kawaguchi, Kanke, p. 207.
71. An example of a poem by Michizane directly modeled on one by Po
Chu-i is "On the Road I Met a White-haired Old Man," written in 887
in Sanuki, when Michizane was the governor there. It is based on Po
Chu-i's "New Yiieh-fu" ballads. However, the poem deals entirely with
events in Sanuki. See Watson, japanese, I, pp. 96-98. Text in Kawaguchi,
Kanhc, pp. 274-77-
72. For a translation of the poem, see Borgen, Sugawara, p. 133. Text in
Kawaguchi, Kanke, pp. 175-77.
73. See Imai Gen'e and Gota Akio, "Tofu aka," in Ichiko, Nihon Bungaku
Zenshi, II, p. 45. But see also Borgen, Sugawara, p. 134, for an explanation
of why Michizane might nc" have got along with his students.
74. See, for example, the preface to some poems composed in 883 during the
visit of the Po-hai ambassadors. After describing the lively exchanges of
poetry and the relaxed atmosphere that prevailed, Michizane expressed
fear that if other men of letters found out about the poems they would
deride them, in the manner typical of scholars making light of rivals. Text
in Kawaguchi, Kanb«, p. 543.
75. The poem is translated by Borgen in Sugawara, pp. 137-38. The original
text is in Kawaguchi, Kanlee, pp. 184-87.
 Early and Heian Literature
76. Text in Kawaguchi, Kank«, pp. 202-3. Borgen gives a complete translation
in Sugawara, p. 139.
77· Text in Kawaguchi, Kanlte, pp. 259-64' See Watson, Japanese, I, pp. 93-
94, for translation of four of these poems under the title of "Who Does
the Cold Come Early To?" Six of the poems are translated by Borgen in
Sugawara, pp. 187-88.
78. Translation in Watson, Japanese, I, p. 96. The [ogan era (859-876) was
followed by the Gangy« era (877-84)'
79. Kawaguchi, Kank«, pp. 301-2.
80. The ako incident is discussed at much greater length by Borgen in Su-
gawara, pp. 173-81.
81. Text in Kawaguchi, Kank«, p. 313. A complete translation in Borgen,
Sugawara, pp. 178-79. Tadaomi was completing a term of service as
governor of Mino; perhaps Michizane is referring to Tadaomi's former
subjects as "eastern barbarians," though what he really means is the
ferocity not of eastern barbarians but of nobles in the capital.
82. A translation of "A Request That the Members of the Council of State
Determine Whether or Not to Send a Mission to the Tang" is translated
by Borgen in Sugawara, pp. 242-43. The text is given by Kawaguchi in
Kanhc, p. 568.
83. Imai and Goto, "Tofu Oka," pp. 46-47.
84. Translated by Watson in Japanese, I, pp. 108-10.
85. According to traditional Chinese (and Japanese) beliefs, left ranked higher
than right; minister of the Left (sadaijin) therefore was superior to minister
of the Right (udazjin). Minister of the Left ranked second only to the
prime minister (dajOdaijin) in the bureaucracy.
86. Text in Kawaguchi, Kanke, p. 572.
87· Ibid., p. 34·
88. The poem (together with Michizane's modest reply) is translated by Bor-
gen in Sugawara, p. 223. See also Kawaguchi, Kank«, pp. 34-35.
89. The text of Kiyoyuki's letter is included in Honcho Monzui. See Kojima,
Kaifiiso, pp. 382-83. The letter is translated by Borgen in Sugawara, pp.
275-7 6.
90. The edict is translated by Borgen in Sugawara, p. 278.
91. Michizane was indeed ambitious, but in the manner that men of great
talent are apt to be ambitious, and not in the sense of the two other
charges.
92. Text in Kawaguchi, Kanlic, pp. 486-99. "Recording My Feelings: A
Hundred Couplets" is translated by Borgen in Sugawara, pp. 296-300.
93. Translated by Watson in Japanese, I, p. I 13.
94. Ibid., p. 118. Text in Kawaguchi, Kanli«, pp. 514-15.
95. Kawaguchi, Kanltc, p. 521. Translation by Watson in Japanese, I, p. 122.
96. George Sansom, A History of Japan, I, p. 215.
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 215

97. For a study of the process of deification, see Borgen, Sugawara, pp.
308-3 6.
98. These departures from standard Chinese are indicated in great detail by
Kawaguchi in Heian-cho no Kambungaka, pp. 76-96. Most of these are
difficult to communicate in English translation. For example, a line of
poetry that according to orthodox Chinese interpretation should mean
"Why should anyone grieve over it?" was used by Michizane to mean
quite the opposite-"What a grievous thing it is!" (Kawaguchi, p. 80.)
Michizanc's mistake was in the use of a Chinese word used properly only
when asking a rhetorical question. At other times, Chinese auxiliary par-
ticles that were quite clearly distinguished by the Chinese were used by
Michizane (and other Japanese) as if they were interchangeable, probably
because such distinctions did not exist in the Japanese language. (Kawa-
guchi, p. 91.)
99. See Kawaguchi, Heian-cho Nihon, I, p. 263.
IOO. Ibid., pp. 245-70.
IOI. Kawaguchi, Heian-cho no Kambungaeu, pp. 66, 99.
I02. Kawaguchi, Hcian-cho Nihon, I, p. 263.
I03. Kawaguchi, Heian-cho no Kambungaeu, p. 67. Kiyoyuki's devotion to
"occult science" was otherwise manifested in the letter he wrote Michizane
in 900, warning him of danger ahead. See the translation by Borgen in
Sugawara, pp. 275-76.
104. See Nakada Norio, Nihon Ryoiki, III, p. 102.
105. Moral tales; for a fuller treatment, see below, chapter 15.
I06. Nakada, in Nihon Ryoiki, p. 307, suggests various possibilities: he was a
monk at the Yakushi Temple; he received ordination there; or he received
the title of denti) jui from the temple in return for a donation. Kyoko
Motomochi Nakamura, in Miraculous Stories from the Japanese Buddhist
Tradition, p. 3, explains the title dento jui, which she translates as "Junior
Rank of Transmission of Light."
I07. This is story 7 in Book III. I have followed the text given by Nakada in
Nihon Ryoiki, III, pp. 71-75. See also Endo Yoshimoto and Kasuga Kenzo,
Nihon Ryoiki, pp. 334-37. For another translation see Nakamura, Mirac-
ulous, pp. 231-32. Other stories from Nihon Ryoiki are translated by
Watson in Japanese, I, pp. 27-39.
2[6 Early and Heian Literature

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Bodman, Richard Wainwright. Poetics and Prosody in Early Medieval China: A

Study and Translation of Kuleai's BunkYo Hifuron. Ann Arbor, Mich.: Uni-
versity Microfilms, 1978.
Borgen, Robert. Sugauiara no Michizane and the Early Heian Court. Cambridge,
Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1986.
Endo Yoshimoto and Kasuga Kazuo. Nihon Ryoiki, in Nihon Koten Bungaku
Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1967.
Fukunaga Mitsuji. Saicho, Kukai, in Nihon no Meicho series. Chuo Koren Sha,
1977-
Hakeda, Yoshito S. Kukai. New York: Columbia University Press, 1972.
Harada Ken'yu. Nihon Kanshi Sen. Kyoto: [irnbun Shoin, 1974.
Hisaki Yukio and Oyamada Kazuo. Kukai to Iroha Uta. Kyoto: Shibunkaku,
1984'
Ichiko Teiji (ed.). Nihon Bungaku Zenshi, II. Gakutosha, 1978.
Inoguchi Atsushi. Nihon Kambungaku Shi. Kadokawa Shoten, 1984.
Kato [unryu. Kogoyaku Sango Shiik], Sekai Seiten Kanko Kyokai, 1977.
Kawaguchi Hisao. Hana no Utage. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1980.
- - - . Heian-cho Nihon Kambungaku-shi no KenkYu, third ed., 3 vols. Meiji
Shoin, 1975-88.
- - - . Heian-cho no Kambungahu, Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1981.
- - - . Kanlte Bunso, Kanlo: Koshu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series.
Iwanami Shoten, 1966.
- - - . "Kobo Daishi no Bungaku ni tsuite," in Nakano Gisho (ed.), Kobo
Daishi KenkYu. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1978.
Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
Kojima Noriyuki. Kaifuso, Bunka Shiir«: Shu, Honcho Monzui, in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1964.
- - - . Kokufu Ankoku Jidai no Bungaku, II. Hanawa Shobe, 1979.
Konishi [in'ichi, BunkYo Hifuron Kii, 3 vols. Kyoto: Oyashima Shuppan,
1948-5 2.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Brocade by Night. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Uni-
versity Press, 1985.
Nakada Norio. Nihon Ryoiki, 3 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansh«, 1978-80.
Nakamura, Kyoko Motomochi. Miraculous Stories from the Japanese Buddhist
Tradition. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1973.
Sansom, George. A History ofJapan, 3 vols. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1958-63.
Shiba Ryotaro. Kukai no Fukei, 2 vols. Chuo Koren Sha, 1975.
Poetry and Prose in Chinese of the Early Heian Period 2I7

Toby, Ronald P. "Why Leave Nara?" Monumenta Nipponica 40:3, Autumn

1985.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene. Sources of
Japanese Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958.
Ueyama Shumpei. Kideai. Asahi Shim bun Sha, 1981.
Waley, Arthur. The Analects of Confucius. London: George Allen & Unwin,
193 8.
Watanabe Shoko and Miyasaka Yusho. Sango Shiiki, Seirei Shu, in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1965.
Watson, Burton. Chinese Lyricism. New York: Columbia University Press, 1971.
- - - . Early Chinese Literature. New York: Columbia University Press, 1962.
- - - . Japanese Literature in Chinese, I. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1975.
 5.
THE TRANSITION FROM THE
MANJYOSHU TO THE
KOKINSHU

THE INVENTION OF THE KANA

The literature in Japanese of the Heian period could not have existed
without the two kana syllabaries, the script that took the place of the
cumbersome Man'yogana. Although Kukai was traditionally given credit
for having invented the kana, the process of replacing Chinese characters
with symbols that represented the sounds of the Japanese language took
at least a century, and many people were surely involved.
The first step toward the creation of the kana was the transcription
of Japanese poems in the Kojiki, where Chinese characters were used
as phonograms to indicate the sound of each Japanese syllable. I However,
as the preface to the Kojiki mentioned, it was tedious spelling out with
characters, syllable by syllable, a long Japanese name. A line of Japanese
poetry in five syllables, such as o-shi-na-be-te, might have a meaning
that could be expressed with a single Chinese character, and the line
obviously had far less content than a line of Chinese poetry written with
five characters, each of which contributed meaning to the poem. Chinese
characters, moreover, often consist of many strokes, and it was wasted
labor to write such characters when a simple mark or two would suffice
to indicate the pronunciation of a syllable.
Even in China abbreviations derived from the cursive forms of the
characters were commonly used by this time, and though they were still
far more complicated than the kana would be, they may have suggested
to the Japanese the possibility of using simplified forms of the characters
to represent Japanese sounds. It might have been preferable to jettison
the characters altogether, but the prestige of Chinese writing was so
great that, even if the Japanese had learned of the existence of alphabets
elsewhere, they would have been reluctant to sever their contacts with
the mainstream of East Asian traditions.'
The Transition from the Man I y o s h il to the Kokinsh il 219

Abbreviated forms of the phonograms used to represent Japanese

sounds are found as early as a letter written in Japanese toward the end
of the eighth century.' These abbreviations suggest the beginnings of
both hiragana and katakana, the two forms in use today. At first, there
was no consistency as to which Chinese characters would be abbreviated
and used for their sounds, and uniformity would not be achieved until
1900 when the 973 different kana symbols that had been used over the
centuries (though not all at the same time) were reduced and standard-
ized into two sets of forty-eight symbols each."
The hiragana originated in the cursive forms of the characters. This
script, swift-moving and graceful in its shapes, would be well suited to
the poetry and prose written by the Heian court ladies, who attached
as much importance to the appearance of a composition as to its content.
The katakana consisted of elements of formally written characters, in
some cases the same ones that were also used as the basis of the hiragana.
Katakana did not lend itself to elegant calligraphy, but its easy legibility
made it appropriate for official or religious documents. The many variant
forms for each hiragana symbol were occasioned chiefly by calligraphic
considerations: each symbol had to fit smoothly into the flowing contours
of a line and, depending on the shape of the previous symbol, the writer
would choose one rather than another kana to represent ka or su or
whatever the syllable might be.
During the Nara period men and women alike had used Man'yogana,
a mixture of Chinese characters used both as phonograms and ideograms,
but the Man'yogana gave way during the Heian period either to writings
by men (and a few ladies of the court) in Chinese, or else to compositions
in Japanese that were mainly in kana.'
The kana (originally kari-na, or "temporary names," as opposed to
the mana or "true names," meaning Chinese characters used as ideo-
grams)" had at first served as a mere convenience, a quick way to write
the characters used as phonograms. Women may have been earlier than
men to use the kana for literary purposes; but by the end of the ninth
century the hiragana, the script associated with writing by women (it
was long known as onnade, or "woman's hand") was also being used
by men. In 1984 a tracing from the original manuscript of The Tosa
Diary was discovered, affording proof that by 935, when Ki no Tsurayuki
wrote the manuscript, hiragana had already attained a superb artistic
level. Presumably the Kokinshu, compiled in 905, was written in a similar
script.
The special place that calligraphy enjoyed among the arts of China
accounted for the importance attached to this art by Japanese of the
220 Early and Heian Literature

Heian period and later. Persons of taste were expected to be proficient

in at least one of the scripts in use at the time, and writing practice was
a part of daily life at the palace. At first, the texts most often copied by
court ladies were old poems, especially the two mentioned in the preface
to the Kokinshii as being of special antiquity, the "parents of the uta."?
Later, special exercises in penmanship were invented in the form of
waka in which each of the forty-seven syllables of the language appeared
once, apparently on the analogy of the Chinese Thousand Character
Classic. The best-known of such poems (not composed, however, until
late in the tenth century) was the iroha, so named from the first three
syllables:"

iro ha nihoedo Though the color is bright,

chirinuru wo The blossoms scatter;
wa ga yo tare zo Who in this world of ours
tsune naramu Will last forever?
ui no okuyama As today I cross the deep
kefu koete Mountains of Ul}
asaki yume miji I shall have no shallow dreams,
wehi mo sezu N or shall I be drunk.

The scholar of the Japanese language Ono Susumu associated the

creation of the kana with similar occurrences elsewhere in the orbit of
Chinese culture. At the end of the tenth century the Khitan, a people
of Inner Asia, devised a script that resembled the Chinese characters
but represented their own language. 10 In the twelfth century the Tangut,
a Tibetan people, invented an extremely complicated script that was also
based on the Chinese characters. A similar development occurred in
Vietnam during the thirteenth century. II These events seem to represent
a gradual shift on the part of the peoples of East Asia from unconditional
emulation of China to an assertion of the importance of their own
languages and cultures. Perhaps the creation of the kana should be
viewed against the background of this general tendency; but it was also
true that the rise of Fujiwara hegemony during the early Heian period
led to an emphasis being given to the preservation of japanese traditions
and to the Japanese language as a medium of court poetry.
The Transition from the Ma n Lyo s h u to the Kokinshii 221

SHINSEN MAN'YOSHU

The ninth century has often been described as a "dark age" of poetry
in Japanese. The central importance of literary Chinese, reflected in the
sponsorship by the court of three anthologies of kanshi, has given rise
to the impression that the waka survived only vestigially during the
period, but this was clearly not true. Two celebrated waka poets, Ariwara
no Narihira and Ono no Komachi, wrote all of their poetry in the
middle of the ninth century, and the poems of many others active about
the same time, both known and anonymous, are represented in the
Kokinshu. The darkness of the "dark age" is attributable more to the
decline of interest at the court in poetry in Japanese rather than to any
real dearth of waka.
A few examples of court sponsorship of waka composition date from
the end of the "dark age" that preceded the compilation of the Kokinshu
in 905. The title of the first anthology of waka compiled during the
Heian period, Shinsen Man'yoshu (Newly Compiled Man'yoshu), reveals
a knowledge of the existence of the original Man'yoshu, though there
are not many obvious influences."
The standard text (rufubon) of the anthology consists of two books
(kan) of waka with a kanshi on a related theme given after each waka."
The waka in the Shinsen Man'voshi; were transcribed in the archaic
Man'yogana, though this was done barely a dozen years before the
compilation of the Kokinshu, in which the poems were all given in
hiragana. Perhaps (considering the name of the collection) it was thought
appropriate to continue the tradition of transcribing the texts in the
manner of the Man'yoshu, though surely by this time the use of hiragana
was known.
The orthography represented a backward look to the past, but the
organization of the Shinsen Man'yoshu looked to the future: the poems
were arranged by the four seasons, followed by a section of love poetry.
There had been no consistent organization of the poems in the
Man'yoshu, but from this time on all court-sponsored anthologies would
be arranged into books of spring poetry, followed by books of summer
poetry and so on. There was no precedent either in Japan or China for
this arrangement, but it was perfectly suited to the subjects about which
Japanese poets usually composed waka.
The circumstances of the compilation of the Shinsen Man'yoshu have
long puzzled scholars. There are two prefaces; the one for the first book
is dated 893, and the one for the second book, 913. Neither preface gives
specific details on the compilation, the identity of the compilers, the
222 Early and Heian Literature

purpose of the collection, or the source of the poems; in fact, the prefaces
say almost nothing of interest."
The attribution of the compilation of the Shinsen Man'yoshu to Suga-
wara no Michizane, first made in the eleventh century, is accepted by most
but not all scholars. IS However, even if Michizane edited both volumes
and wrote all the kanshi (as was traditionally believed), he could not have
written the preface to the second book, dated ten years after his death.
Many of the waka included in the Shinsen Man'yoshu had originally
been composed for poetry competitions (uta-awase), especially one known
by the rather overpowering title of Kampyii no ontoki Kisai no Miya Uta-
awase (Poem Competition at the Empress's Palace During the Karnpyo
Era).16 This competition, staged in 893 under the auspices of the Empress
Dowager Hanshi, was the source of 140 of the 228 waka in the shorter
verson of the text." At this time, poem competitions were chiefly social
events, and the poetry composed tended to be less important than the
presentations, but ninety-two poems in the Kokinshu are identified as
having been composed at competitions.
The prevailing manner of both Japanese and Chinese poems in the
Shinsen Man'yoshu is courtly. The poets attempted to create graceful and
elegant compositions that would be appropriate to the occasion of a
poetry competition held in the palace. A typical pair of waka and kanshi
is the second in the collection. The waka was by the priest Sosei (fl.
859-897), a major Kokinshu poet and the son of the Archbishop Henjo
(816-890), an important waka poet of the ninth century:

chiru to mite If only I had

arubelti mono wo Merely watched as they fell-
ume no hana The plum blossoms-
utate nioi no But, alas, their fragrance
sode ni tomareru" Lingers still on my sleeve.

The anonymous kanshi follows:

Whatever the spring breeze touches gives delight.

In the upper garden, plum blossoms open and fall.
A lady secretly reaches to pick a spray for her hairpin.
The lingering fragrance scenting her sleeves cannot be brushed
away.

Although the kanshi was based on the waka and was intentionally
imitative, the two poems display some of the differences separating
The Transition from the Ma n yo s h u to the Kokinshu
I 223

Japanese and Chinese poetry. Sosei's poem does not mention the central
action, the breaking of the branch of flowering plum by the poet, the
reason why his (or her) sleeve is scented. This reliance on suggestion is
typical of the waka, but even the reader who can take this unspoken
action in his stride may be surprised that the waka says precisely the
contrary of what one would expect. A poet was normally happy to have
his sleeve scented by plum blossoms, if only because the scent was
believed to bring back memories of people of long ago; but this particular
poet regrets that his sleeve is scented because it will recall his sadness
that the blossoms have fallen. The kanshi is much fuller in expression;
the whole of the waka usually did not convey even as much as two lines
of a Chinese poem. It is also more romantic, introducing the lady's
embarrassment that the scent of plum blossoms, clinging to her sleeve,
will reveal that she has secretly broken off a spray.
Neither poem is distinguished (though Sosei's would be included in
the Kokinshu), but the tone was exactly right for the occasion. Matching
Japanese and Chinese poems, like matching shells, pictures, or perfumes,
was an elegant pastime, but it seldom resulted in the creation of poetry
of importance. Indeed, the kanshi in the Shinsen Man'yoshi; are of such
poor quality as to suggest to some scholars that they were not by the
great Michizane but by some much later poet who wrote at a time when
the art of composing kanshi had seriously deteriorated." Among the
waka, those in Book I were judged superior to those in Book II by the
compilers of the Kokinshii, who borrowed many more poems from the
former for their collection."

KUDAI WAKA

In 894, a year after the compilation of Book I of the Shinsen Man'yoshu,

the Emperor Uda commanded the poet Oe no Chisato" to compile a
collection of his waka, a clear sign that after the long "dark age" the
waka was coming into its own again. Chisato thought of himself mainly
as a kanshi poet, but this mark of recognition from the emperor no
doubt pleased him. He compiled a collection of 110 of his waka, on the
seasons and on such topics as "Wind and Moon," and presented them
together with individual poems by Po Chii-i that had inspired them.
He gave the collection the name Kudai Waka (Waka on Themes of
Lines), referring to the practice of taking one line from a Chinese poem
and recasting it in the form of a waka. This was the first collection of
poems to be avowedly inspired in this way, though Japanese poets had
 Early and Heian Literature

long since borrowed themes and images from the Chinese poetry known
to them.
The poets of the Kaifuso had borrowed especially from the Wen
Hsiian, the sixth-century collection of poetry compiled at the court of
the Emperor Wu of the short-lived Liang dynasty. This collection,
known in Japan as Monzen, influenced not only kanshi but waka poets.
The influence cannot be said to have been wholly fortunate: the Wen
Hsiian contains highly finished, elegant poems, but is known more for
its artifice than for its poetic truth, and artifice would be the bane of
the poetry of the Kokinshu especially. The many poems professing un-
certainty as to whether the poet sees snow or plum blossoms, clouds or
mountains covered with cherry blossoms, and so on clearly are indebted
to the Wen Hsiian," The ideal of courtliness observed by poets who wrote
in this style meant that nothing indecorous could be allowed to mar the
expression. Helen Craig McCullough wrote after presenting some ex-
amples of Wen Hsiian poetry, "There are no paeans of joy, explosions
of indignation, despairing cries, or satirical thrusts"?' in these composi-
tions. This would be true not only of waka written specifically in the
tradition of the Wen Hsiian but of much Japanese poetry of the next
millennium; overt expression of the emotions was usually shunned.
Oe no Chisato's borrowings from Po Chil-i, a poet of an entirely
different stamp from the Wen Hsiian poets, did not result in paeans of
joy or explosions of indignation either. He chose only the elements that
could be assimilated into the court waka. His versions of lines from Po
Chu-i were no more than moderately successful, but they showed the
way to more effective borrowing which would enrich the content and
expression of the waka throughout the Heian period and long after."

THE SIX IMMORTALS OF POETRY

More important examples of ninth-century waka are found among the

surviving poems of the rokkasen, the Six Immortals of Poetry. The
distinction that these six poets shared was that they were all mentioned
by Ki no Tsurayuki in his preface to the Koltinshi; as important poets
of an earlier day. Two, Ariwara no Narihira (825-880) and the Arch-
bishop Henjo, were men of high birth (Narihira was a grandson of the
Emperor Heizei) and served at the court, but are known mainly as
poets. Ono no Komachi is even better known today, mainly because of
the legends that grew up around her. The other three "immortals,"
Fun'ya no Yasuhide, the priest Kisen, and Otomo no Kuronushi, were
The Transition from the Ma n y o s h u to the Kok i n s h u
i 225

minor poets who are remembered mainly because Tsurayuki mentioned

them.
Narihira and Komachi are celebrated not only as poets but as arche-
types of the beautiful man and woman of the Heian court, and they
figure frequently in this capacity in literary works of later times, notably
the No plays." Thirty waka by Narihira were included in the Kohinsha,
Many other poems in later court anthologies were attributed to him
mainly because they appeared in Ise Monogatari (Tales ofIse), a collection
of stories focused on waka by an unnamed courtier who is assumed to
be Narihira." Not all of these poems (some of them composed after
Narihira's death) could have been written by him, but even on the basis
of the limited number of poems in the Kokinshu it is possible to form
a distinct impression of his characteristic manner. The preface by
Tsurayuki to the Kokinshu said of Narihira that his poems contained
"too much feeling and insufficient words. They are like faded flowers
whose color has been lost but which retain a lingering fragrance."
This unsympathetic appraisal may reflect a change in the poetic pref-
erences of the generation after Narihira; the poetry of the period of the
compilation of the Kokinshu was nothing if not accomplished in lan-
guage, though it sometimes lacked emotional content. Tsurayuki's
comments nevertheless suggest the prevailingly melancholy tone of
Narihira's poetry.
A third of the poems by Narihira included in the Kokinshi; describe
his various loves. Even in his own day he was known as a great lover,
and after he died the national history Sandai [itsuroleu (True Records of
Three Reigns, 901) said of him, "Narihira was elegant and of handsome
appearance, but he was unrestrained in his self-indulgence.'?" This rep-
utation grew, largely as the result of the popularity of Tales of Ise, The
following poem is typical of Narihira's style:

aki no no ni My sleeves are wetter

sasa wakeshi asa no On a night spent without meeting
sode yori mo Than when one morning
awade koshi yo zo I made my way through fields of
hichi masarikeru" Autumnal growths of bamboo.

The second line might have been faulted by Tsurayuki for its extra
syllable, and he might also have objected to the ambiguity caused by
insufficiently precise language. The renowned scholar of Japanese lit-
erature Keichu (164°-17°1) wrote of this waka, "Dew is not mentioned
in the first three lines, but they nonetheless refer to dew; tears are not
 Early and Heian Literature

mentioned in the last two lines, but tears are present all the sarne.'?"
The association between the dew brushed off onto the poet's sleeves by
the bamboo grass of an early morning and the tears that he shed into
his sleeves over his failure to meet his beloved is fairly obvious, and
later poets would regularly use dew as a metaphor for tears, but there
is ambiguity in the poem: does mention of his making his way through
bamboo grass one morning refer to a morning after a night spent with
his beloved, and if so, are his sleeves wet not only with dew but with
tears of parting?" Each syllable in a waka was carefully considered by
old-fashioned scholars for clues as to what the poet was trying to imply
in the few words allowed by the form.
The Kokinsht; is probably the least ambiguous of the anthologies of
court poetry,'] but Narihira's waka pose special problems. Perhaps that
is why the compilers of the Kokinshii provided relatively long prefaces
to his poems, the only poet represented in the collection who received
such attention. His best-known waka is particularly perplexing:

tsuki ya aranu Is that not the moon?

ham ya multashi no And is the spring not the spring
haru naranu Of a year ago?
a/a ga mi hitotsu This body of mine alone
moto no mi ni shite" Remains as it was before.

Two quite incompatible interpretations of this poem were proposed

by eminent scholars. Motoori Norinaga interpreted the particle ya in
the first and second lines as indications of rhetorical questions, yielding
the meaning, "Of course, the moon and the spring are the same as last
year's." This interpretation, however, gives rise to a logical contradiction:
if the moon and the spring are the same as before, why does the poet
claim that he alone remains the same? Motoori explained this by adding
an "implied" conclusion: though I am exactly the same as I was before,
everything somehow seems different." Kagawa Kageki, interpreting ya
as an exclamatory particle rather than the sign of a rhetorical question,
took the poem to mean: "That is not the moon! The spring is not the
spring of long ago! I alone am exactly the same as before.":" A more
recent authority, Kyusojin Hitaku, offered this explanation for the final
two lines: "I alone am the same, but the woman I love is not.":" Finally,
Ozawa Masao believed that the poet was asking questions of the moon
and the spring: "Moon, are you not the same moon as last year? Spring,
are you not the spring of last year? I who ask these questions am
definitely the same person as before, and yet... ."36
The Transition from the Ma n Lyo s h u to the Kokinshii 227

The ambiguity of this poem, probably a fault in the eyes of Ki no

Tsurayuki and the other compilers of the Kokinshii, contributed to the
high reputation it has enjoyed in later times; its obscurity, which affords
the reader's imagination free play, has been more highly valued than
the clarity of other poems. But, of course, the popularity of this poem
is not ascribable simply to its vagueness; as often in the poetry of the
Kokinshu, the rhythm and the atmosphere evoked by the words are as
important as the meaning."
Apart from their stylistic difficulties, the waka of Narihira are
marked by distinctive poetic devices. He frequently resorted to inversion
in the logical order of the thought, as in the following waka which is
headed in the Kokinshi; by an introduction:

In the days when Narihira attended Prince Koretaka, the prince

became a monk and went to live at Ono. Narihira set out to call on
him there in the first month. Since Ono was at the foot of Mount
Hiei, the snow was very deep, but he managed to struggle on to the
hermitage, where he found the prince looking bored and forlorn.
After returning to the capital, he sent the prince this poem:

wasurete wa If perchance I forget

yume ka to zo omou I wonder, "Was it a dream?"
omoilti ya Could I have supposed
yuki [umuoaleete I would make my way through snow
kimi wo min to wa To see my lord in such a place?38

Not only does the thought require the first two lines to follow the
rest, but according to normal Japanese syntax the third line should follow
the fifth. Narihira may in his way have been suggesting feelings of
confusion and incredulity. His use of the rhetorical particle ya ("could
I have supposed") also occurred in his poem about the moon and the
spring. The extra syllable in the second line, the repetition of the particle
wa at the ends of the first and fifth lines, and of the verb omou in the
second and third lines, might all be considered faults if an amateur had
composed this poem, but they impart a particular rhythm and conviction
typical of N arihira.
These stylistic features undoubtedly contribute to the effectiveness
of the poem, but Narihira's intent has been debated by the critics. Most
interpret it as an expression of Narihira's grief at finding the prince,
with whom he had often composed poetry, in a lonely monk's cell that
he has reached only after tramping through drifts of snow; but an entirely
228 Early and Heian Literature

different interpretation has been proposed according to which the poem

is no more than a greeting to an old friend along the lines of, "Sorry
not to have written. Never expected to find you in a place like this ... "39
A satisfactory interpretation of a given waka by Narihira usually
depends on a knowledge of the circumstances under which it was com-
posed. His poems not only benefit from extended prefaces in the Kokinshu
but from the even fuller descriptions in Tales of Ise; sometimes the
explanations of the circumstances clash, as in the following instance:

nuretsutsu zo Even if I got wet,

shiite oritsuru I was resolved to pick them,
toshi no uchi ni Remembering that
haru wa ikuka mo Hardly any days of spring
araji to omoeba'" Were still remaining this year.

The preface (kotobagaki) in the Kokinshu states, "On the last day of the
third month, while it was raining, I picked some wisteria and sent it
to someone." McCullough interpreted the poem as an expression of
elegant Heian sensibility: "I have not minded getting wet, because I
wish very much for you to share my enjoyment of the fragile, ephemeral
beauty that, like the spring-and indeed like men and his works-
vanishes all too soon."" However, in Tales of Ise the poem is presented
with a different preface: "Once there was a man, rather down on his
luck, who owned a flowering wisteria vine. On a drizzly day late in
the third month, he decided to pluck some of the blossoms and send
them off as a gift to a certain personage. He composed this poem." In
the light of this preface, McCullough interpreted the poem as meaning:
"At my humble house there is nothing of value except these flowers,
which I have plucked for you, getting myself soaked in the process, in
the hope that you may remember my plight and be moved to help me.??
Both explanations, though they vary greatly, are accommodated by the
words of Narihira's poem."
The brevity of the waka was the main cause of its ambiguity. The
poet sought to suggest as much as possible because he was not free to
add another stanza in the manner of a European poem. Sometimes, as
in Narihira's case, the poet failed to supply all the information that was
necessary for understanding the meaning. The Japanese language, which
normally omits subject pronouns but conveys much through particles
and verb endings, abetted the poets who sought to communicate an
experience in a mere thirty-one syllables. The ambiguity resulting from
the omission of such prosaic matters as the circumstances of composing
The Transition from the Man'y6shii to the Kokinshii 229

a waka was compounded by the imprecision of the language itself; but

the Japanese, far from considering the poem unworthy of attention, have
mulled over its every possible connotation, relishing the multiple
meamngs.
Quite apart from the ambiguity of the poem and its two introduc-
tions, its possible inspiration has also been much discussed. Some schol-
ars believe that Narihira's source was two lines from a poem by Po
Chu-i:

I grieve that I cannot prevent spring from departing;

Under purple wisteria blossoms day gradually draws to an end."

If Narihira was indeed borrowing from Po Chu-i, he was one of the

first Japanese poets to derive inspiration from this source, but the worship
of Po's poetry soon became general at the Heian court. Many Kokinshu
poems have been traced not only to Po Chu-i but to other Chinese poets
of his time."
Narihira may have mentioned the wisteria simply because wisteria
were actually in bloom in his garden, but the pale color and drooping
lines of wisteria blossoms would later be used in poetry to evoke the
languor of late spring days. Wisteria appears in the Man'yoshu, but first
acquired special associations in Narihira's time. The same is true of
chrysanthemums (not mentioned at all in the Man'yoshu) and cherry
blossoms (overshadowed by plum blossoms in the Man'yoshu).46 The
change in the attitudes toward different flowers suggests the degree to
which the aesthetic preferences of Narihira and other courtiers of the
early Heian period influenced the tastes of later Japanese.
Narihira's use of engo (related words)" and kakekotoba (pivot words)"
would also be observed by later poets. In the following exchange of
poems between Fujiwara no Toshiyuki and Narihira the imagery is
unified by engo on water. Toshiyuki was courting a girl-traditionally,
the younger sister of Narihira's wife. According to Tales of Ise, Narihira
composed a poem for the girl to send by way of reply to Toshiyuki who
(supposing the girl had written it herself) was much impressed. He
answered her:

tsurezure no Lost in idle brooding,

nagame nt masaru That swells with the long rains
namidagawa A river of tears
23° Early and Heian Literature

sode nomi nurete That soaks only my sleeves:

au yoshi mo nashi" There is no way to meet you.

Narihira once again replied for the girl:

asami koso How shallow must be

sode wa hizurame A river of tears that soaks
namidagawa No more than your sleeves;
mi sae nagaru to If I hear that you yourself
kikaba tanoman" Are adrift, I'll believe you.

In these poems the engo are images relating to water, including nagame
(brooding, but the near homophone of naga-ame, long rain); namidagawa
(a river of tears); nurete (is soaked); asami (shallows of a river); hizurame
(may be soaked); and nagaru (to drift). Namidagawa, the River of Tears,
does not occur in the Man 'yoshu , but appears all too often in the Kokinshu.
The use of engo, though not unknown in the Man'yoshu, became a
conscious poetic device with Narihira, and represented one aspect of the
emphasis on technique that is so conspicuous in his poetry. Perhaps the
most brilliant example of his virtuosity was the acrostic poem he com-
posed at a place called Yatsuhashi, or Eight Bridges, in the province of
Mikawa. Along the river spanned by these bridges kakitsubata (irises)
grew, and for this reason he composed a waka, each line of which begins
with a successive syllable of ka-ki-tsu-ba-ta:

karagoromo Because my dear wife

kitsutsu narenishi Is familiar as the skirt
tsuma shi areba Of a well-worn robe,
harubaru kinuru I feel as if I have come
tabi wo shi zo omou" A long distance on my way.

Not only is this poem an acrostic (oriku), but it also contains engo and
also kakekotoba. Karagoromo kitsutsu narenishi means "my robe has
become soft with repeated wearings," and narenishi tsuma means both
"hems that have become familiar" and "beloved wife." Haru means
"distant," but its homonym haru means to "full" clothes, and is therefore
an engo for articles of clothing. The first eight syllables of the poem are
a[oshi" (preface) for the remainder. Finally, the repetition of the emphatic
particle shi is typical of Narihira's poetic syntax.
The Transition from the Man I yo s h il to the Kokinsh il 231

The poem became so popular that the irises at Eight Bridges came
to be an utamalrura, or "topic of poetry," that continued for a thousand
years to fascinate travelers. Almost everyone who passed through Mi-
kawa felt the urge to see with his own eyes the site of the Eight Bridges
and to comment sadly that no irises grew there anymore. It was not the
meaning of the waka, hardly remarkable in itself, but the dazzling skill
with language that earned it such popularity.
One other travel poem by Narihira became almost equally celebrated.
It appears in the Kokinshi; immediately after the acrostic. Narihira and
his companions had been traveling a long time, and when they reached
the Sumida River they were homesick for the capital. The bleakness
of the landscape before them made them realize just how far from home
they were. As they boarded a ferry, they noticed an unfamiliar river
bird and asked the ferryman its name. He replied that it was a "capital
bird" (miyakodori), and this inspired Narihira's poem:

na ni shi owaba If you are faithful

iza koto towan To your name, I would ask you,
miyakodori Bird of the city,
wa ga omou hito wa Is the woman I think of
ari yo nashi ya 53 Alive, or is she no more?

This poem, often quoted in later works of literature, figures prominently

in the No play Sumida-gawa. The use of personification-addressing
the bird as if it were capable of answering-may have been borrowed
from Chinese poetry," but it was a poetic conceit to ask the bird (simply
because its name was "capital bird") about his wife in the capital. The
implied longing for the wife is nevertheless affecting. The reversal of
the normal order of the lines, typical of Narihira, contributed to the
popularity; of all Narihira's poems it was the most often quoted in later
literature."
The Japanese tradition of traveling to "famous places" in order to
experience for oneself their special attractions, described in poetry com-
posed about these places, may have originated in Narihira's travels. But
Narihira was even more celebrated as a lover. Tales ofIse consists largely
of accounts of various affairs attributed to him, including one with the
most inaccessible of women, the high priestess of the Ise Shrine, who
was strictly forbidden to have relations with men. The Kokinshu gives
poems exchanged by Narihira and the priestess together with the pref-
atory note, "When Narihira was in Ise he met in absolute secrecy the
23 2 Early and He i a n Literature

woman who was serving as the high priestess. The morning after, while
he was puzzling what to do, there being no way to send her a messenger,
this poem came from her."

kimi ya koshi Did you come to me,

ware ya yukiken Or did I go to you?
omoezu I have no idea
yume ka utsutsu ka A dream or reality?
kanete ka samete ka 56 Was I asleep or awake?

Narihira replied:

kakikurasu In the utter dark

kokoro no yami ni Of a mind that obscures all
mavoiniki I have long wandered.
yume utsutsu to u/a A dream or reality?
yohito sadame yo 57 Let other people decide.

The affair between Narihira and the high priestess of Ise figures so
prominently in Tales of Ise that it may have occasioned the title of the
work. The genuine or feigned uncertainty as to whether or not a meeting
actually took place would be typical of many poems in the Kokinshu,
where "elegant confusion"58-a professed inability to distinguish be-
tween white blossoms and snow or between dream and reality-is
frequent.
Exchanges of poetry between men and women not only typified the
waka of the ninth century but may account for the waka's survival.
Since women usually did not learn Chinese," men who normally wrote
their poetry and prose in Chinese, the language of the court literature
of the ninth century, had no choice but to address their poems to women
in Japanese. This presumably is why the preface to the Kokinsht; gives
as a function of the waka "making sweet the ties between men and
women." The poems exchanged were often witty, in the manner of the
gallant verses of seventeenth-century Europe, but they could also be
tragic, especially when lovers represented their awareness that an affair
was ending.
Narihira's last poem ranks among his most moving:

tsui ni yuku Long ago I heard

michi to u/a kanete That this is the road we must all
The Transition from the Ma n Lyo sh u to the Kokinshii 233

kikishikado Travel in the end,

kino kyo to wa But I never thought it might
omowazarishi w0 60 Be yesterday or today.

The line kino kyo to wa (that it might be yesterday or today) presents a

problem: would it not have been more natural to say instead "today or
tomorrow"? Some scholars suggest that the line actually means "until
yesterday I never thought it might be today"; others believe that it was
merely an elaborate way of saying "right about now."?' But beyond such
quibbling is the emotion that Narihira has described: the speaker has
known all along, of course, that some day he must die, but it shocks
him that the day has arrived unexpectedly soon.
Narihira was not a profound poet. His surviving poems are mainly
occasional, and even when the expression suggests deeply felt emotion,
its worldly manner keeps his poetry from attaining the grandeur of the
best Man'yoshu poems in the same vein. He is nevertheless of historical
importance as one who maintained the traditions of the waka during
the long night of the dominance of poetry in Chinese.
Ono no Komachi was another of the Six Immortals of Poetry. Almost
nothing of her life is known apart from the names of various men with
whom she exchanged the poems included in the Kokinshu. The absence
of facts about a poet who so captured the imagination of people of later
times led to the creation of legends about her, most of which have some
justification in her poetry.
Komachi was probably born between 820 and 830, at a time when
the popularity of composing poetry in Chinese was at its height, and
her period of greatest poetic activity seems to have occurred about the
middle of the ninth century. It has been conjectured that she was a koi,
a lady-of-the-bedchamber, who served the Emperor Nimmei. After
Nimmei's death in 850, she entered into liaisons with other men." Much
scholarship has been devoted to attempts to ascertain her place of birth,
her family, and other basic information, but without conclusive results.
Arai Hakuseki (1657-1725) advanced the theory that many women, not
just one, were known as Komachi, and that the legends therefore referred
to different people. A later expansion of this theory came up with four
Komachis." For the student of literature, however, it is easiest to assume
that the legends had formed about a single Ono no Komachi.
The legends can be classified into four categories. First, there are
those that describe Komachi, the peerless beauty desired by all men of
the court. The perhaps accidental placing in the Kokinshu of a poem by
Komachi next to one by Narihira may have been the source of the legend
234 Early and Heian Literature

that the two matchlessly beautiful people were lovers.w The second group
of legends concerns Kornachi's heartless treatment of her lovers, espe-
cially Fukakusa no Shosho, She insisted that he visit her a hundred
nights before she would yield her favors. He accepted, and faithfully
made his way to her house each night, regardless of the weather. On
the ninety-ninth night he died. The third group of legends portrays
Komachi in old age, when she was doomed to wander in rags, her
beauty lost and her appearance so wretched that she was mocked by all
who saw her, her punishment for her cruelty to lovers. Finally, there
were legends of Komachi's death, and of her skull lying in a field; when
the wind blew through her eye sockets the mournful sound evoked her
anguish. These legends proliferated and were used by the No dramatists
and other writers. Most of the legends about Komachi existed as early
as the eleventh century."
The surviving poems of Komachi are almost all in a melancholy
vein, typified by her most famous waka:

hana no iro wa The flowers withered

utsurinikcru na Their color faded away,
itazura ni While meaninglessly
wa ga mi yo ni fum I spent my days in brooding,
nagame seshi ma ni 66 And the long rains were falling.

This is the only poem by Komachi included among the seasonal poems
of the Kokinshu; the rest are all love or miscellaneous poems. For this
reason, some commentators interpret the poem as an objective descrip-
tion of the passing of spring: but this does not take into account the
phrase wa ga mi, "my person," a clue that a subjective meaning was
also intended. The poem can also be interpreted as referring solely to
the speaker: the color of my springtime faded while meaninglessly I
spent my time in affairs with men and brooded over my fate. The
possibility of two such different interpretations results from double
meanings to some of the words. Fum in the line wa ga mi yo nifuru is
a form of the verb fu, meaning to pass time; but with nagame, a shortened
form of naga-ame (long rains), it can also be the verb furu, meaning to
fall (of rain), or else furu, to become old. Nagame is not only "long rain,"
but also "brooding" or "staring at." Such verbal dexterity was charac-
teristic of Komachi, and enabled her to say a great deal in thirty-one
syllables. But the expression is so elliptical that there have been many
disputes about the meaning of the poem."
It is easy to imagine how such a poem might give rise to the legend
The Transition from the Man'y6shu to the Ko k i n s h ir 235

of Komachi in old age, bewailing the loss of her beauty. In another

waka, seemingly from the early part of her life, Komachi expressed
despair over not being able to meet a lover:

hito ni au/an This night of no moon

tsuki no naki ni u/a There is no way to meet him.
omoioltite I rise in longing:
mune hashirihi ni My breast pounds, a leaping flame,
kokoro yakeorz'(,H My heart is consumed in fire.

This poem is filled with word-play. The word tsuki means both "moon"
and "means" (to meet). Omoi was written in the historical spelling of
omohi, which includes the word hi, "fire." 0kite means "to rise (from
bed)" but also "to stir up (a fire)." Mune hashiri refers to the pounding
of the chest with excitement or anxiety, but hashirihi is a flying spark.
This use of language might be dismissed as a mere toying with words,
but the poem carries conviction, suggesting a woman who is so distraught
that her mind leaps from one verbal association to another.
The intensity of emotion expressed in Kornachi's poetry not only
was without precedent but would rarely be encountered in later years.
The poetry of the Kokinshu was usually pitched in a lower key, and the
ingenious use of language was a mark not of overpowering emotion but
of a kind of intellectuality. Komachi's poetry, however extravagant in
expression, always seems sincere. Another poem suggests how the leg-
ends concerning her old age may have originated:

uiabinureba So lonely am I
mi u/o ukikusa no My body is a floating weed
ne u/o taete Severed at the roots.
sasou mizu araba Were there water to entice me
inan to zo omou'" I would follow it, I think.

This poem bears the headnote: "Written by way of reply when Fun'ya
no Yasuhide, after his appointment as assistant governor of Mikawa,
sent word to her, 'Won't you come and inspect my new post?' " It is
not known when (or even if) Yasuhide was appointed as assistant gov-
ernor (fa) of Mikawa, but the presence of his name gives Kornachi's
poem a reality in time and place apart from the legends. The imagery
of the poem is unified by engo related to water, but the effect is less
one of powerful emotion than of resignation. Komachi indicates that
she would go if invited, but she really does not believe in the possibility."
 Early and Heian Literature

The poems of Narihira and Komachi are the most memorable of

those composed during the "dark age" of the ninth century, but there
were other waka of importance. There is reason to believe that many
of the best were incorporated into the Kokinshu with the notation "author
unknown" (yomibito shirazu).

THE ANONYMOUS POEMS

Most of the ninth-century poems collected in the Kokinshu are anony-

mous. They often show close kinship with the Man'yoshu, and some
may even have been composed in the eighth century, while the capital
was still in Nara. Others nostalgically recall the old capital, referring to
it as furusato, "old horne.'?' It is generally not clear when anonymous
poems were composed, but sometimes they are so closely related in
theme to signed and datable poems that we can safely assume they
existed by a certain time. The following poem is anonymous:

oiraleu no If only I knew

kon to shiriseba When Old Age was approaching,
kado sashite I would bolt the door
nashi to kotaete And, calling out "Not at home!"
awazaramashi won Bluntly refuse to meet him.

Keichu suggested that this poem was the source of the waka composed
by Narihira in 875 in honor of the fortieth birthday of Fujiwara no
Mototsune:

sakurabana You cherry blossoms-

chirikaikumore Cloud the sky with falling petals
oiraku no And blot out the path
kon to iu naru Along which, they say, Old Age
michi magau gani" Is likely to travel on.

The most striking feature of both poems is the use of personification,

not only for old age but for the cherry blossoms. Personification was
relatively rare in Japanese poetry, and it may be that Narihira found
the conceit of approaching "Old Age" so striking that he borrowed it.
Some anonymous poems in the Kokinshu also appeared in Tales of
Ise, where they were elucidated by prose descriptions. The following
poem is in the Kokinshu:
The Transition from the Man'y6shii to the Ko k i n s h u 237

Kasugano wa Do not set fire to

kYo wa na yaki so Kasuga Fields today,
wakakusa no Fresh as the spring grass
tsuma mo komoreri My wife is lingering there,
ware mo komoreri 74 And I too wish to linger.

Commentators agree that this is an old folk song." The speaker is

apparently a man from the capital who asks the people who are about
to burn some old fields (in order to promote new growth) to refrain
this day because he and his wife are enjoying their spring outing in the
fields of Kasuga. However, the word tsuma, translated above as "wife,"
meant "spouse," and therefore could also refer to a husband. In Tales
ofIse the same poem, with one word changed, acquired a quite different
meanmg:

Musashino wa Do not set fire to

kYo wa na yaki so Musashi Plain today,
wakakusa no Fresh as spring grass,
tsuma mo komoreri My husband is hiding there,
ware mo komoreri And I too wish to hide."

The prose passage that accompanies this poem in Tales of Ise tells how
a man once abducted another man's daughter. He was on his way to
Musashi Plain with the girl when he was caught and arrested by pro-
vincial officials. He hid the girl in a clump of bushes and attempted to
make his escape. His pursuers decided to set fire to the plain so as to
catch him, but the abducted girl, who seems to have fallen in love with
her kidnaper, begged the officials not to start a fire. The officials sub-
sequently caught the man and took both man and woman away." The
fact that a single change in wording could permit a poem to be inter-
preted so differently suggests how freely the surviving poems of the
ninth century were used by later poets.
The waka poetry of the ninth century may be said to mark a tran-
sition between one great anthology and the next, but it is of exceptional
appeal in its own right. The passionate accents of the waka of Komachi
and Narihira would never be surpassed, and the poetry as a whole is
of such charm as to make the appearance of the Kokinshii seem less a
brilliant dawn after a dark night than the culmination of a steady
enhancement of the expressive powers of the most typical Japanese
poetic art.
 Early and Heian Literature

Notes
1. See above, p. 34.
2. Kukai while in China learned Sanskrit, a tradition still preserved by
Shingon monks. It is possible that his knowledge of the Sanskrit alphabet
affected the ordering of the kana along the lines of a, i, u, e, 0, ka, ki, ku,
ke, ko, and so on. This may be why Kukai was credited with the invention
of the kana. However, Kukai, as we know from his literary works, was
far too attached to Chinese literary expression to consider adopting an
alphabet that, in effect, would have cut Japan off from Chinese writings.
3. Komatsu Shigemi, Kana, pp. 148-51. See also Ono Susumu, Nihongo no
Sciritsu, pp. 283-85.
-I. Komatsu, Kana, p. i.
). A combination of characters and kana, similar to that found in books
and newspapers today, became normal in the late Heian period both in
the tale literature and in works that described historical events.
6. See Komatsu, Kana, p. 65; also Ono, Nihongo, p. 299. The term hiragana,
meaning "simple kana," apparently dates from the late Muromachi period;
the earliest mention is in the Arte da Lingoa de Iapam by [oao Rodrigues,
published in 1604. (See Komatsu, Kana, p. 65. See also Michael Cooper,
Rodrigues the Interpreter, p. 224,) The term katakana, meaning "partial
kana," and referring to the use of only a part of a Chinese character, is
much older; the word is found as early as the tenth-century Vtsubo
Monogatari (The Tale of the Hollow Tree).
7. The two poems, known as the "Naniwazu" and "Asakayarna" from place-
names mentioned in each, were popular from early times. The opening
of the "Naniwazu" poem is found in a graffito on a wall of the Horyu-
ji pagoda, probably written in the eighth century. The "Asakayama"
poem is included in the Man'yoshi; (no. 38°7). For use of the poems in
calligraphy practice, see Komatsu, Kana, pp. 142-43. See also Edward
Seidensticker's translation of The Tale of Genji, I, p. 98.
8. Normally pronounced, however, as iro wa. The final n of Japanese does
not appear in the poem because this syllable was usually written as mu.
9. Vi is a Buddhist term that refers to all phenomena that are produced
through cause and effect. The phrase ui no okuyama has been rendered
as "the difficulty of escaping from this inconstant world."
10. For a brief account of the Khitan script (and of the [urchen script, a

modified form of the Khitan), see S. Robert Ramsay, The Languages of

China, pp. 224-27.
I I. Ono, Nihongo, p. 304, mentions the invention of the Khitan and Viet-

namese scripts and (in the fifteenth century) of the Korean alphabet. The
Tangut script (not discussed by Ono or by Ramsay) was also known as
Hsi Hsia.
The Transition from the Ma n y osh ii to the Ko k i n sh ii
l 239

12. For a much more detailed consideration of the Shinsen Man'yoslu; see
Helen Craig McCullough, Brocade by Night, pp. 261-75.
13. A shorter text, perhaps the older of the two, does not include kanshi in
the second book. This text also differs from the rufubon in having a
preface only for the first book.
14. Asami Toru, "Kaisetsu," in his edition of Shinsen Man'yoshu, p. 227.
McCullough (Brocade, pp. 261-62) briefly quotes the preface to Book I.
15. Kyusojin Hitaku (Shinsen Man'yoshi; to Kenkyu, pp. 139-40), Takano Taira
(Shinsen Man'yoshu ni kansuru Kisotehi Kenkyu), and Yamaguchi Hiroshi
(Ocho Kadan no Kenkyu, p. 86) accept Michizane as the compiler, but
Asami Toru, writing after all these scholars, insisted that there is no firm
evidence to support this traditional attribution. (Asami, "Kaisetsu," p.
229') See also McCullough, Brocade, pp. 274-75, for a consideration of
arguments for and against Michizane's authorship. She concludes (p. 291)
that because of the impersonality of the poems it is impossible to verify
the traditional association of Michizane with the collection.
16. For a study of the poetry composed at this uta-awase, see Takano Taira,
Kampyo no Kisai no Miya no Uta-atuase ni kansuru Kenkyu. See also
McCullough, Brocade, pp. 241-52.
17. This figure is from McCullough, Brocade, p. 262. Ichiko Teiji (ed.), Nihon
Bungaeu Zenshi, II, p. 79, gives 150.
18. See Ichiko, Nihon, II, p. 80. The poem by Sosei was included in the
Kokinshu (poem 47). See also Takano, Shinsen Man'yoshu, pp. 63-64.
19. See Kyusojin, Shinsen, pp. 117, 157.
20. McCullough (Brocade, p. 263) gives a table of poems from the Shinsen
Man'yoshi; in the Kokinshu, showing that 48 of the 119 poems in Book I
were taken, as opposed to 27 from the 134 in Book II. McCullough
translates (pp. 264-74) more than 30 waka from the collection and also
several of the kanshi.
21. The dates of birth and death of Oe no Chisato are not known.

22. See McCullough, Brocade, p. 67.

23. McCullough, Brocade, p. 63. She also gives (p, 62) a list of themes missing
from the "salon corpus" of this Chinese court poetry: "poems of protest,
elegies, laments, celebrations of the pleasures of reclusion, nature poetry
in the Xie Lingyun [Hsieh Ling-yun] tradition, and, in general, topics of
an eccentric, private, or controversial nature." Hsieh Ling-yun (385-433)
was a poet of Buddhist and Taoist interests who wrote mainly of the
beauty and grandeur of mountain landscapes.
24. McCullough gives (Brocade, pp. 255-59) some examples of poems by Po
Chu-i from which Oe no Chisato borrowed lines to create his waka. One
well-known example, though not included in the Kokinshu, was chosen
three hundred years later for the Shin Kokinsh«. Other examples of waka
by Chisato on lines of Po and Yuan Chen (779-831) are given by Konishi
[in'ichi in A History ofJapanese Literature, II, pp. 212-14.
 Early and Heian Literature
25. Kuronushi also appears in several Na plays, notably Sosh: Arai Komachi,
where he appears as Komachi's rival in an uta-awase. Unable to compose
a poem of his own, he decides to accuse Komachi of having copied her
poem from the Man'yiishic. When his machinations are exposed, he at-
tempts to commit suicide, but is stopped by Komachi, who forgives him.
26. For Tales of Ise, see below, pp. 452-457.
27. Mezaki Tokue, Ariwara no Narihira, Ono no Komachi, p. 24.
28. Kokinshu 622. The poem also appears in Tales of Ise. I have translated
sasa, a kind of low bamboo grass, as "bamboo." A variant, found in Tales
of Ise and elsewhere, gives for the fourth line awade nuru yo zo, "a night
that I slept without meeting her."
29. Quoted by Mezaki in Ariwara, p. 25.
30. See Ozawa Masao, Kokin Waka Shu, p. 256.
31. Okumura Tsuneya, "Kokinshu no Seishin," p. 23.
32. Kokinshi; 747. For a sampling of opinions on this poem written during
the Tokugawa period, see Koizumi Hiroshi, Shochu Shusei Kohin Waka
Shu Sen, pp. 157-59-
33· Mezaki, Ariwara, p. 64·
34. Ibid., p. 64. Mezaki accepted this interpretation. Helen Craig McCullough,
Tales of Ise, p. 53, presented four different interpretations of the poem.
35. Kyusojin Hitaku, Kolein Waka Shu, III, pp. 257-58.
36. Ozawa, Kokin, p. 92. See also Robert H. Brower and Earl Miner,]apanese
Court Poetry, p. 193, for a particularly interesting analysis of Narihira's
poem.
37. See Mezaki, Ariwara, p. I I, where she discusses a poem by Ariwara no
Narihira which, if literally translated into modern Japanese, would have
a meaning something like, "If there weren't any cherry blossoms in the
world, we would probably feel calm and collected in spring." This is the
banal, surface meaning of the poem, but the language Narihira actually
used makes it convey much more.
38. Kokinshi; 970. The translation of the prose introduction is from Me-
Cullough, Tales of Ise, p. 181. See also op. cit., pp. 127-28. Another
translation by McCullough in Kolein Wakashu, p. 212.
39. This is the interpretation of Kanda Hideo, as quoted by Mezaki in Ariwara,
pp. 112- 13.
40. Kokinshu 133. Other translations by McCullough in Tales of Ise, p. 123,
and Kokin Wakashu, p. 38.
41. McCullough, Tales of Ise, p. 236.
42. Ibid., p. 236. McCullough quoted Arai Mujiro, Hyoshaku Ise Monogatari
Taisei, pp. 676-78, as a source for this interpretation.
43. These strikingly different interpretations of the poem stem primarily from
two words, otoroe taru ie, in the prefatory passage in Tales of Ise, "a house
that has seen better days," and tatematsuru, "to present to a superior."
The Kokinshu text says that the wisteria blossoms were sent to hito, mean-
The Transition from the Ma n Lyo sh u to the Ko k in sh u 241

ing a person but generally the woman with whom the poet is in love.
The poet's emotions on offering the blossoms would differ considerably
if the recipient were his sweetheart, rather than a superior official. Again,
the words haru wa ikuka mo araji (surely, not many days are left to the
spring) might, if the flowers were offered to a woman, refer to the spring-
time of the poet's own life; he would be saying that he picked the
wisteria blossoms despite the rain because there was so little time left to
enjoy the spring and his own youth. This does not dispose of all the
problems in the poem. The kotobagaki in the Kokinshu states that the
poem was composed on the last day of the third month, which was
the last day of spring according to the lunar calendar; but the waka itself
says that there are not many more days left to the spring. Commentators
since the eighteenth century have voiced their worries over this apparent
contradiction. Kyiisojin, Kohin, I, pp. 183-84, adopted a variant text of
the Kokinshii that gave as the final lines haru wa kyo wo shi kagiri to
omoeba (when I realize that today is the last day of spring). He believed
that some editor tampered with the poem, giving rise to the contradiction.
44. Mezaki, Ariwara, p. 116, quoting Kaneko Hikojiro, Heian ]idai Bungaku
to Hakushi Monjii.
45. In this connection, see especially Konishi [in'ichi, "The Genesis of the
Kokinstu: Style."
46. See Mezaki, Ariwara, pp. 14, 119.
47. Engo are found in English writing, both consciously and unconsciously.
An example of the former is Shakespeare's Sonnet 137, where imagery
drawn from courts of law runs through the poem:

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past....

Unconsciously used "related words" are often found in such statements

as "The Post Office Department urged cancellation of the contract," or
"The airlines initiated a crash program."
48. The meaning of a kakekotoba changes with what follows. A crude English
equivalent would be something like: "What do I seaweed on the shore?"
Joyce's Finnegans Wake abounds in portmanteau words that have a similar
effect, such as, "Sir Tristram, violer d'arnores, fr'over the short sea, had
passencore rearrived from North Armorica." Perhaps the best known
example in Japanese is sen kata namida, where sen kata nami means "there
is nothing I can do" and namida is "tears," the situation described in the
first part of the statement leading to the tears.
49· Koleinshi; 61 7.
50. Kokinshii 618.
5 I. Kokinshi; 41o. The fourth line begins with ha rather than ba, but this was
 Early and Heian Literature
unavoidable because no Japanese words at that time began with a voiced
consonant.
52. Joshi (also called jo and jokotoba) are introductory phrases connected to
what follows not by syntax but by a play on a word, suggesting a train
of thought that has been diverted into an unexpected direction by word
associations.
53· Kokinshi; 41 I.
54. Mezaki, Ariwara, p. 89. See also McCullough, Brocade, pp. 70-71.
55. See Kyiisojin, Kokin, II, p. 260, for a list of twenty-one texts in which it
is quoted.
56. Kokinshi; 645. Another translation by McCullough in Koletn, p. 144.
57. Kokinshu 646. See also translation by McCullough, Kokin, p. 144-
58. McCullough traces this feature of Kohinshi; poetry to the Chinese poetry
of the Six Dynasties. See, for example, her Brocade, pp. 66-67.
59. There were exceptions. See above, p. 195.
60. Kokinshi; 861.
61. See Mezaki, Ariwara, p. 152.
62. Katagiri Yoichi, Ono no Komachi Tsuiseki, pp. 23-24.
63· Ibid., pp. 59-60.
64. Ibid., pp. 12, 155.
65. Ibid., p. 66.
66. Kokinshu 113.
67. Some commentators insist that it is a mistake to interpret the last three
lines of the poem as a comment on the first two: that is, to interpret the
whole poem as a lament on the poet's loss of beauty. Mezaki, Ariwara, p.
169, quotes Kcichu and Motoori Norinaga to this effect. Okumura Tsu-
neya, Kokin Waka Shu, p. 61, says that if the first three lines were intended
to refer to the poet's appearance, the poem should have been included in
the "miscellaneous" section of the anthology. Fujihira Haruo, Ueno
Osamu, and Sugitani Jura, Kokin Waka Shu Nyumon, pp. 63-64, argue
the opposite: the placement of this poem among other poems on falling
blossoms was intended to indicate the poet's loss of her beauty. They also
contend that itazura ni refers both to the fading flowers and to the manner
in which Komachi spent her life in the world.
The poem was also used by Egoyama Tsuneaki (in "Kakekotoba," p.
272) as an example of one of two varieties ofkakekotoba. Poems containing
this kind of kakekotoba can be understood from beginning to end with
either or both surface meanings. Poems containing the second kind of
kakekotoba have no overall continuity: the meaning up to the kakekotoba
and the meaning after it remain distinct.
68. Kokinshu 1030. See also the discussion in Brower and Miner, Japanese,
p.206.
69· Kokinshu 938.
70. This is not the interpretation of every scholar. Okumura (in Koliin,
The Transition from the Ma n Lyo sh u to the Ko k i n sh u 243

p. 319) suggested that Komachi meant she would like to cut her roots
and drift as she pleased.
71. See Abe Akio, Nihon Bungaku Shi: Chuko-hen, pp. 74-76.
72 . Koklnshu 895.
73· Kokinshi; 349·
74· Koklnshu 17·
75. See Ozawa, Kokin, p. 68; Okumura, Kohin, p. 32.
76. Helen Craig McCullough, Tales of Ise, p. 12.
77- uu.. p. 78.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Abe Akio. Nihon Bungaia, Shi: ChUko-hen. Hanawa Shobe, 1966.

Asami Toru. "'Kaisetsu' to Shinsen Man'yoshu," in Kyoto Daigaku Kokugo
Kokubun Shiryo Sosho series. Kyoto: Rinsen Shoten, 1979.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1961.
Cooper, Michael. Rodrigues the Interpreter. New York: Weatherhill, 1974.
Egoyama Tsuneaki. "Kakekotoba," in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyii Shiryo Sosho
series, Kokln Waka Shu. Yuseido, 1976.
Fujihira Haruo, Ueno Osamu, and Sugitani [uro, Kokln Waka Shu Nyumon.
Yuhikaku, 1978.
Hirshfield, Jane, and Mariko Aratani. The Ink Dark Moon. New York: Vintage
Books, 1990.
Ichiko Teiji (ed.). Nihon Bungaku Zenshi, II. Gakutosha, 1978.
Katagiri Yoichi. Ono no Komachi Tsuiseki. Kasama Shoin, 1975.
Koizumi Hiroshi. Shochii Shuse, Kokln Waka Shu Sen. Yuseido, 1970.
Komatsu Shigemi. Kana, in Iwanami Shinsho series. Iwanami Shoten, 1968.
Konishi, [in'ichi, "The Genesis of the Koklnshu Style," trans. Helen Me-
Cullough, Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 37=1, 1978.
- - - . A History of Japanese Literature, II, trans. Aileen Gatten, Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1986.
Kyiisojin Hitaku. Kokin Waka Shu, 4 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko
series. Kodansha, 1979-83.
- - - . Shinsen Man'yoshu to KenkYu. Toyohashi: Mikan Kokubun Shiryo
Kankokai, 1958.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Brocade by Night. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Uni-
versity Press, 1985.
- - - . Kokln Wakashu. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1985.
- - - . Tales of Ise. Tokyo: Tokyo University Press, 1978.
 Early and Heian Literature
Mezaki Tokue. Ariwara no Narihira, Ono no Komachi. Chikuma Shobo, 1970.
Okumura Tsuneya. Kohinsiu; no Kenkyu. Kyoto: Rinsen Shoten, 1980.
- - - . "Kokinshu no Seishin," Bungaku 43:8, 1975.
- - - . Kokin Waka Shu, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shiisei series. Shinchosha,
1978.
Ono Susumu. Nihongo no Seiritsu, in Nihongo no Sekai series, 1. Chiio Koren
Sha, 1980.
Ozawa Masao. Kokin Waka Shu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshii series.
Shogakukan, 1971.
Ramsay, S. Robert. The Languages of China. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Uni-
versity Press, 1989.
Seidensticker, Edward G. (trans.), The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred
A. Knopf, 1976.
Takano Taira. Kampyo no Kisai no Miya no Uta-awase ni kansuru Kenkyu.
Kazama Shobe, 1976.
- - - . Shinsen Man'voshi; ni kansuru Kisotchi Kenleyi«. Kazama Shobo, 1970.
Yamaguchi Hiroshi. Ocho Kadan no Kcnhy«. ()fiisha, 1973.
 6.
THE KOKINSHU

TIe Kokin Waka Shu (Collection of Waka, Old and New), usually
referred to as the Kokinshu, was the first imperially sponsored collection
of poetry in Japanese. This recognition of the importance of the waka
seems to reflect the attitude adopted toward China by Sugawara no
Michizane when he urged the suspension of embassies to China on the
grounds that the Japanese no longer needed to look abroad for guidance.
The Kokinshi; represented not a rejection of Chinese influence-much
is evident even in these exquisitely turned Japanese lyrics-but a shift
from close imitations of Chinese models to a freer use of Chinese poetic
sources as a means of enriching the waka. The poems in the collection,
whether those of the era of Narihira and Komachi or more recent,
display such skill and grace in conveying within the bare thirty-one
syllables of the waka the elegance of the Japanese court during a golden
age that the Kokinshi; may be said to have established the canons of
Japanese poetic taste. For a thousand years the Kokinshu, more than any
other anthology, would be revered as the acme of Japanese poetry.
Imperial sponsorship of the anthology imparted a special character.
The compilers were court officials, charged with preparing a collection
that would meet with the emperor's approval and redound to the glory
of his reign.' Some of the circumstances of the compilation are described
in the two prefaces to the collection, one in Japanese by Ki no Tsurayuki
(868?-945) and the other in Chinese by Ki no Yoshimochi (d. 919).

THE Two PREFACES

The Japanese preface to the Kokinshu is one of the earliest and best-
known documents of Japanese poetic criticism. It opens with a decla-
ration of the nature of Japanese poetry:
 Early and Heian Literature

Japanese poetry has its seeds in the human heart and burgeons into
many different kinds of leaves of words.' We who live in this world
are constantly affected by different experiences, and we express our
thoughts in words, in terms of what we have seen and heard. When
we hear the warbler that sings among the blossoms or the voice of
the frog that lives in the water, we may ask ourselves, "Which of
all the creatures of this world does not sing?" Poetry moves without
effort heaven and earth, stirs the invisible gods and demons to pity,
makes sweet the ties between men and women, and brings comfort
to the fierce heart of the warrior.'

Yoshimochi in the Chinese preface expressed similar views, and these

sentiments, like much else in both prefaces, have been traced back to
China.' The major preface to the Shih Ching (Book of Poetry) had
declared, "Nothing approaches the Book ofPoetry in maintaining correct
standards for success or failure [in government], in moving Heaven and
Earth, and in appealing to spirits and gods.t" The resemblances with
Chinese works of criticism are no more than intermittent, but Tsurayuki
and Yoshimochi shared the belief of the Chinese that human feelings
were the ultimate source of all poetry. This was not a truism: the miracles
of the gods, the battles fought by heroes, the communication of moral
and political truths, and other subjects that do not stem immediately
from the emotions have inspired great poetry elsewhere in the world;
but the strengths and limitations of the waka, as it developed over the
years, were anticipated by Tsurayuki's definition of its origin and
purpose.
The word that Tsurayuki used both for poetry and for song was
uta, and he seems not to have made a clear distinction between the two.
Whether the song was melodious like that of the springtime warbler
amid the blossoms or as harsh as the croaking of an autumnal frog, it
proved that every living creature has its song. Birds and beasts, and
human beings, too, sing in response to stimulation, whether external-
things seen and heard-or internal, like the pangs of love. The stimulus
tends to be short-lived, and for this reason may be more easily turned
into a brief lyric that distills the poet's experience than developed into
an extended poem."
Although Tsurayuki says in his preface that poetry can stir the gods,
in the West it was more common for the poet to think of himself as
the instrument of the gods, whose aid he might invoke in making his
song. In Japan divine help was not necessary; the poet, unaided, could
move the spheres and make even supernatural creatures feel the poi-
The Kokinsh ii

gnancy of aware, the touching things of this world. Poetry was also
important in the relations between men and women; as we have seen,
the necessity of writing love poetry in Japanese to women who could
not read Chinese may have saved the Japanese language as a medium
of literary expression. And, as we know from The Tale of Genji and
other works of the Heian period, poetry was an indispensable element
of courtship, at least among the nobility.
Finally, the composition of poetry could calm the hearts of warriors
whose profession obliged them to kill. The Japanese warrior was ex-
pected to be able to compose poetry, at the very least a farewell poem
to the world (jisei) when he was on the point of death. The poems
composed by the Heian warriors were not hymns to the Lord God of
Battles or shouts of triumph over the fallen foe, but drew their imagery
from flowers, and their surface meaning was often virtually indistin-
guishable from the evocations of nature of poets who had never once
heard a battle cry. The imperially commissioned collections contain many
poems by soldiers. Taira no Tadanori (1144-1184) was so eager to have
a poem in such a collection that he risked death to return to the capital,
then in the hands of enemies, in order to ask the poet Fujiwara Shunzei
to include one of his poems. He realized that the fortunes of his family
were at an end, but if even one of his poems was included in an imperial
anthology, it would be sufficient glory for a lifetime.
Tsurayuki went on to describe the circumstances under which people
of the past had turned to composing poetry:

When they saw blossoms fall on a spring morning, or heard the

leaves fall on an autumn evening; when they grieved over the new
snow and ripples reflected with each passing year by their looking
glasses; when they were startled, seeing dew on the grass or foam
on the water, by the brevity of life; when they lost their positions,
though yesterday they had prospered; or when, because they had
fallen in the world, even those who had been most intimate treated
them like strangers.'

These springs of poetry can be resumed under a single general

heading, regret over the changes brought about by the passage of time.
This is, indeed, a dominant theme of the collection, and perhaps the
quality that distinguishes the Kokinshu most conspicuously from the
Chinese anthologies of poetry that were especially admired by the Jap-
anese. Nostalgia for the past, known even to the kanshi poets of the
Kaifuso, is one of the keys to the understanding of Japanese lyricism.
 Early and Heian Literature

The diminution of the scale of the Kokinshu poetry, when compared

to that of the Man'yoshu, was not solely a matter of the virtual disap-
pearance of the choka and with it the kind of themes that could not be
expressed in the thirty-one syllables of a waka. The vocabulary was also
much shrunken (even allowing for the smaller number of poems in the
Kokinshu);8 the compilers especially avoided poems that included the
kind of coarse or obscure words that gave pungence to many Man'yoshu
poems. The poets of the Kokinshu grieved over the loss of beauty, of
love, of trusted friends, but they rarely permitted the rough edges of
emotions to pierce the elegant surface of their compositions.
Both Japanese and Chinese prefaces to the Koliinshi; described the
six styles of poetry found in the collection, naming them according to
the categories that had been used for the different varieties of Chinese
poetry." The Japanese preface gives an example of each category, but
the attempt to dignify waka composition by clothing it in the borrowed
robes of Chinese poetry was no more than halfhearted.
The most persuasive defense of the waka was given in the first line
of Tsurayuki's preface: Japanese poetry has its seeds in the human heart.
Regardless of the imagery or techniques of a particular poem, the avowed
purpose of composition was to express what lay in the poet's heart, not
to display virtuosity in the handling of language. The literary sophis-
tication in Chinese poetry was professedly rejected in favor of an un-
affected, sincere expression of the poet's emotion; but in fact, even the
most artless-seeming cry from the heart of a Kokinshi; poet was likely
to bear the marks of Chinese influence. So great was the prestige of the
foreign literature, so pervasive were its modes of expression, that a court
poet who insisted on following only pure Japanese traditions of poetry
would have seemed hopelessly out of date, despite the lip service paid
to Hitomaro and Akahito in the prefaces.
The prefaces both present a brief history of the waka from its
inception, when the god Susano-o composed the first poem in thirty-
one syllables, through the great period of Man'vtislu; poetry, to the recent
past. The preface writers insisted that the poets of the past-specifically,
those of the Man'yoshu-had no equals in modern times. Even the Six
Immortals of Poetry of the ninth century were dismissed with a sentence
or two characterizing their faults. The poetry of Ono no Komachi was
described in these terms: "Her poetry is beautiful but weak, like an
ailing woman wearing cosmetics.l'" Of Otomo no Kuronushi it was
stated: "His style is extremely crude, as though a peasant were resting
in front of a flowering tree."!' Contemporary poetry fared even worse:
not a single poet of the recent past was praised, and the compilers even
The Ko k i n sh u
expressed fear that the modern poems they had included might expose
them to ridicule. But we should not accept at face value such examples
of editorial modesty. In spite of their protestations, the preface writers
were not only sensible of the great honor they had received in being
asked by the emperor to edit a collection of waka but confident that
the poems they had chosen were of eternal value. "Hitomaro is dead,
but poetry lives," Tsurayuki declared, and he prophesied, "Time may
pass and circumstances may change, pleasures and sorrows may succeed
one another, but these poems will endure.?"

COMPILATION OF THE COLLECTION

The four compilers of the Kokinshu were all of modest court rank. Ki
no Tsurayuki and Ki no Tomonori both belonged to the once-illustrious
Ki family. At the beginning of the Heian period it had provided em-
presses to the court, but it had lost influence with the rise of the Fujiwara
family. Mibu no Tadamine and Oshikochi no Mitsune were of even less
distinguished families. The humble ranks of the compilers, when com-
pared to those of the official history Sandai [itsuroleu (True Records of
Three Reigns), the Engishiki (Institutes of the Engi Period), and other
works in Chinese sponsored about the same time by the court, may
reflect a lingering attitude of condescension toward the waka."
All four compilers had been represented in the poem competitions
of 892 and 893, when Tsurayuki was little more than twenty years old.
Perhaps the scarcity of capable waka poets (after a century of official
neglect of the form) accounted for the participation of men of minor
court rank in these gatherings. As greater importance came to be attached
to waka composition, competent poets enjoyed new favor at the court.
Tomonori was over forty at the time he received his first court office,
but his poetic skill enabled him to associate with such powerful statesmen
as Fujiwara no Tokihira. After the abdication of the Emperor Uda in
898, Tokihira began to show active interest in promoting a revival of
the waka, and staged poetry gatherings at his residence where the future
compilers of the Kokinshu joined in poetic competition with members
of the highest nobility."
The selection of the compilers of the Kokinshu was probably made
four or five years before its completion. The Kokinshi; scholar Murase
Toshio believed that Tokihira's approval was the paramount factor
behind the final choice of compilers." Although Tokihira (also known
as Shihei) is now remembered mainly for his plotting against Sugawara
 Early and Heian Literature

no Michizane, he not only was a competent administrator but also was

capable of recognizing poetic talent.
The date of the presentation of the completed text of the Kokinshii
to the Emperor Daigo is traditionally given as 905. Scholars as far back
as Fujiwara no Kiyosuke (11°4-1177) suggested, in view of ambiguity
in the wording of the Japanese preface," that the collection, though
ordered in that year, was not presented until some later date; but an
examination of the evidence leads to the conclusion, not accepted by
everyone, that 905 was the year of both the completion of the selection
of poems and the formal presentation to the emperor.
The circumstances of the compilation are not known, but it has been
conjectured, on the basis of procedures followed when compiling later
anthologies, that the work was done in secret." The editors apparently
chose for inclusion mainly works that had appeared in private collections
of poetry by both recognized and unknown poets of the previous century.
Poems by 127 poets were included, 70 of them represented by only one
poem, and another 22 by only two. Not surprisingly (considering the
large number of poems by Otomo no Yakamochi in the Man'yoshii), the
best-represented poets were the compilers themselves-Tsurayuki with
102 poems, Mitsune with 60, Tomonori with 46, and Tadamine with
35. 18 Although the Japanese preface stated that the policy was to exclude
poems that had already appeared in the Man'yoshu, fifteen of these poems
nevertheless found their way into the collection, possibly because they
were thought of as folk songs of an indeterminate period.
It was naturally out of the question to include in the Kohinshi; poems
by persons of humble station, of the kind prominent in the Man'yoshii,
though some of the unusually large number of anonymous poems may
in fact have been by commoners. Most of the poems by known authors
were by members of the lower ranks of the aristocracy." Regardless of
the ranks of the contributors, the poetry was selected to display the
degree of sophistication that the waka had attained during the brief
period since the form was revived twenty or thirty years before.
Neither in the prefaces nor elsewhere in the collection was the claim
made (as in the prefaces to ninth-century collections of kanshi) that
poetry helped to promote good government. Tsurayuki declared that
he and his colleagues had chosen not only seasonal poems but poems
that prayed that the emperor would enjoy "the lifespan of the crane
and the tortoise," and other poems that prayed the gods of travel to
preserve travelers from harm." No mention was made of poems of
courtship, though they are far more numerous than poems of prayer.
Perhaps the compilers were somewhat embarrassed by the large number
The Kokinsh ii

of love poems, a category that had not been recognized by the Chinese.
It is not known what principles of selection (other than conspicuous
excellence) guided the compilers. Probably they started off with the plan
of putting together an anthology in twenty books, like the Man'yoshu
or the Keikokushu. Perhaps (as Tsurayuki's preface states) they also
originally intended to include no more than a thousand poems, but
another hundred or so were added in the course of compilation. The
next step was to decide the contents of each of the twenty books and
their order.

ARRANGEMENT OF THE POEMS

Seasonal poems make up the first six of the twenty books of the Kokinsha.
The placing of seasonal poetry at the head of the collection may have
been in keeping with the example of the Shinsen Man'yoshu, but otherwise
reflected the importance given to the seasons at poetry competitions at
the court. Poems describing the seasons (and especially the flowers and
birds associated with each) had not figured prominently in the
Man'yoshu; it was only with the poem competitions and the Shinsen
Man'yoshu of the late ninth century that seasonal poetry acquired special
importance, and with the Kokinshu this became definitive. A large pro-
portion of the waka composed at this time and during the next millen-
nium would describe the seasons, either directly or as revealed by some
characteristic such as mist, haze, fog, and so on. In time, some seasonal
words became arbitrary: the moon, unless qualified by some other sea-
sonal word, always referred to the autumn moon, when its light was
most appreciated.
The Japanese have sometimes explained their absorption with the
seasons in terms of the distinctive nature of each of the four seasons in
Japan. This explanation implies that in other countries the seasons are
less clearly differentiated, a claim that might be difficult to prove. Prob-
ably it is wisest not to search for reasons, but to content oneself with
noting that Japanese poets have been unusually responsive to the seasons.
Two books each were devoted to spring and autumn poetry, but
only one each to summer and winter. In terms of the number of poems,
the disproportion is even greater: the Kohinshi: contains 145 autumn
poems as against only 34 summer poems. This marked preference among
the seasons may reflect the peculiarities of the climate of the capital-
the modern Kyoto-where spring and autumn are delectable, but the
summers stifling and the winters bitterly cold. Perhaps the choice of
252 Early and Heian Literature

birds and flowers mentioned in the poems also was influenced by the
flora and fauna of Kyoto. The preferences of the capital have always
spread to other regions, and even poets who lived where a hototogisu
was never heard dutifully mentioned this bird in their summer poems.
The six books of seasonal poems are followed by one each of con-
gratulatory, parting, travel, and butsumei (names of things) poems. The
latter, though written in various moods on different subjects, all contain
some word concealed in the text. In the following poem by Mibu no
Tadamine (Kokinshii 462), the place-name Katano is concealed:

natsukusa no Like the marsh water,

ue wa shigereru Covered with a thick growth
nurnarntzu no Of summer grasses
yuku kata no naki That leaves it nowhere to go
wa ga kokoro kana21 So too is my choked-up heart.

Apart from the ingenuity of fitting Katano into the text, the poem is
gloomy and not at all in the self-consciously droll manner we might
expect of a poem fashioned around a pun. Perhaps, however, the "hidden
word" poems were private and the concealed word had a special meaning
for one person. This might explain why the book of butsumei poems
immediately precedes the five books of love poetry, the most private of
the Kokinshii poems.
The Kokinshii contains 360 love poems, the largest number in any
category. The prominence given to love poetry reflects its importance
during the "dark age" of poetry in the Japanese language. However,
the fact that the love poetry was placed in the second half of the collection
suggests that the compilers were anxious to avoid giving the impression
that the main function of the waka was to serve as an adjunct to
lovemaking.
The love poems are followed by a book of poems of mourning, two
books of miscellaneous poems (that is, poems that are neither seasonal
nor related to love), a book of poems in forms other than the waka
(including some choka and sedoka, as well as a selection of hailtai, or
comic poetry), and finally a book of waka associated with palace cere-
monies. The last two books contain such a scrappy assortment of ma-
terials that they create the impression of having been appended mainly
to fill out the intended twenty books."
The assignment of the poems to the different books was in many
ways subjective and even arbitrary; the editors had to decide, for ex-
The Ko k i n s h ii 253

ample, whether a love poem that mentions the flower of a certain season
should be classified as a love or seasonal poem. A whole book was
devoted to travel poems, although there were only sixteen poems in this
category. The compilers evidently believed that poems composed on a
journey formed a distinctive class of waka, even though there were just
a few of merit.
Once the poems had been assigned to the various books, the compilers
arranged the poems within each book. They could have followed the
precedent of the Kaifiiso and arranged the poems in descending order
of rank of the authors, or they could have followed the Man'yoslu; in
largely disregarding order of rank and instead clustering together poems
by the same author. Instead, the compilers elected to arrange the poems
in terms of temporal progression. In the case of spring poems, those
that described the early haze over the landscape appeared first, followed
by poems on the plum blossoms, then on cherry blossoms (in the bud,
in full glory, and finally scattering). A similar pattern can be traced in
other seasonal poetry, and in the love poems the first tremors of love
were followed by poems describing hidden love, the anguish of a love
affair, and lastly, resignation over the end of the affair.
Many poems are provided with introductions or followed by notes.
The introductions usually describe the circumstances that occasioned
the poems, as in an unusually detailed example:

Poem respectfully composed after the retired emperor had written

a poem on the subject of a picture on a screen at the Teiji Palace
that shows a traveler reining in his horse and pausing under a tree
from which red leaves fall as he prepares to cross a river."

In other instances the preface makes clear some point in the waka
that might puzzle readers. For example, the following poem by the
priest Sosei does not specify what kind of flowers he has in mind:

hana chirasu Does anyone know

kaze no yadori wa The residence of the wind
tare ka shiru That scatters the blossoms?
ware ni oshie yo Anyone who knows, tell me!
yukite uramin" I will go there and complain.

In later court anthologies the word hana (flowers) alone designated cherry
blossoms, but in the Koleinshi: it might designate any flower. That, no
254 Early and Heian Literature

doubt, is why the preface to this poem plainly states, "Composed on

seeing scattered cherry blossoms.?"
The appended notes (sachu) are generally brief, along the lines of:
"Some say that this poem was composed by the Nara emperor.'?" How-
ever, an exceptionally long and interesting note follows the poem
composed by Abe no Nakamaro. The poem bears the prefatory note:
"Composed while gazing at the moon in China." The appended note
states, "It is related of this poem, 'A long time ago, Nakamaro was sent
to China to study. After he had spent many years there, he was not
allowed to return home, but on one occasion, when an ambassador
arrived from Japan, Nakamaro joined his party, hoping to return to
Japan together with the ambassador. At a place on the coast called Ming-
chou, the Chinese offered a farewell banquet. That night, Nakamaro,
gazing at the moon, which had risen most beautifully, composed this
poem.' "27 The prefaces and notes seem to have been considered by the
compilers to be integral parts of the poems, a tradition that went back
to the Man'yoshu.

POETIC DICTION OF THE KOKINSHU

The themes of the Kokinsht; poets were those of a court of great re-
finement. The poets sought perfection in the language, the order of the
words, the music of the successive syllables, even more perhaps than in
the meaning of the poems." Many subjects could not be treated because
they were considered to be unattractive, but the Kokinshu poets did not
feel frustrated. It was only in certain moods, especially those mentioned
in the Japanese preface, that they felt impelled to express themselves in
poetry, and none of their themes required a muse of fire.
The conventions of life at the court favored artificiality and even
insincerity in poetic composition. Perhaps, as some Man'yoshi; scholars
have suggested, there was artificiality in that collection, too, despite its
reputation for plainspoken sentiments; but the memorable poems per-
suade us of their sincerity. The composition of poetry to assigned topics,
as on the occasion of an uta-awase, inevitably involved some insincerity;
poets had to compose on these topics whether or not they were of personal
relevance. Similar conditions seem to have governed the composition of
many poems in the Kokinshu, as a love poem by the priest Sosei suggests:

ima kon to "I'll be coming soon"

iishi baleari ni You said, and all because of that
The Ko k i n sh u 255
nagatsuki no I waited until
ariah« no tsuki too The moon at dawning appeared,
machiidetsuru kana 29 The longest month of the year.

Not only would it be highly inappropriate in real life for a priest to

write a love poem, but this one was written in the persona of a woman."
The poem is nonetheless charming and deserves its popularity.
Perhaps none of the poems composed by Ki no Tsurayuki and his
generation were sincere in the manner that Man'yoshu poetry or the
poems of N arihira and Komachi strike us as being sincere. The love
poetry no longer seems to have formed a part of real courtship, but
rather restated variations on the theme of the impossibility of enjoying
happiness in love." Such poems most often describe the unresponsiveness
of the beloved, the failure of the beloved to pay a visit, the difficulty of
meeting the beloved except in dreams, the acceptance of death as the
only resolution to an unhappy affair." Rarely is there a suggestion of
the joys of love; the poets apparently did not consider that joy could
inspire poetry. The narrowness of the court society provided another
theme, the fear of gossip." The imagery in the love poems is often
lachrymose, whether in the many mentions of tears (or dew, by now a
hackneyed metaphor) or in the comparison of the poet's tears to the
surge of a river of tears or even to an ocean of tears." The pathetic
fallacy is much in evidence: birds, deer, insects, and even plants join in
the sufferings of the poet."
The images in Kokinshii poetry, whether seasonal, amorous, or mis-
cellaneous, tended to be repeated again and again. There are many
poems on cherry blossoms at all stages of their flowering, but few or
none on other flowers (such as the chrysanthemum) that would inspire
later poets." Poets usually reacted more to other poets' poems than to
personal experiences. Even if a poet happened to be deeply moved, say,
by the beauty of peach blossoms, he was likely to describe instead in
his poetry the clouds of white cherry blossoms, if only because peach
blossoms had rarely figured in the poetry of his predecessors. Again, the
moon was always described in the Kokinshii in terms of its brightness,
not in terms of misty nights nor of the moon on nights when it showed
itself only once in a while from beyond the clouds."
Probably the compilers rejected poems that contained unexpected
imagery or employed words that did not meet their standards of good
taste. Their choices were so exact and the Kokinshii so admired that
they succeeded in establishing a poetic diction-some two thousand
words in all-waka poets would observe for the next thousand years
 Early and Heian Literature

with only minor additions. Words that did not appear in the Kokinshu
were frowned on as neologisms, and the associations of most flowers,
trees, and birds were permanently established.
For all the adulation the Kokinshu poets offered to Chinese poetry,
they did not seek to expand their poetic vocabulary by borrowing words
of Chinese origin. Instead, they attempted to make each poem perfect,
considering every syllable in terms of syntax and sound as well as of
meaning. It has been argued" that the subject, predicate, modifiers, and
modified words are clearer in the Kokinshu than in any later work of
poetry or prose, but the reader must be extremely attentive: the change
of a single particle may alter the meaning of an entire work, as the
following much-admired poem by Tsurayuki will suggest:

musubu te no Unsatisfied as
shizuleu ni nigoru Someone who scoops water from
yama no 1 no A spring so shallow
ahadc mo hito wo It clouds with drops from her hands-
toakarcnuru kana 39 She went away and left me.

The poet observes a woman scooping water from a stream so shallow

that her hands disturb the bottom and drops from her hands cloud the
water. She goes away unsatisfied, not having been able to get enough
to drink; the poet is also unsatisfied because they have parted after so
little time together." Although the translation specifies "her hands" and
"she went away," the original text does not state from whose hands the
water dripped, nor who went away. I have followed the interpretation
of Okumura Tsuneya, who was convinced that if one reads the Kokinshi;
poems carefully they become absolutely clear. For example, Tsurayuki's
use of the particle wo instead of ni (as one would expect) after the word
hito plainly indicated who had left whom. Examining many texts of the
period, Okumura had discovered that whenever wo was used in such
cases, it always meant that it was the other person who went away, not
the speaker. The subject of this poem (the person who scooped up water)
must also be the person who went away. Okumura's interpretation has
not been adopted by every commentator, an indication that perhaps the
poem is not so clear, but it suggests the extreme care poets took in their
choice of words."
The prestige of the Kokinshu was so great in later centuries that
poets who lived long afterward-and under quite different conditions
from those of the Heian court-felt obliged to restrict themselves to
The Ko k i n sh u 257

the Kokinshu vocabulary. One might suppose that poets of, say, the
eighteenth century would have fretted over such restrictions, but in fact,
most of them not only worshiped the Kokinshu but had no desire to
deviate from its themes. Maple leaves were as lovely in the eighteenth
century as in the tenth, and the colors they turned with the first frost
gave just as much pleasure even if the poet lived in Edo, a city that did
not exist in Tsurayuki's time, and was a chonin (townsman), a class that
Tsurayuki would not have believed capable of poetic utterance. If a
chonin poet had wished to describe convincingly in the waka his daily
life, he would certainly have had to violate the standard poetic diction,
which lacked words for the food he ate, the clothes he wore, the tobacco
he smoked, the business in which he was engaged, and the licensed
quarter which he sometimes visited. Of course, if a chonin found the
poetic diction of the Kokinshu confining, he could write haiku or kanshi
instead, neither bound by the old vocabulary; but most waka poets were
content to treat eternal themes in eternal languge.

POETIC TECHNIQUES OF THE KOKINSHU

Tsurayuki's preface mentioned that poets were moved to compose waka

not only on seeing the sights of nature but by the signs of old age
reflected in their looking glasses. Tsurayuki wrote a poem inspired by
this revelation:

ubatama no Is it possible
wa ga kurokami ya My hair that was once jet black
kawaruran Has changed so much?
kagami no kage ni Reflected in the looking glass
fureru shiravulii" A recent fall of white snow.

The snow was, of course, a metaphor for white hair. Seeing the snow
in the mirror, like seeing cherry blossoms as they fell, was not merely
an act of observation, but led to a revelation of the havoc wrought by
time. The falling blossoms, like the decay in his own appearance, revealed
to the poet his mortality, the loss of the joys of youth. The indirectness
of this statement is typical of the Kokinshu, and its melancholy note is
sounded again and again in other poems, even those with conventionally
pretty imagery.
 Early and Heian Literature

Despite the shortness of the Kokinshu poems and the restrictions on

the vocabulary, the existence of meanings on more than one level gave
richness to the poetry. In the following poem by Tsurayuki a maku-
rakotoba and a kakekotoba impart complexity:

hatsuleari no The earl y wild geese

naki koso u/atare Cry as they cross overhead.
yo no nalta no They are sorrowful
hito no kokoro no Because there is in this world
aki shi ultcreba" Autumn in the hearts of men.

This translation gives only part of the meaning of the poem. The first
wild geese, as they head south, keep up their unending cries of grief
because of the sadness of autumn; but "cry" refers also to the poet, who
weeps at the thought that someone-probably the woman he loves-
has grown weary (akishi) of him; it is the autumn of their love. Or
perhaps he has discovered boredom in his own heart. Hatsukari (the
first wild geese) was a makurakotoba that modified naki; naki refers
here both to the cries of the wild geese and to the poet's weeping; hito
is not merely "person" but also the beloved; aki is both "autumn" and
"satiety" or "weariness."
The obliqueness of expression in the Kokinshu was traced by Konishi
[in'ichi to the poetry in Wen Hsiian and other Six Dynasties collections.
Some of the techniques borrowed by the Kokinshu poets from the Chinese
poets of those times may seem artificial, especially the many examples
of feigned ignorance as to whether mountains are not clouds or cherry
blossoms not snow, as in this poem by Ki no Tomonori:

mi Yoshino no In fair Yoshino,

yamabe ni salteru Blossoming in the mountains.
sakurabana Were cherry flowers.
yuki ka to nomi zo I thought that they must be snow
ayamatarckeru" But how mistaken I was!

On first reading one may be struck by the improbability of anyone really

confusing even masses of cherry blossoms for snow, especially at Yoshino,
famed for its cherry blossoms. However, Okumura Tsuneya noted that
it was not until the age of the Shin Kokinshu that Yoshino acquired its
reputation as a place to admire cherry blossoms; in the time of the
Kokinshu it was known above all for its deep falls of snow." This gives
The Kokinsh ii 259

greater plausibility to this particular example of mitate, taking one thing

for another. Other examples of mitate are not merely more convincing
but contribute to the beauty of poems like this one by Fujiwara no
Okikaze:

shiranami no Autumn leaves floating

aki no konoha no On the white-crested waters:
ukaberu wo I thought they might be
ama no nagaseru Boats like those fishermen ply,
June ka to zo miru" Adrift on the river waves.

Of course, the difference in scale between leaves and fishing boats is too
great for the poet really to have been deceived; but for a moment the
comparison flashed into his head, and he captured that moment
exquisitely.
The device of mitate was convincingly traced back to the Six Dy-
nasties poets by Konishi," but other scholars have found Japanese sources,
notably in certain poems of the Man'yoshu. In these the first part consists
of observations by the poet, and the remainder the inferences drawn
from those observations." Some anonymous poems in the Kokinshi:
follow this pattern, including:

yu sareba When evening arrives

koromode samushi The cold penetrates my sleeves.
mi Yoshino no At fair Yoshino,
Yoshino no yama ni In the Yoshino Mountains,
mi yuki [ururashi'? Surely it must be snowing.

It was a relatively short step from experiencing the cold and imagining
it must be snowing in Yoshino (an even colder place) to the device of
mitate, seeing something and imagining it is something else.
Mitate was only one of many technical devices used by the Kohinshu
poets that would recur in later Japanese literature. The engo and kake-
kotoba, already in use by the ninth-century poets," were given greater
authority in the Kohinshi; as a technique of expanding the meaning. An
anonymous poem contains both engo and kakekotoba. It is technically
highly complex, yet read in the original it flows effortlessly. The poem
bears the note, "Long ago a woman's husband ceased to visit her. She
went to the Mitsu Temple in Naniwa where she became a nun. She
composed this poem which she sent to her husband."
260 Early and Heian Literature

ware wo kimi Because you left me

Naniwa no ura ni At the Bay of Naniwa
arishikaba Where fishermen cut
ukime wo mitsu no Weeds that float in the water,
ama to narinilti" I have become a nun at Mitsu.

The poem is filled with word-play. The noun ura, meaning a "bay,"
with Naniwa no ura means "the Bay of Naniwa," but it is used as a
kakekotoba, suggesting the verb uramu, "to resent," a meaning necessary
in order to fill out the meaning of the first line: "because you resented
[or bore ill will toward] me." The noun ukime means "floating seaweed,"
but (by a pun) also means "painful experience." Mitsu was the name of
a temple near Naniwa, but also meant "harbor," continuing the marine
engo, and with ukimc it means "to have a painful experience." Ama
means both "fisherman" and "nun," the context usually determining
which. The engo in the poem are Nanuoa, ura, ukime, mttsu, and ama,
all words referring to fishermen who gather seaweed in Naniwa Bay.
A second set of engo, consisting of ura, ukime, mitsu, and ama relates
to the painful experience that has induced the woman to forsake the
world and become a nun at the Mitsu Temple.
The technical virtuosity in such a poem may seem obtrusive, even
if one admires the skill, but the use of engo and kakekotoba can be
justified in terms of the unconscious associations of words." Few poems
are quite as complicated as this example, but engo and kakekotoba occur
in many Kokinshi: poems. Such virtuosity would become a major cause
of modern poets' dissatisfaction with the Koltinshu: they doubted poems
so contrived could contain emotional truth.
Another feature of the Koltinshi; poetry that deserves attention is the
use of personification. Perhaps the closeness with which the poets em-
pathized with the flowers and birds they described induced them to
write as if these flowers and birds could be addressed, reasoned with,
persuaded not to fall or not to sing, in order to spare the poet anguish.
Scholars have established a contrast between emotional and intellectual
personification," the latter usually inspired by Chinese examples in the
Wen Hsiian and elsewhere; but it is difficult to find a poem where the
personification is purely emotional or purely intellectual. The Kokinshii
poets attributed human characteristics even to the sound of the wind or
the murmur of a mountain stream, but personification was most common
with reference to birds and beasts." The following poem by Ki no
Tomonori is typical:
The Kokinshii 261

yo ya kuraki Is the night so dark?

michi ya madoeru Or has it wandered on its way?
hototogisu The hototogisu,
wa ga yado wo shimo Reluctant to leave my house,
sugigate ni naku 55 Sings as it circles the sky.

Personification occurs also when the poet addresses flowers as if they

could understand his words, as in this poem by Ki no Tsurayuki:

kotoshi yori You cherry blossoms

haru shirisomuru Who this year for the first time
saleurabana Have learned what spring is,
chiru to iu koto wo Do not learn from the others
narawazaranan 56 What makes the blossoms scatter.

Personification could be used to convey the poet's feelings by attributing

them to another creature, as in the waka by Oshikochi no Mitsune
entitled "On Hearing the Wild Geese Cry":

uki koto wo As one unhappy

omoitsuranete Memory succeeds the next,
karigane no The chains of wild geese
naki koso watare Cry out as they cross the sky
aki no yona yona" Night after night in autumn.

Sometimes personification intrudes on the world of reality as III this

anonymous poem:

nakuoataru Are those the tears shed

kari no namida ya By the wild geese crying out
ochitsuran As they cross the sky?
mono omou yado no In this garden, where I brood,
hagi no ue no tsuyu 58 Dew on the clover blossoms.

In this poem personification intensifies the expression of the poet's emo-

tions: the dewdrops on flowers in the garden look like tears that could
only have come from above, perhaps from the wild geese in the autumn
sky. Poems addressed to cherry blossoms were also at times melancholy,
as in this example by the priest Soku:
 Early and Heian Literature

iza saleura Yes, cherry blossoms,

ware mo chirinan I will fall along with you!
hito saliari When once brief glory
arinaba hito ni Is past, better thus than let
ukime mienan'" Others see one's ugliness.

The ideal of perishing in the prime of one's life would be especially

cherished by warriors, but courtiers of this time normally lamented the
speed with which cherry blossoms (as opposed to, say, plum blossoms)
scattered after only a few days of glory. This poetic conceit confirmed
the intimate connections between the Kakinshu poets and their natural
surroundings.

TOPICS AND THEMES OF POETIC COMPOSITION

As we have seen, the poetry in the Kakinshu owed much to the Chinese
poetry of the Six Dynasties. Not only were many poetic images taken
over bodily, but the Chinese practice of composing poems on assigned
topics, first observed in Japan by participants in the uta-awase compe-
titions, was also followed by the Kakinshu poets, though the practice
was not known to the Man'yoshi; poets.P Waka on Chinese topics were
apparently composed as early as 898, on the occasion of the visit of the
Emperor Uda to Miyadaki. These poems have been lost, but poems
composed to commemorate an imperial excursion to the Oi River in
907 are still extant." The Chinese topic, stated at the head of each poem,
was generally along the lines of "gazing at the autumn hills," or "cranes
standing on the riverside." The anthology Kokin Waka Rakujo (Six
Volumes of Japanese Poetry, Old and New), compiled toward the end
of the tenth century, contains some 4,370 poems by 193 poets, classified
according to 517 topics. It was probably conceived along the lines of a
similar compendium edited by Po Chti-i." The practice of composing
in accordance with fixed topics, some of them used repeatedly over the
years, would inhibit the creation of entirely new poems, but at the time
of the Kakinshu the topics were still relatively fresh and capable of
inspiring graceful compositions."
In a similar manner, the themes of the Kohinshi; poems would be
borrowed by later poets who would change the imagery or emphasis,
sometimes very slightly, in attempts to attain the essence of the theme.
The practice of honlia-dori, borrowing from an original poem, became
The Ko k i ns h u

general in the centuries after the compilation of the Kokinshii. Borrowing

one or more lines of a Kolrinshi; poem was a mark of the later poet's
respect for the Kokinshii and of his desire to participate in the never-
ending search for poetic perfection. A poem without ancestry in the
Kokinshi; was considered to lack resonance." The influence of the Ko-
kinshii style remained so pervasive, even as late as the beginning of the
twentieth century, that many waka composed centuries afterward could
have been slipped into the text of the Kokinshii without clashing.
An ability to compose waka on a prescribed topic became an indis-
pensable accomplishment of members of the court, as the uta-awase
developed from pleasant diversions into stately court functions. The
popularity of folding screens painted with Japanese-style pictures
(Yamato-e) created a demand for poems that could be inscribed on the
screens, next to the scenes portrayed. The Kokinshi; includes, for example,
three waka (one by Tsurayuki and two by the priest Sosei) composed
for the screen that was offered to Prince Motoyasu on his seventieth
birthday." The depicted scenes sometimes directly inspired the poems,
but at other times a screen poem merely touched on the painting and
was mainly an expression of congratulations or something similar. Screen
paintings fostered the growth of the utamakura, places that inspire poetry,
and in some cases resulted in rcnsaku, sequences of poems that continued
from one panel of a screen to the next.
Poems on prescribed topics or on the scenes depicted on screens were
often beautiful but rarely personal. The Kokinshi; poets seldom attempted
to be personal, except perhaps in the love poetry, but even that was
usually written only about conventionally prescribed moments in the
course of an affair, and tended to consist of variations on established
themes and expressions. For example, the pun on aki (autumn) and aki
(satiety) occurred again and again, often as a woman poet detected signs
of the lover's loss of interest, presaging a long autumn of loneliness. The
dread that an affair might be discovered, another familiar topic of love
poetry, was often suggested by the word hitome (people's eyes) or by
mirume, the name of a kind of seaweed but also, by a pun, "watching
eyes." A list of conventional expressions could be prolonged to such
lengths as to make one doubt that freshness could be achieved in the love
poetry, but this was a test that the Kokinshi; poets willingly underwent.
Stereotyped phrases and themes occur in many Kokinshii poems,
especially by known authors. The anonymous poems, on the other hand,
are often appealingly direct and fresh. These examples may suffice to
suggest their characteristics:
 Early and Heian Literature

tane shi areba Because there was a seed

iwa ni mo matsu wa A pine has grown even here,
oinikeri On these barren rocks.
koi wo shi koiba If we really love our love,
awarazame ya m0 66 What can keep us from meeting?

kome ya to wa Although I wonder

omou mono kara If he really will be coming,
higurashi no In the twilight hour
naku yugure wa When the evening locusts call
tachimataretsutsu'? I stand by the gate and wait.

The expression of such poems is more appealing to most modern

readers than the elegance of language and intricate poetic devices of
more typical Kokinshu poetry, but the latter would form the mainstream
of Japanese tradition.

THE POETRY OF KI NO TSURAYUKI

The most important of the Kokinshu poets was undoubtedly Ki no

Tsurayuki. His views on the nature of Japanese poetry, stated in his
preface to the Kokinshu, and the many poems he contributed to the
collection would make him the most influential Japanese poet for a
period of at least three hundred years-until the rise to prominence of
Fujiwara Teika-and the Kokinshi; would form part of the basic ed-
ucation of every Japanese. His poems are seldom startling, but that is
mainly because they later became a part of poetic orthodoxy and were
so often imitated. In their own time, many were praised not because of
their ingenuity but because of their freshness; and a poem that a reader
might today pass over quickly as no more than a mildly interesting
observation may contain unexpected complexities that account for its
appeal. The following love poem bears the prefatory note, "Sent to
someone in Yarnato":

koenu ma wa Until I go there,

Yoshino no yama no I must continue merely
saleurabana to hear from others
hitozute ni nomi word of the cherry blossoms
kikiwataru ka na in the hills of Yoshino."
The Kokinsh ii

This translation, though accurate and graceful, conveys little of what

a Japanese reader would have found in the poem. The note says the
poem was sent to someone (hito) who lived in Yamato, but it would
have been clear to readers that the person was a woman. The unexpressed
meaning of the poem is that Tsurayuki is unable to go to Yamato and
see the woman he loves; he can only hear about her from others' reports.
But this interpretation does not cancel out the surface meaning: re-
membrances of the woman and of the cherry blossoms evoke a twofold
yearning for beauty he cannot enjoy. The use of cherry blossoms as a
symbol of beauty soon became the most hackneyed of Japanese tropes,
but Tsurayuki's phrase was by no means hackneyed at this time; and
it started, rather than repeated, the vogue."
Of the surviving I,6I4 waka by Tsurayuki, 539 were composed for
inscription on screens. These poems by their very nature were public,
and Tsurayuki can be thought of as a professional poet who could be
counted on to produce a poem whenever one was needed. While such
poems were not the place to display private emotions, sometimes the
words yielded additional meanings that hinted at some unspoken sadness
or joy. The screen poems and others composed in response to a request
from the emperor or some great official were deliberately bland in tone,
and were praised for their technical excellence rather than for individ-
uality or depth of feeling. These are the poems by Tsurayuki most
generously represented in the Kokinshu; to obtain a fairer picture of him
as a poet one must also consult the poems in his private collection,
Tsurayuki Shu," or those found in later imperial collections. This highly
personal poem is found in the Goscnshu, the next imperial collection
after the Kokinshu:

ikadc ware There is something

hito ni mo towan I would like to ask of you:
akatsuki no What is it resembles
aleanu ioaharc ya A parting at break of day
nani ni nitari to" Before one has had one's fill?

Perhaps Tsurayuki was embarrassed to include this poem, obviously

addressed to a woman with whom he had spent the night, in the
Kokinshu, the collection he himself edited, but the editors of the Gosenshii,
under no such constraint, "rescued" it. The poem is free of the obvious
technical virtuosity of his most typical Kokinshu poems, though it does
not openly express Tsurayuki's belief that nothing is more painful than
parting at dawn. A poem closer to Tsurayuki's Kokinshu manner bears
266 Early and Heian Literature

the prefatory note, "Composed and offered when I was commanded to

offer a poem."

a/a ga seko ga I full my husband's

koramo harusame Winter clothes, and every time
furu goto ni The spring rains fall,
nobe no midori zo The green of the meadows
ira masariheru" Turns an ever deeper hue.

This poem was considered, even during Tsurayuki's lifetime, to be one

of his best works." The first eight syllables of the poem are a jo, or
preface, connected to the remainder of the poem by the kakekotoba on
ham, meaning with what precedes to "full" the winter clothes before
putting them away, and with what follows means the "spring" rain. On
first reading the two halves of the poem may seem to be unrelated, but
the poem was probably written in the persona of a young wife whose
attention is drawn to the scenery each time a spring shower falls on the
clothes she is beating. So interpreted, the poem has charm, and the
masterful use of the kakekotoba earns it a place in the collection.
The momentary glimpse of someone who is not of the aristocracy
is also refreshing and rare in a work written by members of the court
about one another. But Tsurayuki's poem is not likely to have been
composed after actual observation of a scene. The same is largely true
of his poems on the seasons. The sensitivity of Tsurayuki and the other
Kokinshi; poets to the changes of the seasons was probably responsible
for the extraordinary attention paid by Japanese poets during the next
millennium to the sights and sounds of the four seasons, but the Kokinshu
poets were responding not to nature itself but to a conceptualization.
Nature was less important to these poets than the calendar. They knew
the appropriate natural phenomena to describe in their poems not only
with respect to the season but at every point within a given season. Some
years, surely, the weather was unusual, even in the glorious Heian age.
It must have happened at times that leaves, instead of turning a brilliant
crimson, dropped brown and sodden from the autumn trees. This made
no difference to the poets, who composed their seasonal poems as if
nature was as sensitive to the calendar as they were. If a heavy fall of
snow blocked their view of the supposedly springtime mountains, they
were able to filter out the snow with the aid of the poetry composed by
many predecessors and see the mists that should have been there."
The artificiality of the poetry of Ki no Tsurayuki and most of his
Kokinshu colleagues may make us equally suspicious of the sincerity of
The Kokinsh 11

their observation of the seasons and their sighs of love. Their elaborate
poetical devices-engo, kakekotoba, jo, and the like-also may make
us doubt that anyone who really felt the emotions described would have
been able to write in such an involuted manner. It might be argued that
these stylistic features represented Japanese resistance to the kanshi: if
they could not surpass the great Chinese poets in the grandeur of their
themes, they could at least demonstrate what the Japanese language did
better than the Chinese language: create an unbroken thread of beaten
gold."
The poems of Tsurayuki's late years-found in two later imperial
collections, the Gosenshii and the Shuishu, rather than the Kokinshu-
are more straightforward and compelling, perhaps because he had ac-
quired greater familiarity with the Man'yoshii," Two of his last poems
are particularly moving. The first bears a prefatory note, "Written on
the last day of the third month at the end of a letter in which I complained
that someone had not visited me for a long time."

mata mo kon I suppose you will

toki zo to omoedo Visit me again sometime,
tanomarenu But I can't depend
wa ga mi ni shi areba On my body holding up-
oshiki haru kana77 That's what made the spring so sad.

Regret over the passing of the spring was a familiar trope, but it is given
conviction here by the poet's doubt that he will ever see another spring.
There was still one day left to the season, and he was urging his friend
to come that day to share it with him. An appended note states that
Tsurayuki died in the same year that he composed the poem.
Tsurayuki's farewell poem to the world, written just before he died,
bears the prefatory note, "Feeling depressed and not my usual self, I
composed this poem and sent it to Minamoto no Kintada. Of late my
sickness has grown more severe."

te ni musubu The world turned out

mizu ni yadoreru To be as uncertain as
tsukikage no The moonlight shining
aru ka naki ka no In water cupped in my hands-
yo ni koso ariherc" Was it there, was it not there?

It is hard to doubt in reading these poems that Tsurayuki was a

major poet. The circumstances of the composition of most of his poems-
poetry competitions, poems to be inscribed on screens, poems to be
268 Early and Heian Literature

offered at palace ceremonies-made it almost impossible for him to

express what we want most to hear from him, the unmistakable accents
of a particular human being. The public poems were sometimes miracles
of deft composition, and occasionally Tsurayuki permitted a personal
note to be heard, but in his last poems, when he no longer thought to
please some potential patron and did not fear to cast an unseemly gloom
over some palace festivity, he was able to communicate, without the aid
of the linguistic devices in which he was so proficient, his exceptional
poetic gifts. Tsurayuki's importance in the history of Japanese literature
is first of all as the compiler of the Kokinshu, secondly as the author of
The Tosa Diary, and only thirdly as a poet, though under other circum-
stances he might well have ranked among the two or three greatest
masters of the waka.

THE OTHER KOKINSHU POETS

The most memorable poets of the Kokinshu are probably those like
Ariwara no Narihira or Ono no Komachi who belonged to the previous
generation of waka poets. Ise (877?-938?), the consort of the Emperor
Uda, also left some notable poems in the passionate vein of Komachi.
The first has a prefatory note, "Composed on seeing fires in the fields
when she was going somewhere at a time when she was grieving over
an unhappy love."

fuyugare no If I could compare

nobe to wagami wo My body to these fields
omoiseba Withered by winter,
moete mo haru wo I would hope, though I was burned,
matamashimono W0 79 That spring might come again.

yume ni dani Not even in dreams

miyu to wa mieji Would I wish him to see me-
asa na asa na My glass each morning
wa ga omokag« ni Reveals a face so wasted
hazuru mi nareba'" I turn away in shame.

The poems of Komachi, Ise, and other passionate women are cer-
tainly more striking than the screen poems, but they had far less influence
on later poets. Other poets, even among those who are well represented
in the Kohinshu, are remembered for their one poem included in Hya-
The Ko k i n sh u

kunin Isshu (A Hundred Poems by a Hundred Poets), the celebrated

thirteenth-century anthology.
One poem by Ki no Tomonori (d. 90S?), chosen for the Hyaleunin
Isshu, stands out among his compositions because of its aural effects:

hisaleata no This perfectly still

hikari nodokeki Spring day bathed in the soft light
haru no hi ni From the vaulted sky,
shizu kokoro naleu Why do the cherry blossoms
hana no chiruran" So restlessly scatter down?

It will be noted that four of the five lines begin with an h, and the
fifth with sh. This surely was not accidental; each line seems to begin
with a sigh. The first words hisakata no were a makurakotoba for hileari,
It does not contribute much to the meaning, but the aural effect is
particularly lovely.
Some scholars argue that the finest Kokinstu; poet was Oshikochi no
Mitsune (fl. 898-922). The exceptional number of his poems included
in this and other imperial collections testifies to his reputation in his
own day, but his official rank was extremely modest, strongly suggesting
how impressed even rank-conscious members of the court were with
his poetry. His poems, especially those on love, are often given complexity
by the use of a full range of makurakotoba, engo, and kakekotoba, but
his best poems are probably the simplest:

wa ga koi wa My love
yukue rno shirazu Knows no destination
hate rno nashi And has no goal;
au wo kagiri to I think only
ornou baeari zo Of meeting as its limit."

natsurnushi wo Why did I suppose

nani ka iiken Summer insects were foolish?
kokoro k ara Of my own free will
ware rno omot nt I, too, have plunged into the flame
rnoenubera nari" And now must be seared by love.

This poem contains a kakekotoba on ornohi (the traditional spelling of

ornoi, meaning love) and hi, or fire. It is not this ingenious use oflanguage
but the conviction the poem carries that earned it a place in the collection.
27° Early and Heian Literature
CONCLUSION

It is by no means difficult to find beautiful poems in the Kokinshu, though

reading it through is not as satisfying an experience as reading through
the Man'voshi; or the Shin Kokinshu, largely because of the great number
of courtly poems of little emotional intensity. But the Kokinshu formed
aristocratic taste during the Heian period and later, as we know from the
innumerable variations on Kokinshu poems by later poets and from the
equally numerous allusions to Kokinshu poems in works of fiction, from
The Tale of Genji on down. The tastes of the aristocrats were passed on to
the entire Japanese people. One would have to search for a Japanese who
is indifferent to cherry blossoms and tinted autumn leaves, or who cannot
see equivalents between the events of nature and those of human life.
Toward the end of the Japanese preface, Ki no Tsurayuki declared
with unmistakable confidence, "We rejoice that we were born in this
generation and that we were able to live in the era when this event [the
compilation of the Kokinshu] took place .... Those of future times who
know poetry and who understand the heart of things will look up to
old poetry as they look up to the moon in the great sky, but will they
not also cherish our poems? "84
The self-assurance manifested by Tsurayuki was richly merited, but
perhaps the compilers of the Kokinshu were overly successful. The poetic
vocabulary that they handled so skillfully was not merely a legacy to
future generations but a Procrustean bed on which poems would be
stretched; and any poem whose vocabulary or themes did not meet its
measurements would be mercilessly rejected. Nevertheless, the best of
the poets of the later collections, building on the achievements of the
Kokinshu poets, would be able to create poetry as representative of their
age as the Kokinshu was of the early Heian period.
The Kokinshu style was evolved by a relatively small number of
people, the members of the Japanese court at a particularly brilliant
period. The courtiers spent their days largely in dealing with court
business-matters of administration, precedence, and decorum. Pro-
motion was their most ardent wish, and some perfected their poetry in
the hopes that it might enable them to obtain superior rank. Only a few
were truly talented as poets, but many more were skillful enough to
participate in an uta-awase and to have one of their poems included in
an imperial anthology. Even at their least impressive, the Koltinsiu; poems
have grace, clarity of diction, and elegance of tone that would be the
object of emulation of countless later poets.
The Kokinsh o 271

Notes
I. Murase Toshio in Kokinshic no Kiban to Shahen, p. 68, linked the com-
pilation of the Kokinshi; with the efforts of the youthful Emperor Daigo
to increase imperial prestige, otherwise revealed by the compilation of
the history Sandai [itsuroku in 90 I, the prohibition on manors (shoen) the
following year, the commencement of lectures on the Nihon Shoki in 904,
and the command to compile the Engishih] and Engikaku in 905. These
undertakings reflect Daigo's absorption with the past as well as his desire
to restore the dignity the throne had earlier enjoyed.
2. Koto no ha, which can be translated simply as "words," means literally
"leaves of words," and here continues the metaphor of seeds growing
into the leaves of a plant.
3. Text in Okumura Tsuneya, Kohin Waka Shu, p. I I.
4. Notably the major preface to the Shih Ching, usually ascribed to a disciple
of Confucius named Pu Shang (also known as Tzu-hsia), though many
scholars now believe it was written by Wei Hung of the first century A.D.
See James J. Y. Liu, Chinese Theories of Literature, p. 64. For a study
specifically of the influence of Chinese literary theory on the prefaces to
the Kokinshu, see John Timothy Wixted's essay "Chinese Influences on
the Kokinshi; Prefaces" in Laurel Rasplica Rodd, Kokinshii, pp. 387-4°°.
But one should bear in mind also the strictures of Okumura, Kokin, pp.
4°4-6, who questioned whether the Japanese meant the same things as
the Chinese even when they used the same characters.
5. Translation by Liu in Chinese Theories, pp. I II-I2.
6. This might seem to limit the possibilities of poetic expression, but a
thousand years later the tanka poet Ishikawa Takuboku would write,
"People say the tanka form is inconvenient because it's so short. I think
its shortness is precisely what makes it convenient.... We are constantly
being subjected to so many sensations, coming from both inside and
outside ourselves, that we forget them soon after they occur, or even if
we remember them for a little while, we end up by never once in our
whole lifetimes ever expressing them because there is not enough content
to sustain the thought. ... Although a sensation may last only a second,
it is a second that will never return again. I refuse to let such moments
slip by." See Dawn to the West, II, pp. 43-44.
7. Okumura, Kokin, p. 18. I have used Okumura's text and notes throughout
in making my translation. Other editions are given in the Bibliography.
Other translations in Helen Craig McCullough, Kokin Wakashu, p. 5, and
Rodd, Koleinshu, p. 41. The "snow and ripples" seen in the looking glass
are, of course, white hair and wrinkles.
8. See Takizawa Sadao, "Kokinshu no Yogo," in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu
272 Early and Heian Literature
Shiryo Kankokai (ed.), KOki1] Waka Shu, pp. 295-96, for tables showing
comparative numbers of nouns, verbs, and so on, in the Man'yoshu, Kokinshu,
and Shin Kokinshic.
9. The six styles were those mentioned in the "Major Preface" to the Shih
Ching. See Helen Craig McCullough, Brocade by Night, pp. 304-5. The
meaninglessness of this division of the waka into six styles is discussed by
Ooka Makoto in Ki no Tsurayuhi, pp. I II-I2, 123-24.
10. Translation from Yoshimochi's Chinese preface by McCullough in Kolein,
p. 258. For a Japanese version of the Chinese text, see Okumura, Kolein,
P·3 82.
II. Ibid ..
12. Translation by McCullough (Kokin, p. 8) from Tsurayuki's preface.
13· Murase, Kohinsh«, p. 93·
14. Ibid., p. 73· In a similar manner, talented renga poets, even if they were
of the humblest birth, were accepted in court circles of the middle ages.
15· Ibid., p. 79.
16. The Chinese preface by Ki no Yoshimochi is dated the fourth month of
that year. The Japanese preface states only that in the fourth month of
905 the emperor commanded four men to present to him old poems that
had not previously appeared in the Man'voshu, as well as more recent
poems, including works by the compilers themselves.
17. Murase, Kokinshu, p. 96.
18. Sosei, one of the Six Immortals of Poetry, was represented by thirty-six
poems, but other Immortals even more famous than Sosei were less well
represented-Narihira by thirty poems and Komachi by eighteen. See
Murase, Kokinshu, pp. 100-I.
19. See Murase, Kokinshu, pp. 147-48, for a table by rank of both living and
dead contributors to the Kokinshu.
20. For text see Okumura, Koltin, p. 25. Other translations by McCullough
(Kokin, pp. 7-8) and Rodd (Kokinshu, p. 47.)
21. Other translations by McCullough, Koliin, p. 109, and Rodd, Kokinshu,

p. 248. These two translations of the Kokinshi; are both complete, but the
styles of the translations are quite different. Although I shall not give
references to these translations in subsequent notes, it should be remem-
bered that they provide alternate versions to mine.
22. Murase, Kokinshu, p. 115.
23. Preface to Kokinsbi; 305 by Oshikochi no Mitsune. The retired emperor,
who lived at the Teiji-no-in, was Uda.
24· Kokinshu 76.
25. See Okumura, Kokin, pp. 396-97, for a discussion of the use of prefaces
to designate particular flowers.
26. Note to Kokinshu 283.
27. Kokinshu 406. For a translation of the poem itself, see below, p. 362.
28. Okumura, Koki», p. 393.
The Ko k i n s h u 273

29. Kokinshii 691. Nagatsulti is the poetic name of the ninth month; the name
contains naga, or "long," because autumn nights were always said to be long.
30. Poems in the persona of a woman are found in Chinese poetry of the Six
Dynasties. See McCullough, Brocade, p. 59, for one such poem. As far as
I know, women did not write poems in the persona of a man.
31. See Masuda Shigeo, "Kokinshu no Chokusensei," p. 36, in Nihon Bungaku
Kenkyu Shiryo Kankokai (ed.), Koliinshu,
32. See poems 522, 520, 521, 540, 516, 552, 506 and 551 for a sequence ap-
proximating the one I have given.
33· See poems 629, 630, 63 1, 65 1, 653, 659, 673, and 674·
34· See poems 617, 618, 573, 5 I l , and 595·
35· See poems 578, 579, 581, 582, 584, and 520.
36. Masuda, "Kokinshu," p. 38, pointed out that there is only one poem each
on the unohana and tokonatsu, flowers often mentioned in later poetry.
37. Okumura (in Kokin, pp. 398-99) describes how a famous poem by Oe no
Chisato, a poet of the generation immediately before Tsurayuki's, was
not included in the Kokinshu because it described the misty moon of a
spring night. The poem was, however, chosen by the editors of the Shin
Kokinshu because they preferred mistiness to an unclouded moon.
38. Notably by Okumura in Kokin, pp. 394-95.
39. Kokinshi; 404· The poem also appears in Shuishu (poem 1228), with a
somewhat different headnote. See Okumura, Kohin, pp. 391-95, for a
discussion of the poem. Another translation by McCullough in Kohin, p.
96. McCullough takes the traveler mentioned in the headnote as the water
scooper, and her translation concludes: "so, unsatisfied, I part from you."
The poem was praised by Fujiwara Shunzei (in Korai FuteishO) for its
mastery of syntax and its simplicity.
40. The word akade, "unsatisfied," applies to both what precedes (the woman
who does not get enough water to drink) and what follows (the man who
has not yet had his fill of the company of the woman who leaves him).
The first three lines of the poem have been interpreted as ajo, or preface,
to the remainder of the poem, but unlike some prefaces, this one has a
full meaning.
41. For the importance of the particles in Kokinshi; poetry, see Ooka, Ki no
Tsurayuki, p. 103.
42. Kokinshi; 460. This is a butsumei poem with the name Kamiyagawa
"concealed" in the text.
43. Poem 804 in the Kokinsh«. Text in Okumura, Kokin, p. 273. Another
translation in McCullough, Kokin, p. 176. McCullough includes both
meanings of aki in her translation. See also her comments in Brocade,
P·33 6.
44. Kobinshu 60.
45· Okumura, Kokin, p. 45·
46. Kokinshu 301. The poem does not specify the waves are in a river (rather
274 Early and Heian Literature
than the sea), but this can be inferred from the familiar image of red
autumn leaves floating on the blue waters of a river.
47. Konishi [in'ichi, "The Genesis of the Kokinshi; Style," pp. 135-47.
48. See Ozawa Masao, Kolonshi; no Sekai, pp. 114-16.
49. Kokinshu 317. Okumura, Kohin, p. 124, calls attention to the Man'yoshu
poem (no. 2319) that has the same two opening lines, and suggests this is
a response.
50. See above, pp. 229-23°.
51. Koliinshi; 973·
52. Similar examples of word associations are found, of course, in James Joyce's
Finnegans Wake.
53. See Ozawa, Kokinshu no Sekai, pp. 104-13, for a discussion of personifi-
cation. See also Ando Teruyo, "Kokinshu Kafu no Seiritsu ni oyobaseru
Kanshibun no Eikyo ni tsuite," in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo Kan-
kokai (ed.), Kokin Waka Shu, pp. 183-85. Ando estimated that 130 Kokin-
shu poems employ the device of personification of natural objects.
54. Ozawa, Kokinstu: no Sekai, p. 105. On p. 106 he gives a table of eighty-
five examples of personification involving hototogisu, cherry blossoms,
uguisu, wild geese, the wind, the ominaeshi (a kind of flower), haze, and
kirigirisu (crickets), plus a listing of thirty-six instances of these natural
objects being addressed by the poet.
55· Kokinshi; 154·
56. Kokinshi; 49·
57. Kokinshu 21 3.
58. Kokinshi; 221.
59. Kohinshi; 77· The priest's name is also pronounced Zoku.
60. Ozawa, Kokinshi; no Seeai, p. 225.
61. See E. B. Ceadel, "The Oi River Poems and Preface."
62. Ozawa, Kokinshu no Sekai, p. 236. For a brief discussion in English of
Kokin Waka Rokujo, see Konishi [in'ichi, A History ofJapanese Literature,
II, pp. 205-6.
63. The topics were generally stated in four Chinese characters. This remained
true even of the later anthologies, but the topics became rather more
complicated. One finds, for example, in the Shin Kokinshi; such topics as
"mist obscures the distant trees" (number 72) or "in a mountain hut to
await the blossoms" (number 79).
64. The same was true of Chinese poetry as well; a poem that did not allude
to a work by some great predecessor seemed insubstantial and flat.
65. Poems 352-54. During the festivities, the screen was placed behind the
seat of the person whose birthday was being celebrated. The three poems
are translated by McCullough in Kokin, P: 85.
66. Kokinshu 512. Okumura (Kokin, p. 190) takes the subject to be "I" rather
than "we."
67· Kokinsh« 77 2 .
The Ko k in sh u 275

68. Koeinsh« 588. Translation from McCullough, Koliin, p. 217.

69. According to Kaneko Motoomi (Kokin Waka Shu Hyoshaku, I, p. 621),
this was the first poem ever to mention the cherry blossoms of Yoshino.
Earlier poets had written about the clear-flowing rivers and the beauty
of the mountains, or about the snow, but not about cherry blossoms.
70. The most convenient edition of Tsuravulei Shu is included in Hagitani
Boku, Tosa Nikki, in Nihon Koten Zensho series.
71. Gosenshu 719. Text in Katagiri Yoichi, Gosen Waka Shu, p. 220. For a
discussion of the poem, see Ooka, Ki no Tsuravuhi, pp. 57-59.
72. Kokinshi; 25.
73. See Ooka, Ki no Tsuravulti, p. 95.
74. See ibid., pp. 171-74, for similar observations.
75. See the interesting observations by Yoshikawa Kojiro, the great Japanese
scholar of Chinese literature, considered by Ooka in ibid., pp. 1°9- 1 I.
76. Ibid., p. 194.
77. Gosenshii 146. See Katagiri, Gosen, p. 47.
78. Shuishu 1322. See Komachiya Teruhiko, Shui Waka Shu, p. 387.
79. Koliinshu 791. Fields were burned to improve the fertility of the soil before
a new crop was planted.
80. Kokinslu; 681. Mention of "each morning" has suggested to some com-
mentators that she and her lover have been spending their nights together,
and that is why she looks bedraggled. I prefer the interpretation that she
fears that, having grown old, she has lost her beauty. (See Kyilsojin Hitaku,
Kokin Waka Shu, III, p. 197.)
81. Kokinshu 84. See Robert H. Brower and Earl Miner,Japanese Court Poetry,
pp. 192-93, for further discussion of this poem. See also McCullough,
Brocade, pp. 396-400, for a discussion of Tomonori.
82. Kokinshu 6 II. Translation, by Arthur W aley, is from my Anthology, p.
77. See McCullough's discussion of Mitsune in Brocade, pp. 401-8. See
also Brower and Miner,Japanese, pp. 175-76. The most extensive discus-
sion of Mitsunes poetry is found in Minegishi Yoshiaki, Heian Jidai Waka
Bungaleu no KenkYu, pp. 11-149.
83. Koleinshu 600
8+ Text in Okumura, Koein, p. 26. Other translations in McCullough, Kolein,
p. 8, and Rodd, Kokinshu, p. 47.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Abe Akio. Nihon Bungaku Shi, Chuko-hen. Hanawa Shobo, 1966.

Akiyama Ken. OcM Bungaku Shi. Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1984.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1961.
 Early and Heian Literature
Ceadel, E. B. "The o. River Poems and Preface," Asia Major 3: I, 1952.
Hagitani Boku. Tosa Nikki, in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shimbun
Sha, 1950.
Kaneko Motoomi. Kolan Waka Shu Hyoshaku, 2 vols. Meiji Shoin, 1927.
Katagiri Yoichi, Gosen Waka ShU, in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series.
Iwanami Shoten, 1990.
Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
Kojima Noriyuki and Arai Eizo. Kokin Waka Shu, in Shin Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1989.
Komachiya Teruhiko. Kokin Waka Shu, in Obunsha Bunko series. Obunsha,
1982.
- - - . Shui Waka Shu, in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami
Shoten, 1990.
Konishi [in'ichi, "The Genesis of the Kokinshi; Style," trans. by Helen C.
McCullough, Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 37: I, 1978.
- - - . A History ofJapanese Literature, II, translated by Aileen Gatten. Prince-
ton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1986.
Kubota Shoichiro, Sugitani [uro, and Fujihira Haruo. Kokin Waka Shu, Gosen
Waka Shu, ssa. Waka Shu, in Kansho Nihon Koten Bungaku series. Ka-
dokawa Shoten, 1975.
Kyusojin Hitaku. Kokin Waka Shu, 4 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko.
Kodansha, 1979-83.
Liu, James J. Y. The Art of Chinese Poetry. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul,
1962.
- - - . Chinese Theories of Literature. Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1975·
McCullough, Helen Craig. Brocade by Night. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Uni-
versity Press, 1985.
- - - . Kokin Wakashu. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1985.
Minegishi Yoshiaki. Heian Jidai Waka Bungabu no Kcnhyu, Ofusha, 1965.
Murase Toshio. Kokinshu no Kiban to Shuhen, Ofusha, 1971.
Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo Kankokai, Kokin Waka Shu. Yuseido, 1976.
Okumura Tsuneya. Kokinshu, Gosenshii no Shomondai. Kazama Shobe, 1971.
- - - . Kokinshi; no KenkYu. Kyoto: Rinsen Shoten, 1979.
- - - . Kokin Waka Shu, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha,
1978.
Ooka Makoto. Ki no Tsurayuki. Chikuma Shobo, 1971.
- - - . Shiki no Uta Koi no Uta. Chikuma Shobe, 1979.
Ozawa Masao. Kokinshi; no Selrai. Hanawa Shobe, 1978.
- - - . Kokin Waka Shu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series. Shoga-
kukan, 197I.
Rodd, Laurel Rasplica. Kokinshu. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
1984.
Yasuda Akio. Ocho no Kajintachi. Nihon Hoso Shuppankai, 1975.
 7.
LATE HEIAN COLLECTIONS
OF WAKA POETRY

SEQUELS TO THE KOKINSHU

Six collections of waka compiled by imperial command (chokusenshu)

and many private collections were set down on paper between the
presentation of the Kokinshu in 905 and the Shin Kokinshi; in 1205.'
Many poems from these collections would be remembered, and some
were included in Hyaleunin Isshu, the basic body of waka poetry known
to every literate Japanese; but the six collections have not generally been
read as artistic wholes, and relatively little scholarship has been devoted
to them.' Even their titles seem to suggest leftovers from the Kokinshi:
rather than new developments in poetry by people of later times. Each
nevertheless revealed to some extent the changed spirit and the poetic
principles of succeeding ages and contributed to the formation of the
waka tradition.

The Gosenshii

The second imperial collection, Gosen Waka Shu (Later Selection of

Waka) is generally known by the abbreviated title Gosenshii, It was
compiled in response to a command issued by the Emperor Murakami
in 951, but the date of the presentation of the completed manuscript is
not certain. Most probably it was between 953 and 958.3 None of the
five compilers was a distinguished poet; in fact, whether because of
modesty or objective considerations of poetic worth, the compilers did
not include a single poem by themselves, a rare instance of self-restraint.
The Cloistered Emperor [untoku in his book of poetics Yakumo Misho
(c. 1221) declared that the only qualification of two of the compilers was
that they were sons of famous poets.t It should be borne in mind, how-
 Early and Heian Literature

ever, that the compilers were not chosen specially for the task of pre-
paring the Gosenshii, but carried out this work as part of their duties at
the Poetry Bureau (waka dokoro) established in 951 by the Emperor
Murakami primarily for the purpose of deciphering the text of the
Man'yoshii. Perhaps the two men were chosen as scholars of the
Man'yoshi; rather than as poets; but the prestige of their fathers' names
undoubtedly enhanced their position in the world of poetry.
In any case, the compilers of the Gosenshii displayed little aptitude
for their task; the unusually large number of variants in the texts suggests
either haste or incompetence. Depending on the particular text, the total
number of poems varies between 1,396 and 1,426, and there are numerous
discrepancies both in the poems and in the prose prefaces (kotobagaki).
The arrangement of the poems is peculiar: poems that obviously should
be included in the books of love poetry are found among the seasonal
poems.'
The Gosenshii has long suffered from comparisons with its immediate
predecessor, the Kokinshii. The nun Abutsu stated in her thirteenth-
century book of poetics Yoru no Tsuru (The Crane at Night) that the
Gosenshii was marred by an unevenness that she attributed to the unequal
abilities of the compilers.vThe scholars of National Learning (kokugaku)
of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were even harsher in their
appraisals of the Gosenshu: Kamo no Mabuchi declared that good poems
were "very, very scarce," and Motoori Norinaga felt so dissatisfied with
the wording of the prose prefaces that he rewrote them himself. Twen-
tieth-century critics have not hesitated to dismiss the Gosenshii as the
dregs of the Kokinshii.7
Despite these severe criticisms, the Gosenshii is of exceptional interest,
perhaps less because of the intrinsic quality of the poems than because
of what they reveal about the daily composition of waka during the
Heian period. The poems in the Gosenshii were largely composed by
amateurs writing under informal, usually private circumstances, rather
than the polished works of "professional" poets intended for "publica-
tion" at the court. The collection contains many waka by poets who
figured prominently in the Kokinshii, including seventy-six by Ki no
Tsurayuki, but the new poets-the contemporaries of the compilers-
differed from the Kokinshii poets not only in their tastes but in their
social positions." They included emperors and princes as well as officers
of the highest ranks, evidence that waka composition was now being
practiced even by the kind of persons who at the time of the compilation
of the Kokinshii preferred to express their poetic thoughts in kanshi.
Many poems in the collection are occasional, and the events that
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 279

inspired the composition are often explained in prose prefaces. The

poems tend to describe minor, even trivial events of daily life, and seldom
have the "public" character of the poems that were inscribed on screens
or composed at uta-awase competitions. Many poems take the form of
dialogues between men and women. Both parts of the dialogue are
given, though this was not true of any other imperial collection. They
show every sign of having been poems that were actually composed by
lovers the morning after a tryst or by friends at a party, and what they
lack in literary value they possess as documents of an era. The poems
in the Gosenshii are all in the form of waka, without even the token
representation of choka and sedoka found in the Kokinshu.
Following the example of the Kokinshi: (and the Man'yoshu before
it), the Gosenshu was in twenty books, but the divisions were different,
as was the arrangement of poems within each book. Eight (instead
of six) books were devoted to seasonal poems; six (instead of five) to
love poems; and four (instead of two) to miscellaneous poems." The
seasonal poems are arranged temporally, like those in the Kokinshu: the
first poem is dated the first day of the first month, and similar notations
before other poems give the impression that the march of the seasons
was carefully observed. In a sense the Gosenshu is even more rigorous
than the Kokinshu in its attention to the progress of the seasons: in the
Kokinshu, for example, each flower is treated through its cycle of early
blossoming, full bloom, and scattering before moving on to the next
flower, but in the Gosenshii flowers that blossom at the same time are
treated together.'?
The other books of the Goscnshii show no signs of systematic ar-
rangement. Unlike the love poems in the Kokinshu, which are arranged
to trace the course of a love affair, the Gosenshu love poems open with
one composed after the first meeting, and there is no chronological
progression, though poems on related themes are sometimes grouped
together.
About half the poems in the Gosenshu are anonymous. Some twenty
were borrowed from the Man'yoshi; and others came from the Shinsen
Man'yoshu, but the bulk probably originated in the same body of un-
collected poetry that supplied many anonymous poems to the Kokinsb«,
The anonymity of some poems may have been deliberate, as when a
high-born lady revealed in her poem a secret love affair. Some anony-
mous poems may antedate the Kokinshu, and others no doubt were
composed shortly before the compilation of the Gosenshii, but the stylistic
differences between two poems on a similar subject, even poems com-
posed a century apart, are generally not sufficiently pronounced for us
280 Early and Heian Literature

to decide which was composed earlier. The retention of the forms of

classical grammar and a restricted vocabulary would continue to produce
this kind of anonymity for almost a millennium, in disregard of the
changes that had occurred in the spoken language. The relative neglect
of the Gosenshii can be understood in terms of the scarcity of distinctive
voices among the poets, whether named or anonymous.
Few poets are known specifically as "Gosenshii poets." Fujiwara no
Kanesuke (877-933) had had four poems included in the Kokinshii, but
he was more generously represented in the new collection with thirty-
two poems, most in the uncomplicated manner that was favored by the
Gosenshii compilers. One affecting poem, composed after the death of
his wife, was sent to his friend Tsurayuki on the last day of the year. It
bears the prose preface "Composed on the last day of the last month of
the year in which my wife died, while telling tales about the old days."

naki hito no If only the year

tomo ni shi kaeru Would return together with
toshi naraba She who is no more,
kureyuku kYo wa This day that draws to an end
ureshiltaramashi Would fill me with happiness.

Tsurayuki responded:

kouru rna ni If, while you still love,

toshi no kurenaba The year has come to a close,
naki hito no Parting from someone
toaltarc ya itodo Who is no more must make her
toku nari nan II Seem all the farther away.

Most of the 227 Gosenshii poets (as opposed to only 126 named
Kokinshii poets) either were minor poets or else were better represented
in other collections, and the Gosenshii poems tend to be remembered
because of the circumstances related in the prefaces.
A small sample of Gosenshii poetry may suffice to suggest the char-
acteristics of the collection. The numerous dialogue poems are typified
by the exchange between the celebrated Taira no Sadafun (also known
as Heichu, c. 870-923)12 and a court lady whose name is not given in
the text, though we know from other sources that she was a grand-
daughter of Ariwara no Narihira. The preface mentions in vague terms
her relationship with Fujiwara no Kunitsune (829-908), the uncle of
Shihei (Tokihira), the prime minister. Kunitsune, though much older
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry

than the lady, was in fact her husband, and Shihei stole his wife from
him." These circumstances provide the background for the most dra-
matic of the 180 sets of dialogue poems in the Gosenshii:" It opens with
a prose preface:

Taira no Sadafun was carrying on a clandestine affair with a woman

in the household of the Major Counselor Kunitsune. They had gone
so far as to exchange promises of marriage when the woman was
suddenly carried off as his bride by the late prime minister, and
Sadafun had no way even to write her. The woman had a daughter
of five, and one day when the girl was playing by the west wing of
the prime minister's residence, Sadafun called to her. "Show this to
your mother," he said, and wrote this poem on her arm:

mukash: seshi Solemn promises

wa ga kanegoto no We made so long ago have
kanashiki wa Ended in sadness;
ika ni chigirishi What fault was there in our vows
nagOrl naruran That they have ended this way?

Her reply was:

utsutsu ni te Who made a promise

tare chigiriken In the world of reality?
sadame naki The I who wanders
yumep nt mayou An uncertain path of dreams
ware ware ka wa 15 Is surely not the same I.

Another feature of the Gosenshu is the use of words outside the

elegant poetic diction established by the Kokinshu. In the haikai, or
comic, section of the book of miscellaneous poetry in the Kokinshu some
words that fell outside the approved vocabulary were tolerated, but in
the Gosenshu (though not in later court anthologies) they might appear
in serious contexts, as in the following example.
"A certain man went to the country house of a woman with whom
he had been intimate and knocked on her gate, but she seemed not to
have heard him. As he waited before the shut gate, he heard frogs
croaking in a nearby rice field, and he wept."

ashihiki no A forlorn scarecrow

yamada no siizu Stands in the mountain paddy,
 Early and Heian Literature

uchiwabite Difficult to cross;

hitori kaeru no As 1 leave, alone, 1 hear
ne wo zo nahinuru 16 The cries of frogs, and 1 weep.

This anonymous poem has for its first line the familiar makurakotoba
ashihiki no (foot-dragging), the standard, more or less meaningless, ep-
ithet for yama (mountain), but here it accords with the tone of the whole
poem and even seems to characterize the forlorn scarecrow standing in
the mountain paddy." There is kakekotoba on kacru: in the phrase hitori
kaeru it means "I return alone," but haeru no ne means "the cries of
frogs." Again, the verb naku (in nakinuru) refers to the frogs' crying,
but also to the speaker's weeping when he must leave without seeing
the woman. A word like kacru for "frog" (or like sozu for "scarecrow")
might have appeared in a comic verse, though not elsewhere in the
Kokinshu; in the Gosenshii it is not out of place even in an unhappy
context.
Another feature of the Goscnshii is the exceptionally large number
of poems by women. Lady Taifu, though a minor poet, is represented
in the collection by sixteen poems, second among women poets only to
Ise with seventy. Her lover, Ono no Michikaze (894-966), was renowned
both as a calligrapher and a lover. The prose preface tells us, "Sent
when Michikaze paid her a secret visit and her parents, hearing of this,
forbade her to see him."

ito kakute Rather than let things

. .
yammuru yon u/a End in this uncertain way,
tnazuma no 1 want to see you
hikari no ma ni mo Even for the brief space of
kimo wo miteshi ga 18 A lightning flash in the dark.

Perhaps the Goscnshii poem most often quoted in later works of

literature was by Fujiwara no Kanesuke:

Once, on a day when the prime minister, then general of the Left,
offered a banquet to celebrate victory in the sumo matches, the poet,
then a middle general, visited his residence. When the banquet had
ended and the guests were leaving, two or three high-ranking noble-
men detained him and insisted on their drinking together. After he
had consumed a good deal of sake and was quite inebriated, the
conversation turned to the subject of children, and he composed this
verse:
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry

hito no oya no The heart of the parent

kokoro no yami ni Of a child is not shrouded
aranedomo In the dark of night,
ko wo omou michi ni But for love of that child
madoinuru kana!') How it has strayed from its way!

The tone of the poem may recall the Man'voshi; rather than the
Kokinshu.20 A special connection between the Man'yoshi; and the Gosenshii
can be explained in terms of the work of the Poetry Bureau." Twenty-
four Man'yoshu poems, all anonymous, were incorporated into the Go-
senshii, but this could have been less a case of direct borrowing than of
choosing songs that were still known orally." It may be that the normal
reaction against the work of their immediate predecessors inspired the
Gosenshii compilers to look beyond the Kokinshi; to the Man'voshi: for
inspiration and guidance." In any case, the rejection of the model of the
Kokinshi; made the Gosenshu an anomaly among the imperial collections
of waka, and this may be why it still engages the attention of Japanese
scholars.

The Shuishu

The Shui Waka Shu, commonly known as the Shuishu, was the third
imperial collection. The title, meaning "Collection of Gleanings," sug-
gests that it was no more than a further mining of a body of poetry
that had already been explored by the compilers of the two earlier
anthologies. This impression is not altogether mistaken; though new
voices were also heard, there was a noticeably generous selection of waka
by Kokinshu poets (including 106 by Ki no Tsurayuki), as well as 122
poems attributed to Hitomaro and other Man'yoshu poets. Some of the
Gosenshii compilers are represented here (though not in the Goscnshui,
but that collection as a whole did not exert much influence over the
compilation of the Shuishu.
The circumstances of the compilation of the Shuishu are obscure.
The first stage was apparently in the form of a shorter anthology with
a similar title, Shuisho (Selection of Gleanings), made between 996 and
999 by Fujiwara no Kinta (966-1°41), the most admired poet of the
day. This work served as the framework for the Shuishu, compiled about
1005 by the Retired Emperor Kazan (968-1008).24 Nothing indicates
whether this anthology went through the same stages of preparation as
the earlier ones-the issuance of an imperial command to compile an
 Early and Heian Literature

anthology, the selection of texts, the submission of the completed an-

thology for the emperor's approval, and so on. It may have been con-
sidered as the private project of Kazan, who had long demonstrated a
passionate interest in waka composition. Indeed, from the time of its
completion until the early part of the nineteenth century it was mistak-
enly believed that the Shuisho was a selection of the best poems in the
Shuishu, and for that reason it was treated with greater respect than the
im perial collection."
The present text of the Shuishu is divided into the usual twenty
books, but the divisions are unconventional. For example, there is only
one book for each of the four seasons, in contrast to other collections
that give two books for spring and autumn poems." The representation
of contemporary poets is meager: Fujiwara no Kinta led the rest with
fifteen poems, but there is only one by Izumi Shikibu, and none at all
by Murasaki Shikibu or Sei Shonagon, both of whom were actively
writing at the time. The emphasis was definitely on the past, and every
attempt was made to link the collection to the Kokinshu.
Many poems were composed on public occasions in the manner of
the Kokinshu, and (like the KokinshU) the collection contains a large
number of poems for inscription on screens. The poets of the Shiasht;
were often called upon to enhance the landscapes depicted on screens
by describing the emotions of the people in the paintings or else of the
poet on contemplating the scenes in the paintings. A screen poem by
Ise27 exhibits the impersonality typical of such poems:
"At a place on the screen at the high priestess's palace showing a
man going along a path through the mountains."

chiri chirazu Have they fallen or not?

kikimahoshiki wo That is what I would ask if
furusato no I could meet someone
hana mite kaeru Who has returned from seeing
hito mo au/anan" The blossoms in the old town.

Ise's poem was skillful and fulfilled its purpose as an explanation of

the thoughts of the man in the picture, but it reveals nothing of herself,
nor does one get the impression that she was addressing the poem to
another person. Ise and most of the other Shuishu poets, unlike those
of the Gosenshu, were "professionals," and the chief criterion of Fujiwara
no Kinta and the Retired Emperor Kazan in making their selection of
poems seems to have been an absence of faults rather than marked
individuality.
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry

The seasonal poems in the Shuishu are arranged in the usual temporal
sequence, opening with:
"Composed at a poem competition held at the house of Taira no
Sadafun."

haru tatsu to Is it only because

iu bakari ni ya The calendar says spring has come?
mi Yoshino no Even the mountains
yama mo kasumite At Yoshino this morning
kesa wa mivuran?' Are faintly touched with haze.

This waka by Mibu no Tadamine, one of the Kokinshu compilers,

was no doubt chosen to head the Shuishu because the early spring haze
hovering over the mountains at Yoshino was an extremely familiar poetic
image for the beginning of spring. Yoshino was remembered as the site
of temporary imperial residences in Man'yoshu times, and the arrival of
spring at so holy a place was therefore of special poetic interest. The
poet says he knows that, according to the calendar, spring has officially
begun, but that is not all: the haze tells him that the spring has reached
even the remote mountains at Yoshino, known for its heavy snows.
Tadarnine's waka was extravagantly admired. Kinta, who had orig-
inally selected it to head his collection Shtiisho, declared that the "wording
is magical and there are almost too many overtones.l'vFujiwara Shunzei
(I I 14-1204) called attention to the word mo (even), suggesting the poet's
surprise on discovering that spring had come to the mountains at Yosh-
ino; he had not expected it would even have reached the village below."
Admittedly, Tadarnine's poem displays more than usual competence,
but it is unlikely to touch the hearts of modern readers. The poem was
originally composed at an uta-awase, a public occasion, and this may
explain its impersonality. Its position at the head of the collection is
unmistakable evidence that this mode of expression was favored by the
compiler.
These two poems from the Shuishu were both by poets of an earlier
generation, chosen because the Kohinshic ideal of courtly poetry was still
the ideal of the compilers. The newer poems, by men and women active
at the time of the compilation, were in much the same mood and style,
revealing little that was original even to the extent that the Goscnshii
poems were original.
A waka by Fujiwara no Tameyori (d. 998), composed at an uta-
awase held in 977 at the house of Fujiwara no Yoritada (924-989), the
father of Kinta, typifies the contemporary poetry in the Shuishu. Like
 Early and Heian Literature

many poems in this and later collections, it was on an assigned topic

(dai). Yoritada is referred to in the prefatory note as "Rengi," his post-
humous title.
"Composed at the house of Prince Rengi on the topic of 'night insects
in a grass thicket.' "

obotsuhana It's a mystery-

izuko naruran Where does that singing come from?
mushi no ne u/o If I should seek out
tazuneba kusa no Those cries of insects, the dew
tsuyu ya midaren" On the grass might be disturbed.

Tarneyori's waka does not seem to satisfy the requirement that it

refer to "night insects," but we know from other sources that this poetry
competition was held on a night when moonlight illuminated the shrub-
bery around Yoritada's house, and this may have obviated the need to
make a more overt reference to the night than the poet's professed
inability to tell where the singing of the insects originates. The poem is
innocuous, even agreeable, but the subject seems contrived, and the poet's
fear that searching in the thicket for the insects might shake the dew
from the grass cannot be taken seriously.
The playful element in courtly verse was emphasized by the revival
of poetry containing "hidden words.':" a category found in the Kokinshu
but not in the Gosenshii, Such poems were obviously not composed in
order to express the poet's emotions but in the hopes of winning the
approbation of the court by a display of wit. Fujiwara no Sukemi
(d. 9S6?) was known as the most accomplished writer of poems con-
taining "hidden words." Almost all his surviving poems are in the comic
vein, typified by this example:
"After a mouse had given birth to its young on the belly of a koro.'

toshi wo hete Through all the years

kimi wo nomi koso With you and you alone
nesumitsure Have I slept and lived;
kotohara ni yawa How could I have another
ko u/o ba umubclii" Woman bear a child of mine?

Sukerni's poem contains two "hidden words." The first, nesumi (sleep
and live), is a virtual homonym of nezumi (mouse); and kotohara (dif-
ferent belly) means the womb of another woman but also the "belly"
or sounding-board of a koto. The puns are clever, but the interest of
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry

the poem, at least for modern readers, lies less in the hidden words than
in the crudity of the question addressed the lady; it demonstrates that
even at the court that produced this elegant but bloodless anthology not
every poet sang the beauty of autumn leaves or worried about disturbing
the forest dew.
The most striking of the Shaisha poets was undoubtedly Sone no
Yoshitada (923?-IO03?), though many of his best poems appeared in
other collections as well. In his own day Yoshitada was known as an
eccentric because his unconventional language at times violated the ac-
cepted poetic diction. Some of his vocabulary was new and other words
had not been used since the Man'yosha, but even if such deviations
sometimes served no other function than to startle, his evocations of real
emotions contrasted with the more typical, genteel poetic conceits found
in the Shaisha. Yoshitada was ostracized by other court poets, and one
poem in particular was denounced as the work of a madman by a later
critic," largely because he had mentioned a clump of wormwood
(yomogi), a common weed that grows to a height of four or five feet at
most, as if it were a stand of trees being grown for lumber, seeing the
wormwood through a cricket's eyes:

nake ya nake Weep, yes, weep your fill,

yomogz ga soma no Crickets under the stand
kirigirisu Of wormwood plants:
kureyuku aki wa Autumn drawing to a close
ge ni zo kanashiki36 Is enough to break one's heart.

Yoshitada never rose above the sixth rank, and he was excluded
from many court functions, but his importance as a poet was recognized,
as we can infer from the inclusion of nine poems in the Shaisha, though
they did not accord with the prevailing tone of the collection. The appeal
of his poetry to his contemporaries is suggested by the following:

akikaze wa o autumn wind,

fuki na yaburi so Do not blow and destroy
wa ga yado no The spider webs
abara kakuseru That hide the gaping cracks
kumo no sugaki W0 37 Of my derelict hut.

Yoshitada's poem is unconventional in its mention of cobwebs and

his ramshackle hut, but the image of cobwebs hiding the dilapidated
walls has a poetic delicacy that probably pleased even the fastidious
288 Early and Heian Literature

compilers of the Shuishu. More than ninety poems by Yoshitada appear

in this and later imperial collections, reflecting the continued interest in
his work; but many excellent poems were not accepted by the editors
of any anthology, perhaps because they seemed too controversial. On
the other hand, this unconventionality accounts for the freshness that
makes Yoshitada's poems stand out among those of his age.
The practice of composing sequences of one hundred poems also
seems to have originated (about 960) with Yoshitada. Perhaps dissatis-
faction with the brevity of the waka inspired him to compose a series
of poems in which each poem, though independent, fitted smoothly into
the longer sequence and was linked by spatial or temporal relationships
to the preceding and following poems. The content was also distinctive.
Yoshitada departed from the customary reliance on utamakura and other
familiar waka topics, and included poems that described real scenes in
the countryside or on the coast, poems that complained of the poet's
misfortunes, and poems of satirical content." The language also violated
the normal poetic diction by including archaisms, colloquialisms and
neologisms, all in order to keep the one hundred waka from becoming
monotonous. Yoshitada's reputation as an enemy of tradition stemmed
chiefly from this poetic sequence; most of the poems in his private
collection, Sotan Shu, are far less striking."
Izumi Shikibu (970-1030) also merits special attention, though only
one of her poems appeared in the Shiiishu. This extraordinary woman,
remembered today for her diary and her many poems, of which 240
were included in later imperial collections, was probably only sixteen
or seventeen when she composed her best-known poem:

kuraki yori Coming from darkness

kuraki michi ni zo I shall enter on a path
irinubeki Of greater darkness.
harulea ni terase Shine on me from the distance,
yama no ha no tsuki40 Moon at the edge of the mount.

Izumi Shikibu borrowed her imagery from Buddhist writings, but

clearly the poem is something more personal than a conventional expres-
sion of piety. Perhaps, as has been conjectured on the basis of what we
know of her later life, she had already suffered the torment of an
unhappy love affair and was seeking guidance (the moon is a familiar
Buddhist metaphor for enlightenment) from the priest to whom the
poem was offered. Izumi Shikibu's poem stands out in the Shuishu, not
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry

only from the mass of graceful but impersonal poems but also from the
equally unruffled poetry of Buddhist priests."
The most important of the poet-priests of the Shuishu was Egyo
(1085-1164), represented by eighteen poems. Almost nothing is known
about his life, but his poems (with their prefaces) indicate that he as-
sociated with leading poets of the late tenth century, notably the com-
pilers of the Gosenshu, His acquaintance with Ki no Tokifumi, the
undistinguished son of Tsurayuki, was of special importance because
Tokifumi lent him the manuscripts of Tsurayuki's complete poems and
of The Tosa Diary:" When Egyo returned the manuscripts, a poetry
gathering was held at the Kawara-no-in, a ruined temple that had
originally been built as the palace of the statesman and poet Minamoto
no Toru (822-95). The temple, virtually destroyed by a storm and flood
in 979, was a suitable place for composing poetry on the transience of
worldly things. On this occasion Egyo composed the following poem
with its preface: "On returning the volume of the late Tsurayuki's
collected poems, which I had borrowed."

hitomalti ni Into one volume

chiji no kogane wo A thousand pieces of gold
kometareba Have been crammed;
hito koso naltare The man is no longer here,
koe wa nokoreri" But his voice still lingers on.

Ki no Tokifumi replied,

inishie no There is a limit

chiji no kogane wa To the thousand pieces of gold
kagiri aru wo Of long, long ago;
au haltari naki But no scale can measure
kimi ga tamazusa" The value of your poem.

The poems evoke the atmosphere of an informal gathering of poets,

one gracefully complimenting the other.
Although Egyo was a Buddhist priest, he did not shun the world
in the manner of the priest-poets of later times. One commentator
explained, "At the time Buddhism was more of an academic discipline
than a religion, and there was a tendency, even among those who had
entered the path of Buddhism, to think of it as knowledge rather than
as a faith.''? Priests who wrote poetry, even poetry that seemed to con-
tradict their vows of chastity or their professed rejection of the beautiful
 Early and Heian Literature

things of this world, were not exposed to criticism; rather, it was ac-
cepted that priests, especially those of aristocratic birth, could legitimately
participate in the aesthetic life of society.
Egyo's best-known poem, included in Hyaleunin Isshu, has no obvious
religious significance:
"Composed at the Kawara-no-in when people were writing poems
on the theme of autumn overtaking a ruined dwelling."

yaemugura In the loneliness

shigereru yado no Of a house where rankly grows
sabishisa ni The prickly goose-grass,
hito koso miene There is not a soul in sight:
aki u/a kinikeri46 Autumn has come once again.

The desolation of a once magnificent palace is intensified by the

absence of any other person, and the coming of autumn compounds the
loneliness.
Egyo's other poems in the Shiiishii do not leave a strong impression
of either the poet or the priest, but his celebrity in his time is attested
to by a poem of Onakatomi no Yoshinobu, one of the Goscnshii compilers:
"Having read the poetry of the priest Egya, I was wondering how
I might arrange a meeting with him when, in the middle of the seventh
month, we happened to meet at a certain place."

tanabata no Imagine meeting

chigereru tsuki no Someone I have been yearning for
uchi ni shimo In the very middle
koiioataritsuru Of the month when the two stars
hito ni au kana" Are pledged to be reunited.

The extravagance of the language (koiwataritsuru means "to go on yearn-

ing for something for a long time") and the comparison of the meeting
of Egyo and himself to the once-a-year meeting of the Herdboy and
Weaving Girl stars, conveyed Yoshinobu's immense repsect for Egyo,
but it suggests a courtliness more appropriate to Versailles than to Heian
Japan.
The most curious feature of Egyo's poems in the Shiashi; is that they
are so little concerned with Buddhism, even in an attenuated form.
However, the twentieth book of the Shiashi; is given over to poems of
mourning, a rubric that covers works of specifically Buddhist content,
including one attributed to Baramon Soja, the Buddhist priest from
Late Heian Collections o] Waka Poetry

southern India who took a leading part in the celebration of the dedi-
cation of the great Buddha at Nara in 752. But the most famous of the
Shuishu Buddhist poems is a later version of a famous Man'yoshu poem
by the priest Mansei:

yo no nalia wo This world of ours-

nani ni tatoen To what should I compare it?
asaborake The white wake behind
kogiyuku June no A boat that is rowed away
ato no shiranami" In the first light of morning.

This poem, in its Shuishu version, marked an important development

of Buddhist poems in Japanese because of its alleged influence on the
celebrated priest Genshin (942-1017).49 According to the Fulruro Zoshi
(Book of Folded Pages, 1159), Genshin had always considered the waka
to be no more than kYogen kigyo ("wild words and fancy language"},"
but one daybreak, as he gazed out over Lake Biwa from the Eshin
Temple, he saw a boat being rowed to shore, and someone standing
nearby murmured the first two lines of Mansei's waka. The experience
so moved Genshin that he realized poetry could assist religious contem-
plation, and from this time on he himself composed waka."
Similar stories would be recounted during the medieval period,"
when the composition of literature was justified in terms of the higher
truths that it painlessly communicated by means of "wild words and
fancy language." Mansei's poem, a comparison of the transience of
human life to the wake of a boat dissolving in the waters of a lake, was
a perfect example of a poem that, though not didactic in any obvious
way, conveyed a truth of Buddhism. Many more Buddhist poems would
appear in subsequent imperial collections, beginning with the next one,
the Goshuishu," In prose, too, an amusing anecdote was often provided
with a "moral" that justified the existence of what might seem to be a
frivolous tale; literature was considered to be an expedient (hoben), like
the honey on the lip of a cup that enables the patient to swallow bitter
medicine.
The Shuishu has not been studied with nearly so much care as the
Gosenshu, let alone the Kokinshu. It contains some beautiful poetry, and
in at least one respect-the inclusion of a sampling of renga-it antic-
ipated future developments, but it did not create a distinctive Shtashi;
style. Hardly a poem would be out of place in the Kokinshu; indeed,
the Shuishu has been called the grand summation of the Kokinshu style."
The first three imperial collections of waka were often considered to
 Early and Heian Literature
form a single unit; critics referred to them as sandaishu, "collections of
three generations." Subsequent imperial collections would start on a
fresh footing.

The Goshiiishii
The title of the fourth imperial collection, Goshui Waka Shu (henceforth
abbreviated as Goshuishu) suggests that it was no more than one further
sampling of the poetic heritage of the past, an anthology of waka that
had failed to impress the compilers of previous anthologies. In fact,
however, it contains poetry of considerably better quality than either
the Gosenshii or the Shuishu, and marks a change in attitude from
unconditional reverence for the past and a professed desire to save old
poetry from oblivion to an insistence on the worth of contemporary
waka. The preface states that the Goshiashi; would not include poems
from the Man'yoshu or from previous imperial or private collections that
were well known. Some poetry in fact goes back as far as the Gosenshii,
but the Goshaishu consists almost entirely of poems composed during
the eighty years since the compilation of the Shiashi; in 1005.
In 1075 Fujiwara no Michitoshi (1°47-1°99) received a command
from the Emperor Shirakawa to compile a new imperial collection.
Michitoshi was only twenty-seven at the time and not particularly famous
for his poetry, but he had already established himself as an important
figure at the court of Shirakawa, who was about to reassert imperial
authority after the long period of domination by the Fujiwara regents.
Probably Shirakawa thought that a new imperial collection would bring
back memories of the days when the emperor exercised personal rule."
Michitoshi's political activities seem to have prevented him from de-
voting much time to the compilation of the anthology, and it was not
completed for nine years. He presented the manuscript to the emperor
in 1086 and, after some revisions, it was submitted again the next year."
No sooner was the collection presented than it was subjected to
abuse. An account written seventy years later stated, "The Goshiashii is
a collection that provides a model for us of later times. However, when
it was finally completed, it was subjected to criticism of every kind.
Some said that the preface did not conform to tradition, others com-
plained that although Minamoto no Yoritsuna's poems are of no great
consequence, many were included. I find such criticism peculiar. Four
of Yoritsuna's poems are indeed included, but each one of them is
profoundly moving. This sort of error arises when one places undue
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry

importance on reputation and does not trust one's own critical

judgment."57
Nan Goshui (Faulting the Goshia), an anonymous work attributed
to Minamoto no Tsunenobu (1016-1097),58 a leading poet of the day,
attacked close to ninety poems in the Goshuishu for various faults. Much
of Tsunenobu's criticism is hardly more than nit-picking inspired by
his resentment over the choice of a younger man (and less competent
poet) as the sole editor of the collection." Regardless of the degree of
jealousy involved, Tsunenobu's poetic skills enabled him to make some
telling points. Undoubtedly, the collection has its weaknesses, but the
faults to which Tsunenobu drew attention do not alter the importance
of the Goshiashi; as a monument of eleventh-century poetry.
The Goshuishi: contains 1,218 poems divided into the usual twenty
books." The most notable feature of the arrangement of the poetry is
the revival of the book of travel poems and the inclusion of haikai
(comic) poems for the first time since the Kokinshu. There are also many
more Shinto and Buddhist poems than in earlier anthologies. The Go-
shuishu is distinguished otherwise by the preponderant role played by
woman poets-sixty-eight poems by Izumi Shikibu, forty by Sagami,
and thirty-two by Akazome Emon. The most poems by any man were
the thirty-one by the priest Noin. Only six poems by Tsunenobu were
included, no doubt a cause for his dissatisfaction. The small number
was likely occasioned by his poor relations with the compiler, Michitoshi,
but there is also a tradition that Tsunenobu himself deleted poems that
failed to meet his standards." The poets included court members of the
highest rank, but most were of the zuryo class, officials of the fourth or
fifth rank who had served as provincial governors.
The fact that eighty years had elapsed since the previous imperial
collection did not mean that there was a dearth of good poetry during
those years. One group of young poets of the period styled themselves
the Waka Rokunin To (The Six Poets Group). These men of the zuryo
class were so passionately devoted to waka composition that one of them,
Minamoto no Yorizane, requested divine assistance from the god of the
Sumiyoshi Shrine. He vowed that if he received the inspiration to write
a truly great poem he would willingly die in return. Soon afterward,
this poem, on the topic "falling leaves like rain," came to him:

konoha chiru At my house, where leaves

yado wa kikiwaku Are falling, I cannot be sure
koto zo naki What sound I hear
294 Early and Heian Literature

shigure suru yo mo On nights of autumn showers,

shigure senu to rn0 62 On nights when no showers fall.

At first no one seemed impressed by the poem, so Yorizane returned

to the shrine and prayed as before. In a dream he was vouchsafed the
reply: "Your poem was excellent. Among poems on autumn leaves it
ranks as a masterpiece. Don't you agree?" Soon afterward the worth of
the poem was widely recognized and Yorizane died.
The Six Poets were the subject of innumerable anecdotes, many
describing the difficulties they encountered in composing poetry. Noth-
ing in such works as Tales ofIse or Tales of Yamato suggests that Narihira
or Komachi ever struggled over their poems, but from this time on the
theme became familiar. 63 The difficulties experienced by the Six Poets
were not confined to expression; they were attempting to create a dis-
tinctively new kind of waka, and they turned to Chinese poetry for
inspiration." More important than their borrowing from particular
Chinese poems was their assumption of such attitudes of the Chinese
poets as preferring life in a hermit's cottage or in a mountain village to
the comforts of the court, though this was hardly true of their real lives.
Their interest in Chinese poetry also inspired their practice of composing
poems to topics from Chinese sources. Typical topics were "spring snow
by a mountain house," "remaining chrysanthemums by a pond," and
"admiring the moon at an old temple."65 Such natural scenes had often
been treated in Chinese painting as well as poetry, and it is easy to
visualize them. Human beings rarely intrude on such landscapes except
as the tiny figures of travelers set against the vastness of nature. A poem
by Minamoto no Yoriie may suggest this Chinese influence:
"Written on the theme of 'autumn evening in a mountain hut' when
people went to Zenrin-ji."

kureyukeba When it grew dark

asaji ga hara no In the weed-covered fields,
mushi no ne mo The cries of insects
onoe no shika mo And the voices of the deer
koe tatetsu nari'" Rose from the crest of the hill.

Though the scene appears pastoral, in the manner of the many Chinese
poems on hermits, the temple mentioned in the prefatory note (more
commonly known as Eikando) was situated within the city of Kyoto;
for all their professed love of lonely retreats, the Six Poets seldom
ventured beyond the immediate vicinity of the capital.
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 295

The preface to a waka by the priest Domyo made overt reference

to Chinese poetry: "Written on a painting of the 'Song of Everlasting
Regret' depicting Hsuan-tsung after his return to the capital whence he
had fled. Insects are dinning, and the whole area has turned to withered
grass. The emperor grieves over the scene."

furusato wa My old home has gone

asaji ga hara to To rack and ruin and become
arehatete A wilderness of weeds.
yosugara rnushi no All through the night I can hear
ne wo norni wo kiku67 Nothing but insects crying.

The poem describes the emotions of the Emperor Hsuan-tsung on re-

turning to the destroyed capital at Ch'ang-an, but it could equally well
be a description of a Japanese scene, of the kind familiar from waka
poetry. However, it would be a more typically Japanese poem if the
speaker were recalling someone who once lived in what was now
desolation.
Another poem in a similar vein was by the ill-fated Minamoto no
Yorizane:
"Composed when, having gone to a mountain village, it grew dark."

hi rno kurenu The day has ended

hito rno kaerinu And the visitors have left-
yarnazato wa In the mountain village
mine no arashi no All that remains is the howl
oto bahari shite" Of storm winds from the peak.

A shift to descriptive poetry, exemplified by Yorizane's poem, was

probably the most notable contribution of the Goshtdshii to the devel-
opment of Japanese poetry, but the poems in that vein are less moving
than the unforgettable poems written by women expressing their passion.
Although the Goshuishi; is generally dismissed as being "conservative,"?"
the intensity of the poems of Izumi Shikibu, Akazome Emon, and
Sagami give the collection its distinctive coloring.
Izumi Shikibu is of special interest to us because of her diary, but
her poems (with their prefaces) are also marked by an individuality that
contrasts with the unassertive elegance of much other waka poetry. In
almost any of her poems we hear her voice, which sometimes carries
modern overtones:
 Early and Heian Literature

kurokami no As I lie prostrate

midare mo shirazu Indifferent that my black hair
uchifuseba Is all dishevelled,
mazu kakiyarishi I recall with yearning how
hito zo koishiki70 He always combed and stroked it.

One explanation of the poem, perhaps too modern, is that Izumi recalls
with nostalgia, after making love with another man, her first lover.
We can hear Izumi's voice in her seasonal poetry, too, as in this pair
of spring poems:

hito mo minu Because I planted

yado no saleura wo A cherry tree at a house
uetareba That nobody visits,
hana mote yatsusu I now use the cherry flowers
mi to zo narinuru To beautify myself.

wa ga yado no The cherry tree

saleura wa kai mo In my garden has blossomed,
naltarikcn But it does no good:
aruji kara koso The woman, and not a tree,
hito mo mi ni kure 7! Is what draws the visitors.

Izumi Shikibu's most characteristic poetry describes the successive

stages of her love affairs, generally in terms of her unhappiness. Often
grief turns her thoughts to the perishability of life, as in this poem:

ari totemo I'm still alive, yes,

tanomubelti ka wa But can I depend on it?
yo no nalea wo The thing that reveals
shirasuru mono wa The true nature of the world
asagao no hana 72 Are morning-glory blossoms.

The phrase yo no nalea was often used to mean not only "the world in
which we live" but "the relations between men and women," and these
overtones are also present. The poem is classified among the spring
poems, presumably because of the mention of short-lived morning glo-
ries, but the season is hardly of consequence. Izumi Shikibu's love poetry
used nature imagery to powerful effect:

hito no mi mo For love I am ready

koi ni wa kaetsu To change even my human shape;
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 297

natsu mushi no All that distinguishes

arawa ni moyu to Me from the summer insects
mienu bahari Z073 Is that my flame is hidden.

The summer insects Izumi refers to are probably fireflies: she contrasts
their visible flames with her internal passion, and supposes that she
would prefer to be a firefly, consumed by her own fire, even at the cost
of sacrificing the human form which (according to Buddhist belief) she
acquired through merit in a previous existence.
Izumi Shikibu in later life was tormented by men who forsook her,
but the greatest pain she suffered was caused by the death of her lover,
Prince Atsumichi. It led her to consider renouncing the world and
becoming a nun.

ima wa tada Now I can only think-

so yo sono koto to Yes, that happened, and that, too,
omoiidete Recalling the past.
wasuru bakari no I wish I had some memories
uki koto mo gana 74 So sad I'd want to forget them.

The next poem has the preface "Composed about the same time,
when I was thinking of becoming a nun."

sutehaten to I feel so wretched

omou sae koso I am ready even to
kanashikere Abandon the world-
kimi ni narenishi When I think that I was once
wa ga mi to omoeba" Intimate with such a man!

The third poem of the sequence is titled "Written the Last Night of
the Year."

naki hito no I have heard there is

kuru yo to kikedo A night when the dead return;
kimi mo nashi But he is no more,
wa ga sumu yado ya And the house I live in is
tamanaki no sato" A soulless habitation.

Perhaps the most affecting of Izumi Shikibu's poems is the one

included in the collection Hyahunin Isshu, It was apparently composed
 Early and Heian Literature

early in her life, though the title and contents suggest otherwise. The
title is "Sent to Someone When I Was Not Feeling Well."

arazaran Soon I shall be dead.

kono yo no hoka no As a final remembrance
omoide ni To take from this world,
ima hito tabi Come to me now once again-
au koto mo gana 77 That is what I long for most.

Akazome Emon, though far less celebrated than Izumi Shikibu, was
also an affecting poet. In addition, she is credited with having written
the first part of the historical romance A Tale oj Flowering Fortunes. The
dates of her birth and death are not known, but her poetry indicates
that she was alive between 976 and 1041.78 Akazome was a contemporary
of Izumi, and they were apparently friends. When Akazome heard that
Izumi had separated from her first husband, she wrote a poem with
the prefatory note "Sent on hearing that Izumi Shikibu, having been
deserted by Michisada, had become intimate with Prince Atsumichi."

utsurowade Do not shift your love,

shibashi shinoda no Be patient awhile longer;
. .
mon wo mt yo See how in the Wood
hacri mo zo suru Of Shinoda the wind twists back
kuzu no uraltaze?' The leaves of the arrowroot.

The verb utsurou in the first line means to change, but also (of blossoms)
to fade or scatter. The Wood of Shinoda was in the province of Izumi;
mention of this wood surely refers to Izumi Shikibu's husband, the
governor of Izumi. Shinoda also suggests the verb shinobu, "to endure."
The arrowroot (kuzu) leaves were often mentioned in poetry in terms
of their white undersides, revealed when the autumn wind blows. The
heart of the poem is the word kaeri, meaning the "turning over" of the
leaves and the "return" of the husband. The poem can hardly be said
to be typical of Akazome's style, but its involved expression suggests the
intellectual cast of her poetry, as opposed to the more highly emotional
Izumi. The latter's reply to Akazome was, however, almost equally
complicated:

akikaze wa However fiercely

sugoku Juku tomo The autumn wind may blow,
kuzu no ha no I feel sure my face
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 299

uramlgao nt wa Will not reveal the underside

mieji to zo omou'" Of the leaves of arrowroot.

Plays on words give Izumi's poem their meanings: aki is not only
"autumn" but "satiety," suggesting that her husband is weary of her
and treats her cruelly; but, Izumi insists, she will not show bitterness
on her face. Urami means both "resentment" and "seeing the under-
side."
These and other exchanges between the two women indicate that
Akazome, more prudent than Izumi, never achieved the poetic intensity
of her friend. She was the daughter of one distinguished poet, Taira no
Kanemori (d. 990), and the wife of another, the learned Oe no Masahira
(952-1012). The attribution to Akazome of A Tale ofFlowering Fortunes
is proof of the respect that she enjoyed as a scholar of Japanese history.
Her poems reveal that she was also well acquainted with Buddhism.
The following poem is from the shakkyo (Buddhist teachings) section of
the Goshuishii:

koromo naru Unknown to me

tama to mo kakete It was attached as a jewel
shirazariki To my garment!
eisamete koso How pleasant to have awakened
ureshikarikere From my drunken stupor."

The poem refers to the Buddhist parable of the man who sewed a jewel
into the lining of his friend's garment. The friend wore the garment
unaware of the treasure it contained; the jewel is the Buddha nature
within all of us which we must discover. Akazome's Buddhist piety did
not, however, prevent her from addressing poems of prayer to the Shinto
god Sumiyoshi for her son's recovery from illness.
Akazorne's skill as a poet is confirmed by the large number of daisalru
(poems written in place of another person) she composed, more than
any other woman poet. She was repeatedly asked to compose poems
even on very private occasions:
"When Michitaka was a lesser captain, he for a time courted my
sister. Early one morning, after he had failed to keep his promise to
visit her, I wrote this poem in her place."

yasurawade I suppose you slept

nenamashi mono wo Soundly, nothing troubling you;
sayo fukete But late that same night
30 0 Early and Heian Literature

katabuku made no I stared at the moon until

tsuki wo mishi kana 82 It sank in the sky to the west.

Akazome was also much in demand for "screen poems." Although

these poems, because of their public nature, seldom express personal
feelings, by imagining the emotions of a woman portrayed in a screen
painting Akazome at times suggested she was personally involved:

haru ya kuru Will there be a spring?

hito ya tou tomo And will people come to visit?
rnatarekeri Then, I can wait.
kesa yamazato no This morning in my mountain village
yuki wo nagamete" I spent staring at the snow.

Akazome's most personal poems describe such subjects as the death

of her husband.
"When I was on my way to Ishiyama after the death of Masahira,
I saw a new house that looked extremely dilapidated. I asked what had
happened, and was told that it had fallen into this state after the death
of the occupant's father two years before. I wrote:"

hitori koso I had supposed

areyuku toko u/a That I alone lamented
nagekitsure A neglected bed,
nushi naki yado wa But here was another house
mata mo arikeri" Bereft of its master.

Akazorne's last poems, however, were cheerful, celebrating the birth

of her great-grandson Oe no Masafusa. Here is the first of the series:
"Composed after the birth of Masafusa, on asking someone to sew
baby clothes for him."

kumo no ue ni I wish I could live

noboran made mo Long enough to see him soar
miteshi gana High above the clouds
tsuru no kegoromo When his cloak of crane feathers
toshi fu to nareba'" Has grown out with the years.

Oe no Masafusa (Io4I-II II), a brilliant scholar, would live up to

Akazome's expectations; in his case, likening the baby to a crane who
will soar above the clouds was not mere hyperbole.
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 3°1

The third of the important women poets of the Goshiiishii, Sagami,

belonged to the generation after Izumi Shikibu and Akazome Emon.
She was the contemporary of Izumi's daughter, Koshikibu no Naishi,
and of Murasaki Shikibu's daughter, Daini no Sammi, both of whom
had a few poems in the Goshiiishii.
Sagami's poetry acquires its special intensity from what we know
of her life. She was married first to Oe no Kin'yori (d. 1040), a scholar
and poet whose career was largely spent as a provincial governor. It
was apparently after their return to the capital that Sagami had an affair
with Fujiwara no Sadayori (995-1045). A poem by Sagami bears the
prefatory note, "While I was married to Kin'yori, the Middle Counselor
Sadayori secretly visited me on occasion, but he seems to have found it
increasingly difficult to arrange meetings, and his visits threatened to
cease altogether. I wrote":

au kota no Even in the days

naki yori kanetc Before we became lovers
tsuraltereba You were often cold;
samo aramasht ni My sleeves are soaked with tears,
nururu sade kana" The future seems so bleak.

Sagami's husband was furious when he learned of the affair. She

related in the preface to another poem that the husband searched out
all the poems and works of fiction in her possession and burned every
one." This extraordinary action may have been intended to spite Sagami
by burning works of her composition, but Kin'yori may also have blamed
her infidelity on her readings in amorous literature. He seems to have
considered that their marriage was ended, but Sagami complained in
another poem, "When c)e no Kin'yori was governor of Sagami, I went
to his province with him, but when he became governor of Totorni, he
forgot about me and took another woman with him. When I learned
this, I sent him this poem."

Osaka no Although I do not hope

seki ni kokoro uia In my heart to see again
kayowaneda Osaka Barrier,
mishi azumaji wa I still recall with longing
nao zo koishiki88 The road we took to the east.

Sagami did not attempt to excuse her infidelity, nor even the cruelty
she sometimes showed her lovers:
30 2 Early and Heian Literature

"When the Middle Counselor Sadayori came on horseback to visit

me, he called, 'Open the gate!' but I put him off with one excuse after
another and refused to open the gate. He went away. The next day I
sent this poem."

samo koso u/a Just as I supposed-

kokoro kurabe ni In any contest of wills
maltezaramc You won't be outdone.
hayaku mo mieshi Your horse certainly looked fast,
koma no ashi kana~4 But you needn't have rushed away!

Another lover of Sagami's, Tachibana no Norinaga, was the son of

Sei Shonagon and her first husband, Tachibana no Norimitsu. This
affair must have taken place after Kin'yori went off to Tatami with his
new wife. A touching poem is a souvenir of that affair.
"I saw Tachibana no Norinaga pass by one day on horseback. It
was while his father was governor of Michinoku. Norinaga seemed to
be completely unaware he had been noticed, so I sent this poem early
the next day."

tsuna taete Yesterday I saw

hanarehatenishi A horse from Obuchi
Michinoku no In Michinoku;
Obuchi no koma u/o His reins had been broken
kino mishi kana 90 And he ran completely loose.

The poem describes Norinaga as he rides by, but it indirectly refers to

Sagami herself: now that their affair has ended, she too has been cut
adrift, like a horse without reins.
Such glimpses make us want to know more about Sagami, but there
are only scraps of information to satisfy one's curiosity. Her poems lack
the intensity that make Izumi Shikibu's so memorable, but they stand
out among the poems of passionate women in the Goshuishii,
The most important male poet of the collection was the priest Noin,
who figures in almost as many anecdotes as the Six Poets. One poem
became particularly famous because of its alleged untruthfulness.
"Composed at the Shirakawa Barrier when I traveled to Michinoku."

miyako too ba I left the capital

kasumi to tomo ni Together with the rising
tachishihado Mists of spring, but
Late Heian Collections o] Waka Poetry 3°3

akikaze zo Juku Autumn winds are blowing now

Shirakaioa no seki91 At Shirakawa Barrier.

Despite Noin's statement that he composed the poem while on his travels
in the north, rumors insisted that he had actually remained in his house
in the capital, sunning himself in order to give the impression that he
had been exposed to the elements. It makes little difference to us whether
or not Noin composed the poem at Shirakawa Barrier, but it is note-
worthy that Noin inspired such gossip; it proves that he was of excep-
tional interest to his contemporaries. Another travel poem by Noin was
less controversial.
"On the way to the province of Tsu."

Ashinoya no Day draws to a close

Koya no watari ni At the crossing of Koya
hi u/a kurenu Near Ashinoya.
izuchi yukuran Which direction should I take?
koma ni makasete" I will let my horse decide.

One other poem by Noin in the Goshuishu illustrates the practice,

increasingly common from this time, of borrowing the language or
conception from a predecessor's poem. The practice of honka-dori did
not originate with the poets of the Goshiiishi; (as we have seen)" but
from this time on it became typical of poetry composed at the court. Oe
no Yoshitoki, later governor of Tsushima, had composed this poem on
wild pinks:

kokoro aran I should like to show,

hito ni misebaya To someone who understands them,
asatsuyu ni Blossoms of the pink
nurete wa masaru Lovelier than ever when
nadeshiko no hana'" Moistened with morning dew.

Noin's poem was:

kokoro aran I should like to show,

hito ni misebaya To someone who understands it,
Tsu no kuni no The beauty of spring
 Early and Heian Literature

Naniwa watari no In the Naniwa region

haru no keshiki95 Of the province of Tsu.

Noin obviously borrowed the first two of his five lines from Yoshi-
toki's poem. His admiration for Yoshitoki's poetry was no secret: he
had become a disciple of a certain poet after hearing the latter recite,
as an example of how a waka should be composed, a poem by Yoshitoki
which he himself had long admired." It was precisely because Noin
revered the poetry of Yoshitoki that he chose to pay him the compliment
of borrowing, rather as Beethoven borrowed a melody from Mozart for
his variations-not because he had run out of original tunes, and cer-
tainly not in the hopes that nobody would suspect he had borrowed
Mozart's music, but because the melody had moved him so deeply that
he paid it the homage of allowing it to develop within his own
imagination.
In this instance, the "variation" is clearly more impressive than the
original theme. The poem by Noin was likened to a piece of writing
in kana by a master calligrapher: it shows no special artifice but achieves
with a minimum of words an indescribably poetic effect." Noin's poems
were in turn borrowed by later poets. For example, his poem on Shi-
rakawa Barrier," (see above, p. 302) inspired this variation by Minamoto
no Yorimasa (11°4-1180):

miyalta ni wa In the capital

mada aoba nite The leaves were still green
m ishikadomo When I saw them last,
momiji chirishihu But red leaves are falling in drifts
Shirahatoa no seki99 At Shirakawa Barrier.

When Yorimasa's poem was submitted at an uta-awase on the topic

of "fallen leaves on the barrier road," Shun'e said of it, "This poem
resembles the famous one by Noin, 'Autumn winds are blowing I At
Shirakawa Barrier.' All the same, the poem is sure to make quite an
impression. It is not the same as Noin's, but demonstrates that the
materials can be used in another way. It should not be criticized for the
resernblances.?"? Yorimasa's poem reads so well that it was included in
the seventh imperial anthology, Senzaishii, but it may strike modern
readers as being excessively close to its source. It makes a good example
of how much greater importance Japanese critics attached to perfection
of language than to originality.
The many anecdotes about Noin are likely to whet the reader's
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 3°5
appetite for poems in an eccentric vein, but Noin's eccentricity in poetry
rarely goes beyond conceits such as the following:

kori to mo I should like to think

hito no kokoro too Her heart was made of ice:
omowabaya The warm breeze blowing
kesa tatsu haru no Since this first morning of spring
kaze ya toku beku 101 Would surely liquefy it.

The poem probably was not inspired by Noin's heartfelt love for
some woman, but composed on the stated topic of a poetry gathering.
On such occasions even Buddhist priests wrote of love, and Noin was
no exception, but he was happiest in descriptive poetry:

yamazato no An evening in spring

haru no yiigure In a mountain village-
kite mireba Just as I arrived,
iriai no kane ni To the sound of a vesper bell,
hana zo chirikeru lO2 Cherry blossoms were falling.

Other poets of the Goshuishii might be mentioned, but the strongest

impression is left by those whose poetry was most generously selected.
Izumi Shikibu, Akazome Emon, Sagami, and Noin are memorable not
only for their poetry but for the legends that surround them. The
Goshuishu is the best of the imperial collections between the Kokinshii
and Shin Kokinshii both because of the intrinsic quality of the poetry
and because it set the direction of future collections away from the past
and toward the present.

THE LAST HEIAN IMPERIAL COLLECTIONS

The Kin'yoshu
Some forty years elasped between the compilation of the Goshiiishii and
the fifth imperial collection, Kin'yo Waka Shi; (Collection of Golden
Leaves), usually known as the Kin'yoshu, During this period conceptions
of poetry changed, largely in response to changes in the political situation.
As long as control of the country was in the hands of the Fujiwara
regents and chancellors, poetry had tended to be considered mainly as
an elegant accomplishment that ornamented the public and private lives
3 06 Early and Heian Literature

of members of the court. Such poems were most often intended to serve
as go-betweens in love affairs or to perform other social functions, and
were not expected to display profundity or the complexities of the poet's
intelligence. A poem was praised to the degree that the author had
succeeded in conveying his emotions and perceptions with the utmost
sensitivity.
A change in attitude occurred late in the eleventh century as the
Fujiwara family was gradually displaced as the de facto rulers of Japan
by retired emperors who ruled after taking the tonsure, a system of
government known as insei, or "cloister government." The first attempt
to free the throne of Fujiwara domination had occurred when the
Emperor Gosanj6 abdicated in 1072 in favor of his son, Shirakawa,
intending that the boy serve as a ceremonial figurehead while he himself
exerted actual power. Gosanjo's death in the following year prevented
him from carrying out this plan, but Shirakawa, who abdicated in 1086,
was to reign as the cloistered emperor for forty-three years until his
death in 1129.
Shirakawa and his counselors thought of poetry not merely as a
pleasant adjunct to life but as a manifestiation of a well-governed state;
waka poetry was to be the Japanese equivalent of the rites and music
described in Confucian texts.!" Such an attitude threatened to inhibit
waka composition by burdening this poetic form with an ideology that
it was too frail to bear, but Shirakawa, who still exercised power during
the reign of the Emperor Horikawa (1086-1107), seems to have allowed
Horikawa to indulge his dilettantish tastes in poetry and music. This
affected the composition of poetry at the court, but it did not signify a
return to the Kokinshu.
The outstanding poetic achievement of Horikawa's reign was the
compilation of the collection of poetry known as Horikaioa-in Ontoki
Hyakushu Waka (One Hundred Waka Composed in the Time of the
Cloistered Emperor Horikawa). The time of the compilation was 1105
or 1106. This was not an imperial collection (chokusenshu), and has
therefore been given comparatively little attention, but most of the lead-
ing poets of the day participated, regardless of whether they were "pro-
gressive" or "conservative," and the collection represents an important
development between the Goshiashi; and the Kin'yoshu,
Poetic sequences were composed from time to time during the cen-
tury and a half after Sone no Yoshitada produced his sequences of one
hundred waka, and there were numerous uta-awase at which partici-
pants composed poems on set topics. The Horikawa sequence combined
the variety of Yoshitada's with the competitiveness of the uta-awase.
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 3°7
The title of the sequence composed under the aegis of the Cloistered
Emperor Horikawa mentions "one hundred waka"; this meant that
sixteen poets each composed waka on one hundred set topics, for a total
of 1,600 poems. The sequence was on the scale of an imperial collection,
and the quality of the participants ensured that the poetry would be
exceptionally skillful. Oe no Masafusa was traditionally credited with
having set the hundred topics,'?' but this claim has been disputed by
recent scholars who believe that Minamoto no Toshiyori (I055?-1 129?,
also known as Shunrai) more probaby provided thern.l'" Many topics
were borrowed from Wakan Roei Shu (see pages 341-344).
The Horikawa sequence contains poems in the most advanced style
practiced at the court, but it was squarely in the traditions of the imperial
collections; over 40 percent of the 1,600 poems were variations on waka
in the Kokinshu, Gosenshii, or Shuishu. 106 The topics were also familiar,
giving special attention to meteorological phenomena (mist, fog, wintry
showers, and so on); flowers, insects, and birds of the four seasons; and
the stages in a love affair from the first amorous thoughts to the bitterness
of parting. A group of miscellaneous topics included mountains, rivers,
bridges, and dreams. Composing one hundred poems on topics that may
not have been of special interest to a particular poet must have been a
strain, but the compiler had a far more difficult task-to ensure that
the poems remained at a high level of proficiency and to keep the sixteen
poems on any given topic (whether hail, mosquito incense, or reeds)
from becoming tedious. If Toshiyori was in fact the compiler, it gave
him good practice for the next imperial collection, the Kin'yoshu.
The Kin'yoshu was compiled by command of the Cloistered Emperor
Shirakawa in 1124.107 The first draft of the collection was rejected by
Shirakawa, as was the second. Only on Minamoto no Toshiyori's third
attempt did he obtain the cloistered emperor's approval. The grounds
for Shirakawa's rejection of the first two versions are not clear. Some
critics have suggested that he disapproved of Toshiyori's overly "radical"
tastes in waka.l'" but surely he must have known Toshiyori's tastes when
he appointed this third son of the disgruntled Tsunenobu as the sole
compiler. Perhaps Shirakawa himself had changed during the years
since he commanded the compilation of the Goshuishu and had moved
over to the "radical" camp, at least to the extent of wishing to create a
collection that would not be one more sounding of the themes of the
Kokinshu.
All three versions of the Kin'yoshi; have been preserved, but although
there are differences in the contents (and the total number of poems),
it is not obvious why Shirakawa preferred the third to the earlier ver-
3 08 Early and Heian Literature

sions, According to a theory that goes back to Imakagami (The New

Mirror), a historical work completed in 1170, Shirakawa objected to the
prominence of a poem by Ki no Tsurayuki at the head of the first
version.!" If this was true, Shirakawa, far from opposing the radical
tendencies of his editor, expected to see an even more decisive rejection
of old poetic traditions; but there is contradictory evidence. The first
version included many poems by authors represented in the Kokinshu,
Goscnshii, and Shuishu that were pruned in the second version to present
a distinctly more modern impression; however, the inclusion in the third
version of eighty-one poems by Noin and twenty-one additional poems
from the archconservative collection Shuishu suggests that editorial policy
had shifted in the opposite direction. In any case, the second rather than
the third version of the Kin'yiishii gained recognition as the definitive
text.
The Kin'yoshu was in ten rather than the customary twenty books,
perhaps on the model of the Shuisho." O The total number of poems was
small, only 691 waka in even the most ample version. The title was the
first to depart from the practice of naming imperial collections by re-
ferring to the Kokinsha; instead of describing itself as a "later" collection
or as a collection of "gleanings" missed by the Kokinshu compilers, this
collection boldly proclaimed itself to be the "Collection of Golden
Leaves," meaning glorious poems. Some critics, however, recalling the
story that on the day of Buddha's death flowers with golden petals fell
from the sky, insisted that the title was inauspicious. I II Other, less com-
plimentary, nicknames were soon given to the collection. Fujiwara no
Moritsune called it hy'itsuki aruji (the master who leans on an armrest),
mocking the self-assurance of the compiler.!" Certainly, self-confidence
was evident not only in the title but in the unusually generous selection
of poems by Toshiyori and his father Tsunenobu: Toshiyori led all
contributors with thirty-seven poems, and his father came next with
twenty-seven, but the "enemy," the conservative Fujiwara no Mototoshi,
had only three poems included. Izumi Shikibu, who figured so prom-
inently in the Goshiashu, was also represented by a bare three poems.'!'
The "radical" tendencies of Toshiyori should not be interpreted as
a rejection of the courtliness that had been the most conspicuous feature
of waka composition since the Kokinshu; indeed, from our point of view
the Goshiashii, thanks to the startlingly passionate poetry of Izumi Shi-
kibu and Sagami, is much more immediate than the poetry of Toshiyori
and his group. His radicalism consisted mainly in his advocacy of the
poetry of contemporaries. This was generally true also of the Goshuishu,
but that collection had covered a much longer period of time than the
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry

Kin'yoshu.:" The Goshiashu had also included a greater variety of poetic

styles than the Kin'yoshu, in which the poetry is largely descriptive. The
poetry in the Km'yoshi; is fresh mainly in terms of its contrasts with the
first three imperial collections, but at times its "light" manner threatens
to become superficial.!"
The emphasis in the Kin'yoshu on contemporary poetry accounts for
another distinctive feature, the inclusion of sixteen renga in the last
book. This was the first collection to designate a renga section, though
examples of renga were also found in the Shuishu. These examples of
linked verse, unlike the extended "chains" of the medieval period, con-
sisted of a single waka composed by two persons, the first supplying the
opening seventeen syllables, and the second completing the poem with
an additional fourteen syllables. The renga would achieve far greater
complexity in later times, but it may have been as a mark of contem-
poraneity that Toshiyori included in his collection samples ofan incipient
development in court poetry.
The Km'yoshu cannot be said to be strikingly new; indeed, it contains
many poems that bear no relationship to the theories of poetry that
Toshiyori had elsewhere voiced.!" The collection opens, for example,
with this waka by Fujiwara no Akisue:
"Composed on the theme 'the beginning of spring' when, in the
time of the Cloistered Emperor Horikawa, I offered one hundred
poems."

uchinabiki Mists all pervading,

haru wa kinikeri Spring has at last arrived.
yamakatoa no Has the ice between
iwama no kari The rocks in the mountain streams
kesa ya tolruran"? Started to melt this morning?

This poem, with its observation of one natural phenomenon leading to

a conjecture about another.!" would not have been out of place in the
Kokinshu. Ak isue's place in the history of Japanese poetry is as the
founder of the conservative Rokujo school, the first real poetic "house,"!"
and definitely not as an innovator. It is strange that a poem by a man
who was the literary enemy of the compiler-a conservative who op-
posed Toshiyori's innovations-should have been honored by having
his poem head an imperial collection, but perhaps the Cloistered Em-
peror Shirakawa imposed this choice.
Another poem that appears early in the collection was by Shirakawa
himself. It is on the topic "willow threads follow the breeze." "Willow
3 10 Early and Heian Literature

threads" was a familiar term for the slender branches of the weeping
willow.

kaze fukeba When the breezes blow

yanagi no ito no The threads of willow branches
katayori ni Incline to one side;
nabileu ni tsukete And with each rippling response
suguru haru kana 120 The spring is disappearing.

Much of the poetry is charming in the courtly manner of this poem

by Fujiwara no Tsunetada (1075-1138) on the topic "the mountains are
cold and the blossoms late":

yamazahura Mountain cherry flowers-

kozue no kaze no The wind through the treetops
samuhereba Is still so chilly
hana no sakari ni That the flowers hesitate
nari zo u/azurau'?' To burst into full bloom.

The freshness of tone in the collection was not necessarily due to

Toshiyori's iconoclasm. Fujiwara no Mototoshi (1056-1142), who has
been described as the "outstanding representative of the ultraconservative
group," 122 could write no less strikingly. One of three poems by Mototoshi
included in the Kin'yoshu is on the topic "facing the water, I await the
moon: "

natsu no yo no While I waited for

tsuki matsu hodo no The moon of a summer night,
tesusabi ni To distract my hands
iwa moru shimizu I dipped again and again
iku musubishitsu'" The pure water through the rocks.

The heart of this poem is in the words tesusabi ni ("to distract my

hands"), suggesting the pleasure of letting cool water trickle from the
rocks onto his hands. Mototoshi's poem was much admired, even though
rivals had denied him adequate representation in the Kin'yoshu. His
overbearing self-confidence probably explains why he never rose above
the junior fifth rank, but he ultimately gained a niche in the history of
the waka as the teacher (in his old age) of the young Fujiwara Shunzei,
to whom he transmitted the secrets of the Kokinshu. These teachings,
Late Heian Collections oj Waka Poetry JII

later known as the Kokin Denju, were to be the most prized credential
of a waka poet for the next five hundred years.
Still, it cannot be doubted that the characteristic tone of the Kin'yoshu
was imparted by the poems of Toshiyori and his father, Tsunenobu.
The latter had a villa in the country he often visited and unlike the
many poets who, scarcely stirring from the capital, imagined the love-
liness of the autumn mountains, he had actually seen them. The dif-
ference can be detected in such descriptions of nature as the following
poem on the beginning of autumn:

onozukura Without any fanfare,

aki wa kinikeri Autumn has made its way to
yamazato no The mountain village
kuzu wa hikakaru Where arrowroot vines enlace
maki no Juseya ni l 24 The peasants' wooden shanties.

Another poem, on "autumn wind by a house in the fields," describes

the mountain hamlet of Umezu where a friend had a villa:

yu sareba When it becomes dusk,

kadota no inaba The autumn wind blows against
otozurete The huts thatched with reeds
ashi no maroya ni And pays its respects to leaves
akikaze zo Juku 125 Of rice plants before the gate.

For the most typical Kin'yoshu style we must turn to the poems of
Toshiyori, the chief "radical" poet. One may not be immediately struck,
however, by his daring. The following poem bears the heading "Com-
posed on the theme of 'the wind is calm and the blossoms fragrant' at
the palace of the empress during the reign of the Cloistered Emperor
Horikawa."

kozue ni wa Though nothing suggests

Juku to mo miede Wind blowing in the treetops,
sakurabana The cherry blossoms
kaoru zo kaze no Are fragrant-surely a sign
shirushi nariker« 126 That wind is stirring today.

The novelty of the poem comes from the conceit that even cherry
blossoms (which have no odor) are as fragrant as plum blossoms when
the spring breeze caresses them.
3[2 Early and Heian Literature

Freshness in Toshiyori's poetry is likely to be found in a particular

image rather than in the basic conception. The topic of the following
poem is "the wind over the water is cool at eventide."

kaze fuk eba When the wind blows

hasu no ukiha ni Jewels leap from the water to
tama koete Floating lily pads,
suzushiku narinu And now it has become cool-
higurashi no koel27 The voice of the cicada.

There is some uncertainty about the meaning of this poem. One com-
mentator believed that drops of water (jewels) are blown off the lily
pads into the water; but another (whose version I have followed) in-
terpreted the line as meaning that the wind caused drops of water from
the stream to jump onto the lily pads where they looked like jewels.
Whichever meaning was intended, the image is appealingly unconven-
tional, and the last line successfully transfers the impression of coolness
from the water lilies to the sound of an evening cicada (higurashi), a
harbinger of autumn.
Another poem, on the theme of "grasses of the field after the rain,"
displays Toshiyori's careful observation of nature:

kono sato mo In this village, too,

yudachi shikeri There has been an evening shower;
asapu ni In the clump of weeds
tsuyu no suguranu There is not a blade of grass
kusa no ha mo nashi't" Without its clinging dewdrop.

The poet has arrived in a village. The sky is clear, but when he closely
examines the grasses in the field he notices drops of water that tell him
it has rained here recently, just as in the place from which he has
come.
Toshiyori became prominent as a poet rather late in life; the earlier
part of his career was apparently devoted to official duties, though he
remained to the end humble in rank. The bitter feelings aroused by his
unluckiness are revealed again and again in his poetry; he may have
been the first waka poet to employ the form to express grievances.!"
The last poem in the Kin'yoshu bears the prefatory note: "Not having
obtained office until the age of seventy, my mind, as a result, has been
constantly occupied with disagreeable thoughts about everyone."
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry ]1]

nanasoJl nt Seventy years old-

michinuru shio no The rising tide has engulfed
hamabisashi The sand castle:
hisashiltu yo ni mo What a terribly long time
uzumorenuru kana 130 I have been buried in this world!

Toshiyori communicated the same resentment in another poem with-

out being so specific:

yo no nalia wa Is this world of ours

ukimi ni soeru A shadow somehow attached
kage nare ya To my luckless self?
omoisutsuredo Although I try to shake free,
hanarezariltcri'" It refuses to let me go.

Another poem by Toshiyori (not in the Kin'yoshu) is in essentially

the same vein but has a note of humor:

tsukuzuku to After much careful

hitori emu wo mo Pondering I could not but
shitsuru kana Smile to myself
aramashigoto wo As I reviewed once again
omoitsueukctc'" All the things I had once planned.

Many of Toshiyori's best poems are in the descriptive mode, and

the Kin'yoshi; is often said to mark a turning point in the development
of the waka from the conceptually viewed nature of the Kokinshu poets
to nature as actually observed. However, Toshiyori also wrote some
Buddhist poems of interest. One bears the prefatory note "Written on
a place on a painting that depicts a priest boarding a boat at the West
Gate of the Tenno-ji, where it is rowed westward away from the
shore."

Amida butsu to My voice invoking

tonauru koe wo The name of Amida Buddha
kaji nite ya Shall be my rudder
kurushiki umi wo And I will row away across
kogihanaruran 133 The sea of unhappiness.

The misery of life in this world has often been likened to a sea of pain
(kukai), and the Buddhist Law was compared to a boat that enabled the
JI4 Early and Heian Literature

believer to traverse that sea. There was also a belief that if anyone rowed
a boat from the great temple Tenno-ji in Naniwa (Osaka), where it was
customary to gaze at the sun as it set in the sea, and jumped into the
sea and drowned, he would go directly to Amida's paradise.I" Elsewhere,
Toshiyori declared his belief that poetry could not fail to be a help in
gaining salvation (uta rno yorniji wo tasukezaramc ya), a first sounding
of the medieval justification for the existence of literarure.l"
Many Kin'yoshi; poems by Toshiyori and his collaborators could be
cited to illustrate their skill at composing descriptive poetry or to dem-
onstrate their other interests. The lasting impression left by the collection
is nevertheless likely to be of poems of middling interest whose chief
appeal is their anticipation of the greatly superior poetry of the Shin
Kokinshu.

The Shikashu

The Shikashu (Collection of Verbal Flowers) is the smallest and least

interesting of the six imperial collections compiled between the Kokinshu
and Shin Kokinshu. In 1144 the Retired Emperor Sutoku (1119-1164)
commanded Fujiwara no Akisuke (1090-1 ISS) to compile a new im-
perial collection. Less than twenty years had elapsed since the final
version of the Kin'yoshu had been approved by the Retired Emperor
Shirakawa, but most of the major Kin'yoshu poets were dead, and Aki-
suke, who was not only a distinguished poet but an uncle of Sutoku,
was an appropriate choice for the compiler. He presented the completed
collection for imperial approval (probably in IISl), and it was accepted
with minor revisions the next year.!"
Akisuke seems to have modeled the Shikashu on the Kin'yoshu: it is
in ten rather than the customary twenty books, and the title, literally
"Collection of Flowers of Words," echoes the "golden leaves" of the
earlier collection.!" The title aroused adverse criticism from the start:
unfriendly critics pointed out that shi (words) was the homophone of
shi (death), a most unsuitable association for a collection that bore the
emperor's imprimatur. 138 This criticism was not taken seriously, but there
were more fundamental objections: even at the time, it was recognized
that little new poetry of worth was being composed, reflecting the
deteriorating fortunes of the court during the late Heian period. It was
alleged, moreover, that not enough time had elapsed since the compi-
lation of the Kin'yoshu for sufficient poetry to accumulate from which
a reasonable selection could be made.!" Anti-Shikashu collections were
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry ]I5
compiled to demonstrate the inadequacy of Akisukc's,"? but most of
them, unlike the imperial collection, have been lost.
The Shikashu contains 415 poems."! Its character is apparent from
the poets who were best represented: Sone no Yoshitada (seventeen
poems), Izumi Shikibu (sixteen poems), and Oe no Masafusa (fourteen
poems). The Kin'yoshu had favored contemporary poets, but the Shikashu
definitely looked back to the past. One might attribute this to Akisuke's
conservative tastes, but Yoshitada and Izumi Shikibu were hardly aca-
demic poets, and their poems in the Shikashu are especially unconven-
tional. Again, the "radical" Toshiyori was represented by eleven poems,
but there was not one poem by his conservative rival Mototoshi. These
contrary tendencies have induced commentators to describe the Shikashu
as a "middle-of-the-road" anthology; it is conservative in its preference
for relatively recent poems, but daring in its choice of old works. A
spirit of compromise characterizes the Shikashu, and although the at-
tempt to achieve a "middle way" between old and new did not lead to
distinctive poetry, more successful attempts along the same lines would
be made in the future.'?
Akisuke, following the Retired Emperor Sutoku's explicit directions,
searched for neglected superior poems from as far back as "middle
antiquity," meaning the Gosenshu period, but not including the Kokinshu.
The dissatisfaction of Shirakawa with the preponderance of new poets
in the Kin'yiishic probably also induced Akisuke to choose new poems
sparingly. He included in Shikashu some old poems that had been added
to the third version of the Kin'yoshu, and also poems that had originally
appeared in such prose works as Tales of Yamato, The Gossamer Years,
and A Tale of Flowering Fortunes. 143 Forty-five poems were derived from
uta-awase sessions held between 970 and 1150.144
The chief contribution of the Shikashu to the development of Japanese
poetry may have been Akisuke's arrangement of the poems. Ever since
the Kokinshu it had been the practice to arrange seasonal poems in the
order in which the described natural events occurred. Akisuke observed
this pattern, but he also took account of the language and imagery of
the poems in an attempt to make a collection of poems that were
originally unconnected read like a single flowing "chain" of poetry.
The opening three poems of the Shikashu illustrate Akisuke's
method.

(1) koriishi At Karasaki

Shiga no Karasahi In Shiga the sheet of ice
uchitokete Has begun to melt,
3 16 Early and Heian Literature

sazanamt yosuru And the spring breeze is blowing

haruhaz« zo Juku The little waves to the shore.
DE NO MASAFUSA

(2) kino kamo Was it yesterday

ararc [urishi u/a That hailstones beat down on us?
Shigarae: no The mist hovering
toyama no kasumi At Shigaraki over
harumcltiniltcri The nearby hills is springlike.
FUJIWARA NO KORENARI

(3) [urusato u/a The old capital

harumckinikeri Is given over to spring;
mi Yoshino no At fair Yoshino
Mikaki ga hara uro The meadows of Mikaki
kasumikometari Are covered over with mist.
TAIRA NO KANEMORI 145

Masafusa's poem had originally appeared in Horihauia-in Ontoki

Hyalrushu Waka, Korenari's in an uta-awase of 986, and Kanernori's in
an uta-awase of 960. Needless to say, a great many poems on the be-
ginning of spring had been composed at the court between 960 and
II5!. Akisuke chose from among countless examples these particular
three because he wished to display from the outset the variety of his
collection: Masafusa was a Goshiiishii poet, Korenari a Shiiishii poet, and
Kanemori a Gosenshu poet. The smoothness of the transitions from one
poem to the next must also have been in his mind. Masafusa's poem,
describing the early spring scenery over Lake Biwa, led naturally to
mention of Shigaraki in the province of Orni which borders the lake;
and the mountains of Shigaraki in turn led naturally to mention of
Yoshino in the mountains. If the first two poems had been presented
in reverse order, the transition between Lake Biwa and Yoshino would
have been difficult, and that was probably why Akisuke favored this
arrangement, though in terms of content or chronology either poem
could have been first. The connections between poems 2 and 3 are further
strengthened by mention in both of mists and by the long word haru-
mekinikeri (it has become springlike). The poems are independent, but
they are linked in a manner that would be true of later collections of
Japanese poetry, creating the impression of a hand scroll being unrolled
to disclose continuous but new scenes.
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 3 17
The fourth poem of the Shikashu, on the uguisu, is not linked by
content to either the preceding or the following poem, though it fits
into the general progression of spring. Presumably Akisuke wished to
have the "chain" of poetry shift from a general description of the new
season to a cluster of poems on a specific sight, the young shoots, and
he needed a "neutral" poem to help the transition, much as landscapes
in a hand scroll that do not easily merge together are separated by
clouds. This technique would be perfected by the masters of renga.
Again, in the sequence of late-spring poems, those describing the flow-
ering and falling of the cherry blossoms were separated by two poems
on wild geese returning to the north. The first wonders if the geese are
leaving because the cherry blossoms are even lovelier in the north, the
second suggests that the geese are leaving in order not to be saddened
by the fall of the blossoms,':" the two poems combining to make a perfect
transition between the major clusters of poems on the cherry blossoms.
The two books of love poems in the Shihasht; were arranged, much
as in earlier collections, in the order of a love affair from beginning to
final separation and forgetting the once beloved. The last two of the ten
books consist of poems on a variety of subjects-the seasons, travel,
congratulations, mourning, love, and Shinto and Buddhism. The ar-
rangement of the seasonal poems within these books is similar to the
pattern in the first four books, but it proved harder to join the other,
miscellaneous topics into a seamless sequence. Akisuke's efforts to in-
tegrate even these poems may have influenced the more successful com-
pilers of later collections.l"
There are no poets (whether men or women) who are known pri-
marily as Shikashu poets. The lack of any dominant figures is suggested
by the fact that the 415 poems were composed by 192 poets, of whom
122 were represented by only one poem. Among the contemporary
poets, Akisuke, though only four of his poems appear, was probably
the best, as his poem on the topic "relating my feelings to the moon"
may suggest:

Naniwae no As I watch the moon

ashima ni yadoru Lingering between the reeds
tsuki mireba Of Naniwa Bay,
wa ga mi hitotsu wa I am not the only one
shizumazanlteri'" To sink into obscurity.

A poem com posed in 1135 by the chancellor and former prime

minister Fujiwara no Tadamichi (lo97-II64) bears the prefatory note
JI8 Early and Heian Literature

"Composed when His Majesty, the new retired emperor, commanded

me to describe a distant view over the sea."

wata no hara When I row over

kogiidete mireba The plains of sea and gaze,
hisaliata no Far in the distance
kumoi ni magau The white waves of the offing
okitsu shiranami'" Merge with the clouds of the sky.

One poem that stands out by its individuality is said to have been
composed by the obscure Koremune Takayori, but some commentators
believe it was really by Minamoto no Toshiyori. Its topic is "falling
leaves have no voices."

kaze fukeba When the storm winds blow

nara no kareha no The withered leaves of the oak
soyo soyo to Murmuring, one to
iiawasetsutsu The other, soyo, soyo,
izuchi chiruran 150 They fall-in which direction?

The use of personification is particularly effective in this winter

poem. Another poem, this one definitely by Toshiyori, has the prefatory
note "Written on seeing women gathering spring greens in a marsh."

shizunome ga Thin ice glazes over

egu tsumu sawa no The marsh where peasant women
usu kori Gather watercress;
itsu made fubeki How much longer can it
wa ga mi naruran 151 And I remain unbroken?

The fragility of the ice, soon to be broken by the coming of spring (if
not by the peasant women), seems to the poet to suggest his own fate.
The poem is made vivid by the surprisingly realistic scene and the note
of urgency.
A few other poems attract attention because of their authors: one is
by the priest Shun'e, the son of Toshiyori and teacher of Kamo no
Chomei; another (identified, however, as anonymous) is by the young
Saigyo; another was written by the martial hero and poet Minamoto no
Yorimasa; but none is distinctive enough to warrant quotation.
In 1156 a struggle broke out between the Retired Emperor Sutoku
and his younger brother, the reigning Emperor Goshirakawa, for control
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry JI9
of the court. In the struggle, known as the Hogen Rebellion, Goshi-
rakawa with the aid of the Taira family overcame Sutoku, who was
supported by the Fujiwara.l'" The long domination of the country by
civil administrators was broken, leading to the feudal rule of the Taira
and the Minamoto, the two great military clans. Sutoku, because of his
part in the rebellion, was exiled to the island of Shikoku where he died.
A poem in the Shikashu by Sutoku expressed hopes for a reconciliation
after estrangement. The poem is about a love affair, but it is curiously
prophetic of his situation after the unsuccessful rebellion:

se wo hayarni The current is fast

iwa ni sekaruru And the valley stream is blocked
tanikatoa no By the river rocks;
warete mo sue ni It divides, but at the end
awan to zo omou'v Surely it will reunite.

Two years after the Hogen Rebellion, in IIS8, Goshirakawa abdi-

cated in favor of his son Nijo, but continued to rule as the retired
emperor. About 1165 Nijo commanded Fujiwara no Kiyosuke.l" the
son of Akisuke, to compile a new imperial collection of waka. The Shoku
Shikashu (Continued Shikashu), as it was called, was much larger than
the Shikashu, consisting of 998 poems in twenty books. Kiyosuke pre-
sented the manuscript to Nijo, expecting that it would be recognized
as the seventh imperial collection, but the emperor died in the same
year, 1165. Lacking his approval, the Shoku Shikashu ranks only as a
private collection.!"
The poets of the Shoku Shikashu were chosen from the period be-
tween the Goscnshii and Kiyosuke's day. That was about the same range
for the Shikashu, but Kiyosuke gave preference to recent poets, including
the unhappy Sutoku. The selection of poets was fair, with no noticeable
prejudice directed against schools other than the compiler's, but the
Rokujo poets were prominent all the sarne.!" The poems, unlike those
written in happier times, when the atmosphere of the Heian court was
tranquil and the falling of the cherry blossoms might have been the
most dramatic incident in the poets' lives, included some that seem to
have had for their background the warfare of the mid-twelfth century.
During the years after the Hogen Rebellion, the Taira family es-
tablished its supremacy. Taira no Tadamori had composed poems that
were included in the Kin'yoshu and Shikashu, but his son Kiyomori
exhibited no interest in poetry. The next generation of Taira made up
for Kiyomori's indifference by the eagerness with which it adopted the
32 0 Early and Heian Literature

cultivated ways of the court aristocracy, including the composition of

waka. The Taira continued to hold poetry gatherings and uta-awase
competitions in the capital until they were driven from the city by the
Minamoto warriors in 1183. Four months before the Taira fled, Go-
shirakawa commanded Fujiwara Shunzei to compile the imperial col-
lection that would be known as the Senzaishii.

The Senzaishu
There could hardly have been a less propitious time for planning a new
imperial collection than the spring of 1183. Kyoto had been afflicted
during the previous year by a terrible famine, and soon the city would
be the scene of warfare. The work of compilation nevertheless continued
through the years until the final defeat of the Taira in 1185. When
Shunzei submitted the manuscript of the Scnzaishii (Collection of a
Thousand Years) to Goshirakawa in 1188, so many changes had occurred
in the country since the command to compile a collection was issued
that whatever the original intent may have been, the circumstances were
now much altered.
It is rather strange that Goshirakawa sponsored a collection of waka.
He was known for his exceptional interest in folk poetry, especially in
the imayo'? and saibara included in the great collection of popular songs
he edited, Ryojin Hishii (Secret Selection of Dust on the Beams), but he
was not a waka poet. His reasons for ordering the collection are unclear,
but many conjectures have been made. It has been suggested, for ex-
ample, that he may have been inspired by dread of the vengeful spirit
of Sutoku, whose wrath in exile is described in many literary works.
Those who were in some way responsible for the exile naturally feared
the vengeance of his onryo ; or vindictive spirit, and the famine had been
attributed to this cause. In 1184 a shrine was erected in the hope it
would calm Sutoku's anger. The learned priest [ien, writing in 1219,
stated that the shrine was necessary because people had come to feel
terror over what Sutoku's onryo might do next.!" It would have made
sense (in view of Sutoku's love of poetry) to dedicate a collection of
poetry to his memory and thereby placate his spirit.!"
Coshirakawa's choice of Shunzei as the compiler of the new collec-
tion was appropriate not only in terms of his reputation as a poet but
because Shunzei had some ten years earlier compiled a private anthology
which he had hoped might be promoted to the status of an imperial
collection. The abdication of the Emperor Takakura had frustrated this
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 32 1

plan, but Shunzei seems not to have abandoned his ambition of being
named as the compiler of an imperial collection. Perhaps he even per-
suaded Goshirakawa to authorize the collection at a time when he was
trying to think of some way of assuaging the turbulent ghost of Sutoku.
Goshirakawa may also have been motivated initially by a desire to
ingratiate himself with the Taira family. Naturally, he could not have
foreseen the future collapse of the Taira, and he may have wished to
demonstrate that he could discriminate between the Taira, who by this
time had become so aristocratic in their tastes that they could appreciate
the waka, and the uncouth Minamoto warriors who were their enemies.
Even though Kiyomori showed no interest in poetry, other members of
his family were eager poets. Shunzei, as the leading poet of the day,
had given instruction to Taira poets, and Goshirakawa had reason to
think that appointing him as the compiler would be welcome to them."?
Finally, Goshirakawa may have hoped that the old court aristocracy,
deprived of its traditional functions by the rise of the military, would
be comforted by the appearance of a new imperial collection of waka,
the art most intimately associated with them. At a time when their
country estates were devastated, and their very survival threatened, an
anthology of poetry obviously could not materially improve the situation,
but it might at least provide some solace.
Goshirakawa's command for an anthology was issued in the second
month of II83' In the fourth month an expedition set out from the
capital to put down an uprising in the provinces, but the Taira army
was crushed two months later by the fierce warrior Kiso no Yoshinaka,
who followed up his victory by occupying the main temple buildings
on Mount Hiei, overlooking the capital. The Taira, realizing that they
could not successfully defend the city, fled with the child Emperor
Antoku and the imperial regalia. In the eighth month of II83, the three-
year-old Gotoba, a younger brother of Antoku, was crowned in Kyoto,
though without the regalia. The Taira were denounced as enemies of
the throne.
During this time Shunzei continued to work calmly on the Senzaishu,
unruffled by the catastrophic changes around him. Dissatisfied with the
policy followed by the compilers of the previous two imperial collections,
he determined to include as many poems as he deemed fitting, though
little new poetry was available. The uta-awase sessions at the palace,
which so often had supplied poems for the imperial collections, had
been discontinued because of the tense situation. Shunzei had no choice
but to depend largely on poems already assembled for his private an-
thology.!" Needless to say, the flight of the Taira supporters from the
32 2 Early and Heian Literature
capital brought about a sharp change in editorial policy. Far from at-
tempting to please the Taira family, Shunzei was now obliged to restrict
the number of poems by Taira adherents or else to conceal the names
of the authors.!"
The final defeat of the Taira family took place at the Battle of
Dannoura in 1185. The Emperor Antoku drowned, and his mother,
Kiyomori's daughter, was taken prisoner. Soon afterward, in the seventh
month of 1185, a great earthquake struck Kyoto. Not surprisingly, it
was ascribed to the vengeful spirits of Antoku and the defeated Taira
warriors. Goshirakawa had no love for the Taira, but he was worried
about the harm their unquiet ghosts might wreak. In the fourth month
of 1186 he ordered services to be held on Mount Koya for the Taira
dead, declaring that although they had been rebels, he no longer felt
any animosity toward thern.!" Further memorial services were held the
next year for all those who had died since warfare began in the Hogen
era. It might have been expected that the poetry composed by enemies
of the court would automatically be excluded from the new collection,
but this gesture on the emperor's part was understood by Shunzei, who
was emboldened to include in the Senzaishu poems by adherents of the
Taira.
In later years Shunzei in his important book of poetics Korai Fiaeisho
(Notes on Poetic Style Through the Ages, 1197-1201) would write of
the compilation of the anthology, "The poems in the Senzaishii were
selected entirely by myself, incompetent though I am. I considered only
the poetry and forgot who the poets were."164 His professed disregard
for the politics of the poets was most unusual, especially in view of the
disorder of the times, but it is hard to believe that he was quite that
unaffected; surely there would have been more poems by Tairas if they
had not been declared enemies of the state. But Shunzei's basic impar-
tiality cannot be gainsaid. He included twenty-three poems by Sutoku,
a number that went beyond the strict necessity of appeasing his ghost,
but only six by Goshirakawa. He also included more poems by Toshiyori
than by Mototoshi, though the latter was his revered teacher and T 0-
shiyori his teacher's most bitter enemy.
The date of the formal presentation of the completed collection is
usually given as I I 88. 165 We know of at least one change that occurred
in the contents of the Scnzaishii before it attained its final form. When
Shunzei first submitted the manuscript to Goshirakawa, the latter
thought Shunzei had included too few of his own poems, and directed
him to add another thirty or forty. Shunzei in fact added twenty-five,
for a total of thirty-six poerns.!" The present text contains 1,287 poems
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 3 23

arranged in twenty books, a return to the scale and format of earlier

imperial collections.
Shunzei's selection of poems revealed his astuteness as a judge of
poetry, but he has been taken to task for minor faults of editing, such
as having included twelve poems that had already appeared in imperial
collections. The preface to the next collection, Shin Kokinshu, no doubt
referring to such lapses, mentioned the likelihood of mistakes when one
person, unassisted, compiled a collection; but we should marvel instead
that Shunzei, at a time of great turbulence in which he was to some
degree involved, persevered and carried his task to completion. Shunzei
was sixty-nine years old when he received the command to compile the
collection, and seventy-four when the work was done. Some years earlier
(in 1176) he had been afflicted with an illness so severe that he had
taken the tonsure, supposing he had not much longer to live, but he
was now at the height of his powers. He seems to have thrown himself
into the editing of the Senzaishii as a refuge from thinking about the
terrible disorders that ravaged the country, resolved to preserve from
the destruction of war the great poetry of his own and earlier times.
Shunzei was the most eminent poet since Tsurayuki to have been
charged with the compilation of an imperial collection. His skill was
displayed not only in the choice of poems but in their arrangement.
Following the method of Akisuke in the Shikashii, he arranged the
poetry of the Senzaishii so that one poem would flow into another by
its themes or images. Shunzei, not content with arranging outstanding
poems in a suitable order, at times deliberately included inferior poems
that served the function of transitions from one masterpiece to the next.!"
It is at first puzzling why the poetry of Doin, a priest of mediocre poetic
talent, should have been generously represented in the Senzaishii, but
Shunzei seems to have found his poetry particularly useful as neutral
"links" in the chains of poetry he had strung together.!"
Shunzei chose for the Senzaishii poems that went back even before
the Shiiishii, but more than half were culled from private anthologies
that had appeared since the compilation of the Shikashii in the middle
of the twelfth century, or had figured in uta-awase of the same period.
The emphasis Shunzei gave to poetry of the recent past contrasted with
the reverence for old poetry exhibited by the compilers of the Shikashii.
Sixty-one percent of the Senzaishii poets made their first appearance in
any imperial collection. The most generously represented poets were
Toshiyori (52 poems), Shunzei (36 poems), Mototoshi (26 poems), Sutoku
(23 poems), Shun'e (22 poems) and Izumi Shikibu (21 poems). When
Shunzei did choose old poems, it was not as a gesture of piety to his
324 Early and Heian Literature

poetic ancestors but because these poems possessed a special appeal for
him. Some poems composed a century earlier seemed to acquire new
overtones when placed in the company of the poetry of Shunzei's con-
temporaries.l" A further sign of Shunzei's independence of judgment
was his decision to include poems by thirty-three women poets, the
largest number of women represented in the six collections between the
Kokinshii and Shin Kokinshii, and a sharp contrast with the Shikashii
which included the work of only one woman poet.
Perhaps the most striking, though definitely not the best, poet was
the unfortunate Sutoku. It is hard to ignore the authorship of his poems,
and there is always a danger of reading too much into the expression.
The following poem may have meant no more than it says, but it is
possible to catch from the words a note of despair in the voice of a man
whose every plan had been frustrated.

hana wa ne ni Flowers have returned

tori wa furusu ni To their roots and birds have gone
kaeru nari Back to their old nests;
haru no taman' wa But no one knows where the spring
shiru hito zo naki!70 Will find its final haven.

The poem seems to suggest the loneliness of the man with no home to
which he can return. Another poem reflects his despondency:

momijiba no When I looked to see

chiriyuku kata wo Where the fallen maple leaves
tazunureba Could have disappeared,
aki mo arashi no Autumn itself had vanished,
koe nomi zo suru'" Leaving the voice of the storm.

In such poems one senses Sutoku's bitterness, though it is not overtly

expressed. The spring, unlike the flowers or birds, has nowhere to return
once its time has passed. When the fallen leaves, the last remnant of
autumn, are gone, nothing except the howl of the winter wind remains-
an apt metaphor for his desolation. Another poem, listed in the Senzaishii
as anonymous but elsewhere attributed to Sutoku, is more outspoken:

uki koto no While I was dozing

madoromu hodo wa I was able to forget
wasurarete My unhappiness,
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 3 25

samureba yume no And when I woke up I felt

kokochi koso sure'?' Sure that I must be dreaming.

Minamoto no Yorimasa is closely associated with the Senzaishii. The

priest-poet Shun'e said of him,

Lord Yorimasa was a superb waka poet. He threw himself completely

into each poem he wrote, from the bottom of his heart, never wa-
vering in his attention and bearing the object constantly in mind.
The cry of a bird, the murmur of a breeze-and, of course, the fall
of the cherry blossoms, the dropping of the autumn leaves, the rising
and setting of the moon, the coming of rain and snow-were all
associated with his daily life, and he never failed to make them
occasions for poetry. Indeed, it is only natural that he created splendid
poems under such circumstances.... When he participated at or-
dinary poetry gatherings and read his poems aloud, or when he
criticized other people's compositions, he seemed entirely absorbed
by the poetry. He was so impressive that every gathering he attended
always had a special eclat.!"

Yorimasa was a soldier to the end, dying by his own hand at the
age of seventy-six after suffering defeat at a battle fought near the
Phoenix Hall in Uji. Japanese commentators have pointed out the spa-
ciousness and grandeur in the poems of this soldier-poet, especially in
this waka on the theme of "returning wild geese":

amatsusora Wild geese returning

hitotsu ni miyuru Make their way through the breakers
Koshi no umi no Of the Koshi Sea
nami wo wakete mo That appears to be one with
kacru karigane'? The canopy of the sky.

Many other Senzalshu poems merit being quoted, but the central
figure of the collection, not only as editor but as a poet, was undoubtedly
Shunzei. His poetry had already appeared in the Shikashu, and he would
have a total of 455 poems in the various imperial collections, but his
name is most closely associated with the Senzaishii. The tone of his
poems pervades the entire collection. Perhaps his most celebrated waka
was the following:

yu sareba When evening comes

nobe no akikaze Autumn winds across the fields
 Early and Heian Literature

mi ni shimite Bite into my flesh;

uzura naku naru And the quails are crying now
F ukakusa no sato175 At Fukakusa Village.

The time is dusk-not the brightness of noon nor the dark of night
but the melancholy hour when light and dark mingle. The place is
Fukakusa, whose name means "deep grass," suggesting stillness. It is
autumn, and the loneliness of the season is augmented by the forlorn
cries of the quails.
The imagery in the Senzaishii is more often aural than visual, and
the sounds evoked are melancholy. The much-admired song of the
uguisu had figured prominently in earlier collections, but in the Senzaishii
the sad notes of the hototogisu figure five times as often as the song of
the uguisu. There are more poems than in any previous imperial col-
lection on deer crying dolefully for their mates. The marked increase
in the number of poems that mention temple bells tolling has been
attributed to the enhanced importance of religion in a period of warfare
and disaster.!"
Shunzei's poem on the quails typifies the Senzaishu also in the im-
portance of the melody of the poem. He had written, "It is only on
reading a poem aloud that one can tell whether it is good or bad."177
Shunzei's reverence for the Kokinshu was probably occasioned not by
its intellectual manner but by the mellifluous lyricism. The emphasis
on sound in the Senzaishu is thrown into relief also by the scarcity of
poems that mention color, the fewest of any imperial collection up to
this time. The poets' world had become monochromatic, perceived in
the twilight hour more by sound than by sight.
Princess Shokushi was a major poet who made her debut in the
Scnzaishii. She was already in command of her characteristic manner in
this poem composed on the last day of spring.

nagamureba As I stare, brooding,

omoiyaru beki There is no way to dispel
kata zo naki My melancholy;
haru no kagiri no In the evening sky lingers
yugure no sora178 The last remnant of spring.

Her melancholy thoughts at dusk typify the collection as a whole. Fu-

jiwara no Sane sada (I 139- I 19 I), who also made his debut in the Sen-
zaishii, composed this waka on hearing the hototogisu at dawn:
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 327
hototogisu When I gaze far off
nahitsuru kata too In the direction where
nagarnureba A nightingale sang,
tada ariah« no All that is left in the sky
tsulti zo nohoreru'?' Is the moon at break of day.

Of course, there are more cheerful poems, too, but they do not alter
the prevailingly dark tone of the collection. This darkness is confirmed
by the creation for the first time of separate books of Shinto and Buddhist
poetry. Although poems in these categories were often composed on
specifically religious subjects, they are aesthetic rather than doctrinal in
expression. In many cases one would not know without the prefatory
notes that a poem had a religious meaning:

furusato u/o When, at dusk of day,

hitori u/akaruru All alone, I take my leave
yube ni mo Of the place I lived,
okuru a/a tsuki no I have been told that moonlight
kage to koso kikel80 Will guide me on my way.

The surface meaning of this poem by Princess Shokushi is that she trusts
that moonlight will enable her to find her way in the dark, but the
prefatory note mentions the vow of Fugen!" not to desert the believer
until he or she reaches the Pure Land of Amida Buddha. The poem
refers to the speaker's last hours, not simply to an evening's journey.
The Senzaishu was the most important of the imperial collections
during the century following the compilation of the Goshuishu, and it
served as the prelude to the Shin Kokinshu, edited by Shunzei's son,
Fujiwara Teika.

The great differences between the two best collections of waka po-
etry, the Kokinshu and Shin Kokinshu, can be explained in terms of the
three hundred years separating them. Even the most conservative poetic
expression is bound to change as the political and social life of a country
changes with the years; but seen in terms of the six collections compiled
by imperial command during the period, the changes become intelligible
as literary phenomena. The conflicting attractions of the old and the
new, between what most poets believed to be the incomparable tradition
of the Kokinshi; and their desire to convey something of the darker
world in which they themselves lived, were not easily resolved, but the
]28 Early and Heian Literature

advantage (as it became increasingly evident) lay with those whose poetry
was responsive to the changes in their world.
The practice of honka-dori, the borrowing of the language and
images of earlier poetry, especially the Kokinshu, had the effect of keeping
the old poems constantly in the minds of the poets of even several
hundred years later, and gave the Kokinshu all the greater authority;
but the borrowing inevitably altered the original poems, usually in the
direction of greater depth and often of greater sadness. Some Kokinshu
poems, even those not intended to be humorous, tend to create an effect
of frivolity by their repeated expressions of feigned ignorance of whether
blossoms are snow or clouds; but these mitate poems became rarer in
the later collections; again and again the poems strike to the heart with
a poignance that goes beyond technique.
On the other hand, the increasing use of topics sometimes made the
poems seem like ingenious responses to "problems" posed by an examiner
rather than heartfelt utterances. The best poets were nevertheless able
to make the topics seem an integral part of their natural and even
inevitable expression.
These six collections are marked also by a tendency toward unifying
the poems into a progression of thoughts, rather than a presentation of
a number of excellent poems by different authors. This tendency, at
first apparent in the Shikashu, would reach its apogee in the Shin
Kokinshu.
Each of the six "in-between" collections has at least a few notable
poems that would be remembered and paraphrased by later poets, and
the collections as a whole merit far greater attention than they have
customarily been given. There was no break in the traditions of the
waka after the Kokinshu; indeed, each of the six collections helped in
some way to make possible the finest of all anthologies of waka poetry,
the Shin Kokinshu.

Notes
1. I am provisionally accepting these dates, though I am aware that they
have been challenged by authorities.
2. The publication in 1983 of Fujimoto Kazue's annotated edition of Goshui
Waka Shu in the Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series, followed in 1989 by
the publication in the Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series of an-
notated editions of Kin 'yo Waka Shu and Shika Waka Shu, marked dra-
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 329
matic steps forward in understanding of the texts, and they have been
followed by similar editions of the remainder of the six collections.
3. Sugitani [uro, "Gosen Waka Shu," in Kubota Shoichiro, Sugitani [uro,
and Fujihira Haruo, Kokin Waka Shu, Gosen Waka Shu, ssa; Waka Shu,
p. 215. The dating of the Gosenshu is discussed at length by Okumura
Tsuneya in Kokinshu, Gosenshii no Shomondai, pp. 375-409. Okumura
decided on the basis of uses of the title ason that the years 955 to 958
were the only ones when the titles of people cited in the text of the
Gosenshu were valid. However, Okumura's findings were questioned by
Katagiri Yoichi in Gosen Waka Shu, pp. 474-77. Katagiri was inclined to
follow Yamaguchi Hiroshi in believing that the compilation was com-
pleted in 953, two years after the emperor commanded it.
The eleventh-century historical Tale of Flowering Fortunes states that
Murakami himself gave the collection its name, Gosenshu, because he con-
sidered it to be a sequel to the Kokimhu. It also reports that it was by
Murakami's command that the collection was arranged in twenty books. See
William H. and Helen Craig McCullough, A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, I,
p. 79. The same source explains the lack of a preface to the Gosenshu in
these terms: "The Emperor had wanted it to contain something com-
parable to Ki no Tsurayuki's splendid Preface to the Collection of Early
and Modern Times, but he had reluctantly concluded that the great Tsurayuki
had evoked the past, mused on the present, and predicted the future
with such skill that nobody at his Court could equal the performance."
It is not known whether or not this account, written long after the events,
accurately conveys the circumstances of the composition of the Gosenshu,
4. Kyusojin Hitaku, Kohen Yaleumo Misho to sono KenkYu, p. 231. The two
men were Ki no Tokifumi, the son of Ki no Tsurayuki, and Sakanoue
no Mochigi, the son of Sakanoue no Korenori.
5. See Katagiri, Gosen, pp. 481-85.
6. See Morimoto Motoko, Izayoi Nikki, Yoru no Tsuru, p. 212. One of the
oldest commentaries on the collection, Gosenshu Seigi by Fujiwara Tameie
(1198-1275), described it as "shavings" left after the editors had polished
the Kokinshu. See Sugitani [uro, "Gosen Waka Shu," in Kubota Shoichiro
et al., Kokin, p. 222.
7. Sugitani, "Gosen," p. 222.
8. Kikuchi Yasuhiko, Kokinteki Sekai no KenkYu, pp. 300-13, gives detailed
figures on the number of poets and poems, listed according to category
and sex of the poets.
9. This left only two books for categories that had been allotted a book each
in the Kokinshu-congratulations, separation, travel, and mourning. Con-
gratulatory and mourning poems were combined in one book as were
separation and travel poems.
ro. Sugitani, "Gosen," p. 220. However, Katagiri in Gosen, p. 482, pointed
out conspicuous lapses in the temporal arrangement.
33 0 Early and Heian Literature
I I. Gosenshii 1425 and 1426. Text in Katagiri, Gosen, P: 434- These are the
last two poems of the collection. Tsurayuki's poem implies that with the
new year the anniversary of the wife's death will make her seem even
farther away. See also Hisamatsu Sen'ichi, Kodai Waka Shi, P: 159.
12. For more on Heichii, see below, pp. 459-61
13. Reference to this celebrated incident is found in Tales ofYamato. See the
translation by Mildred Tahara, Tales of Yamato, p. 76. The wife of the
episode is the central character in the novel Shosho Shigemoto no Haha by
Tanizaki [unichiro.
14. There are only fourteen such sets in the Kokinsh«.
15. Gosenshu 710 and 71 I. Text in Katagiri, Gosen, pp. 206-7.
16. Gosenshu 806. Text in Katagiri, Gosen, p. 236.
17. The first two lines of this poem were taken over from poem 1027 in the
haikai section of the Kohinsh«, where they are used to a quite different,
comic effect.
18. Gosenshu 883. Text in Katagiri, Gosen, p. 259. See also Sugitani, "Gosen,"
pp.268-69·
19. Gosenshu 1102. Text in Katagiri, Gosen, p. 327. See also Sugitani, "Gosen,"
P·276.
20. I am thinking especially of the poems of Yamanoue no Okura, including
Man'yoshu, V:802-3 and V:897.
21. A detailed discussion of the relations between the Man'yoshii and the
Gosenshii is found in Sato Takaaki, Gosen Waka Shu no KenkYu,
pp. 160-99·
22. Sato, Gosen, pp. IIO, 161. Other scholars (e.g., Matsuda Takeo, quoted by
Sato on p. 162) were sure that direct borrowings from the text of the
Man'yoshu had occurred.
23. Sato, Gosen, p. 953, conjectured that Minamoto no Shitago, the best known
of the Gosenshii compilers, was dissatisfied with the "artificiality" of the
Kokinshu.
24. Although scholars now agree (for the most part anyway) that Kazan
himself edited the collection, it is not clear whether or not he had any
collaborators. See Komachiya Teruhiko, Shui Waka Shu, p. 472.
25. The first person to correct this misapprehension and to affirm that the
Shuisho was older but that the Shuishu was the definitive text was Hanawa
Hokinoichi (1746-1821), the celebrated compiler of the Gunsho Ruiju
(Classified Collection of Japanese Classics), an immense compendium of
works of literature and history, published between 1779 and 1819. See
Komachiya, Shia, p. 472.
Fujiwara Teika discovered a manuscript of the Shuishu at the beginning
of the thirteenth century, but even he believed that the Shuisho was the
superior text. Teika's text of the Shuishu contained 1,351 poems, as contrasted
with the 590 poems in the Shuish», The additions consisted partly of poems
derived from the Man'yoshu, but partly also of undated, anonymous poems.
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 33 1
26. The seasonal poems are followed by single books of congratulatory and
parting poems, five books of love poetry, seven books of miscellaneous
poems, and three others devoted to poems composed during court cere-
monies and entertainments.
27. For Ise, see above, p. 268.
28. Shuishu 49. Text in Komachiya, ssa; p. 16. The blossoms are of course
cherry blossoms, and the "old town" (furusato) is probably Nara, the old
capital, still fondly remembered.
29. Shuishu I. Text in Komachiya, Shui, p. 4. See also Fujihira Haruo, "Shui
Waka Shu," in Kubota Shoichiro et al., Kokin Waka Shu, Gosen Waka
Shu, ssa: Waka Shu, p. 307.
30. The quotation is from Kinta's Waka Kuhon (Nine Grades of Waka).
Tadarnine's poem was placed at the very top of all the poems discussed,
in the category johon jo (highest grade, top) along with the anonymous
Koeinshi; 409, which has been attributed to Kakinomoto no Hitomaro.
See Hisamatsu Sen'ichi and Nishio Minoru, Karon Shu. Nogakuron Shu,
P·3 2 .
3 I. Quoted by Fujihira in "Shui," p. 308.
32. Shuishu 178. Text in Komachiya, Shui, p. 52. See also Fujihira, "Shui,"
pp. 320-21.
33. Variously known as butsumei and mono no na , meaning "names of things."
34. Shuishu 421. Text in Komachiya, Shui, p. 119. See also Fujihira, "Shui,"
pp. 33°-3 2.
35. The critic was Fujiwara no Nagata. See Ozawa Masao et al., Fukuro Zoshi
Chushaitu, I, pp. 366-69.
36. Goshuishu 273. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, II, pp. 60-61. See also Kansaku
Koichi and Shimada Kyoji, Sone no Yoshitada Shu Zenshahu, pp. 223-24.
Also Ozawa et al., Fuleuro ; I, p. 368. Another translation in Robert H.
Brower and Earl Miner, Japanese Court Poetry, pp. 179-80.
37. Shuishu I I I I. Text in Komachiya, Shu), p. 318. See also Fujihira, "Shui,"
pp. 357-58. The poem exists in several variant forms; see Kansaku and
Shimada, Sone, pp. 220-21.
38. Hashimoto Fumio and Takizawa Sadao, Horikauia-in Ontoki Hyaeushu
Waka to sono KenkY u. p. 334.
39· Ibid., p. 335·
40. Shuishii 1342. Text in Komachiya, Shui, p. 394. See also Fujihira, "Shui,"
pp. 370-72; also Brower and Miner, Japanese, p. 218.
The poem is credited in the Shuishu to "Shikibu, the daughter of
Masarnune," evidence that she had not yet married Michisada, the gov-
ernor of Izumi. The prose preface to the poem states that it was sent to
the High Priest Shoku, This occasioned tales that Izumi composed the
poem at the end of her life, when she had repented over her dissolute ways
and entered Buddhist orders; however, this is her earliest, not her last sur-
viving poem. The first two lines paraphrase a passage in the Lotus Sutra.
332 Early and Heian Literature
41. For a fuller treatment of Izumi Shikibu, see pp. 295-98.
42. Kumamoto Morio, Egya Shu, pp. 139-43.
43. Goshuishi; 1085. Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, IV, pp. 249-50. Reference is
apparently being made to a passage in The Collected Works of Po Chu-i,
in which the poet, after referring to a deceased poet's "voice of gold and
jade," declared that "though they have buried your bones, they have not
buried your fame." See Fujimoto, Goshiii, p. 250.
44. Goshuishu 1086. See Fujimoto, Goshia, IV, p. 251.
45. Kumamoto, Egya, p. 134·
46. Shiiishii 140. Text in Komachiya, Shui, P: 42. See Shiraishi Mitsukuri,
"Shui Waka Shu," in Hisamatsu Sen'ichi, Hachidaishii Hyoshaku, p. 180.
For the poem in the Hyalrunin Isshu, see Odaka Toshio and Inukai Yasushi,
Ogura Hyaleunin Isshu Shinshahu, p. 113.
47. Kumamoto, Egya, p. 141, from Nishihonganji-bon Yoshinobu-shii.
48. Shiiishii 1327. Text in Komachiya, Shui, P: 389. See also Yamagishi To-
kuhei, Hachidaishii Zenchii, I, p. 616.
49. Genshin was a celebrated popularizer of Amida Buddhism. He conveyed
its truths in easily understood form in Gja Yoshi; (The Essentials of Sal-
vation), a basic text of Amida Buddhism.
50. For more on kYagen kigyo, see below, p. 1030.
51. Ozawa et al., Fuleuro, I, pp. 333-34. Genshin is referred to in this text as
Eshin Sozu.
52. I use the term "medieval period" to refer to the Kamakura and Muromachi
periods, from I I 85 to 1573, though I am aware that the appropriateness
of using for a discussion of literature a term based on political develop-
ments has been questioned.
53. See the article with translations by Robert E. Morrell, "Buddhist Poetry
in Goshidshu"
54. Kikuchi, Kokinteki, pp. 453-54, gave a summary of the respects in which
the first three collections were related and quoted two authorities who
agreed that the Shuishi; was a grand summation of the Koleinshi; style.
55. See Ueno Osamu, Goshiiishii Zengo, p. 36.
56. Fujimoto, Goshia, IV, p. 442, gives an exact chronology.
57. Ozawa et al., Fuleuro, I, pp. 224-25.
58. The attribution to Tsunenobu was made in Fueuro Zoshi. See ibid., pp.
50, 187.
59. Hisamatsu in Kodai, pp. 191-92, discusses and discounts Tsunenobu's
criticism. Sekine Yoshiko's Nan Goshia Shuse: collates existing texts.
The first poem Tsunenobu singled out for attack was the ninth in the
Shiiishii, by Onakatorni no Yoshinobu:

tazu no sumu The roots have melted free

sawabe no ashi no Along the mountain gully
shitane toke Where the cranes dwell,
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 333
mlglwa moctzuru And the banks have budded forth:
haru wa kiniken' The spring has come at last!

Tsunenobu commented, "It is with great trepidation that I cnticize a

poem that has been described as a masterpiece. I realize that I should
look up to it in reverence, but the word sawabe (along the gully) has the
same meaning as the word migiwa (banks). In addition, one should say
'budded forth on the banks.' The poem says instead 'the banks have
budded forth,' and I felt that ni (on) was missing." (Fujimoto, Goshui, I,
pp. 52-53·)
Modern critics agree that this criticism misses the mark. The poem
is a good one, made so especially by the unconventional expression "the
banks have budded forth."
60. The preface states that there are 1,21 8 poems, but there are slight dis-
crepancies in surviving texts. See Fujimoto, Goshui, I, p. 23.
61. Fujimoto, Goshui, I, p. 85. The tradition goes back at least as far as Fuliuro
Zoshi. See Ozawa et al., Fulearo ; I, p. 271.
62. Goshuishi; 382. Text in Fujimoto, Goshid; II, pp. 192-93. The anecdote
that follows is found in Ozawa, Fuleuro, I, p. 246.
63. Ueno, Goshuishu, p. 23·
64. Ibid., p. 86. Ueno quotes OgishO, which gave Chinese sources (e.g., Shih
Chi and poems by Po Chu-i) for thirteen poems.
65. Ibid., p. 96, gives a list of these four-character topics. Brower and Miner
in Japanese, pp. 185, 197-98, and 14°-41, discuss kudai toalea , "poems on
the topics of quotations from Chinese poems." They connect such poetry
with the acceptance in Japan of descriptive poetry of the kind practiced
by Chinese poets.
66. Goshiashu 281. Fujimoto, Goshui, II, p. 69.
67. Goshuishu 270. Text in Fujimoto, Goshia, II, p. 56.
68. Goshuishu 1146. Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, IV, p. 335.
69. Hisamatsu, Kodai, p. 18o.
70. Goshuishu 755. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, III, pp. 213-14.
71. Goshiashu 101 and 102. Text in Fujimoto, Goshia, I, pp. 173-75. The two
poems constitute an early example of rensaku, poems composed in se-
quence and meant to be read together.
72. Goshuishu 317. Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, II, p. 113.
73. Goshuishu 820. Text in Fujimoto, Goshia, III, pp. 293-94.
74. Goshuishu 573· Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, II, p. 436.
75· Goshuishu 574· Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, II, p. 437.
76. Goshuishii 575. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, II, pp. 438-39.
77. Goshuishu 763. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, III, p. 223.
78. McCullough and McCullough, A Tale, I, p. 43.
79. Shin Kokinshu 1820. Text in Kubota [un, Shin Kohin Waka Shu, p. 272.
See Uemura Etsuko, Akazome Emon, p. 109.
334 Early and Heian Literature
80. Shin Kokimhii 1821. Text in Kubota [un, Shin, p. 272.
81. Goshaishu II96. Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, IV, p. 405. Translation from
Robert E. Morrell, "The Buddhist Poems in the Goshiiishii," p. 188.
82. Goshuishi; 680. Fujimoto, Goshui, III, pp. 108-9. Another poem composed
by Akazome as a daisaku for her daughter rebuked the daughter's lover,
major captain of the Right Michitsuna, known as the son of the author
of The Gossamer Years.
83. Goshiiishii 410. Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, II, pp. 226-27.
84. Goshiiishii 594. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, II, pp. 461-62.
85. Goshiiishii 438. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, II, p. 262.
86. Goshiiishii 640' Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, III, p. 56.
87. Yasuda Akio, Ocho no Kajintachi, p. 154. The original source is given in
Wakashi Kenkyukai (ed.), Shikashii Taisei, II, p. 257.
88. Goshiiishii 916. Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, IV, pp. 28-29.
89. Goshiiishii 952. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, IV, pp. 79-80.
90. Goshiiishii 955. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, IV, pp. 83-84.
91. Goshiiishii 518. Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, II, p. 365.
92. Goshiiishii 507. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, II, pp. 352-53.
93. See above, pp. 262-63.
94. See Fujimoto, Goshui, I, p. 103.
95. Goshiashi; 43. Text in Fujimoto, Goshui, I, p. 102.
96. Ozawa et al., Fueuro, I, pp. 352-53. The poet under whom Noin studied
was Fujiwara no Nagata, a nephew of the author of The Gossamer Years.
See Fujimoto, Goshui, p. 56.
97. Kamo no Chornei, Mumyiishi), Text in Hisamatsu and Nishio, Karon ssa,
p. 89. See also Yanase Kazuo, Mumyosho Zenko, p. 404.
98. Goshiiishii 518. See Fujimoto, Goshui, II, p. 365.
99. Quoted in Hisamatsu and Nishio, Karon Shii, pp. 41, 240.
100. Ibid., p. 42.
101. Goshiiishii 624' Text in Fujimoto, Goshiii, III, pp. 36-37.
102. Shin Kokinshii II6. Text in Kubota [un, Shin, I, p. 57.
103. See Hashimoto and Takizawa, Horikatoa-in, pp. 342, 382.
104. It is so stated in The New Mirror. See ibid., p. 341.
105· Ibid., p. 342 .
106. An analysis of the honlia (source poems) of 679 poems in the sequence
shows that 106 were derived from the Man'yoshii, 174 from the Kokinshii,
40 from the Gosenshii, 64 from the Shiiishii, and 26 from the Goshiiishii.
Others were drived from poems in such prose works as The Tale of Genji.
See Hashimoto and Takizawa, Horikaioa-in, p. 363.
107. This was the second chokusenshu that he commanded. The first was
compiled during his reign, the second after he entered Buddhist orders.
Three other emperors (Gosaga, Gouda, and Gokogon) also commanded
two chokusenshu,
108. Brower and Miner, Japanese, p. 483.
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 335
109. Hisamatsu, Kodai, p. 194.
110. Shuisho, it will be remembered, was the first version of the imperial

collection Shuishu. It was Fujiwara Teika who suggested that the ShuishO
was the model for the Kin'yoshi«.
I I I. Ozawa et al., Fulturo; I, pp. 227-28.

112. Ibid., pp. 227-29.

I 13. The numbers of poems given here are from the second version, the

rufubon. The numbers vary somewhat according to the version. See Ikeda
Tomizo, Minamoto no Toshiyori no KenkYu, p. 208.
114. The Goshuishi; was compiled eighty-one years after the Shuishu, but the
Kin'yoshu was compiled forty-one years after the Goshiiishu,
115. See Kubota [un, "Chusei waka e no michi," in Akiyama Ken, Ocho
Bungaku Shi, p. 316. He contrasted keikai (light) with keichO (superficial).
116. Toshiyori's best-known criticism is in Toshiyori Zuino (1129?)'
117. Kin'yoshi: I. Text in Kawamura Teruo, Kashiwagi Yoshio, and Kudo

Shigenori, Kin'yo Waka Shu, Shika Waka Shu, p. 4. The poem originally
appeared in Horihatoa-in Ontoki Hyakushu Waka. The opening line, uchi-
nabiki, was taken by Kawamura (and also by Masamune Akio in Kin'yo
Waka Shu Kiigi, pp. 35-38) as a makurakotoba of uncertain meaning; but
Fujisaki Kazushi, "Kin'yo Waka Shu," in Hisamatsu, Hachidaishu, p. 239,
interpreted it as "wide-spreading" (of mists), the meaning I have followed
here.
118. See above, p. 259.
119. Brower and Miner, Japanese, p. 242.
120. Kin'yoshi: 23. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo, p. 10. See also Masamune,

Kin 'yo, pp. 87-88. Masamune commented, "We can infer that the poet
was describing his regret over the passing spring in terms of this late
spring scene; but the language is overly ingenious, and the emotions it
arouses are not very profound. However, at the time this kind of exhibition
of poetic craft was much admired. The poem enables us to see how the
style of Kin 'yo and Shika developed into that of the Shin Kokin."
121. Kin'yoshu 667. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'vo, p. 202. Also Masamune,

Kin'yo, pp. 115-16; Fujisaki, "Kin'yo," p. 241.

122. Brower and Miner, Japanese, pp. 237, 249.
123. Kin'yoshi: 154. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo ; p. 44. Also Masamune,

Kin 'yo, p. 259-

124. Kin'yoshu 170. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo; p. 50. See also Masamune,

Kin 'yo, p. 281.

125. Kin'yoshi; 173. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin 'yo, p. 50. See also Masamune,

Kin 'yo, p. 283; Fujisaki, "Kin'yo," p. 249.

126. Kin'yoshu 59. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo ; p. 19. Also Masamune,
Kin'yo, p. 142; Fujisaki, "Kin'yo," p. 242.
127. Kin'yoshu 145. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo ; p. 42. See also Masamune,

Kin'yo, pp. 250-51; Fujisaki, "Kin'yo," p. 247.

 Early and Heian Literature
128. Kin'yoshi: 150. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin 'yo, p. 43. See also Masamune,
Kin'y«, pp. 255-56; Fujisaki, "Kiri'yo," p. 247.
129. From this time on, poems on the topic of jukkai (personal grievances)
appear in the imperial anthologies and also in poem competitions.
130. Kin'yoshu 665. Text in Masamune, Kin 'yo, pp. 943-44. See also Kawamura
et al., Kin'yo . p. 201; Fujisaki, "Kin'yo," P: 268. Hamabisashi, translated
here as "sand castle," is variously explained as a house on the beach, a
part of the shore washed by waves, a cliff that has been eaten away by
the waves, or (if it is an error for hamahisagi, given in Kawamura's text),
a plant that grows on the shore. In any case, it was probably used as a
makurakotoba, the sound of hamabisashi being repeated in hisashiku.
131. Km'yoshi; 595. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo, p. 173. Also Masamune,
Kin'yo, pp. 840-43.
132. Yasuda Akio, Ocho no Kajintachi, p. 179.
133. Kin'yoshu 647. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo, p. 191. Also Masamune,
Kin 'yo, pp. 919-20.
134. Ikeda, Minamoto, p. 387. There is a celebrated tale describing an event
of 1140 when the priest Sainen rowed his boat westward until he was
guided to Amida's Western Paradise.
135. Ikeda, Minamoto, p. 37 I. The quoted words are the last two lines of a
poem by Toshiyori.
136. The dates are not certain. I have followed Matsuda Takeo, Shikashu no
Kcnhyu, pp. 29-30. See also Kawamura Teruo and Kashiwagi Yoshio,
"Kaisetsu," in Kawamura et al., Kin'vii, pp. 449-50.
137. See Matsuda, Shikashu, pp. 18-19.
138. Ozawa et al., Fukuro, I, pp. 227-28.
139· Ibid., pp. 193-95·
140. Kubota [un, "Chusei," pp. 317-18, briefly describes these collections.
141. Ozawa et al., Fuleuro; I, p. 193, stated that it contained 409 poems. Other
editions give 4 I I poems. The figure I have used is from Kawamura et
al., Kin 'yo.
142. See Inoue Yutaka, "Shika Waka Shu," in Hisamatsu, Hachidaishu ,
P·27 2.
143. Matsuda, Shikashu, p. 61.
144. Ibid., pp. 103-4. Matsuda gives a list of all the uta-awase that were sources
of poems in the Shikashu.
145. Shikashu 1-3. See Kawamura et al., Kin'yo, pp. 220-21.
146. Shikashu 33-34. Kawamura et al., Kin'yo, p. 229. Poem 33 is by the Mother
of Nagazane, and poem 36 by Minamoto no Takasue. I have borrowed
my analysis of the relationship of one poem to the next largely from
Matsuda, Shikashu. Writing in 1960, he insisted that he was the first ever
to analyze the arrangement of poems in a chokusenshu (see especially pp.
4-6, 345). However, two years earlier Konishi [in'ichi had published an
article on the subject, "Association and Progression: Principles of Inte-
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 337
gration in Anthologies and Sequences of Japanese Court Poetry, A.D. 900-
1350." Because this article appeared in the English translation of Robert
H. Brower and Earl Miner, it probably had not come to Matsuda's
attention.
147. Konishi's article treated in special detail a selection of the Shin Kokinshi;
where the practice of "association and progression" is seen to best advan-
tage. See also Robert H. Brower and Earl Miner, Fujiwara Teika's Superior
Poems of Our Time.
148. Shikashu 347. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo, p. 328. See also Sugane
Nobuyuki, Shika Waka Shu Zenshabu, pp. 460-62. The poem was com-
posed at an uta-awase held in 1128. It echoes one by Oe no Chisato in
the Kokinshi; (no. 193), which also contains the line wa ga mi hitotsu no.
It is also associated with the anonymous Kokinshu poem (no. 878) on the
moon at Obasuteyama.
149. Shikashii 382. The "new retired emperor" was Sutoku. Text in Kawamura
et al., Kin'yo, p. 340. See also Sugane, Shika, pp. 508-ro. The poem was
included in Hyakunin Isshu. See Odaka and Inukai, Ogura, pp. 189-91.
150. Shikashii 146. Text in Kawamura et al., Km'yo, p. 262. Soyo soyo is on-
omatopoetic, usually suggesting the sound of a gentle wind, though here
used for the rustling of falling leaves. It also suggests the leaves are saying
to one another, "That's right! That's right!" (so yo, so yo). Text in Sugane,
Shika, pp. 179-80. The text given in Kawamura et al., Kin 'yo,
p. 262, has uraha instead of kareha.
151. Shikashii 349. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin'yo, p. 329. See also Sugane,
Shika, pp. 464-65.
152. See below, p. 616.
153. Shikashii 229. Text in Kawamura et al., Kin 'yo, p. 288, who gives takikawa,
rather than tanikatoa, See also Sugane, Shika, pp. 298-99. The poem was
included in Hyakunm Isshu, See Odaka and Inukai, Ogura, pp. 192-94.
154. Kiyosuke, a mediocre poet of the conservative Rokujo school, is known
primarily as the author of Fuleuro Zosh: and OgishO, compendia of poetic
lore.
155. For the text and a study of this collection, see Suzuki Norio, Shoku Shika
Waka Shii no KenkYii.
156. See Kubota [un, "Chusei," p. 318.
157. lmayo (meaning "new style") were popular songs of the middle and late
Heian period, generally in eight or twelve lines of seven plus five syllables
each. See below, pp. 777-78.
158. See Delmer M. Brown and Ichiro Ishida, The Future and the Past,
p. 142 .
159. Taniyama Shigeru. Senzai Waka Shii to sono Shiihen, p. 22.
160. Ibid., p. 24.
161. This collection, Sangoshii, has been lost.
162. See above, p. 247, for the account of Tadanori.
 Early and Heian Literature
163. Taniyama, Senzai, p. 33.
164. Hashimoto Fumio, Ariyoshi Tamotsu, and Fujihira Haruo, Karon Shu,
pp. 295, 464.
165. Taniyama, Senzai, p. 4 I. The preface states I 187, but an even more reliable
source, Meigetsuki (Chronicle of the Bright Moon), the diary of Fujiwara
Teika, gives !I88. The discrepancy has been explained in terms of a first
and final version of the text.
166. Taniyama, Senzai, p. 71.
167. Matsuno Yoichi, "Senzaishu," in Waka Bungaku Kai, Man'yoshi; to Cho-
kusen Waka Shu, pp. 212-13.
168. Taniyama, Senzai, pp. 144-46.
169. Ibid., p. 136.
170. Scnzaishu 122. See also Taniyama, Senzai, p. 139.
171. Senzaishu 380.
172. Scnzaishii 1122. See also Yasuda, Oeho, p. 186.
173. Yanase, Mumyosho Zenko, p. 280.
174. Senzaishii 38. See also Taniyama, Senzai, p. 141, for adverse comments on
Yorirnasa's reliance on such stylistic devices as engo and kakekotoba.
175. Scnzaishu 258. For analysis of the poem, see Brower and Miner, Japanese,
pp. 17, 266, 298, 475·
176. Taniyama, Senzai, p. 222.
177. Hashimoto, Karon Shu, p. 276.
178. Senzaishu 124.
179. Senzaishu 161.
180. Senzaishu 1219. See also Manaka Fujiko, Scnzaishu Shin Koltinshi; Shak··
kYoka no Hyoshalru, p. 20.
181. Fugen is the Japanese name for the bodhisattva Samantabhadra, who
made ten vows to follow the Buddha's teachings and work for the salvation
of all sentient beings.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Akiyama Ken. OeM Bungaku Shi. Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1984.

Ariyoshi Tamotsu. Senzai Waka Shu no Kisotcki KenkYu. Kasama Shoin, 1976.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Fujiwara Teika's Superior Poems of Our
Time. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1967.
---.Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1961.
Brown, Delmer M., and Ichiro Ishida. The Future and the Past: A Translation
and Study ofthe "Gukansho" Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979.
Late Heian Collections of Waka Poetry 339

Fujimoto Kazue. Goshui Waka Shu, 4 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko

series. Kodansha, 1983.
Hashimoto Fumio. Inseiki no Kadanshi Kenkyu. Musashino Shoin, 1966.
- - - . Ocho Wakashi no Kenkyu. Kasama Shoin, 1972.
Hashimoto Fumio, Ariyoshi Tamotsu, and Fujihira Haruo. Karon Shu, In
Nihon Koten Bungaku Zensho series. Shogakukan, 1975.
Hashimoto Fumio and Takizawa Sadao. Horieau/a-in Ontoki Hyahushu Waka
to sono Kenkyu. Kasama Shoin, 1976.
Hirasawa Goro. Kin'yo Waka Shu no Kenkyu. Kasama Shoin, 1976.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi. Chusei Waka Shi. Tokyodo, 1961.
- - - . Hachidaishu Hyoshaku. Daimeido, 1954.
- - - . Kodai Waka Shi. Tokyodo, 1960.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi, Matsuda T akeo, Sekine Yoshiko, and Aoki Takako. Heian
Kamakura Shikashu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Sho-
ten, 1964'
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi and Nishio Minoru. Karon Shu, Nogakuron Shu, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Ikeda Tomizo, Minamoto no Toshiyori no Kenkyu. Ofusha, 1973.
Imai Gen'e. Kazan-in no Shogai. Ofiisha, 1968.
Inoue Muneo. Heian Koki Kajin no Kenkyu. Kasama Shoin, 1978.
Inukai Yasushi. "Waka Rokunin To ni kansuru Shiron," Kokogu to Koleu-
bungaku, Sept. 1956.
Kansaku Koichi and Shimada Kyoji. Sone no Yoshitada Shu Zenshaeu, Kasama
Shoin, 1975.
Katagiri Yoichi. Gosen Waka Shu, in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series.
Iwanami Shoten, 1990.
- - - . Ocho Waka no Sekai. Kyoto: Sekai Shiso Sha, 1984.
Kawamura Teruo. Noin Hoshi Shu, Gcngenshii to sono Kenkyu. Miyai Shoten,
1979·
Kawamura Teruo, Kashiwagi Yoshio, and Kudo Shigenori. Kin'yo Waka Shu,
Shika Waka Shu, in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami
Shoten, 1989.
Kikuchi Yasuhiko. Kokinteki Scltai no Kcnky«, Kasama Shoin, 1980.
Komachiya Teruhiko. ssa. Waka Shu, in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei
series. Iwanami Shoten, 1990.
Konishi [in'ichi. "Association and Progression: Principles of Integration in
Anthologies and Sequences of Japanese Court Poetry, A.D. 900-1350," Har-
vard Journal of Asiatic Studies, XXI, 1958.
Kubota Jun. Shin Kokin Waka Shu, 2 vols., in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei
series. Shinchosha, 1979.
Kubota [un and Matsuno Yoichi, Senzai Waka Shu. Kasama Shoin, 1969.
Kubota Shoichiro, Sugitani Jura, and Fujihira Haruo. Kokin Waka Shu, Gosen
Waka Shu, Shui Waka Shu, in Kansho Nihon Koten Bungaku series. Ka-
dokawa Shoten, 1965.
340 Early and Heian Literature
Kumamoto Morio. Egyo Shu, Ofusha, 1978.
Kyusojin Hitaku. Kiihon Yakumo Misho to sono KenkYu. Koseikaku, 1939.
Manaka Fujiko. Scnzaishic Shin Kokinshu ShakkYoka no Hyoshali«, Daiichi
Shobe, 1956.
Masamune Akio. Kin'yo Waka Shu Kogi. [ichi Nippo Sha, 1968.
Matsuda Takeo. Ocho Wakashi; no KenkYu. Hakuteisha, 1968.
- - - . Shikashu no KenkYu. Shibundo, 1960.
Matsuno Yoichi, Fujiwara Shunzei no Kenky«. Kasama Shoin, 1973.
McCullough, William H. and Helen Craig McCullough. A Tale of Flowering
Fortunes, 2 vols. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1980.
Minegishi Yoshiaki. Heian ]idai Waka Bungaeu no Kenky«. Ofusha, 1965.
Morimoto Motoko. Izayoi Nikki, Yoru no Tsuru, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko
series. Kodansha, 1979.
Morell, Robert E. "Buddhist Poetry in the Goshuishii,' Monumenta Nipponica
28:1, 1973.
Odaka Toshio and Inukai Yasushi. Ogura Hyakunin Isshu Shinshaku, Haku-
yosha, 1954.
Okumura Tsuneya. Kokinshu, Gosenshu no Shomondai. Kazama Shobe, 1971.
Ooka Makoto. Ki no Tsurayulri, Chikuma Shobe, 1971.
Ozawa Masao. Heian no Waka to Kagaku. Kasama Shoin, 1979.
- - - . Sandaishu no Kenky«. Meiji Shoin, 1981.
Ozawa Masao, Goto Shigeo, Shimizu Tadao, and Higuchi Yoshimaro. Fuliuro
Zoshi Chiishaleu, 2 vols. Hanawa Shobe, 1976.
Sato Takaaki. Gosen Waka Shu no Kenkyi«. Nihon Gakujutsu Shinko Kai, 1970.
Sekine Yoshiko. Nan Goshui Shiisei. Kazama Shobe, 1975.
Sugane Nobuyuki. Shika Waka Shu Zenshahu. Kasama Shoin, 1983.
Suzuki Norio. Shoeu Shika Waka Shu no KenkYu. Osaka: Izumi Shoin, 1987.
Tahara, Mildred. Tales ofYamato. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1980.
Taniyama Shigeru. Senzai Waka Shu to sono Shuhen, Kadokawa Shoten, 1982.
Uemura Etsuko. Akazome Emon. Shintensha, 1984.
Ueno Osamu. Goshuishu Zengo. Kasama Shoin, 1976.
Waka Bungaku Kai. Man'yosh« to Chokusen Waka Shu, in Waka Bungaku
Koza series. Ofusha, 1970.
Wakashi Kenkyukai (ed.). Shikashu Taisei, 11 vols. Meiji Shoin, 1973-76.
Yamagishi Tokuhei. Hachidaishii Zenchic, 3 vols. Yuseido, 1960.
Yanase Kazuo. Mumyosho Zenko. Kato Chudokan, 1980.
Yasuda Akio. Ocho no Kajintachi. Nihon Hoso Shuppan Kyokai, 1975.
 8.
LATE HEIAN POETRY AND
PROSE IN CHINESE

None of the courtiers or priests who wrote kanshi or kambun during

the latter part of the Heian period could compare with Sugawara no
Michizane in the quality of their compositions. This should not suggest
that the Japanese had lost interest in writing Chinese; on the contrary,
the composition of kanshi and kambun was more popular than ever at
the Heian court despite the absence of outstanding practitioners. The
compilation at this time of anthologies of Chinese poetry and prose
written by Japanese earlier in the Heian period may even have been
given impetus by the scarcity of new writers of distinction, but it also
reflected the undiminished enthusiasm. I

WAKAN ROEI SHU

The best known of these anthologies is undoubtedly Wakan Roei Shu

(Collection of Japanese and Chinese Poems for Singing), compiled in
IOI3 by Fujiwara no Kinta. The collection was intended to serve as a

wedding present offered on the occasion of the marriage of his daughter

to Fujiwara no Norimichi, the third son of the nairan (Imperial Ex-
aminer) Michinaga. The work consists of 588 couplets in Chinese, chosen
from works composed by fifty Japanese and thirty Chinese poets. These
couplets are arranged by seasonal and other topics, and are matched
with 216 waka on related themes. The compilation of a collection that
was intended to be sung, rather than merely read, was occasioned by a
new vogue at the court.
Roei, as the singing of poetry to a fixed melody was called, originated
in China as an entertainment offered at banquets where poets sang
poems of impromptu composition. This after-dinner entertainment
spread to Japan as early as the eighth century, but did not become
342 Early and Heian Literature

popular for another three centuries. At first roei was performed at the
Japanese court only on especially festive occasions, but it gradually be-
came an indispensable feature of all court gatherings. In theory the
poems that were sung were supposed to be composed on the spot (as
was true in China), but it was obviously more difficult for Japanese than
for Chinese to compose impromptu kanshi, so they usually prepared
themselves in advance with "spontaneous" compositions of their own
or with suitable quotations from other poets. Probably it was not until
the middle of the tenth century that it became customary to sing only
two lines, rather than whole poems.' A passage in The Tosa Diary
mentions people "lifting up their voices to deliver Chinese poerns.:"
evidence that the singing of Chinese poetry goes back at least to that
period. The music to which the poems were sung was strongly influenced
by Buddhist chanting.'
The choice of Chinese and Japanese poems in his Wakan Riiei Shu
probably reflected less Kinta's personal preference than those of the
court as a whole. Naturally, the great favorite, Po Chu-i, was well
represented; it has even been said that the collection is virtually an
anthology of his poems." The other Chinese poets represented were
mainly from the mid and late Tang periods. Most of the couplets were
extracted from works that might be described as nature poems, under-
standable in a collection edited by a Japanese, and they are almost all
in seven-character lines of "regulated verse," the preferred form of
Chinese poetry during the Heian period. This style of poetry attached
special importance to parallelism; the skill demonstrated in finding for
the second line of a couplet exact parallels to the meanings and gram-
matical forms of the words of the previous line was considered to be at
the heart of poetic accomplishment, and the reputation of a poem was
more likely to be established by the deftness of its parallels than by its
originality."
A tradition in China of compiling anthologies of couplets with es-
pecially choice parallels can be traced back to the Tang dynasty, and
such collections were imported into Japan, as we know from the writings
of Kukai.' The earliest Japanese collection of Chinese couplets was
probably Senzai Kaleu (Splendid Verses of a Thousand Years) compiled
about 950 by Oe no Koretoki (888-963)' This collection consists of 1,083
couplets in seven-character lines by 149 Chinese and 4 Korean poets,
arranged under some 250 headings. Po Chu-i (as usual) is by far the
best-represented poet; about half of the selections (507 in all) were drawn
from his works. The poet with the next highest total, his intimate friend
Yiian Chen, was represented by 65 couplets, followed by another 147
Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 343
poets, many with only a couplet or two each. The special importance
of Senzai Kaleu is that two thirds of the Chinese couplets in Wakan Riiei
Shu came from this source.
The general method followed by Kinta in his collection was to
present under each of the topics one or more couplets in Chinese, fol-
lowed by waka on related themes. For example, we find under the
theme "spring night" a couplet by Po Chu-i (given in a Japanese ren-
dering), followed by a waka by Oshikachi no Mitsune:

Tomoshibi wo somukctc wa tomo A verting the lamp, together we

ni awarebu shin'va no tsuki enjoy the late night moon;
Hana wo funde a/a onajiku Treading on blossoms, alike we
oshimu shiinen no ham regret youthtime's spring.

ham no yo no It does not make sense

yami wa aya nashi For spring nights to be so
ume no hana dark:
ira koso miene The plum blossoms' color
ka ya wa kakururu H Cannot be seen, it is true,
But can the dark hide their
scent?

Although modern scholars have demonstrated how greatly Chinese

poetry influenced the waka of the Kokinshi; and later Heian collections,
Kinta did not pair the Chinese poems with waka they had directly
inspired: he preferred to group together kanshi and waka with similar
echoes or "perfumes," anticipating the method of "linking" in renga
poetry." The exactness of the parallelism between the first and second
lines of Po Chil-i's couplet above is apparent even in translation, but
parallelism is not a feature of this or any other waka in the collection,
and there is not much similarity between the content or mood of the
two poems apart from mention of the theme, spring night. The tender
regret of Po Chil-i's lines is not echoed by the poetic conceit of this
waka; and in other cases the connection between the Chinese and the
Japanese poems presented under the same rubric were even more remote.
For example, friendship, a frequent theme of Chinese poetry, is so rarely
described in waka poetry that one of two waka on the theme (following
five kanshi) is actually a love poem appropriated for the purpose, faute
de mieux.'? Themes derived from Chinese history, such as the tragic
story of Wang Chao-chua, a court lady who was sent into exile to
appease a Tartar chieftain, naturally had no equivalent in the waka, so
the seven Chinese couplets on this theme are followed by only one waka,
344 Early and Heian Literature

by Fujiwara no Sanekata; its justification was merely that Sanekata had

(like Wang Chao-chun) been sent off to a distant place, in his case the
province of Mutsu, where he went as governor. ll
The greatest importance ofWakan Roei Shu was the influence exerted
on later Japanese literature by the Chinese couplets, as rendered in
Japanese readings. The lines by Po Chii-i on a spring night, translated
above, appear in such No plays as Shunzei Tadanori and Tsunemasa, and
were the source of the opening phrases of Sagaromo Monogatari (The
Tale of Sagoromo),12 evidence of how strongly the lines appealed to the
Japanese. The texts of the No plays were given their distinctive texture
by such quotations of Chinese poetry, which enriched not only the
content with Chinese imagery but also the sound of the lines with
combinations of consonants and vowels not found in pure Yamato
speech. The waka in Wakan Roei Shu, mainly by poets of the Koleinshii
such as Ki no Tsurayuki and Oshikochi no Mitsune, exerted less influ-
ence on later literature if only because most of them were already familiar
from earlier collections.

THE HONCHO MONZUI

The most important collection of poetry and prose composed in Chinese

entirely by Japanese of the later Heian period is undoubtedly the Honcho
Monzui (Literary Essence of Our Country), compiled about 1060 by
Fujiwara no Akihira (989?-1066), a Confucian scholar and poet. The
title of the work was derived from Tang Wen Sui (Literary Essence of
the Tang), an anthology of Tang dynasty poetry and prose compiled
in 101 I by Yao Hsiian, but the organization itself was modeled on the
celebrated Wen Hsiian, compiled about 530. The Honcho Monzui contains
some 430 selections" by sixty-nine authors, the works ranging in date
of composition from 810 to 1037. The ten most generously represented
authors in the Honcho Monzui are almost the same as the ten Japanese
whose kanshi are most often quoted in Wakan Roei Shu, including Oe
no Masahira, o- no Asatsuna, Sugawara no Fumitoki, Ki no Haseo,
and Sugawara no Michizane.!' The list suggests the preponderant im-
portance of two scholarly families, the Oe and the Sugawara, even though
scholars had by this time lost much of the authority they enjoyed before
the downfall of Sugawara no Michizane and the seizure of political
power by the Fujiwara regents. No member of the Fujiwara clan figures
among the important authors of the Honcho Monzui. Women and
Buddhist priests are also missing. The absence of women is not sur-
Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 345
prising, in view of the prevalant belief that learning Chinese was un-
ladylike (though some women not only learned Chinese but composed
kanshi); but the exclusion of Buddhist priests suggests a Confucian bias
to the editorial process.
Not all of the works included in the Honcho Monzui are literary. In
addition to the poetry and artistic prose, many memorials, prefaces,
petitions (gammon), and other nonliterary compositions make it evident
that the work was intended primarily to serve an educational purpose,
providing models of composition for officials to follow when obliged to
compose poetry or prose in Chinese." Another reason for compiling the
Honcho Monzui seems to have been to present the full texts of poems
that had been quoted in the Wakan Roei Shu in the form of couplets."
The style of the selections in the Honcho Monzui, whether in poetry
or prose, tends to be the ornate language and rather crude parallelism
favored in China during the period immediately before the T'ang dy-
nasty." The contents are only occasionally marked by any note of strong
emotion, as when the author relates hardships he has endured or appeals
to his superior for appointment to office. Various letters and memorials
by Oe no Masahira describe the poverty under which literati labored in
his day, contrasting their present neglect with the honors they used to
receive in the past: "Confucian scholars used to be appointed as provincial
governors, evidence of how the wise rulers of the past revered the Way:
Confucian scholars are not appointed as provincial governors anymore,
evidence of how learning has come to be despised in recent times."!"
Masahira recalled that in the past members of the Sugawara and Oe
families regularly received stipends that enabled them to continue their
studies, regardless of whether or not they were talented, and irrespective
of their age. He appealed for financial support for his descendants,
arguing that the selection and effective employment of Confucian schol-
ars was an act of service to the state; and so, "if rewards are given to
their sons and grandsons, who will dare to be envious, who will dare
to spread slander? "19
One of the best-known selections in the Honcho Monzui, "Tokyu
no Fu" (Fu on Tu-chiu) by Prince Kaneakira (914-87), described in the
form of a fu (rhyme-prose) how he (like a Chinese who lived long ago
at Tu-chiu) attempted to withdraw from an uncongenial world only to
be falsely accused of wrongdoing and prevented from carrying out his
intent. The fu bears this preface:

I had a site selected by geomancy for my little retreat at the foot of

Kameyama," and intended to resign my office and spend the re-
 Early and Heian Literature

maining years of old age there. Just when the thatched hut was at
last ready, I was falsely accused by someone in the government."
The prince was foolish, his ministers sycophantic, and I had nowhere
to appeal my innocence. This was my fate, the lot imposed by heaven.
Ordinary people in the future will no doubt blame me, saying I have
acted as I have because I was unable to carry out my ambitions.
However, Duke Yin of Lu wished nothing more than to spend his
last years cultivating his land at Tu-chiu, only to be killed by his
son, Hui. The principles enunciated in the Spring and Autumn
Annals': had strengthened him and made of him a wise ruler. If
some ruler in the future should learn of me, surely he will not hide
my true intentions. That is why, in imitation of the fu on the owl
by Chia 1,23 I have composed a fu on Tu-chiu to comfort myself."

The special interest of this preface and the fu that follows is the
political nature of the content. Chinese scholars as far back as Confucius
grieved that they were not suitably employed and that their words of
wisdom went unheeded. Complaints by Chinese authors about being
neglected were habitual; but in Japan the typical complaints voiced in
waka poetry, even by officials, were over the uncertainty of life or the
indifference of women they loved, and the standard poetic diction had
no place for criticism of foolish rulers. The possibility of expressing not
only political grievances but also many other matters that could not be
squeezed into the thirty-one syllables of a waka undoubtedly contributed
to the appeal of the kanshi for Heian intellectuals. It probably also
comforted them to find parallels between their misfortunes and those
suffered by great Chinese in the past.
In reading the Honcho Monzui we are likely to be struck by the
wide divergence between the subject matter and what would be found
in contemporary or later collections of poetry composed in Japanese.
The best-known selections, translated by Burton Watson, are Rhyme-
prose on the Marriage of Man and Woman by ()e no Asatsuna, A Record
of the Pond Pavilion by Yoshishige no Yasutane, and Song ofthe Tailless
Ox by Minamoto no Shitago."
Although Danjo Kon'in no Fu (Rhyme-prose on the Marriage of Man
and Woman) includes specific references to Japan-for example, the
woman is compared to Ono no Komachi and the man to Ariwara no
Narihira-the profusion of flowery language makes one suspect that
the poem must be an imitation of some Chinese original. Not only is
the expression un-Iapanese in its imagery, but the joys of love were
usually not celebrated by Japanese poets, who preferred to write about
Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 347
anticipated or else remembered love, shunning the central area of the
experience. The successful courtship described in the poem, leading to
the shared delights of the nuptial bed, was no doubt as true in Japan
as in China, but the tradition of Japanese poetry did not allow for such
expression. Love poetry in Japan tended to be so indirect that its erotic
aspects might pass unnoticed, but there is no possibility of reading this
work without being aware of the poet's subject, suggested by the final
lines:

Should widows and young boys hear of such things,

None but would be stirred to desire!"

Chitei no Ki (Record of the Pond Pavilion), in a totally dissimilar

mood, tells of an official who, tired of court life, has found a house after
his own tastes in a quiet part of the capital:

So after five decades in the world, I've at last managed to acquire

a little house, like a snail at peace in his shell, like a louse happy in
the seam of a garment. The quail nests in the small branches and
does not yearn for the great forest of Teng; the frog lives in his
crooked well and knows nothing of the vastness of the sweeping
seas. Though as master of the house I hold office at the foot of the
pillar, in my heart it's as though I dwelt among the mountains."

Again and again in Record ofthe Pond Pavilion we find passages that
prefigure Kamo no Chomei's Hojoki (An Account of My Hut). There
can hardly be any doubt that Chornei was influenced by the earlier work,
and both works insist that the house is a microcosm of the world; but
there is a difference, too: Yasutane declared that he loves his house,
even though it is most humble, but Chomei anxiously wonders if his
attachment to his house is not a sin.
Yasutane, too, was a devout Buddhist, but he does not seem troubled
by fear of attachment to wordly things; each night after he had said his
prayers and eaten his meal he would go to his library to enjoy the
company of the great Chinese of the past, notably Po Chil-i, whose prose
pieces inspired this work. Yasutane said he feared that even his humble
house might appear extravagant, but this thought seems not to have
weighed on him unduly. He continued, ''I'm like a traveler who's found
an inn along the road, an old silkworm who's made himself a solitary
cocoon."28 These words, suggesting the simplicity and impermanence of
his dwelling, bring to mind those of Basho, written some seven hundred
 Early and Heian Literature

years later: "My body, now close to fifty years of age, has become an
old tree that bears bitter peaches, a snail which has lost its shell, a
bagworm separated from its bag; it drifts with the winds and clouds
that know no destination. Morning and night I have eaten traveler's
fare, and have held out for alms a pilgrim's wallet.':" Much of the
Japanese literature of the middle ages and later would be devoted not
to the quiet pleasure of a house but to the homelessness of the perpetual
traveler or the snail that has lost its shell."
The humor of 0 naki Ushi no Uta (Song of the Tailless Ox) distin-
guishes it from most Japanese poetry of the Heian period and later. It
is not that the Japanese were too serious even to compose light verse;
it seems more probable that, with rare exceptions, the funny or bawdy
poems composed in the past were not considered to be worthy of pres-
ervation." In the case of Minamoto no Shitago's poem on his tailless ox,
however, the elaborate presentation in Chinese saved the poem from
being dismissed as coarse or crude, though it contains these lines starting
the first of the five "virtues" of an ox without a tail:

First, when it eats tender grass and turds come flopping down,
it has no tail to swish about and dirty up the shafts."

Composing poetry in classical Chinese, a language that for the Jap-

anese was the equivalent of the Latin with which the Victorian trans-
lators clothed the naked descriptions of the Kojiki, emboldened the poets
of the Honcho Monzui to risk the charge, normally anathema to Japanese,
of being in poor taste. Fujiwara no Akihira (unlike most anthologists)
did not openly include any of his own compositions, but it has been
conjectured that Tettsuiden (Biography of Iron Hammer), a salacious
piece credited to someone with a farcical pseudonym, was by Akihira
himself. Burton Watson has characterized this piece as being "one of
the most tedious works of pornography in all Iiterature."" It is curious
that such a poem appeared in a collection otherwise devoted to providing
scholars with models for the correct composition of petitions and me-
morials. The coarseness of Song of the Tailless Ox or Biography of Iron
Hammer suggests not the untutored jests of the stable boy but the
prurience of the pedant exchanging leers with his cronies. All the same,
even such poems provide a welcome diversion from the excessive dec-
oration of other compositions in Chinese by members of the Heian court.
The Honcho Monzui is unified only by the use of Chinese as the
medium of expression. Judged in strictly literary terms, very little is
memorable, but it provided Japanese not only with models of how to
Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 349
compose various types of Chinese poetry and prose but continued to
provide stimulation to writers at times ofliterary stagnation. Kawaguchi
Hisao has pointed out that the creation of a new literature at the be-
ginning of both the Kamakura and Edo periods was signaled by the
copying, collation, and study of texts of the Honcho Monzui,"

A NEW ACCOUNT OF SARUGAKU

Fujiwara no Akihira is remembered also for two other works composed

in Chinese: Shin Sarugaku Ki (A New Account of Sarugaku) and Unshu
Shosoku (Letters by Unshu). Sarugaku (literally, "monkey music") was
the name given to entertainments that would later develop into the
austere No, and A New Account of Sarugalru has therefore been read
mainly by those interested in the history of the Japanese theater. The
work opens promisingly with the assertion, "I have been attending
performances in both the east and west halves of the capital for twenty
and more years, but never have 1 seen anything in the past or present
as splendid as the sarugaku performances tonight." This is followed by
a list of the entertainments the author witnessed, including juggling,
acrobatics, magic tricks, marionette shows, swordplay, one-man wres-
tling, playlets, and mimetic dances of various kinds." The performers
were so marvellously expressive and the dialogue so funny that, ac-
cording to the writer, it was impossible not to "split one's intestines and
dislocate one's jaw" with laughing. Some of the performers are named
and their specialities are briefly mentioned, followed by an account of
the enthusiastic reception by the audience.
All the above is merely a prologue-less than a tenth of the whole
work-to the real subject of the work, an outing to the theater by
Emon-no-jo, an inhabitant of the western sector of the capital, who
attended with his entire family, consisting of three wives, sixteen daugh-
ters, and nine sons, each of whom is satirically characterized in suc-
ceeding episodes. The author devoted the greatest attention to making
each of the wives and children distinct; Emon's first wife is older than
himself and by now quite ugly; the second is a capable manager of his
household; and the third, much younger than the other two, is very
beautiful and (naturally) Emon's favorite. The description of the first
wife typifies the manner:

His official consort was already sixty, and her once ruddy face was
now much faded. Her husband was barely fifty-eight, and his interest
35° Early and Heian Literature

in women was as flourishing as ever. Probably when he was a young

apprentice he surrendered himself to the blandishments of his father-
in-law and mother-in-law, but now in his full maturity he bitterly
regretted the difference in age separating him from his wife. When
he looked at the hair on her head, it was white as morning frost;
when he looked at the wrinkles on her face, they were numerous
as the folds of waves at dusk. So many teeth were missing, above
and below, that her face resembled a trained monkey's. Her breasts,
left and right, hung down like the underparts of a bull in summer.
However much makeup she applied, no one could love her; she was
like a moonlit night in the dead of winter. Whatever coquetry she
displayed to endear herself, the number of those who disliked her
grew steadily more numerous; she was unwelcome as the sun in
midsummer. She was unaware of her own failings, but was constantly
annoyed by her husband's neglect. She made offerings to the gods
of conjugal happiness, but always without result."

The parallels in the prose, as relentless as in compositions of old-

fashioned elegance, are here exploited for their comic effects. Emon's
other two wives and all sixteen daughters are given equally unsenti-
mental treatment. Most of the daughters are described in terms of an
unusual occupation (one is a medium) or avocation (one is a glutton
whose favorite dishes are enumerated) or attribute (the ugliness of one
is evoked in great detail), and each, with the exception of a widow, is
provided with a husband or lover of a different profession, ranging from
gambler and sumo wrestler to master of yin-yang divination and phy-
sician. The nine sons are also provided with a full gamut of professions.
Akihira presented a marvellous cross-section of Heian society which,
for all its humorous exaggeration, carries conviction.

LETTERS BY UNSHU

Letters by Unshii is a collection of 209 letters, most of them in the form

of a request or query to which a response is given in the next letter.
The name "Unshu" was apparently a reference to Akihira's service as
governor of the province of Izumo," and the book was intended to
provide models of epistolary composition." A fair number of the letters
have to do with the lending and borrowing of manuscripts, an important
feature of intellectual life at a time when only religious books were ever
printed." Other letters contained invitations to poetry gatherings or
Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 35 1

kemari matches, congratulations on promotions, gifts and acknowledg-

ments, and queries on scholarly matters. Letter 23 is a request for
corrections to some waka composed by the writer, who declared in
inflated language that "even one word of correction would be worth a
thousand pieces of gold." The recipient declared in his response that
the poems are so superb "they would not be unworthy of the poets of
old, and in the present day they are quite beyond compare"; he is
incapable of correcting them." One gets the impression that such lo-
cutions were typical of letters of this nature. Although Letters by Unshu
lacks the humor and the incisive details of A New Account of Sarugaleu,
it, too, contributes interesting sidelights to our knowledge of life in
Heian times.

THE LAST OF THE HEIAN WRITERS OF LITERARY CHINESE

The dates of A New Account of Sarugaku and Letter by Unshii have yet
to be established, but probably Akihira wrote them in old age, between
1053 and 1065.41 Honcho Zoku Monzui (Japanese Monzui, Continued),
compiled sometime after 1140, contains a selection of poetry and prose
in Chinese, patterned after the first Honcho Monzui, but only about two-
thirds as long. The lack of influence of this collection on later literature
is probably accounted for largely by the conspicuous falling off of the
literary quality. Only one new writer of importance emerges, Oe no
Masafusa, but his contributions to the collection are less impressive than
his own Godansho (Selection of Oe's Conversations)."
Perhaps the most important work composed in Chinese prose during
the last century of the Heian period was Chuyuki, the massive diary
kept by the statesman Fujiwara no Munetada." Among the kanshi poets,
two stand out: Oe no Masafusa and Fujiwara no Tadamichi.
Masafusa, the great-grandson of Masahira, was (by his own
testimony") a boy prodigy who, before he was eight, was familiar with
such Chinese classics as Shih Chi and Han Shu. By eleven he was com-
posing kanshi that were acclaimed as the work of a genius. Indeed, his
poems were so skillful that some people doubted they could possibly
have been composed by a mere boy. The acting major counselor, Fu-
jiwara no Morofusa, deciding to test him, asked little Masafusa to com-
pose a poem in his presence. The boy took up a brush and dashed off
a poem that profoundly impressed Morafusa. In the following year,
1052, the regent, Fujiwara no Yorimichi (990-1074), decided to convert
his villa at Uji into a temple with the name Byodo-in, That year was
 Early and Heian Literature

believed to mark the beginning of mappo, the last stage of degeneration

of the Buddhist law, and the temple was dedicated in the hope of
forestalling disaster. Yorimichi, eager to make sure that nothing would
go amiss, asked Morofusa if there were earlier examples of temples with
their front gates to the north. Morofusa said that he did not know,
whereupon Masafusa (who was attending him) piped up, "In India the
Nalanda Monastery, in China the Hsi-ming Temple, and in our country
the Rokuhara Temple all face north." Needless to say, Yorimichi was
astonished by this display of precocious knowledge. Masafusa, at Mo-
rofusa's recommendation, received a special scholarship in 1056 from
the Emperor Goreizei, and went on to enjoy an important career as an
official. He compiled a personal collection of waka, but his most im-
portant poetry and prose was composed in Chinese. His kanshi are
found in various collections including the Honcho Zohu Monzui and
Honcho Mudai Shi,45 compiled about 1163. Among these poems is a series
written toward the end of his life when he was suffering from illness,
including:

Close to death-how shameful still to grieve over illness;

My life shrinks together with the fall.
My head is like frost and snow, but the white will soon be gone;
Tears, red as phoenix-tree leaves, inexorably drop.
Wordly success scatters pell-rnell like blossoms, slowly;
My life has gradually turned into a rushing stream.
Who, unless he's Wang Tzu-ch'iao, can enjoy longevity?
The Nine Saints and Seven Sages have all disappeared."

The disillusion that marks this and other examples of Masafusa's

late poetry probably reflected his depressed state in old age when he
was beset by illness and sensed that his life must soon end; but perhaps
he also grieved over the decline in the art of a Chinese poetry and prose
to which he had consecrated his life.
Fujiwara no Tadamichi has been described as "the last monumental
presence" in the literature written by aristocrats of the late Heian pe-
riod." Perhaps his best-known poem is The Puppeteers:

Ceaseless wanderers from of old, the puppeteers,

over countless miles always seeking a new home.
They set up camp and sing alone in the night to the autumn moon;
restless, they seek new paths in the midst of spring fields.
Youth in the bright capital, their women pampered favorites;
Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 353

the years of age alone, watching over a hut of thatch.

The traveler passing far off casts suspicious eyes
at the white hair, the vacant, wrinkled face."

The puppeteers were gypsylike people who traveled around Japan,

the men operating puppets and the women working as prostitutes.
Although they themselves were not Japanese (they apparently originated
somewhere on the continent, perhaps the Near East), they formed an
element of ordinary Japanese life, unlike the historical figures known
only from Chinese literature, and the touches of realism in Tadamichi's
description, contrasting with the ornamental language of earlier Heian
kanshi, suggest that he was using the form for purposes unlike those
of his predecessors. The end of the Heian period was a period of decline
of the kanshi, but it was also the time when Chinese loanwords, hitherto
hardly employed in works written in Japanese, greatly enriched the
language and the literature.

Notes
I. This suggestion was made by Inokuchi Atsushi in Nihon Kambungalru
Shi, p. 175.
2. See Osone Shosuke and Horiuchi Hideaki, Wakan Riiei Shu, p. 3°6, where
an account is quoted stating that the practice began during the reigns of
Daigo and Suzaku. According to the same account (Roei Kyujisshu Sho),
two traditions of roei were created from the start, the Fujiwara and the
Minamoto, but no details are given. A more reliable account states that
Minamoto no Masanobu, the Minister of the Left, asked Sugawara no
Fumitoki to compose music for the couplets and made them the "secret
tradition" (hikYoku) of the Minamoto family. This event is said to have
occurred during the reign of the Emperor En'yu (969-84).
3. Hagitani Boku, Shintei Tosa Nikki, p. 88. The text reads: "kara-uta koe
agete iikeri."
4. Osone and Horiuchi, Wakan, p. 307·
5. Kawaguchi Hisao, Wakan Roei Shu Zen'yakuchu, p. 628.
6. Osone and Horiuchi, Wakan, p. 305. Parallelism of a simpler nature was
found earlier in China, and had echoes in Japanese prose composition.
7. Ibid. Kukai refers to such works in his BunkYo Hifu Ron, and he also
made arrangements of ren, as he called couplets notable for their parallels,
under the four seasons and nine other headings.
8. These are poems 27 and 28 of the collection. For the texts, see asone and
Horiuchi, Wakan, p. 20. The lines by Po Chu-i are given in the customary
Japanese rendering.
354 Early and Heian Literature
9. Kawaguchi Hisao believed that the origins of Wakan Roei Shu were the
kanshi and waka inscribed on squares of paper called shiltish! and pasted
on screens, some decorated with Chinese scenes and others with Japanese
scenes. See his Zen'yakuchu, pp. 625-26.
ro. This is poem 738. See the explanation to this waka given by Osone and
Horiuchi in Wakan, pp. 276-77.
I I. This is poem 704. For the explanation, see Osone and Horiuchi, Wakan,

p. 264.
12. Kawaguchi, Zcn'vahuch«, p. 38.
13. The number ranges from 427 to 431, depending on the particular text.
14- For a list of the ten best-represented writers and the number of works
by each, see Kawaguchi Hisao, Helan-cho Nihon Kambungahu Shi no
KenkYu, III, p. 782.
15. The proportions allotted to different genres by the Wen Hsuan and Honcho
Monzui suggests the dissimilarity of their aims. For example, there are
435 shi (Chinese poems) in Wen Hsuan as opposed to only 28 in Honcho
Monzui. On the other hand, Wen Hsuan contains only 19 hyo (memorials)
and 9 jo (prefaces) as opposed to 46 hyo and 156 jo in Honcho Monzui.
There are 27 gammon (petitions) in Honcho Monzui and none at all in
Wen Hsiian. See Kawaguchi, Hcian-cho ; III, p. 779.
16. It has been estimated that 88 percent of the Japanese kanshi extracted in
Wakan Roei Shu are presented in full in Honcho Monzui. See Kojima
Noriyuki, Kaifuso, Bunka Shure: Shu, Honcho Monzui. p. 32.
17. Burton Watson contrasted the parellelism of the Six Dynasties poets with
that practiced by the Tang poets in these terms: "Handled with skill and
imagination, the device of parallelism is capable of conveying a kind of
profound verbal, even philosophical wit. But in Six Dynasties times its
use is seldom as subtle as even the example cited above, which is still a
far cry from what the device was to become in the hands of the Tang
masters, and more often the reader is bored or irritated by the mechanical
way in which it clanks along" (Chinese Lyricism, p. 103).
18. Quoted in Osone Shosuke, "Honcho Monzui no Sek ai," p. 125.
19. Ibid, p. 126.
20. A mountain in the Saga area of Kyoto overlooking the Oi River.
21. Apparently he is referring to the kampaku, Fujiwara no Kaiemichi. See

Kojima, Kaifuso, p. 333, note 6.

22. Ch 'un ch'iu is a chronicle of events from 722 to 48 I B.C. According to

tradition, it was compiled by Confucius from records preserved in his

native state of Lu. Although the narration itself is spartan and possesses
little obvious philosophical interest, elaborate explanations have been given
to the language in the attempt to deduce whether Confucius approved or
disapproved of the events described. For a description, see Burton Watson,
Early Chinese Literature, pp. 37-40.
23. For Fu on the Owl by Chia I (201-169 B.C.), see Watson, Early, pp.
Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 355
25-58. Watson (p, 255) wrote of this work, "The poet, deeply troubled
by his estrangement from the emperor and the thought of impending
death ... attempts to console himself with the Taoist view of life and
death as a process of endless and ineluctable change."
24· Kojima, Kaifusi5, pp. 334-35·
25. Translation by Burton Watson in Japanese Literature In Chinese, I,
PP·53- 67·
26. Ibid, p. 56. For the original text, see Kojima, Kaifuso, pp. 340-44.
27. Watson, Japanese, I, p. 62. Watson points out in a footnote, "At this time
Yasutane held the post of naiki or secretary in the Nakatsukasa-sho, a
bureau of the government which handled edicts, pensions, and other
documents. 'Clerk at the foot of the pillar' was the Chinese term for such
a secretary." For the original text, see Kojima, Kaifuso, p. 424.
28. Watson, Japanese, I, p. 64. For the original, see Kojima, Kaifuso, p. 428.
29. Matsuo Basho, Gcnjiian no Fu, translated as "Prose Poem on the Unreal
Dwelling" in my Anthology ofJapanese Literature, p. 374.
30. The poetry of the Six Dynasties, a period of strife and disorder, was called
by Watson "the poetry of reclusion"; the prose of Record of the Pond
Pavilion is in a similar mood.
31. Some of the earliest surviving comic verses were accidentally preserved
in the notebooks of the renga poet Sacha.
32. Watson, Japanese, I, p. 65. Original in Kojima, Kaifaso, p. 359.
33· Watson, Japanese, I, p. 53·
34- Kawaguchi Hisao, Seiiki no Tora, p. 203.
35. See Shigematsu Akihisa, Shin Sarugabu Ki, Unshii Shi5soku, pp. 8-12, for
a vomikudashi (Chinese arranged in Japanese word order) reading of the
text plus detailed notes on each of the entertainments presented. See also
chapter 26, p. 1002.
36. Shigematsu, Shin, p. 14.
37. Because of the character kumo ("cloud") in the name Izumo was also read
un, the province of Izumo had the alternative name of Unshu, Fujiwara
no Akihira had served as governor ofUnshii and was therefore sometimes
called by that name.
38. There has been some discussion about the difference between shi5soku and
i5rai, both terms for letters, and both used in manuals of correspondence.
The distinction originally seems to have been that shi5soku were letters in
general, and i5rai were exchanges of letters (as the word literally means).
In later times, however, shi5soku was used to designate real letters that
had actually been sent, whereas i5rai were only models. See Shigematsu,
Shin, pp. 276-77. In still later times i5raimono, as manuals of letter writing
came to be called, were an important element in education.
39. The Japanese were familiar with the art of printing from the eighth
century, as surviving documents prove, but the only works printed before
the late sixteenth century were Buddhist sutras and other religious works.
 Early and Heian Literature
No explanation was offered for the failure to print works of literature or
history, for example, but it may have been because of the aesthetic pref-
erence for handwritten and illustrated books.
40. Shigematsu, Shin, pp. 96-98.
41. This is the opinion of Shigematsu, in Shin, p. 270.
42. For further information on this work, see below, p. 580.
43. See below, pp. 399-402, for an account of this diary.
44. In his memoir Bonenhi (Account of Twilight Years); quoted by Inokuchi,
Nihon, p. 180.
45. The title means literally "Poems of This Country Without Titles." In
fact, most of the poems have titles, but "without titles" may be a technical
term designating titles of more than six characters. (See Nihon Koten
Bungaeu Daijiten, V, p. 495.) The collection is dated after 1162, when
Fujiwara no Tadamichi took the priestly name by which he is called in
the collection, and 1164, when he died. Thirty poets of kanshi are rep-
resented including Oe no Masafusa and Fujiwara no Tadamichi.
46. Honcho Mudai Shi, p. 271. "Phoenix tree" is a translation of the Chinese
wu-tung or Japanese aogiri. The red tears refer to the "tears of blood"
that frequently figure in Chinese poetry. Wang Tzu-ch'iao (called Wang
Tzu-chin in this poem, an alternate name) was a Taoist immortal, said
to have lived in the sixth century B.C. See Kenneth J. DeWoskin, Doctors,
Diviners, and Magicians of Ancient China, p. 174. The "Nine Saints" (or
"Nine Bright Ones") were legendary figures of antiquity. The "Seven
Sages of the Bamboo Forest" were third-century Chinese poets and schol-
ars who turned their backs on worldly endeavor.
47. Kawaguchi, Heian-cho ; III, p. 916. Kawaguchi used the word insei, mean-
ing government by the retired emperor, to designate the late Heian period.
The insei period is usually considered to have lasted from 1087 to 1192.
48. Translated by Watson in Japanese, I, p. 69.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Brewster, Jennifer. The Emperor Horikau/a Diary. Honolulu: University of

Hawaii Press, 1977. The original Australian edition of this translation was
called Sanuh] no Suke Nikki.
DeWoskin, Kenneth J. Doctors, Diviners, and Magicians of Ancient China. New
York: Columbia University Press, 1983
Hagitani Boku. Shintei Tosa Nikki, in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Sim-
bun Sha, 1969.
Late Heian Poetry and Prose in Chinese 357
Honcho Mudai Shi, in Shinko Gunsho Ruiju series, kan 126. Naigai Shoseki,
193I.
Inokuchi Atsushi. Nihon Kambungaku Shi. Kadokawa Shoten, 1984.
Kawaguchi Hisao. Heian-cho Nihon Kambungaku Shi no Kenkyu, 3 vols, Meiji
Shoin, 1975-88.
- - - . De no Masufusa, in Jimbutsu Sosho series. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1968.
- - - . Seiiki no Tora. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1974.
- - - . Wakan Roei Shu, Ryojin Hisho, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series.
Iwanami Shoten, 1965.
- - - . Wakan Roei Shu Zen'yakuchu, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansha, 1982.
Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New Yark: Grove Press, 1955.
- - - . Travelers of a Hundred Ages. New York: Holt, 1989.
Kojima Noriyuki. Kaifuso, Bunka Shurei Shu, Honcho Monzui, in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1964.
Nihon Koten Bungabu Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Osone Shosuke, "Honcho Monzui no Sekai," Kokubungaku Kaishaku to Kyozai
no Kenkyu 26:12, Sept. 198I.
C)sone Shosuke and Horiuchi Hideaki. Wakan Roei Shu, in Shincho Nihon
Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1983.
Shigematsu Akihisa. Shin Sarugakt; Ki, Unshu Shosoku. Gendai Shicho Sha,
1982.
Watson, Burton. ChineseLyricism. New York: Columbia University Press, 197I.
- - - . Early Chinese Literature. New York: Columbia University Press, 1962.
---.Japanese Literature in Chinese, 2 vols. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1975.
Yamanaka Hiroshi. "Oe no Masafusa," Kokugo to Kokubungaku 35: IO, October
1957·
 9.
HEIAN DIARIES

The beginnings of literary prose in the Heian period can be traced

back to Ki no Tsurayuki's preface to the Kokinshi«. Thirty years later,
in 935, Tsurayuki wrote Tosa Nikki (The Tosa Diary), a monument in
the development of Japanese prose and the first example of an important
genre, the literary diary.
The diaries composed in Japanese, beginning with The Tosa Diary,
tended to be personal rather than public, and the best-known examples
were written by ladies of the Heian court who rarely went anywhere
and knew little of court politics. What they wrote therefore tended to
be introspective, evoking their thoughts and emotions as they passed
long days in the semidarkness of their palace apartments. The tradition
of court ladies keeping diaries would continue until the fourteenth
century and would be revived by other women, not members of the
court, during the Tokugawa period. Their intuitive, sometimes ambig-
uous style would affect the writing of many kinds of literary prose over
the centuries.
Officials at the Heian court and Buddhist priests also kept diaries
recording their daily activities, but they wrote not in Japanese but in
kambun. Such diaries were definitely not literary in purpose, and they
figure in histories of literature mainly because of the factual information
they supply on events described in more literary but less systematic
works. The diaries of the Heian courtiers were of great value not only
to the persons who actually wrote them but to their descendants, as
records of precedents; such information was of crucial importance at a
court where precedents were venerated. The diaries in kambun often
extended to volumes that are filled with the minutiae of daily life at
the court, but it probably never occurred to the diarists to seek literary
distinction. Those who kept diaries in Japanese, on the other hand,
Heian Diaries 359

recorded only matters of personal importance, but they expressed them-

selves with poetic beauty.
The differences in the usage of the word nikki, or diary, were not
confined to the language employed by the diarist. The dry accounts of
the male diarists were kept from day to day in the usual manner of
diaries in other countries, but those by court ladies were sometimes
written years after the events they described. The latter variety of nikki
resemble autobiographies, but there is a critical difference: the writer
of an autobiography, situating himself in the present, recalls the past,
and sometimes compares events to those in the present; but the diarist,
even when writing long after the events, never compares them to the
present or anticipates later developments. The Heian literary diarist
generally relied on her memories, but even when relating half-forgotten
events, she never stepped outside the chronology to suggest her awareness
of the distance between the act of writing and those events.
Diaries composed in Japanese usually contain poems, not as embel-
lishments of the texts but as "facts." Indeed, the only documents a woman
was likely to possess when writing a diary were the poems composed
on a given occasion and noted at the time. Diaries sometimes even took
the form of a collection of poems arranged chronologically and presented
with explanatory materials.
Sometimes diaries were written in the third person, blurring the
distinction between a diary and a work of fiction. Such diaries are known
by several titles, depending on the manuscript; the same work may have
been termed a diary by one scribe and a tale (monogatari) by another.
The diary was closely linked to almost every variety of literature com-
posed during the Heian period, and its importance would extend even
to the literature of our own day: the "I novel" of the twentieth century,
in which the author closely describes events of his own life, can be
considered as a development of the techniques of the literary diary.

ENNIN'S DIARY

By far the most detailed of the surviving diaries by Japanese monks

who traveled to China is Nitta Guha Junrei Gyaki (Travel Diary of a
Pilgrimage to China in Search of the Law), an account written in
kambun by the Tendai' priest Ennin (793-864), who traveled to China
as a member of a Japanese embassy, from the time of his departure in
838 until his return to Japan in 847. The voyage was dangerous because
3 60 Early and Heian Literature
ships were completely at the mercy of the winds, and the sailors lacked
compasses to guide them. Only after three attempts did the ships succeed
in reaching China, and no sooner had they arrived than the ships ran
aground and had to be ditched. Ennin and the others would experience
innumerable hardships throughout their stay. Famine conditions pre-
vailed in northern China because of a plague of locusts that devoured
the crops, and almost as bad as the locusts were the officials, who seemed
determined to frustrate Ennin in his plans to study at the great Tendai
monasteries.
Ennin spent much of his time in China waiting to be allowed to
visit Mount Tien-t'ai, where he hoped to hear the Tendai teachings at
their fountainhead. He was unable to the end to obtain permission, but
did manage to reach Mount Wu-t'ai, another important Tendai center.
Ennin's account of his visit to Mount Wu-t'ai records in detail legends
associated with Monju (Mafijusri in Sanskrit), the object of a cult there.
Typical of his account is the description of a solemn and majestic statue
of Monju riding on a lion. He wrote of the lion, "It seems to be walking,
and vapors come from its mouth. We looked at it for quite a while,
and it looked just as if it were moving."! Ennin related the difficulties
encountered by the sculptor while fashioning this statue. Six times he
cast it, and six times it cracked to pieces. At last, realizing that his failure
must be due to Monju's dissatisfaction, he prayed to Monju, begging
him to appear before him, so that he might know his true appearance
and copy it more faithfully. Hardly had he finished this prayer than he
saw Monju before him, riding on a golden lion. When he made the
statue for the seventh time, it did not crack.'
During the latter part of Ennin's stay in China the Emperor Wu-
tsung initiated a persecution of Buddhism. For a time Ennin had no
choice but to let his hair grow out and to put aside his Buddhist robes.
He was eager to return to Japan, hut permission was not forthcoming.
For a time he was even faced with contradictory orders-to remain in
China until given permission to leave, and to leave China as soon as
possible as an undesirable foreign Buddhist. With the death of Wu-
tsung in 846 the persecution of Buddhists ended, and an amnesty was
proclaimed.' Ennin was now free to return to Japan, but only after
experiencing many hardships and delays was he able in 847 to board
an eastbound Korean ship. Aboard ship he prayed not only to the Buddha
but to the Shinto deities for a safe crossing.'
The ship traveled along the Korean coast, then crossed over to
Kyushu by way of Tsushima. Ermin landed at Hakata Bay, where he
had set sail for China over nine years earlier. His exertions in China
Heian Diaries
were rewarded after his return: he was honored by the court and even-
tually rose in 854 to become the abbot of Enryaku-ji on Mount Hiei.
Ennin died in 863 and three years later was given the posthumous title
of [ikaku Daishi, the Great Teacher of Compassionate Awareness.
Edwin Reischauer, who made a complete translation and a study of
Ennin's diary, stated that neither the diary itself nor the biographies of
Ennin written by other men conveyed anything of his personality: "He
was a scrupulously accurate and delightfully detailed diarist, but he was
no Boswell determined to make posterity his confidant.?" Even Boswell
might have had difficulty in making good reading out of the life of a
man of irreproachable virtue who was so resolutely matter-of-fact in his
expression. Reischauer commented, "While he was not a mind of bril-
liant originality and creativeness, he must have possessed extraordinary
ability." Unfortunately, Ennin's ability, especially his skill at writing
difficult classical Chinese, has kept most Japanese from reading the diary
in which he narrated his travels.
Ennin's diary is notable for his vivid descriptions of Chinese inns,
New Year celebrations, and life within the monasteries, but the reader
seldom feels in contact with the man. He does not even voice the
admiration for the great Chinese cities we might expect in a traveler
from Japan. He was absorbed by a single purpose, to seek the Buddhist
Law, and nothing else was of more than passing interest. Only occa-
sionally did he even mention the hardships he suffered, as in the letter
he sent to a Chinese official in which he described himself in these terms:
"He makes his home anywhere and finds his hunger beyond endurance,
but, because he speaks a different tongue, he is unable to beg for food
himself. He humbly hopes that in your compassion you will give the
surplus of your food to a poor monk from abroad."?
This is about as close as Ennin came to voicing a cry from the heart,
but it would be against the sober background of kambun diaries such
as Ennin's that the far more personal diaries in Japanese would be
created.

THE TOSA D 1A R y 8

Tosa Nikki, though written in the third person, is just such a personal
diary, and it too describes a journey, during the years 934 and 935. It
is the first example of nikki bungaleu (diary literature), a genre that would
constitute an important element of Japanese literature for centuries to
come. Such diaries were not simply records of daily experiences, but
 Early and Heian Literature

usually revealed the personality of the diarist in a manner seldom en-

countered in the prose writings of the time.
The author, the poet Ki no Tsurayuki, had been appointed as gov-
ernor of Tosa (on the island of Shikoku) in 930, and the diary relates
his return to the capital after completing his duties in 934. Tsurayuki,
as an official, undoubtedly knew kambun, and, like other men of his
day, could have kept his diary in Chinese if he had wished, but
there may have been emotions he could not fully convey except in
his own language. He probably also wished to include in the diary
waka that had been composed on the way; The Tosa Diary can even be
read as a defense of Japanese poetry. One passage recalls how, when
Abe no Nakamaro was about to leave China for Japan, his Chinese
friends offered a banquet and composed Chinese poems in honor of
the occasion:
"Nakamaro responded, 'In my country, poetry of this kind has been
composed ever since the age of the gods, even by the gods themselves,
and people of all classes, regardless of their standing in the world, also
compose poetry when they grieve over parting, as we grieve now, or
when moved by joy or sadness.' So saying, he composed this poem."

aounabara Gazing out over

[urisaec mireba The blue meadows of the sea,
kasuga naru I think: that must be
mihasa no yama ni The same moon that rose above
ideshi tsuki kamo Mount Mikasa in Kasuga l?

At first, the diary relates, the Chinese could not understand the
poem, but after Nakamaro had supplied a rough approximation in
Chinese characters of the meaning, and a Chinese who knew a little
Japanese explained the poetic qualities, the other Chinese seemed sur-
prisingly appreciative. If this account is to be trusted, the Chinese, who
were so proud of their own poetic traditions that they were reluctant
to admit that others existed, had been moved by the special powers of
the ','Taka (described by Tsurayuki in the preface to the Kokinshu) "to
move without effort heaven and earth, and stir to pity the invisible gods
and demons." It may in fact have been Tsurayuki's purpose when writing
the diary to demonstrate that the waka was a fair match for Chinese
poetry." The Tosa Diary contains fifty-six poems, variously attributed to
"the present governor," "a certain person," "a certain woman," and so
on, though quite possibly they were all composed by Tsurayuki himself.
Heian Diaries

This note of fiction suggests how flexibly the term nikki might be used
by authors who wrote in this mode.
The journey took fifty-five days, much of it by sea. Events are related
by month and day from the farewell banquets in Tosa to Tsurayuki's
return to his old house in Kyoto. The diary opens with the statement,
"Diaries are things written by men, I am told. Nevertheless, I am writing
one to see what a woman can do."" The author was not a woman;
Tsurayuki probably wrote this falsehood to explain why the diary was
composed in kana, or onna-moji (women's writing). He kept up through-
out the pretense that the diary had been written by a woman, but there
is nothing specifically feminine about either the style or the subjects
treated.
Although there is no absolute proof that Tsurayuki wrote the diary,
we have strong evidence for accepting this traditional attribution. The
imperially sponsored anthology Gosenshic, compiled after 951, contains
two poems from The Tosa Diary that are identified as by Tsurayuki,
and the poems are described in prose prefaces as having been composed
on a ship going from Tosa to the capital. Tsurayuki's son, Ki no To-
kifumi, was a compiler of this anthology, and the attributions are there-
fore likely to be correct. Other early references also identify Tsurayuki
as the author of the diary; but even if such evidence did not exist, we
might guess from the diary itself that the author was not, as is professed,
the work of a gentlewoman in the entourage of an official who was
returning to the capital.
Near the beginning we are told, "A certain person, having completed
four or five years at his post in the provinces, disposed of the usual
formalities and received his certificate of clearance, left the official res-
idence, and proceeded to the place where he was to board ship." The
preparation of a "certificate of clearance" (geyujo), a document inscribed
by the incoming official attesting that no fault had been found in his
predecessor's accounts, was unlikely to have been known to a lady in
the governor's party. Again, although we are reminded that the author
was a woman by the statement that she could not understand poetry
composed in Chinese, the language of men, there is unmistakable
Chinese influence in the style, notably in the use of parallel constructions.
The Tosa Diary is as much a daily record of occurrences in the
diarist's life as the account of a journey. Various scholars have pointed
out, however, that The Tosa Diary is not a good example of travel
literature. Much less is said about the journey than about poetry; names
of places passed are sometimes mistaken; and there is hardly any de-
 Early and Heian Literature

scription of the scenery. The following entry, for the thirtieth day of
the first moon, is typical:

Thirtieth. The wind and rain have let up. There are reports that
the pirates do not operate at night, so we rowed out our boats about
midnight and crossed the strait of Awa. It was the middle of the
night, and we could not tell east from west. Men and women alike
prayed frantically to the gods and buddhas, and we safely made it
across the strait."

It is hard to imagine any diarist passing the whirlpool of Naruto in

the Awa Strait without making a comment about it. Even supposing it
was too dark too see anything, surely Basho, the saint of haiku, might
have lied to the extent of saying that the starlight was so bright he could
see the swirling waters. But Tsurayuki seems to have been uninterested
in scenery. His chief concern while on the water was with the danger
of pirates, and his attention was frequently distracted from the journey
itself. But unlike most other Heian diarists, he was at pains to maintain
the pretense that he faithfully made an entry in the diary each day, if
only to say, "The same place as yesterday."
One unusual aspect of The Tosa Diary is the diarist's division of
himself into various persons. He is not only the gentlewoman who
supposedly kept the diary but other people as well. The Tosa Diary has
even been referred to as an "embryonic drama" with a cast of characters,
though it lacks dramatic tension."
Hagitani Boku, a distinguished scholar of Heian literature, suggested
that Tsurayuki intended the diary primarily as a book of poetics for
children of the nobility, and listed twenty topics concerning poetic theory
that are mentioned in the course of the work. He believed that Tsurayuki
related such episodes as the near encounter with pirates in order to
make his discussions appealing to young readers, and suggested that
Tsurayuki, assuming that the parents of the children would also examine
the "diary," included materials of a satiric nature for their amusement,
making fun of bribe-taking officials or mocking people in the capital
who expect presents from officials returning from posts in the provinces."
Intriguing though this theory is, there is a much simpler explanation
of why Tsurayuki wrote The Tosa Diary, one first proposed almost two
hundred years ago:" the underlying theme is Tsurayuki's grief over the
death of his daughter in Tosa. This theme surfaces at critical points in
the narrative, and is stated most movingly in the final poem and com-
ments. Perhaps it was because Tsurayuki considered this theme to be
Heian Diaries

"unmanly" that he chose to write the diary in the persona of a woman.

Tsurayuki was apparently sixty-six years old when he left Tosa,
homeward bound to the capital. References in The Tosa Diary to his
daughter suggest that she was probably born when he was in his late
fifties. A child of old age may seem even more precious than earlier
ones, and that may be another reason why the author wished to express
his grief in writing. The diary form itself could have been learned from
Ennin or someone else who kept a diary in Chinese, though there was
naturally no similarity in content. Despite the precise dating of the events,
the diary was not written day by day but after Tsurayuki's return to
the capital, and may have been inspired by the desolation he felt when
he saw his house again. For years he had been anticipating this moment,
but instead of the beautiful garden he remembered, he found an un-
tended wilderness. The sight in turn recalled the daughter who had
been born in this house but whose grave was in Tosa. The ending of
the diary is poignant:

Nothing but stirred old memories, and most affecting of all were
those of the girl who had been born in this house but has not returned
with us, to our immeasurable sorrow. Other people who were with
us on the ship all have their children swarming noisily around them,
and their happy cries make the sadness all the more unbearable.
This was the poem I exchanged privately with someone who un-
derstands my feelings.

mumareshi mo Though she was born here,

kaeranu mono wo She has not returned with us;
wa ga yado ni How sad it is, then,
komatsu no aru wo To see the little pine trees
rniru ga kanashisa 16 That have grown in my garden.

The theme of the daughter who died gives underlying unity to the
diary even when poetry is discussed or drunken parties described. The
diary literature that would develop after The Tosa Diary would be
extremely personal, not at all like Ennin's massive journal or the later
diaries kept in Chinese by men of the court. Tsurayuki's decision to
write The Tosa Diary in the persona of a woman deprived it of some
of the directness and truth that characterizes the diaries kept by real
women during the following century, but surely no one who reads The
Tosa Diary will doubt that he has come closer to Tsurayuki. The diary
abounds in references to poetry, but not necessarily because Tsurayuki
 Early and Heian Literature

intended it to serve as a textbook for young people. Rather, he loved

the waka and wanted to persuade others that it could be used to express
the most poignant feelings. Writing about the death of his daugher
probably helped assuage his grief, and his expressions of sorrow, though
indirectly presented, have the power to move us as individual evocations
of a universal theme.

THE GOSSAMER YEARS

The Tosa Diary was written by a man pretending to be a woman, but

Kagero Nikki (The Gossamer Years) was written by a real woman. It is
the record of a woman's unhappy life, written without a thought to
objectivity. She was convinced that no one had ever suffered as much
as she, and was determined that readers be fully aware of her misery.
Events in The Gossamer Years are not recorded by year, month, and
day. Only one year, the third of the Tenroku era (972), is plainly stated,
and other dates (from 954 to 974) must be calculated from this point of
reference. The first two of the three volumes were probably written
considerably after the events described, but in the third volume the
author seems to be writing about the recent past. The gap between the
time of the events and of the narration makes The Gossamer Years seem
more like an autobiography than a diary, but the genre is hard to define.
The work, in any case, is one of the masterpieces of diary literature, a
stunning account of the life of an intelligent and passionate woman who
refused to accept the conditions of a Heian marriage. The author, a
daughter of the governor of Mutsu, was the second wife of Fujiwara
no Kaneie (929-990), a highborn statesman who became regent in 986
and chancellor in 989. Because the author's own name is not known,
she is referred to as the Mother of Michitsuna (955-1020), her son by
Kaneie. She probably lived from 936 to 995.
Considering the importance of her husband's position at court, we
might expect that the diary would contain political gossip picked up
from Kaneie, but the author shows hardly a trace of interest in anyone
except members of her immediate family. The only political event she
mentions is the banishment to Kyushu of the minister of the Left for
allegedly plotting an insurrection in 969.17 Moved by sympathy for this
prince and his sons, all of whom were exiled to distant places, she
expressed her grief, adding, "These are matters that have no place in a
diary which describes only things that have happened to me, but since
Heian Diaries

the person who felt this grief was none other than myself, I have set
down what I experienced."18
This passage provides evidence that the Mother of Michitsuna con-
sidered her account to be solely a vehicle for describing personal ex-
periences. At the very opening of The Gossamer Years she stated her
reasons for writing the diary. She described herself as being below
average in looks, a woman who has profitlessly spent her life in the
world. She had read old romances, presumably to lighten the monotony
of her days, and as she read these books she could not help but contrast
the passionate love affairs they recounted with her own dreary life. Such
books were wholly fictitious, but she thought that perhaps an account
of what the life of a well-born lady was really like, without the addition
of fantasies, might be of interest. Her purpose in writing the diary was
not to divert, but to evoke the sadness and the loneliness of the life led
by a woman such as herself.
We need not accept her statements at face value. She was so obsessed
with her suffering that even her inborn gifts and the love she was offered
brought no pleasure. We know from other sources that, far from being
a plain and undistinguished person, she was admired both as one of the
three most beautiful women of her time and as a poet." But from the
outset she chose to picture herself not as an envied woman but as a
suffering wife.
The Gossamer Years describes the author's life from the time when
Kaneie first sent her love notes until, twenty years later, she had resigned
herself to never seeing him again. As a second wife, she should not have
expected him to spend more than occasional nights with her, but she
could not accept this convention: her diary is filled with mentions of
nights and days spent waiting for him in vain, and of the frustration
each of his visits caused by providing evidence that he could never love
her as completely and intensely as she loved him. Her New Year's wish
for 969 was that "he may be with me thirty days and thirty nights a
month.?" But when Kaneie visited and attempted to placate her, she
was often unresponsive, seemingly unable to resist her craving for pain.
The work is colored throughout by mentions of the author's grief.
Some scholars have suggested that, although she constantly complained
of her unhappiness, she was actually very fortunate." In a sense this is
true. She was never deprived of Kaneie's material assistance even when
he was least attentive, and despite his affairs with other women, he did
not forget her. There is no suggestion in the diary, however, that she
rejoiced in the comforts with which she was provided. In keeping with
the persona she had assumed, she related extremely few moments of
3 68 Early and Heian Literature

joy and many of desolation. She declared, "I concluded that my un-
happiness was part of my inescapable destiny, determined from former
lives, and must be accepted as such."22 After one visit from Kaneie she
recorded, "Eventually he appeared, but our interview was as unpleasant
as before. There seemed no relief from the gloom that had become the
dominant tone in my life."23
The author bitterly resented Kaneie's affairs with other women,
though it seems not to have occurred to her that when Kaneie took her
as his second wife, the first wife may well have experienced the kind
of anguish that she considered to be her private disaster. She had little
compassion to spare for others. At one point, after Kaneie had been
describing something that bothered him, she admitted, "I was absorbed
in my grief and paid no attention to him.'?' The title of her diary came
from the statement of her unhappiness at the close of the first book:
"And so the months and the years have gone by, but my grief over the
fate of having nothing turn out as I hoped prevents me from feeling
joy over the coming of a new year. This depressing life is likely to
continue, as I fully realize, so I have thought it appropriate to call this
the diary of a woman whose life was insubstantial as the summer haze
(kagero)."25
The most striking feature of The Gossamer Years is its incredible
honesty. No author has ever engaged in self-revelation more candidly
or appeared in a less attractive light. One night, when Kaneie announced
his intention of visiting the author,

I sent back word that I would not see him, but presently he appeared,
cool and nonchalant as ever. His playful manner I found most ir-
ritating, and before I knew it I had begun pouring out all the
resentment I had stored up through the months. He said not a word,
pretending to be asleep, and after I had gone on for a time he started
up and exclaimed, "What's this? Have you gone to bed already?"
It may not have been entirely gracious of me, but I behaved like a
stone for the rest of the night, and he left early in the morning
without a word."

The author could not have expected that such a passage would win
the reader's sympathy, but she writes so vividly and with such awareness
of her self-inflicted wounds, that we feel that we have all but participated
in her life. Even if we do not approve of her behavior, we can under-
stand it.
Perhaps the most shocking part of the diary describes the author's
Heian Diaries

exultation over the misery of a rival. Kaneie had a paramour who lived
in a narrow lane. The author was acutely aware of his visits to her rival
because his carriage passed her house on the way. She was enraged
when she learned that the other woman had given birth to Kaneie's
child, but soon afterward, as she related,

It began to appear that the lady in the alley had fallen from favor
since the birth of her child. I had prayed, at the height of my
unhappiness, that she would live to know what I was then suffering,
and it seems that my prayers were being answered. She was alone,
and now her child was dead, the child that had been the cause of
that unseemly racket.... For a moment she had been able to use a
person who was unaware of her shortcomings, and now she was
abandoned. The pain must be even sharper than mine had been. I
was satisfied."

The normal reaction to the death of the child of a hated rival would
have been expressions of sympathy, real or feigned, and perhaps even
of contrition over the prayers that had yielded such a result, but the
writer proclaims her satisfaction. No Japanese male writer up to this
time-or even much later-had described his feelings with such hon-
esty. As we have seen, various poems in the Man'yoshu by men describe
their emotions on seeing a dead body by the roadside or on a beach.
They wonder who the man is and imagine the grief of the man's wife
who waits in vain for his return. Their compassion is moving but
probably was inspired less by what they actually felt than by what they
considered to be appropriate sentiments for the occasion. When the
author of The Gossamer Years, on her way to Ishiyama, saw a dead body
by the river, her only comment was, "I was quite beyond being frightened
by that sort of thing.'?" And, at the sight of beggars at a temple, each
with his bowl, she "recoiled involuntarily at being brought so near the
defiling masses.'?"
Such outspoken expressions of feelings are not endearing, but their
honesty is unmistakable. Other parts of the diary, notably her descrip-
tions of places she saw on the way to various temples, are wonderfully
evocative and as beautifully written as anything in the literature of the
time, reminding us that she was admired as a poet. In such passages
we see another side to the author, no less true to herself than her more
frequent, unhappy reflections on her fate:
37° Early and Heian Literature

The moon flooded through the trees, while over in the shadows of
the mountain great swarms of fireflies wheeled about. An uninhibited
cuckoo made me think ironically of how once, long ago when I had
no worries, I had waited with some annoyance for a cuckoo that
refused to repeat his call. And then suddenly, so near at hand that
it seemed almost to be knocking on the door, came the drumming
of a moor hen. All in all it was a spot that stirred in one the deepest
of emotions."

Although she responded to the beauty of the scene, it inevitably

awakened bittersweet memories of the past. When a thrush, late for the
season, surprised her with its song, she noticed that it sang in a dead
tree.
The diary breaks off with the account of how, at the end of 974,
the author heard a knocking at the gate. Scholars conjecture that the
knocking came from exorcisers who went around from house to house
on the last night of the year driving away demons. Even if the knocking
was not that of exorcisers, it surely was not from Kaneie. The last third
of the diary, in fact, contains comparatively little mention of Kaneie and
treats instead the efforts of Kaneie's younger brother to marry the girl
whom the diarist has adopted.
Many critics have opined that the last volume of The Gossamer Years,
written soon after the events actually occurred, is literarily superior to
her recollections of the more distant past, but it is hard to concur in
this view. Like most autobiographical works, the earlier sections are the
most compelling, perhaps because the imagination of the author was
not blocked by quotidian concerns. The first two of the three books of
The Gossamer Years, filled with half-remembered conversations and emo-
tions, create an unforgettable portrait of a woman who, though sensitive
and intelligent, little noticed her good fortune and was aware only of
what she lacked.
The diary contains over three hundred poems. None is of the highest
quality and most, at least for modern readers, tend to interrupt the
narrative; but because they were written down immediately after being
composed, they are probably more accurate than the author's
recollections.
The most notable poem is Kaneie's choka. Kaneie naturally did not
keep a diary in which he described his relations with the Mother of
Michitsuna, but if he had, he surely would not have revealed even as
much of himself as in this poem, the only version of the affair from his
side. It opens, "True, the newly gathered red leaves will fade. Love is
Heian Diaries 37 1

but love. Each autumn is the same." These words suggest he was aware
of the impossibility of keeping love burning at the same intensity forever.
But, he insists, he has never forgotten his wife or son: "I did not forget,
my purpose was as always. I sought to see the child and was turned
away." The wife, even by her own testimony, often refused to see him
and, driven from her house, he sought solace in "other, kinder places.
But sometimes still I came, and I slept alone. And when I awoke in the
middle of the night, I found the friendly moon, quite unreserved. And
not a trace of you. Thus one may find that love has lost its flavor and
left one inattentive.... "31
The reader of The Gossamer Years is likely to be struck by its unusual
modernity, so much so that one is tempted to conjecture that if the
Mother of Michitsuna were writing today, her book would probably be
much the same. The Tosa Diary led to many other travel diaries, but
The Gossamer Years led to The Tale of Genji by the truth and refinement
of its expression." It would be agreeable to report that Kaneie grieved
as much over the death of the Mother of Michitsuna as Genji grieved
over Murasaki, but if he died before her, and even if he had lived, his
grief would have been tempered by relief that the demands of a woman
who had loved him too much had at last ended.

THE TALE OF THE To NOMINE CAPTAIN

A recurrent theme in both the diaries and the works of fiction of the
Heian period is the desire to "leave the world" and become a Buddhist
priest. Most people who expressed this desire, like Genji himself, were
unable-because of worldly connections, expecially to the people who
depended on them-to take so drastic a step, but some Heian noblemen
did precisely that. Although blessed with everything their society
prized-distinguished ancestry, rank, wealth, children-they gave these
up in favor of a monk's somber habit.
The surviving diaries of the period reveal that when a man entered
Buddhist orders this decision in no way altered the affection his family
felt for him, and the "great step," which persons who had already become
priests recommended to those who were disillusioned with the world,
was often the cause of bitter lamentation. Tonomine Shosho Monogatari
(The Tale of the Tonomine Captain), though not always discussed as
a diary, seems to be free of fictitious elements; it has, moreover, been
known also as Takamitsu Nikki (The Takamitsu Diary). The work
consists almost entirely of episodes relating the grief of members of the
372 Early and Heian Literature

family of Fujiwara no Takamitsu (939-94) over his decision to abandon

the world and become a monk.
The work seems to have been written about 962, while Takamitsu
was living in a monastery on Mount Hiei. Soon afterward, Takamitsu
moved from Hiei, where he had first taken the tonsure, to remote
Tonomine, where he spent the rest of his life; hence the title by which
the work is most often called. The author is unknown, but it has been
suggested that it was a woman in the service of Takamitsu's wife." The
period of the diary is more or less the same as that of The Gossamer
Years, and scholars have debated which work came first."
Takamitsu was a grandson of the Emperor Daigo and a brilliant
waka poet. He was acclaimed as a genius when he was barely fifteen,
and was later chosen as one of the thirty-six immortals of poetry; but
at the age of twenty-three he suddenly left his wife and daughter to
become a monk. He had previously, on many occasions, announced his
intention of taking this step, though probably only half in earnest; but
once his father, who had forbidden him to enter orders, died in 960 he
felt free to carry out this long-cherished plan. One day he informed his
wife of his decision to go to Mount Hiei and become a priest. The wife,
having heard similar declarations before, thought it was just his usual
joke, but he insisted, "This time I really mean it." She was sure that
he would return home that night and merely laughed. He repeated
his intention, at which she grew angry, imagining he was trying to pro-
voke her. But after he had left home forever he sent a poem reassur-
ing her:

u/a ga iran Keep your faith always

yama no ha ni nao In the mountains in whose depths
kakaritare I soon shall go:
ornoi na ire so Do not think too much of this;
tsuyu mo wasureji I never shall forget you.

Apparently he found it hardest to leave his sister," Aimiya. He visited

her a final time, but refused to enter her house, saying, "I'm going
somewhere in a hurry." He went on to Mount Hiei and, going directly
to the cell of his younger brother, who had already become a priest, he
commanded, "Shave my head!" The brother, unable to believe his ears,
asked Takamitsu if he had forgotten his promise to their father not to
leave the world. The abbot of the monastery, Zoga, was also in tears
Heian Diaries 373

and refused to shave Takamitsu's head, whereupon Takamitsu himself

calmly cut off his topknot. Z6ga, realizing that there was no way to
change Takamitsu's resolve, finally shaved his head.
The remainder of The Tale of the Tiinomine Captain is given over
largely to descriptions of the grief caused by Takamitsu's decision.
Both his wife and his sister Aimiya declared their intention of entering
Buddhist orders, but opposition from members of their family pre-
vented them. Aimiya repeatedly wrote doleful letters to Takamitsu's
wife, expressing her never-ending sorrow. Attempts made by Aimiya's
sister to cheer her with flowers had no effect. Another sister wrote
Aimiya,

How have you been of late? I have felt so terribly unsettled that I
haven't been able to write for some time. I can easily imagine just
how upset you must be over what has happened. Why haven't you
come to see me? Have you had any word from the mountain?
Nothing can be done about his decision to turn his back on the
world, but it shouldn't be impossible for him to make his way here
in secret and pay a visit to you, if nobody else. If it were a place
where women could go, I would want nothing more than to go
there myself, but this is one more instance of how helpless a woman
is. I'm sure that you, too, when everything seems to be going contrary
to your wishes, would like to go to the mountain, but that's one
thing you must not even think of doing. I'm told you talk of wanting
to become a nun. What a dreadful thing! Is it true? Never, never
let that thought into your head.

urami koshi After all your grief

samukamahoshiki You'd like to turn your back on
yo nari tomo This sad world of ours,
mirume kazukanu But don't become a diver
ama ni naru na y037 Who fails to gather seaweed

The expressions of grief get monotonous with repetition, and the

poems are undistinguished; but it is striking that nobody even pretended
to be glad that Takamitsu had entered the path of the Buddha. Taka-
mitsu's late father, Fujiwara no Morosuke," appeared in a dream to
demand to know what grief had induced his son to become a priest."
He recognized that the priesthood was a holy profession, but was heart-
broken over Takamitsu's decision, even though the son's prayers might
374 Early and He ian Literature

help the father to gain salvation. Not only do people deplore Takamitsu's
action, but they remind his wife and sister that even if they enter orders
they will not be able to join him. Takamitsu himself opposed his wife's
becoming a nun, as this poem indicates:

arna nite mo Even as a nun

.. .
onap yama nt wa You surely could not remain
e shimo araji On the same mountain;
nao yo no nalta wo Still spend your days in this world
uramite zo hen" Bitterly though you hate it.

Takamitsu was by no means indifferent to what happened to his

wife, sister, and daughter, but he was inflexible in his determination to
remain secluded from all worldly ties. Other people of the day, such as
the cloistered sovereigns or the mother of the author of The Sarashina
Diary (see page 383), remained at home (or in a palace in the city) even
after entering Buddhist orders, and changed their lives only to the extent
of trimming their hair or wearing dark clothes; but Takamitsu had
found his vocation and he refused to temporize, despite the ties to his
family.
Perhaps the most interesting part of the diary concerns a former
suitor of Takamitsu's wife, who sends her a letter reminding her that
when, long ago, she refused him, he also considered, "living in the
mountains." Then, with startling unpleasantness, he declares that she
should consider her present grief as her punishment for having made
him suffer in the past. He is sure that the wife, left to spend sleepless
nights alone, now suffers more than Takamitsu, who has cut himself
off from those he loved."
The wife for a time considered suicide, but refrained, out of love
for her small daughter. She sent Takamitsu a choka describing the
plight of the child. His reply showed he was also worried, and being
unable to see his daughter in waking hours was attempting to see her
in dreams. When his longing became desperate, he took comfort even
from daytime visions."
The Tale of the Tonomine Captain, despite the lugubrious tone, is
affecting, particularly because it describes an aspect of Heian court life
that was seldom mentioned by the writers of fiction; a character who
had really "left the world" would simply disappear from a novel." The
diary lingers in the mind as a convincing account of the loneliness of
those left behind when a man chose the path of salvation.
Heian Diaries 375
THE IzUMI SHIKIBU DIARY

The first question to be asked about Izumi Shikibu Nikki (The Izumi
Shikibu Diary) is whether or not it should be considered a diary, and
some scholars not only refuse to call it a diary but doubt that Izumi
Shikibu wrote it. It certainly does not resemble a diary: the entries are
undated; it is written throughout in the third person, with Izumi Shikibu
always referred to simply as anna, "the woman"; and the author enters
into the thoughts of other people in a manner customary in works of
fiction but not in diaries. Because of such departures from the normal
form of a diary, some scholars have insisted that the work must have
been written by another person," but at present most authorities accept
the attribution to Izumi Shikibu.
Regardless of whether or not she wrote the work, the term "diary"
seems inappropriate." Perhaps the work might best be called a romance,"
related in short sections of prose and interspersed with over 140 waka.
Both prose and poetry are of high literary quality. The work as a whole
suggests a fragment of a longer monogatari, but its closeness in tone
and content to the diaries by Heian court ladies accounts for its being
treated as a diary.
The Izumi Shikibu Diary covers a little less than a year between the
early summer of 1003, when Prince Atsumichi made his first overture
to Izumi Shikibu, a spray of orange blossoms he sent with a messenger,
and the spring of the following year, when Atsumichi's wife, enraged
by his infidelity, left his home to go live with her sister. Prince Atsumichi
(980-1°°7), the son of the Emperor Reizei by a secondary consort, was
twenty-three at the beginning of the work; Izumi Shikibu was probably
a few years older. She had been married to the governor of Izumi (a
title from which she derived part of her name) and had borne him at
least one daughter, but her affair with Atsumichi's brother seems to
have broken up the marriage.
The messenger who bears Atsumichi's gift at the opening of the
work is a page who was formerly in the service of Atsumichi's elder
brother, Tametaka (977-1002). Izumi and Tametaka had been lovers
until the year before, when he suddenly died at the age of twenty-five.
According to some sources, Tametaka was so assiduous in his wooing
of Izumi that he paid no attention to a raging epidemic, but made his
way through streets filled with rotting corpses to her house." Perhaps
he died of a disease contracted at that time.
When Izumi received the orange blossoms she was still so wrapped
in memories of Tametaka that she was reluctant to reply. Finally, how-
37 6 Early and Heian Literature

ever, she sent Atsumichi a poem, and the ensuing correspondence, at

first intended by Izumi to be no more than a distraction from "the
listless boredom of her existence.":" before long led to their becoming
lovers. They remained so until his death in 1007. Izumi, who was
probably twenty-nine at the time, composed a hundred poems after
Atsumichi's death attesting to her extreme grief. The prevailing tone
of the diary, the poetry especially, is dark. For all her reputation as a
creature of the senses, Izumi seems to drift rather than leap into her
relationship with Atsumichi: "What she really wanted was to live 'in a
cavern deep within the crags.' But how would she cope with the mel-
ancholy that might come to haunt her?"49 She seems to have sought in
her affair with Atsumichi not so much pleasure as an escape from a
heaviness of spirit.
Despite the general atmosphere of melancholy that infuses the diary,
some passages have unusual charm:

He came to her as usual in his carriage. Because of having changed

his residence temporarily due to the directional taboo," he was now
living in a highly secluded place, he said. She went with him, deciding
that this time she would simply do whatever he asked of her. They
talked together to their hearts' content from morning till night, rising
or sleeping as they pleased. She felt relieved of the bitter tedium of
her days and wished to go and live with him. But the period of his
taboo passed, and she returned to her own home.
Today she felt more than ever overpowered with love and long-
ing, until, unable to endure her emotions any longer, she wrote:

tsurezure to Today I discovered,

kyo kazoreba On carefully counting up
toshitsuki no All the months and years,
kino zo mono wo That yesterday was the first
omotoazarikcru I did not spend in
brooding."

Such happy days, however, were few. Perhaps the most frequently
reiterated theme in the diary is the fear of gossip. Atsumichi feared
what not only his wife but also his servants might say if he went out
night after night. "And further, he reflected, it was because of his
infatuation with this woman that his brother, the late Prince, had been
made the subject of vicious gossip until the day of his death."? Izumi
Heian Diaries 377
also worried about gossip, but "she resigned herself to the thought that
this was the inevitable consequence of her continued existence in
society. "53
The fear of gossip is mentioned on almost every page. When
Atsumichi decided to visit Izumi, his old nurse tried to dissuade him
by saying that "people are talking about this affair."54 He later heard
rumors that Izumi was unfaithful to him, and for a time believed them.
Izumi was distraught that Atsumichi had listened to this gossip, but
even after they were reconciled, he told her, "I have been made the
object of much vexing criticism. Perhaps because my visits to you are
few and far between, I have never been discovered: yet people are saying
most distressing things.":"
It is hard to understand why a man of Atsumichi's rank should have
been afraid that waiting women in the palace might gossip about him,
but one recalls the opening of The Tale of Genji where, we are told,
"The emperor's pity and affection quite passed bounds. No longer caring
what his ladies and courtiers might say, he behaved as if intent on
stirring up gossip."> The Heian aristocrats, regardless of their position,
dreaded gossip, and only the bravest or most love-stricken dared to
ignore what people might think. The one sure way to avoid comment
was to withdraw completely from society, either by entering a religious
order or else by secluding oneself and becoming known as a hermit or
eccentric. Gossip and concern over what other people think often appear
obsessive in works of Heian literature, despite the general air of per-
missiveness. The court society was limited to some one or two thousand
people who had the leisure to observe and spread tales about one an-
other's behavior. The necessity of preserving dignity (or "face") no doubt
inspired such acute fear.
Izumi Shikibu and Prince Atsumichi tried for a long time to keep
their affair a secret, but, at last realizing that it was impossible to keep
tongues from wagging, Atsumichi took the bold step of installing Izumi
under the same roof with his wife. We know from Okagami (The Great
Mirror) the historical work that describes this period, that at the Kamo
Festival of 1005 Atsumichi defiantly placed Izumi in his carriage, from
which her long sleeves and haltama (divided skirts) trailed to the ground.
The Great Mirror reports, "Everyone seemed to be looking at them
instead of watching the procession."57
The last we hear of Izumi Shikibu is that "she decided simply to
go on serving the Prince as before, but she knew that after all she was
destined never to be free of sorrows.':"
 Early and Heian Literature
THE MURASAKI SHIKIBU DIARY

Our expectations when we open a copy of Murasahi Shikibu Nikki (The

Murasaki Shikibu Diary) are likely to be higher than for any other diary
written by a Japanese, certainly one written by a Japanese literary figure.
We turn to it, above all, for clues as to how a rather obscure court lady,
known to us only by her nickname of Murasaki Shikibu, managed to
create one of the masterpieces of world literature, The Tale of Genii.
The diary consists of three main sections: an account of the birth of
Prince Atsuhira, the first child of the Empress Shoshi," the daughter
of Fujiwara no Michinaga; a description of life at the court in the form
of a letter to a friend; and, finally, a collection of seemingly unrelated
anecdotes concerning court life. The Murasaki Shikibu Diary, like other
diaries by women of the time, is not a diary in the normal sense. The
entries are dated casually or not at all, occasioning speculation as to the
years of some events, such as Murasaki Shikibu's first appearance at
court.
Needless to say, every scrap of information that Murasaki Shikibu
provides about herself is of unique importance to scholars of Japanese
literature, whether her description of her early education, when she read
the Chinese classics so much more quickly than her brother (for whose
sake the lessons had been arranged) that her father regretted she had
not been born a boy, or her expressions of admiration or disapproval
for various ladies of the court. There are also passages that recall the
manner of The Tale ofGenji. But the diary as a whole is a disappointment
because it reveals so little of how she worked as a writer. Did she begin
with the first chapter or (as tradition has it) with the chapters describing
Genji's life at Suma and Akashi? Was the order of chapters the same
as in the present text, or did she later interleave chapters? These and
similar questions intrigue everyone who has ever studied The Tale of
Genii, but the diary remains silent on such matters.s"
Of the few mentions of The Tale of Genii, perhaps the best-known
is: "When His Majesty had The Tale ofGenji read to him he was pleased
to say, 'This person surely must have read the Nihangi. She certainly
has a good knowledge of Chinese.' [Saemon no Naishi), quick to make
inference, spread word among people at the court to the effect that I
am terribly proud of my learning, and she bestowed on me the nickname
of The Lady of the Nihongil'"
The malice of the court lady Saemon no Naishi in spreading word
that Murasaki Shikibu enjoyed showing off her knowledge of writings
in Chinese recalls Murasaki Shikibu's own criticism of Sei Shonagon,
Heian Diaries 379

and again reminds us of the power of gossip in a closed society like that
of the Japanese court. But it is puzzling that his reading of The Tale of
Genii should have suggested to the emperor that Murasaki Shikibu was
well versed in the Nihon Shoki. Surely the impression a modern reader
receives from The Tale ofGenii in no way resembles the effect of reading
the accumulation of legendary and historical materials that make up the
Nihon Shok]. Perhaps people of her day read The Tale of Genii in a
different manner from our own, as a kind of veiled commentary on
actual events at the court, but the clues in the diary are too incomplete
to enlighten us.
In other respects The Murasae] Shiltib« Diary is an excellent source
of information on what life was like at the Heian court during its period
of greatest glory. In the "Fireflies" chapter of The Tale ofGenii Murasaki
Shikibu, speaking through the character Genji, set forth the importance
of the art of fiction, contrasting it with the materials found in the official
histories. Genji at first had made light of the old romances, but he
concluded by admitting that the Nihon Shoki gives an incomplete picture
of what life in the past was like, and it was the romances that filled in
the details.F In much the same way, the diaries of the court ladies,
especially The Murasaki Shikibu Diary, supply materials that are found
nowhere else. If, for example, The Gossamer Years did not exist, the
portrait of Kaneie that could be pieced together from other sources
would be so incomplete that only a specialist in Heian history would
be likely to remember his name. But who could forget Kaneie after
reading The Gossamer Years?
It has been suggested that Fujiwara no Michinaga (966-1027) served
as the model for Genji. Little in The Murasaki Shikibu Diary substantiates
this theory; in fact, it would be easier to conclude that Genji was an
anti-Michinaga, a diametrical opposite in every sense. The bulk of the
diary is given over to an account of the celebrations attending the birth
of Michinaga's grandchild, the son of his daugher Shoshi. At all stages
Michinaga, rather than the infant's father (the Emperor Ichijo), is in
command. "His Excellency was shouting everything in such a loud voice
that the intoning of the priests was drowned out and could not be
heard."63 His joy after the safe delivery was not merely that of a grand-
father, but of the grandfather of a future emperor. He was so delighted
that he could not resist the impulse to visit his daughter and the baby
every morning and evening for the pleasure of taking his grandchild
in his arms, though on one occasion the baby responded by wetting
Michinaga's cloak.
Genji experienced few such joys. His first son, the fruit of his secret
3 80 Early and Heian Literature
union with his father's consort Fujitsubo, could not be recognized as
his, and thoughts of this son stirred feelings of shame rather than pride.
His other son, Yugiri, was born while the mother, Aoi, was in a state
of demonic possession; and hardly is the baby born before Aoi is killed
by the living ghost of Lady Rokujo. The woman Genji loves most,
Murasaki, is childless. 1t is true that his daughter by the Lady of Akashi
marries an emperor, but Genji derives no advantage from this.
There are even more important differences between Genji and
Michinaga. The latter not only never seems to have heard of mono no
aware (sensitivity to things), but behaves on occasion with a crudity that
would be unimaginable in Genji. But there is no need to belabor the
point. Whether or not it was Murasaki Shikibu's intent to describe in
The Tale of Genji what a truly civilized court was like, the account in
her diary of the court she actually knew is disillusioning.
On reading The Murasale: Shikibu Diary one quickly becomes aware
of the differences separating the world of The Tale of Genji and Mu-
rasak i's life at the court. However, it is not a totally different world.
The opening of the diary is permeated with an awareness of beauty that
demonstrates that the novel was not wholly fictitious:

As autumn deepens, the beauty of the Tsuchimikado mansion defies

description. The trees by the lake and the grasses by the stream
become a blaze of color that intensifies in the evening glow and
makes the voices in ceaseless recitation sound all the more impressive.
A cool breeze gently stirs, and throughout the night the endless
murmur of the stream blends with the sonorous chanting."

For all the court's beauty, Murasaki Shikibu was only intermittently
happy there. She stated in her diary that her loneliness was quite un-
bearable. This was not the loneliness of isolation but of having no one
with whom to share her thoughts. It was also the loneliness of the artist
who craves companionship but also rejects it, knowing that work re-
quires solitude. There were times when court life gave Murasaki Shikibu
unmistakable pleasure, as she reveals in her description of the enter-
tainments offered to celebrate the birth of the prince; and she was
especially sensitive to music, especially music heard over water."
More often, however, Murasaki Shikibu wrote of her displeasure or
even dismay. She related at one point how the celebrated poet Fujiwara
no Kinta asked a group of court ladies, "1 wonder if young Murasaki
is in attendance here?" Murasaki murmured to herself, "Why should
that lady have come when there is nobody here who even suggests
Heian Diaries
Genji?"6!> Perhaps it was at this time that Murasaki acquired the nick-
name by which she would henceforth be k nown.F But there are even
more striking contrasts between the world of the novel and that of the
Heian court, as the following passage (which occurs immediately after
the above) suggests:

"Assistant Master of Third Rank Sanenari!" shouted His Excellency.

"Take the cup!" He stood up and, because his father the Minister
of the Center, Kinsue, was present, he came up the steps from the
garden. Seeing this, his father burst into tears. Provisional Middle
Counsellor T akaie, who was leaning against a corner pillar, started
pulling at Lady Hyobu's robes and singing dreadful songs, but His
Excellency said nothing. I realized that it was bound to be a terribly
drunken affair this evening, so, once the formal celebrations were
over, Lady Saisho and I decided to retire."

Murasaki Shikibu's diary portrays not the flawlessly behaved cour-

tiers of The Tale of Genji but drunken men who make obscene jokes
and paw at the women. Some modern readers may find that such proofs
of the coarseness of the real (as opposed to the fictional) Heian courtiers
make them seem more "human" and closer than the peerless Genji, but
that was obviously not Murasaki Shikibu's point of view. Weary of such
excessively human men, she took refuge in the world she had created.
Murasaki Shikibu's loneliness was occasioned also by her exceptional
powers of discernment. The "letter" section of her diary contains thumb-
nail sketches of some fifteen court ladies. She was not always critical;
indeed, she praised several women without qualification and generally
found something to praise even in women she disliked. But her barbed
criticisms are what we remember of her comments, and an ability to
see through seeming perfection to hidden flaws, though valuable in a
novelist, is a sure way to lose friends. At one point Murasaki Shikibu
restrained herself, saying that if she went on describing people in so
unflattering a manner she would certainly acquire the reputation of
being a gossip; but having said this, she immediately launched into a
description of Lady Saisho that concluded with her judgment that Saisho
was by no means perfect.
The most interesting of Murasaki Shikibu's comments on court ladies
of her time refer to women we know from their own works, Izumi
Shikibu and Sei Shonagon. Murasaki Shikibu wrote of the former, "She
does have a rather unsavory side to her character but has a genius for
tossing off letters with ease and can make the most banal statement
 Early and Heian Literature
sound special. ... I cannot think of her as a poet of the highest quality.'?"
Sei Shonagon fared even worse. She is described as being dreadfully
conceited, and Murasaki Shikibu was unimpressed either by her wit or
her familiarity with Chinese characters. Her final comment was the
characterization of Sei Shonagon and people like her as "ridiculous and
superficial."
Such sharp observations demonstrated how mistakenly people at the
court judged Murasaki Shikibu. At first her reluctance to join in general
gossip was attributed to her shyness. Later, they concluded that she must
be stupid, despite her literary accomplishments. Murasaki's own esti-
mation of herself was more astute:

Do they really look upon me as such a dull thing, I wonder? But I

am what I am and so act accordingly. Her Majesty too has often
remarked that she had thought I was not the kind of person with
whom she could ever relax, but that now I have become closer to
her than any of the others. I am perversely standoffish; if only I can
avoid putting off those for whom I have genuine respect."

This is not only a successful self-portrayal but helps to explain how

Murasaki Shikibu was able to keep writing her lengthy novel while
serving at the court. She had to preserve her distance from the intrigues
and rivalries that occupied the other court ladies, and only with a few
chosen friends did she reveal her true nature.
Apart from the emperor's praise (in which he likened the work to
the Nihon Shoki), there are only indirect references to The Tale of Genii.
For example, Murasaki Shikibu's mention of ladies in the empress's
entourage choosing paper of various colors and asking skillful callig-
raphers to make copies of monogatari has been interpreted as meaning
that the empress had asked for copies of The Tale of Genii. But, even
if this is what the passage signifies,71 it is not clear whether or not the
work had already been completed.
Murasaki Shikibu soon afterward in her diary noted that one day,
while she was busy serving at the court, Michinaga sneaked into her
room and found the copy of The Tale of Genii she had brought along
for safekeeping. He gave this manuscript to his second daughter. Mu-
rasaki Shikibu expressed her distress that an inferior copy (presumably,
not the final version) might harm her reputation. It is unclear in what
way the manuscript was inferior to the final version, but the statement
is evidence that she worried about the future reception of her book.
Murasaki Shikibu was far more ambitious than the writers of the
Heian Diaries

old tales had been. She put into her novel not only romantic elements
of the kind that had appeared in earlier works of fiction, but also her
experience of life. As time passed, it was natural that her outlook
changed, necessitating revisions. She wrote at one point, "I tried re-
reading the Tale, but it did not seem to be the same as before, and I
was disappointed."72 Perhaps she was not in fact referring to The Tale
of Genii but to some other work, but the meaning remains the same:
she had outgrown her former tastes and was no longer satisfied with
what had once pleased her.
The final reference in the diary to The Tale of Genii consists of the
banter and poems exchanged by Murasaki Shikibu and Michinaga after
he happened to notice a copy of the work near where the empress had
been sitting." The manner of presentation of this incident suggests that
Murasaki Shikibu felt quietly confident in the value of her novel. The
diary is also of high literary distinction, but it survives only in a sadly
mutilated state, and of course lacks the magnitude of The Tale of Genii.
Even in its present state, unfortunately incomplete, it is still a high point
in the Japanese tradition of diary literature.

THE SARASHINA DIARY

Sarashina Nikki (The Sarashina Diary) is even less like a diary than The
Murasak] Shikibu Diary. Hardly an entry is dated, and the work covers
not a limited number of years but, like an autobiography, virtually the
entire life of the writer. It is most unlike a true diary in its implicit
denial of reality. Diaries usually insist on verisimilitude-whether or
not it rained on a certain day, who came to visit, from whom letters
were received, and so on-but in The Sarashina Diary the place of reality
is taken by fiction or dreams. The world of the monogatari, especially
The Tale of Genii, bulked larger in the writer's mind than everyday
existence, and the people of the novel were not merely characters in
literature but her most intimate friends and the object of her emulation.
Her greatest desire as a child was not that she would lead a happy life
as a wife and mother, or as a member of the court, but that she would
be able to immerse herself to her heart's content in the old romances.
The opening paragraph of her diary set the tone for the entire work:

I was brought up in a part of the country so remote that it lies

beyond the end of the Great East Road. What an uncouth creature
I must have been in those days! Yet even shut away in the provinces
 Early and Heian Literature

I somehow came to hear that the world contained things known as

Tales, and from that moment my greatest desire was to read them
for myself. To idle away the time, my sister, my step-mother, and
others in the household would tell me stories from the Tales, in-
cluding episodes about Genji, the Shining Prince; but since they had
to depend on their memories, they could not possibly tell me all I
wanted to know and their stories only made me more curious than
ever. In my impatience I got a statue of the Healing Buddha built
in my own size. When no one was watching, I would perform my
ablutions and, stealing into the altar room, would prostrate myself
and pray fervently, "Oh, please arrange things so that we may soon
go to the Capital, where there are many Tales, and please let me
read them all.'?'

To have the statue of Yakushi Buddha built was an extraordinary

undertaking for a girl not yet twelve years old, and it demonstrates the
strength of her determination to read every last monogatari.
One can easily imagine that a well-educated girl who had grown
up in a distant part of the country would yearn to go to the capital, the
only place in Japan where she could lead the kind of life for which her
education had prepared her. She craved not the social life that actually
existed at the court but the vicarious pleasure of reading about imaginary
people who had once populated it. Manuscripts were scarce and expen-
sive, and it was most unlikely that a complete set of The Tale of Genji
would turn up in remote Kazusa, so the only way this sensitive, intro-
verted girl could be sure of being able to read all that had been written
about Prince Genji was by living in the capital. If she could have obtained
in the country all the books she wanted, perhaps she would not have
desired to leave.
No sooner did she and her family arrive at their destination than
she let it be known that she was eager to read some tales immediately.
Her house, set in uncultivated grounds, in no way suggested the re-
finement of a great city, and the household was in confusion as people
tried to make the place livable, but the girl could not wait for things
to settle down. She wrote in her diary, "I begged my mother, 'Please,
please look for some tales and show them to me.' "75
From the time she left Kazusa in 1020 at the age of twelve until
she was invited at the age of thirty-one to serve at the court, the author
of The Sarashina Diary seems to have done nothing except read mono-
gatari. In addition to The Tale of Genji, which she read again and again,
she read such works as Togimi, Scrikaa/a, Shirara, and Asauzu, all of
Heian Diaries

which have disappeared without a trace. Granting that there were many
more romances for her to read than still survive, it was still a most
unusual way to spend what are considered to be the most precious years
of a woman's life. She was by no means unhappy to have spent her life
in this way. On the contrary, she related what immense joy she felt
when an aunt presented her with all fifty-odd volumes of The Tale of
Genji, making it possible for her to read the whole work for the first
time. She declared, "I wouldn't have changed places with the Empress
herself."76
She spent every day reading until late at night. Apparently no suitors
came to distract her from her readings-the young men of the court
were probably not even aware that she existed. She told herself, "I was
not a very attractive girl at the time, but I fancied that, when I grew
up, I would surely become a great beauty with long flowing hair like
Yugao, who was loved by Genji, the Shining Prince, or like Ukifune,
who was wooed by the Captain of Uji. Oh, what futile conceits!"77
It is by no means strange for a plain girl to imagine that, like the
ugly duckling of Andersen's fairy tale, she will one day turn into a
swan; but she continued to entertain such hopes long after the time
when that transformation should have occurred. Her life at home was
monotonous. Her father was an official of the zuryo class, a man who
is remembered only because the author of the diary is known as the
daughter of Takasue. It is true that Sugawara no Michizane was a
distant ancestor, and that she was a niece of the author of The Gossamer
Years, but she does not mention this. She took refuge from her humdrum
life in books and also in the world of dreams.
She recorded her dreams faithfully, many times in the course of the
diary. Often a dream had religious significance, but initially at least she
paid scant attention to such dreams. "One night I dreamt that a hand-
some priest appeared before me in a yellow surplice and ordered me to
learn the fifth volume of the Lotus Sutra as soon as possible. I told no
one about the dream, since I was much too busy with my Tales to spend
any time learning sutras."78
Some time later, the author's mother, worried about what would
happen to a girl who lived so secluded from the world, ordered a mirror
to be made for the Hase Temple, and asked the priest to stay in retreat
for three days and pray for a dream about her daughter's future. The
priest did as requested, and had a dream in which a beautiful lady
appeared, dressed in splendid robes, who asked if there was a document
presented with the mirror. The priest replied that there was none. The
lady seemed surprised, but she showed the priest what was reflected on
3 86 Early and Heian Literature
both sides of the mirror. On one side a figure was seen tossing with
weeping and lamentation; on the other was reflected a beautiful spring-
time scene." Years later the author would decide that the unhappy figure
tossing with grief was a prophetic vision of herself, but at the time she
paid no attention to the dream. "So indifferent was I to such matters
that when I was repeatedly told to pray to the Heavenly Goddess Arna-
terasu I wondered who this deity might be and whether she was in fact
a Goddess or a Buddha. It was some time before I was interested enough
to ask who she actually was.?"
Unlike other educated Heian women, she did not study the Lotus
Sutra or the mysteries of Shinto. At first, she was so involved with
reading tales that she had no time to spare even for dreams, though she
accepted the contemporary belief that they reveal the future. Her mind
was filled not only with the dreams that come during the hours of sleep
but with daydreams that made her life as uncertain and unreal as the
future. This is how she described her thoughts when she was about
twenty-four:

I lived forever in a dream world. Though I made occasional pil-

grimages to temples, I could never bring myself to pray sincerely
for what most people want. I know there are many who read the
sutras and practice religious devotions from the age of about sev-
enteen; but I had no interest in such things. The height of my
aspirations was that a man of noble birth, perfect in both looks and
manner, someone like Shining Genji in the Tale, would visit me
just once a year in the mountain village where he would have hidden
me like Lady Ukifune. There I should live my lonely existence,
gazing at the blossoms and the autumn leaves and the moon and
the snow, and wait for an occasional splendid letter from him. That
was all I wanted; and in time I came to believe that it would actually
happen."

She dreamed of herself as Ukifune (the unhappiest woman portrayed

in The Tale of Genji and the only one who attempted suicide), finding
it easier to identify with this tragic character than with Murasaki, who
was favored with Genji's love. She had no hopes that a Genji of her
own would install her in a wing of his palace, with a garden that reflected
her preference among the seasons, but only that he would keep her in
some lonely mountain village. This was a modest ambition, but this
vision of Genji to which she clung was of a perfect man who did not
Heian Diaries
resemble anyone she had actually seen. She was sure that even if such
a man visited her only once a year she would be satisfied. And if between
his visits he favored her with a lettter-of course, it would be a splendid
letter-she would be happy while she waited. Like many children, but
not like most women of twenty-four; she was sure that if she wished
hard enough she would obtain whatever she wanted. There is something
at once childish and extremely affecting in the frankness with which
she expressed these desires.
About this time her father was appointed as the governor of a distant
province. He did not take his daughter with him, for fear she might
turn into a mere country woman. He told her, "The provinces are terrible
places .... I may not be long for this world and I can think of all too
many examples of girls who have lost their fathers and then gone to
seed in the Capital.'?" He did not openly refer to the fact that she was
still unmarried, though this must have been on his mind.
After her father left for Hitachi fewer visitors than ever came to
her house. By way of distracting herself from her loneliness, she made
a pilgrimage to U zumasa. Her prayers were not for her own salvation
but for her father's return. During another pilgrimage, this one to the
Kiyomizu Temple, she dreamed that a priest approached and scolded
her: "Engaged in senseless trifling, you are risking your future salva-
tion.?" She noted in the diary that she told no one about this dream,
and left the temple without giving it further thought.
We may admire her for her indifference to dream warnings, and
may even interpret this as proof that she was a sceptic, or at any rate
immune to superstitions, but this is probably a misinterpretation. The
diary was written in later years, after she had turned to religion, and
her account of her indifference may have been intended as a warning
to others who, like herself, thought only of happiness in this dreamlike
world.
When the daughter of Takasue was invited to court for the first
time, her father, who had returned from Hitachi, urged her to decline,
no doubt reluctant to be deprived of her company, but other people
persuaded him to yield. She wrote laconically, "My first period of service
lasted exactly one night.?" The statement may suggest that she spent
one night in the arms of some courtier, but in fact nothing of interest
occurred. The only people she knew at court were those from whom
she had borrowed books, and she was accustomed to the old-fashioned
ways of her parents with whom she used to gaze, in the conventional
manner, at the spring blossoms or the autumn moon. She wrote,
 Early and Heian Literature
During my cloistered years I had often imagined that life in the
Palace would offer all sorts of pleasures which I never encountered
in my monotonous routine at home. As it turned out, my first
experience at court suggested that I would feel extremely awkward
and unhappy in these new surroundings. Yet what could I do
about it?85

Her youth had been spent mainly alone. She probably lacked the
conversational ability that enabled other court ladies to pass their days
amusingly, and she was so unaccustomed to the presence of others that
when she went to court again later that year (1039) she could not sleep
at night with strangers in the same room. When she returned home
this time her parents begged her not to go to court again because it
made them so lonely. She accordingly ceased, but she seems to have
undergone a change, perhaps at the sudden realization that her childhood
dreams would never be fulfilled. She wrote,

Things now became rather hectic for me. I forgot all about my Tales
and became much more conscientious. How could I have let all those
years slip by.... I began to doubt whether any of my romantic
fancies, even those that had seemed most plausible, had the slightest
basis in fact. How could anyone as wonderful as the Shining Genii
or as beautiful as the girl whom Captain Kaoru kept hidden in Vii
really exist in this world of ours? Oh, what a fool I had been to
believe in such nonsense !86

The author says almost nothing about her marriage, which took
place in her thirties, an advanced age for a Heian lady. Her husband
was older than herself, perhaps a widower, and they had several children,
including a boy who is briefly described. The marriage seems to have
been happy, but nothing suggests that it was like the romantic love
affairs chronicled in the tales of which she was so fond.
The only time in her life when she came close to realizing her dream
of meeting a Prince Genii was when she was serving at court. One night
she and another lady were listening to priests intone a sutra when a
gentleman approached and exchanged a few words with the author's
companion. "He talked in a quiet, gentle way and I could tell that he
was a man of perfect qualities.':" The reader is likely to hope that, in
the manner of romances, the man will detect her unusual nature even
in the dark and despite her unassertiveness, so we are pleased when he
asks her companion who she is. The author commented, "There was
Heian Diaries
none of the crude, lecherous tone in his voice that one would expect
from most men who asked this sort of question. Then he started speaking
about the sadness of the world and other such matters, and there was
something so sensitive about his manner that, for all my usual shyness,
1 found it hard to stand stiff and aloof.':" We sense that something has
occurred between the two and imagine for a moment that miracles are
possible.
The gentleman who addressed the daughter of Takasue and her
companion described the contrasting beauties of spring and autumn, in
language suitable to this familiar theme of Japanese poetry, then related
a memorable experience he had at Ise when he went there one winter
as an imperial envoy. The moonlight on the snow and the otherworldly
atmosphere had so profoundly affected him that he had ever since been
moved particularly by snowy winter nights. He predicted that in the
future, as the result of this unforgettable encounter, he would no doubt
be moved also by dark, rainy nights. The author added, "After he had
finished speaking and had left us, it occurred to me that he still had no
idea who 1 was."89
Some ten months later, when the author accompanied the princess
she served to the palace, a concert was being held. The gentleman whom
she had met on the rainy night was present, but she did not learn this
until afterward. Later that night he passed by her room and for a few
moments, until his companions joined him, they spoke together. He
said, "I have never forgotten that rainy night, not for a moment."
She murmured in reply a waka asking why he should remember
a night when nothing happened except for the rain falling on the
leaves."
One quiet spring evening she heard that he was visiting the palace.
She made up her mind to go to him, but the place was so crowded that
she was intimidated and withdrew to her room. He was equally upset
by the commotion and left without seeing her. This was the last time
she attempted to see him. The girl who yearned to be like Yugao, who
died the victim of Rokujo's jealousy, or like Ukifune, who was torn
between two men who loved her, achieved a pathos of her own.
At this point, without any transition, the author declared that the
time had come for her to think of her future salvation. Perhaps the
failure of the one romance of her life had wakened her from her dreams
of happiness in this world. There are increasing mentions of religious
devotions and of visits to distant temples. She must have realized the
effect this would produce on readers of the diary. She wrote, "Anyone
reading this account of visits to one temple after another might well
39° Early and Heian Literature

imagine that I was forever going on pilgrimages. In fact there were

long intervals, often several years, between my retreats."?' After her
marriage she became even more religious, and went on a number of
pilgrimages, apparently without her husband. This section of the diary
is less interesting than earlier ones, no doubt because the reader is sorry
to see the romantic girl turn into a pious woman of no special distinction,
but the writing remains beautiful. At the Ishiyama Temple she had a
dream. In the past she probably would have ignored it, but now she
wrote, "Thinking it might be an auspicious omen, I spent the rest of
the night in prayer."92
The daughter of Takasue nowhere stated why she wrote The Sara-
shina Diary. Perhaps it was intended to persuade readers, especially young
persons deluded by dreams of worldly happiness, that real happiness is
possible only through religion. After her husband died she wrote, "If
only I had not given myself over to Tales and poems since my young
days but had spent my time in religious devotions, I should have been
spared this misery.":" She could have avoided some of her grief, but the
portrait of a young woman who lived entirely in books is strangely
touching.
The last passage in the diary has been dated tentatively as describing
an event of 1059, when the author was in her fifty-second year, but
nothing is known about her later years or when she died. She has often
been credited with having written two surviving monogatari," as well
as several lost works, and her poems figure in several anthologies. If
these attributions are correct, she must be counted as the most important
prose writer of the late Heian period.

THE POEMS OF THE MOTHER OF THE AJARI JOJIN

In 1071 an old lady, probably eighty-four at the time, began to write a

diary which would have as its central theme her yearning for her son,
a man over sixty years old. This old lady was the granddaughter of
Takamitsu's sister Aimiya, and the great-granddaughter of the Emperor
Daigo. She enjoyed the highest rank of any of the Heian court ladies
who kept diaries, and had no doubt received a suitable education. How-
ever, it was not until she was in her eighties that she decided to relieve
the stress of great emotional agitation by writing the work known as
/Ojin Ajari Haha no Shu (The Poems of the Mother of the Ajari [ojin)."
At the outset of the work she related why she felt impelled to write
down her thoughts:
Heian Diaries 391
Over the years that have fleetingly passed, so many things, both
delightful and strange, have happened to me that I can no longer
count them all. I have decided to write them down, not in the hopes
that anyone will see them, but because, at the age of eighty, I have
had a most extraordinary experience. I have kept it to myself for
some time, but I thought that I would try setting it down on paper."

She was convinced, as she relates many times in the diary, that no
one had ever suffered as much as she. On the surface, at least, this was
patently untrue. After the death of her husband she had decided that
the best way of providing for her two sons was to have them enter the
priesthood. Both men did so and gained extraordinary distinction, the
elder becoming a risshi" who served in the imperial palace, the younger
the ajari [ojin, The old lady always wrote respectfully of the risshi, but
she clearly preferred [ojin, For years her fondest dream had been that
when she was about to die her two sons, one seated on either side of
her pillow, would read the holy sutras, and with the sound of their
voices in her ears, she would breathe her last. She seems to have lived
quite happily, comforted by this dream, until the day when [ojin in-
formed her of his intention of going to China to study at Mount Wu-
t'ai, the same center of Tendai Buddhism where Ermin had lived two
hundred years earlier. From this time on the mother became obsessed
with her griefs, and she wrote a diary in the hope that someday, doubtless
after her death, [ojin would read of all the suffering he had caused her."
The mother evinced not the slightest interest in why [ojin should
have felt it necessary to make the dangerous journey to China; she was
aware only of his seeming indifference to her. She vacillated between
the desire to die as quickly as possible and the desire to live at least
until [ojin's return. Again and again she blamed herself for the sin of
having lived too long. If only she had not committed this sin, she would
have been spared the agony of separation from her beloved [ojin.
She did not doubt the special ties that bound her to her son. In an
unusually outspoken passage she insisted: "A mother's love for her child,
regardless of whether she is noble or humble in birth, differs entirely
from a father's. While the child is still in her womb she is constantly
in pain, whether she is up or lying down, but she never thinks of her
own comfort. She prays that the child will be superior to others in looks
and in every other respect, and this hope is so strong that even the
agony of giving birth to the child is as nothing to her."?' She recalled
how, when Jojin was an infant, he would cry if anyone else picked
him up, but that he stopped crying the instant she took him in her
392 Early and Heian Literature

arms. And, she insisted, her love for him had not changed to that
day. It is hard to remember that she was writing not about an adoles-
cent but about a man in his sixties who was an outstanding cleric of
his day.
[ojin's mother was so distraught over being separated from her son
that she did not feel it was impious to compare her situation with those
of the sacred figures of Buddhism. She declared, for example, that Maya,
the mother of Shakyamuni Buddha, had been fortunate because she
died before experiencing the anguish of parting from her son. At mo-
ments in the diary the mother seems to have realized that the bitterness
engendered in her by [ojin's decision to go abroad might do him harm,
but she was powerless to restrain her emotions. After describing Sha-
kyamuni Buddha's awakening to the sorrows of human life on seeing
old age, sickness, and death, she (as usual) applied the parable to Jojin
and herself: "He has seen that I suffer from two of these griefs, that I
am old and sick. I should think that, under the circumstances, he might
postpone his departure." She realized that [ojin would suffer hardships
and even danger on his journey, but she insisted that she would suffer
even more, as she stated in a poem written at this time:

morokoshi e More than he

yuku hito yori mo Who departs for China,
todomarite I who remain behind
karaki omoi wa Am subject to
ware zo masareru100 The bitterest sorrow.

She used the verb uramu, "to bear a grudge" or "to feel bitterness
toward," when describing her feelings about the son who left her. She
even wrote, after recovering from an illness which she hoped would be
fatal, "I am bitter above all toward Buddha and Buddha alone. I prayed
to him wholeheartedly that he would let me die quickly, and I recovered!
I thought I had lived shockingly long."101
It is rare in the literature of the world for any woman in her eighties
to keep a diary devoted almost exclusively to her son, who occupies her
thoughts not only in waking hours but in dreams. No one could comfort
her in her distress, though many people (including her other son) made
the attempt. She dwelled on the past, recalling how she worried over
the health of her sons during an epidemic, and wondered why such love
had been so poorly repaid. She accused Jojin of being "a child whose
enmity was sworn in a previous existcnce.I'l'" She regretted that she had
not screamed and howled to keep him from leaving, and could not
Heian Diaries 393

restrain her indignation over his failure to write. Her griefs made her
wonder if Buddha himself did not hate her.'?'
Apart from the solace it gave her to record her misery, Jojin's mother
seems to have been trying in her diary to understand the irony of her
life. She recalled that she was sickly as a child and marvels at how long
she had nevertheless lived.'?' Her mother had died young and the early
death of her husband had cut short her married life. After reviewing
her life, she concluded, not unexpectedly, that hers had been a life of
unparalleled hardships, and among the hardships none had been more
painful than separation from [ojin.
Jojin (IOII-8I) is not an easy man to understand. After he left the
capital, bound for China, he returned and informed his mother that
he had been unable to proceed farther than Kyushu because he had not
secured official permission to go abroad. But why, during the months
while he waited in Kyushii for permission, could he not have sent his
mother a note? Probably he was convinced, as he often informed his
mother, that meetings in this world were of little importance when
compared to the true joy of long, uninterrupted meetings in paradise.
Gaining admission to paradise, not only for himself but for his mother
(and others) took precedence over conventional manifestations of solic-
itude. But even his brother could not help but express surprise that [ojin
was so unlike everyone else in the world.!"
[ojin eventually made his way to China. Soon afterward a certain
priest brought word to [ojin's mother that he would return to Japan in
the autumn of the next year. She was not comforted, having abandoned
all hope of ever seeing him again. Her premonitions proved to be correct:
Jojin was so highly esteemed by the Chinese that they refused to let
him return to Japan.!" His mother died, as she had feared, without her
beloved son to give last words of comfort.
The relationship of mothers and sons is of dominant importance in
Japan. The diary of the mother of [ojin can be viewed as an early,
extreme expression of this pervasive strain in Japanese life. Apart from
The Tosa Diary, the love of a father for his daughter does not figure
prominently in the diaries or other works of Japanese literature of this
time. This is true not only of works written by women, such as The
Tale of Genji, in which Genji's love for his lost mother, Kiritsubo, and
for her substitute, Fujitsubo, is an important theme. The insistence of
[ojin's mother that mothers are closer than fathers to their children
probably found a responsive chord among her readers. But at the end
of her complaints about a son who seemed to have forgotten his mother,
the last poem of her diary contained a note of hope:
394 Early and Heian Literature

asahi matsu If the dew that waits

tsuyu no tsumi nalcu The sunrise disappears, leaving
kiehateba No trace of its guilt,
yiibe no tsuki wa Surely the evening moon
sasowazarameya 107 Will not fail to guide me forth.

For all her expressions of despair, she seems to have felt confident that
she would indeed meet her son again in paradise.

THE SANUKI NO SUKE D 1A R y l 08

Sanuki no Suke Nikki (The Sanuki no Suke Diary) is a short account

written by the court lady Fujiwara no Nagako (1079-C. 1120) soon after
the death of the Emperor Horikawa in 1107. Unlike most diaries written
by women of the Heian period, it offers few psychological insights into
her own character, but is focused instead on her recollections of Hori-
kawa, whom she had served for eight years. He is hardly mentioned in
works of history, but emerges in this diary as an unusually appealing
man.
At times, especially when his long illness worsened, Horikawa was
capricious or irritable, but he was normally so affable and so gifted as
to inspire love among all who served him. Horikawa is remembered
today mainly for his interest in poetry.!"
The author of The Sanuki no Suke Diary considered it her duty to
preserve the memory of a sovereign whose death she mourned. Probably
she had no specific readers in mind, but the diary was definitely intended
to be read by others. It suggests a gesture of gratitude rather than a
formal tribute, and that no doubt accounts for its poignant charm.
Nagako figures very little in literary history apart from this diary. She
was not a gifted poet, though one waka was included in an imperially
sponsored anthology.
We know, from the diary kept in kambun by a courtier.!" exactly
when Nagako was summoned for service at the court; it was recorded
on New Year's Day of 1102 that Nagako, who had been appointed the
previous night, offered the emperor the traditional spiced wine.
Horikawa was sickly through most of his reign until his death at
the age of twenty-eight. It was widely believed that this was the work
of an evil spirit,'!' who showed himself as Horikawa lay on his deathbed.
Nagako makes no reference to supernatural influence. Her reminiscences
Heian Diaries 395

ofHorikawa tend instead to be oflittle gestures of affection that lingered

in her memory. One such gesture was so vivid that she described it
twice. It happened at a time when she was obliged to lie beside the
emperor during his final illness in case he should need her. She re-
called,

The Regent approached from behind. I rose, and was about to

withdraw, as I felt it would be ill-mannered and unseemly to remain
lying where I was, when the Emperor, realising that I must be
feeling that I should not be seen, said, "Stay where you are. I shall
make a screen." He bent up his knees and hid me behind them. I
recalled this considerate action as if it had only just happened.!"

Nagako was not a skillful writer, and her diary has been dismissed
by many as being inferior to others of the Heian period, but it is affecting
to be present and so close at the death of an emperor, described not in
conventional phrases but in small details:

Nobody slept a wink, but kept a watch over the Emperor. He seemed
to be in great pain and rested his foot on me. "Could anything ever
equal this total lack of concern over the probable death, tomorrow
or the next day, of somebody of my position? What do you think?"
he asked.'!'

During the last stages of his illness Horikawa had begun to imagine
that the people who served him, even the woman who gladly acted as
his footstool, were all indifferent to his imminent death. He turned his
gaze to another waiting woman and rebuked her for slacking. When
dawn came and Nagako thought she might take a few moments of rest,
"the Emperor saw me pulling an unlined robe over myself, and pulled
it back. I understood this to mean that I was on no account to sleep, so
I arose."!"
If the emperor had been portrayed as a despot, such an action would
hardly seem admirable, but we sense that Horikawa's fear of approaching
death, and especially of dying alone, is so extreme that he behaves for
a moment not like an emperor but like a most ordinary human being.
At the end, after a violent spell of coughing, the emperor declared,

"I am going to die now. May the Ise Shrine help me. I put my faith
in the Lotus Sutra which tells of the Buddha of impartial benevolence
 Early and Heian Literature
and great wisdom." These and similar truly reverent phrases fell
from his lips. "It's agonizing. I can't bear it. Hold me up," he
cried. II5

But when Nagako took his hands, they felt cold to the touch. Soon
afterward the lips of the emperor, who had put all of his remaining
strength into saying the nembutsu, the invocation of the name of Amida
Buddha, finally stopped moving. Nagako was inconsolable after the
death of the Emperor Horikawa. She wrote in her diary,

I must find some way of becoming a nun. But then, I seem to

remember that even in old romances, people who capriciously have
their heads shaved are criticised by the world in general as being
"superficial." And that in fact is how I myself feel about the matter.
And so I could not in all conscience opt for that way out.'!"

In the meanwhile, messengers arrived from the court asking her to

be present at the accession ceremony of the new emperor. Much against
her inclinations, she finally agreed, and visited the palace again. Seeing
the new emperor, a boy of four, seated on the imperial throne was almost
more than Nagako could bear. She wrote, "The Emperor was decked
out very prettily, but the sight of him seated upon the Imperial Throne
was a severe shock to me. A haze swam before my eyes, and, I am
ashamed to admit, I felt so distressed that I could not look at him
directly. "117
Some weeks later she was again summoned to the palace on a snowy
morning. She heard a child singing as he played in the snow and
wondered whose child it might be. Then she realized it was the emperor!
She thought, "If this is the master whom I am to regard as my lord
and protector, I am certainly not filled with a sense of security, I thought
desolately."!"
Eventually the boy emperor won her affection, not because he was
the emperor but because he was a lovable child. Nagako decided to
remain with him, touched to see how eagerly he ate when she brought
his meal. She had come to realize that the best way to cherish the late
emperor's memory was to serve his son.
Her memories add a movingly human touch to her portrayal of
Horikawa. Nagako recalled his love of poetry and especially of music.
One day when the boy emperor Toba asked her to lift him up so that
he could see the pictures on the sliding doors in the imperial dining
room, she noticed on the walls the tattered remains of musical scores
Heian Diaries 397
that Horikawa had copied and pasted there in the hope that by constantly
seeing the scores he would memorize them. Regardless of the festivals
she now attended, or the service she offered to the Emperor Toba, her
thoughts dwelled constantly on the past. She realized that readers might
be puzzled by her insistence on old memories, but wrote that if they
had known the late emperor they would understand her attachment.
Nagako always kept future readers of the diary in mind. She de-
fended herself against possible criticism of excessive partiality to Hori-
kawa. She wrote,

This will all seem of no consequence to those who do not cherish

the memory of the late Emperor. However, I feel so unworthy of,
and so lost without, the tenderness of my late master the Emperor-
one might have expected such attentions from a mistress-that I
just had to record it so that it would live in people's minds and
never be forgotten.'!"

The death of Horikawa seems to have affected everyone who knew

him just as deeply. Taik], the kambun diary kept by Fujiwara no Yori-
naga (1120-56), relates that a member of Horikawa's bodyguard named
Sadakuni, distraught over the emperor's death, decided he must have
become a dragon king living in the northern sea. In the hope of rejoining
his late master, he built a "dragon-head boat" and set sail for the north.
He was never seen again.!" Nostalgia and longing for Horikawa inspired
even such preposterous actions. Nagako's diary, though less extreme,
was no less an expression of unremitting love.
Even without Nagako's diary, Horikawa's name and the principal
events of his reign would of course be preserved in official documents
but, like Murasaki Shikibu justifying the existence of monogatari in
terms of what they, but not the Nihon Shok] or other official histories,
reveal about the past, Nagako believed that it was essential to preserve
not only the facts of Horikawa's reign but his humanity. In the epilogue
to the diary she wrote, "I pondered how I would like to show this
record to someone who shared my feelings. But is there anyone who
does not yearn for the late Emperor? "121 She decided in the end to show
the manuscript to another court lady. The last sentence of the diary
states, "We spent the rest of the day talking." No doubt their reading
of the diary was many times interrupted by memories of an emperor
who had inspired great affection.
 Early and Heian Literature

DIARIES IN KAMBUN

Although, as we have seen, The Tosa Diary, the earliest diary kept in
Japanese, was written by a man, not another such diary survives from
the Heian period. Instead, there are a number of diaries by men written
in kambun, some of voluminous length. These diaries contain daily
entries dealing with court religious ceremonials, customs and precedents,
and state business, though they sometimes touch on more personal mat-
ters. Their chief interest to scholars of Japanese literature lies in the
background materials they supply for events related more impression-
istically in the diaries of the court ladies.
The earliest of the kambun diaries kept by Heian courtiers is Tei-
shinko Ki by the sometime regent Fujiwara no Tadahira (880-949).122
It is without literary interest, but Gonlti, the kambun diary of Fujiwara
no Yukinari (972-1027), is somewhat more interesting if only because
the author is mentioned in The Murasaki Shikibu Diary and was known
in his time (and much later) as a master calligrapher.!" The style, rather
than the content, of this diary suggests Yukinari's literary inclinations.

Records of the Midi) Chancellor

Fujiwara no Michinaga, the son of Kaneie, was the most important

political figure of his time. He kept a voluminous diary titled Mido
Kampaku Ki (Records of the Mido Chancellor) between the years 995
and 1021. 124 The diary, written in an uningratiating style of kambun and
devoid ofliterary merit, is important to the student of Iapanese literature
not only because of its factual information on court life, but because it
occasionally provides information on the cultural life of the time. There
is an entry for every day, even if it is only a single brief sentence such
as, "In the evening I went to the palace." If Michinaga had had the
slightest intent of imparting literary interest to the diary, surely there
were many incidents he could have included, but he was concerned
solely with recording accurately the events of the day. It is almost
impossible to divine anything of the personality of the writer.
A well-known example of Michinaga's private behavior, naturally
not mentioned in his own diary, occurs in The Murasalii Shikibu Diary:
"One night as I lay asleep in a room in the corridor, there came the
sound of someone tapping at the door. I was so frightened that I kept
quiet for the rest of the night."!" The unannounced visitor, we discover,
was none other than Michinaga.
Heian Diaries 399
If Records ofthe Mido Chancellor contained even a few such passages
it might be read today, despite the problems of the style, but Michinaga
obviously had no intention of reporting such undignified behavior. Per-
haps, too, his knowledge of kambun, though adequate for noting who
attended New Year festivities at the palace, did not extend to describing
the subtleties of his amorous activities. But his diary contains such crumbs
of interest as the entry for the twenty-first day of the first month of the
second year of Kannin (10 1 8), where he described how kanshi and waka
were chosen to be inscribed on a screen that would be displayed at a
banquet given by the Regent Yorimichi. The waka poets on that occasion
included Izumi Shikibu.!" Michinaga's diary in this manner provides a
scrap of hard information on someone whose diary was not simply a
record of daily events but a work of diary literature.

~h uy_~_~ ~
The most important kambun diary of the Heian period is Chuyuki, the
huge diary kept by Fujiwara no Munetada (1062-1141) between 1087
and 1138, during the reigns of three emperors-Horikawa, Toba, and
Sutoku.!" It is the kind of diary that has often been termed "public,"
but it was by no means public in the modern sense: the diary was a
closely guarded secret that Munetada intended to transmit only to his
eldest son. In 1120, after he had been keeping the diary for thirty-four
years, Munetada made a classification of the materials for the benefit of
his son, Muneyoshi, and gave an indirect explanation of why he had
kept the diary:

I have completed today the classified selection of entries from my

diary. The diary covers a period of thirty-four years from the first
of Kanji [1087] to the fifth month of this year. It comes altogether
to fifteen volumes containing 160 chapters. I began the classification
two years ago, and with the assistance of household retainers who
were assigned such tasks as copying or cutting and pasting, the work
has been completed today. I have made these extracts from my diary
in order to help Muneyoshi perform his public duties if he succeeds
in his aspirations of being appointed to an official post .... For this
reason, I have felt impelled to exert all my efforts, not sparing my
aged bones, to make this classified selection. It must under no cir-
cumstances be made public. In general, it should not be shown to
outsiders under any circumstances.!"
 Early and Heian Literature

Munetada elsewhere stated that his purpose in keeping the diary

had been to enable his descendants to carryon family traditions."? A
knowledge of what happened in the past was invaluable in determin-
ing whether or not precedents existed for actions contemplated by the
court, and this was a matter of the utmost importance to traditionalists.
Most of the annual rites, customary observances, religious ceremonies,
and so on that Munetada described are no longer of much interest, but
Munetada believed that keeping this diary was the most important task
of his life.
His attachment to the diary increased with the years. For example,
Munetada described in a diary entry of 1133 how he had spent one rainy
day filling in gaps in his records for the sake of future generations who
would consult them. He was seventy-two at the time and naidaijin
(minister of the interior), but his concern for the diary never faltered.
In the following year he had a dream in which his ancestor Fujiwara
no Morosuke showed Munetada his diary."? Munetada interpreted this
as a favorable augury.
The most affecting parts of Chuyuki are those describing the Emperor
Horikawa, whom Munetada served for twenty years. Horikawa selected
him to be a chamberlain in 1094, passing over the heads of seniors. This
promotion naturally aroused jealousy, but Horikawa never wavered in
his support. Munetada refused one particularly spectacular promotion,
but Horikawa insisted, referring to Munetada as an "intimate."!" Mu-
netada's gratitude was unbounded, and it carried over into his descrip-
tions of Horikawa's life and death.
Unlike most other entries in Chuyuki, those describing the death of
Horikawa are filled with emotion. The diary entry for the nineteenth
day of the seventh month of 1107 relates how the illness of the emperor
had taken a turn for the worse. Masters of divination (onyoji) were
consulted, but they reported that the imperial destiny had reached its
last extremity and nothing could save the ernperor.!" A thousand Bud-
dhist monks intoned sutras and chanted spells, it being feared that evil
spirits were at work. Later, the chancellor emerged and whispered to
Munetada that the emperor had lapsed into a profound sleep after
invoking the Sutra of Great Wisdom and the deity Fudo and Amida
Buddha, then facing west.!" The chancellor ordered those in attendance
not to waken the emperor, for fear of evil spirits.
During the hour of the sheep it was announced that the emperor
had died. As the report spread through the palace, people wept uncon-
trollably, all but deprived of their senses by the shock. Members of the
Heian Diaries

court were allowed one last look at the emperor. Munetada reported
that his features were unaltered, and that he looked as if he were asleep.
Though overwhelmed by grief, Munetada could not forget his official
responsibilities, and he described the arrangements he had made for the
transference to the new emperor of the imperial regalia. The following
was his resume of Horikawa's life:

He became emperor at the age of eight. When he was nine he could

read the Shih Ching and the Shu Ching [Book of Documents]. He
was by nature compassionate, and the Buddhist Law was engraved
on his heart. He reigned for twenty-one years. During this time he
was reluctant to punish and quick to reward. He dispensed benev-
olence and radiated his gracious favors. He did not reveal joy or
anger on his countenance, nor his likes and dislikes. From the princes
and ministers down to all classes of men and women, each and every
one was touched by his benevolence.... This occasion was for them
like losing a father or mother. His Majesty was extremely intelligent,
and he was already an expert in the various kinds of learning. His
natural ability, particularly as concerns laws, ordinances, and reg-
ulations, and his pleasure in wind and stringed instruments could
stand comparison with any examples from antiquity.'>'

Despite the sometimes stilted kambun of Chuyuki, it is clear that

Munetada, no less than Nagako, was haunted by the memory of the
sovereign he had served. Chuyuki is not normally discussed as a literary
work, and Munetada would have been much surprised to think he had
written one. But here and there in this long work, so full of boring
details, we find the qualities that move us in literature.
One other Heian diary in kambun merits notice: Ta iki , kept by
Fujiwara no Yorinaga between 1136 and 1155. Although this diary, like
most in kambun, is given over largely to descriptions of ceremonies, the
irascible personality of the diarist comes through the conventional word-
ing, giving individuality to some sections of a long work.
Various other kambun diaries of the second half of the twelfth
century recorded activities at the court. They are not considered to be
works of literature, though sometimes one finds passages that shed light
on more literary diaries.!" Not a single diary by a woman, the kind of
writing that established the genre of diary literature and contributed so
much to the creation of the fiction of the Heian period, survives for the
period of over one hundred years after the completion of The Sanulti
 Early and Heian Literature

no Suke Diary in 11°9. This may be due merely to the accident of what
happened to be preserved. In any case, the introspective tradition es-
tablished by these diaries would give a distinctive coloration to much
of Japanese literature to come.

Notes
1. Tendai is the Japanese reading of the Chinese name T''ien-t'ai. The Tendai
sect is based on the Lotus Sutra, as taught by the philosopher-monk
Chih-i, and was established in Japan by Saicho (767-822) after his return
from China in 805. The Tendai monastery on Mount Hiei overlooking
the capital was the strongest religious establishment during the Heian
period, and continued to be a major center of religious learning until
it was destroyed in 1571 by the forces of Oda Nobunaga. Ennin, the
disciple of Saicho, introduced esoteric practices into Tendai Buddhism.
For an account of these developments, see Ryusaku Tsunoda, Wm. Theo-
dore de Bary, and Donald Keene, Sources ofJapanese Tradition, pp. 116-
20, 157-59.
2. Edwin O. Reischauer, Ennin's Travels in Tang China, p. 199.
3. Ibid., p. 200.
4· Ibid., p. 270.
5. Ibid., p. 298.
6. Ibid., p. 37.
7. Ibid., p. 117·
8. There are several translations into English and other languages, the most
recent by Helen Craig McCullough in her Kokin Wakashu.
9. Text in Hagitani Boku, Tosa Nikki Zcnchushalea, p. 223-24, 232. Hagitani
states (p. 232) that the final kama indicates a combination of uncertainty
and emotional response; the poet wonders if it can possibly be the same
moon he saw at the mountain in Kasuga, then decides that it really is.
See also Hasegawa Masaharu et al., Tosa Nikkl~ Kagero Nikki, Murasalei
Shiltib« Nikki, Sarashina Nikki, p. 17. Another translation by McCullough,
Kohin, p. 277·
10. Higuchi Hiroshi, "Tosa Nikki ni okeru Tsurayuki no Tachiba," p. 52.
11. Translation by G. W. Sargent in Donald Keene, Anthology of Japanese
Literature, p. 82. Text in Hagitani Boku, Tosa Nikki Zenchushaeu, p. 51.
12. Hagitani, Tosa, p. 293. Hasegawa, et al., Tosa, p. 22. Translation by
McCullough in Kohin, p. 281.
13. For the theory that The Tosa Diary is a drama, see Hagitani Boku, "Kai-
setsu," in Shintei Tosa Nikki, pp. 18-21; also Higuchi, "Tosa Nikki,"
P·45·
Heian Diaries
14. Hagitani, "Kaisetsu," in Shintei Tosa, pp. 24-29.
IS. The theory was presented by the poet Kagawa Kageki in Tosa Nikki
Soken, written in 1823.
16. Text in Hagitani, Tosa Nikki Zenchushaeu, p. 399, 401, 425; also Hasegawa
et aI., Tosa, pp. 32-33. Another translation in McCullough, Kokin, p. 290.
17. The minister of the Left at this time was Minamoto no Takaakira (914-
982), a son of the Emperor Daigo. See below, p. 487.
18. Muramatsu Seiichi et aI., Tosa Nikki, Kagerii Nikki, p. 207; also, Hasegawa
et aI., Tosa, p. 98. See also Edward Seiden sticker, The Gossamer Years,
P·73·
19. Uemura Etsuko, "Kagero Nikki Sakusha, Seiritsu, Dernpon," p. 143.
Tarnai Kosuke, in Nikki Bungaleu no Kenkya, pp. 115-16, quotes Sei
Shonagon's praise for the author's poetry. Praise for the author's beauty
is found in Sompi Bummvaku (!399) and various later works. Her poetry
appeared in chokusenshii beginning with Shaisha. Praise for her poetry
is found in Fukuro Zosh: (c. 1158) and The Great Mirror. For a translation
of the relevant passage in the latter work, see Helen Craig McCullough,
Okagami, p. 166.
20. Translation in Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 71. Text in Muramatsu, et aI.,
Tosa, p. 203. Also Hasegawa et aI., Tosa, p. 95.
21. This theory was advanced by Shimizu Yoshiko among others; see Aki-
yama Ken, "Kodai ni okeru Nikki Bungaku no Tenkai," p. 20.
22. Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 48. Muramatsu et aI., Tosa, p. 156; also Ha-
segawa et aI., Tosa, p. 61.
23. Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 61. Muramatsu et aI., Tosa, p. 184; also Ha-
segawa et aI., Tosa, p. 81.
24. Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 53. Muramatsu et aI., Tosa, p. 168; also Ha-
segawa et aI., Tosa, p. 70.
25. Muramatsu et aI., Tosa, p. 202; see also Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 69.
26. Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 95. Muramatsu et aI., Tosa, pp. 250-51; also
Hasegawa et aI., Tosa, p. 131.
27. Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 44. Muramatsu et aI., Tosa, pp. 149-50; also
Hasegawa et aI., Tosa, pp. 56-57.
28. Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 88. Muramatsu et aI., Tosa, p. 237; also Ha-
segawa et aI., Tosa, p. 120.
29. Seidensticker, Gossamer, p. 67. Inukai Kiyoshi, Kagero Nikki, p. 81.
30. Seidensticker, Gossamer, P: 103. Text in Uemura Etsuko, Kagero Nikki,
II, p. 204-
31. Seidensticker, Gossamer, pp. 46-47. Muramatsu et aI., Tosa, pp. 151-55;
also Hasegawa et aI., Tosa, pp. 57-60.
32. There is no proof that Murasaki Shikibu or anyone else at the court in
her day actually read The Gossamer Years, but it seems likely. An entry
dated 1269 in the diary of Asukai Masaari mentions being lent The Gos-
 Early and Heian Literature
samer Years along with The Tosa Diary and other diaries of the period,
indicating that it had acquired the status of a classic. See Donald Keene,
Travelers of a Hundred Ages, pp. 141-42.
33. Tamai Kosuke, Tonomine Shosho Monogatari, p. 135.
34. For a summary of the discussions, see Nitta Takako, Tonomine Shosho
Monogatari no Yoshiki, pp. 79-84. At one time some scholars believed that
The Tale of the Tonomine Captain was composed long after the events,
perhaps as late as the Kamakura period; but linguistic evidence has made
it clear that it is unquestionably a work of the early Heian period. See
ibid., pp. 36-37.
35. Tamai, Tonomine, p. 50.
36. They were the children of Fujiwara no Morosuke and Princess Gashi
(Masako), the daughter of the Emperor Daigo and a high priestess before
her marriage. Their mother had died seven years earlier, and their father
had also died recently. Aimiya was a half-sister (by a different mother)
of Fujiwara no Kaneie, and was friendly with the author of The Gossamer
Years, who sent her a choka condoling with her over the exile of Minamoto
no Takaakira, her husband. (See above, note 17; see also Seidensticker,
Gossamer, pp. 75-76; text in Inukai, Kagero, pp. 96-97.) Accounts of
Aimiya in contemporary sources are gathered in Uemura Etsuko, Kagero
Nikki no KenkYu, pp. 517-21.
There is some confusion about the relationship of Takamitsu and
Aimiya. A passage in The Great Mirror identifies Aimiya as the fifth
daughter of Fujiwara no Morosuke. (Quoted by Uemura in Kagero Nikki
no KenkYu, p. 523,) Takamitsu (like Kaneie) was a son of Morosuke. The
mother of both Aimiya and Takamitsu was Princess Gashi (Nitta, To-
nomine, pp. 206, 208). It seems clear that Takamitsu and Aimiya were
full brother and sister, but various studies state that they were born of a
different mother.
37. Nitta, Tonomine, p. 67. Despite the sister's wish, nothing suggests that
Takamitsu ever left the mountain to visit his family. The word ama in
the poem means both a "nun" and a "diver" who gathers seaweed at the
bottom of the sea. A "diver who fails to gather seaweed" is a failure; it
is an indirect rebuke to someone who has pointlessly become a nun.
38. See below, note 122.
39. Nitta, Tonomine, p. 106. The text states that Takamitsu relates this dream
to his younger brother. The author of the text presumably heard the story
from the brother.
40. Ibid., p. 73. The meaning of the poem is that if the wife wishes to become
a nun under the mistaken impression that this will bring her closer to
Takamitsu, she will be disappointed; monks and nuns did not reside on
the same mountain.
41. Ibid., p. 85·
42. Ibid., p. 96.
Heian Diaries
43. Attempts have been made to show the influence of this work on later
fiction. Nitta, in her voluminous Tonomine, pp. 659-80, discusses possible
influences on The Tale of Genji and The Tale of the Hollow Tree. The
resemblances are not obvious. For example in the "Tenarai" (Writing
Practice) chapter of The Tale of Genji there is mention of a captain, the
son-in-law of a nun, who visits a younger brother who is in seclusion on
Mount Hiei. (Seidensticker translation, The Tale ofGenji, II, p. I054.) This
conceivably recalled to readers the somewhat similar episode ofTakamitsu
going to Hiei where his younger brother is a priest. But if any influence
existed, it was more likely to have come from the actual event-a cele-
brated young poet who forsook the world-than from the diary.
44. It was the theory of Kawase Kazuma that Fujiwara Shunzei, two hundred
years later, pieced together a "diary" from the kotobagaki to the collection
of poems by Izumi Shikibu. (See Edwin A. Cranston, The Izumi Shikibu
Diary, p. 45,) The theory was developed by Yamagishi Tokuhei, who
advanced six different arguments why Izumi Shikibu could not have
written the diary.
45. For centuries it was more commonly referred to by an alternative title,
Izumi Shikibu Monogatari (The tale of Izumi Shikibu). Some other works
with alternative titles (one as a diary and the other as a work of fiction)
include Ise Monogatari, also known as Zaigo Chuja Nikki; Tabamura Nikki,
also known as Takamura Monogatari; and Heichii Nikki, also known as
Heichu Monogatari. See Cranston, Izumi, pp. 7°-71.
46. Cranston adopted as the subtitle of his translation "A Romance of the
Heian Court." See also Janet A. Walker, "Poetic Ideal and Fictional Reality
in the Izumi Shikibu Nikki."
47. See Cranston, Izumi, p. 8. His source is A Tale of Flowering Fortunes.
48. Ibid., p. 133. Text in Nomura Seiichi, Izumi Shikibu Nikki, Izumi Shihib«
Shu, p. 87.
49. Translation in Cranston, Izumi, p. 175. Text in Nomura, Izumi, p. 65.
50. Japanese of the Heian period believed that, depending on the positions
of the stars, people who traveled or stayed in "forbidden directions" would
suffer harm. This was sometimes used as an excuse for staying in one
place rather than another.
5I. Translation of prose from Cranston, Izumi, p. 178. The translation of the
poem is mine, following Enchi Fumiko and Suzuki Kazuo, Zenka Izumi
Shikibu Nikki, p. 288.
52. Translation in Cranston, Izumi, p. 136. Text in Nomura, Izumi, p. 18.
This is an example of how the diary on occasion enters the thoughts of
persons other than the diarist, one of the reasons given by Yamagishi (see
note 44) for rejecting the attribution of the work to Izumi Shikibu.
53. Cranston, Izumi, p. 140. Nomura, Izumi, p. 22.
54. Cranston, Izumi, p. 142. Nomura, Izumi, p. 25.
55. Cranston, Izumi, p. 163. Nomura, Izumi, p. 5I. The passage is ambiguous,
 Early and Heian Literature
and other interpretations have been made. Following Cranston, Atsumichi
is complaining about gossip that has nothing behind it; he has not even
been seen visiting Izumi, but people are nevertheless gossiping.
56. Translation by Seidensticker in Genji, I, p. 3.
57. McCullough, Okagami, p. 166.
58. Translation in Cranston, Izumi, p. 191. Text in Nomura, Izumi, p. 85.
59. Because of the difficulty of determining the correct pronunciations of the
names of empresses, it is now customary to use the Sino-Japanese pro-
nunciations, about which there is usually no dispute. However, this em-
press's name was probably pronounced Akiko.
60. The extant text of the diary is clearly incomplete. It is possible that
in the lost portions of the work Murasaki Shikibu touched on such
questions.
61. Yamamoto Ritatsu, Murasaki Shikibu Nikki, Murasaki Shikibu Shu, p. 96.
See also Richard Bowring, Murasaki Shikibu, p. 137.
62. See Seidensticker, Genji, I, p. 437.; also Ivan Morris, The World of the
Shining Prince, p. 309.
63. Yamamoto, Murasaki, p. 20. See also Bowring, Murasaki, p. 53.
64. Translation in Bowring, Murasahi, p. 43. Text in Yamamoto, Murasala,
p. 1 I.
65. See Bowring, Murasah], pp. 77-83; also Yamamoto, Murasahi, pp. 40-45·
66. Yamamoto, Murasaki, p. 52. See also Bowring, Murasaki, p. 91.
67. For other theories concerning the origin of the name, see Bowring, Mu-
rasaki, p. 12; also Yamamoto, Murasaki, p. 167.
68. Translation in Bowring, Murasaei, p. 91. Text in Yamamoto, Murasaki,
P·5 2 .
69. Bowring, Murasahi, p. 131. Yamamoto, Murasaki, p. 88.
70. Bowring, Murasaki, p. 135· Yamamoto, Murasahi, p. 94·
71. See the explanation by Bowring in Murasaki, p. 92. He states that the
"monogatari" mentioned in the text is almost universally assumed to be
The Tale of Genji. Yamamoto (Murasaki, p. 55) does not identify the
"monogatari," but Ito Hiroshi (in Hasegawa et al., Tosa, p. 284) accepts
the identification of the "monogatari" as The Tale of Genji.
72. Translation in Bowring, Murasaki, p. 95. Text in Yamamoto, Murasahi,
p. 57. Here, too, it is not absolutely certain that "Tale" (monogatari) refers
to The Tale of Genji, but the context makes it seem likely.
73. In this instance the text gives Genji no monogatari, so there can be no
question of the work to which she refers. Bowring, Murasahi, p. 143;
Yamamoto, Murasalti, p. 57.
74. Translation in Ivan Morris, As I Crosseda Bridge of Dreams, p. 41. Morris
gave Sarashina Nikki this evocative English title, and referred to the author
not in the customary manner as the Daughter of Takasue, but by a name
of his own coining, Lady Sarashina. For text, see Sekine Yoshiko, Sarashina
Nikki, I, p. 13.
Heian Diaries
75· Morris, As I Crossed, p. 53. Sekine, Sarashina, I, p. 87.
76. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 55. Sekine, Sarashina, I, p. 105.
77. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 55. Sekine, Sarashina, I, pp. 105-6.
78. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 55. Sekine, Sarashina, I, p. 105.
79. Morris, As I Crossed, pp. 78, 80. Sekine, Sarashina, I, p. 204.
80. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 80. Sekine, Sarashina, I, p. 208.
81. Morris, As I Crossed, pp. 71-72. Sekine, Sarashina, I, p. 174.
82. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 72. Sekine, Sarashina, I, p. 175.
83. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 78. Sekine, Sarashina, I, p. 199.
84. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 82. Sekine, Sarashina, II, p. 13. The original text
of this statement is: Mazu hitoyo mairu.
85. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 84. Sekine, Sarashina, II, p. 14.
86. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 87. Sekine, Sarashina, II, p. 35.
87. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 91. Sekine, Sarashina, II, p. 50.
88. Ibid.
89· Morris, As I Crossed, p. 95. Sekine, Sarashina, II, p. 59.
90. Ibid.
91. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 107. Sekine, Sarashina, II, pp. 99-100.
92. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 98. Sekine, Sarashina, II, p. 74.
93. Morris, As I Crossed, p. 119· Sekine, Sarashina, II, p. 135.
94. Yoru no Nezame (Wakefulness at Night) and Hamamatsu Chiinagon Mon-
ogatari (The Tale of the Hamamatsu Middle Counselor).
95. Ajari (aClirya in Sanskrit) was the title of a high-ranking priest of the
Tendai and Shingon sects of Buddhism. [ojin (1010-1081) belonged to
the Tendai sect.
96. Miyazaki Sohei, ]Ojin Ajari Haha no Shu, p. 13. Translation from my
Travelers, p. 62.
97. Risshi means "master of the vinaya (discipline)," but was also the third-
highest ranking of priest. It is generally accepted that the risshi was [ojin's
elder brother because the mother refers to him first (Miyazaki, ]ojin,
p. 17). [ojin also used honorifics when referring to the brother. However,
the brother was identified by one scholar as a priest named Joson of the
Ninna-ji who was a year younger than [ojin. (Ibid., p. 23,)
98. Ibid., p. 73-
99· Ibid., p. 74· Translation from Travelers, p. 63.
100. Ibid., p. 76.
101. Ibid., p. 90. Translation from Travelers, p. 65.
102. Ibid., p. 100.

103. Ibid., p. 112.

104. Ibid., p. 209.
105. Ibid., p. 152.
106. [ojin kept a diary III kambun describing his life in China, San Tendai
Godaisan Ki (Record of a Pilgrimage to T'ien-t'ai and Wu-t'ai Mountains).
The work, in the tradition of Ermin's diary, is unliterary, but it is of great
 Early and Heian Literature
importance to students of Buddhism during the Sung dynasty. Jojin died
in China and was buried on Mount T'ien-t'ai.
107. Miyazaki,]ojin, p. 230. Translation in Travelers, p. 67. Hirabayashi Fumio,
JOjin Ajari Haha no Shii no Kisoteki Kenkyii, p. 96, suggests that the place
to which the mother expects to be led by the moon is Ryojusen, or Eagle
Mountain, mentioned in her previous poem. Eagle Mountain is where
Shakyamuni Buddha taught the Lotus and many other sutras. The im-
plication, however, is that she will be guided to paradise.
108. The translation of the diary by Jennifer Brewster when first published in
Australia bore this original title; however, the American edition (from
which citations have been made) bears the title The Emperor Horihaeoa
Diary.
109. See above, pp. 306-307.
110. Chiiyiiki by Fujiwara no Munetada. See above, p. 399.
I I I. See my Travelers, p. 69, for the details of the curse placed on Horikawa
before he was born by the priest Raigo, who was furious that Horikawa's
father had not fulfilled a promise. According to the diary, Raigo's ghost
manifested itself while Horikawa lay dying.
II 2. Translation in Brewster, Horihaioa, p. 100. Text in Ishii Fumio, "Sanuki
no Suke Nikki," in Fujioka Tadami et al., Izumi Shikibu Nikki, p. 421.
I 13. Brewster, Horiliaioa, p. 60. Ishii, "Sanuki," p. 376.
114. Brewster, Horikaioa, p. 62. Ishii, "Sanuki," p. 379.
I IS. Brewster, Horilauoa, p. 72. Ishii, "Sanuki," p. 395.
116. Brewster, Horilouoa, p. 82. Ishii, "Sanuki," p. 408.
II 7. Brewster, Horihaioa, pp. 87-88. Text in Tarnai Kosuke, Sanuk] no Suke
Nikki, p. I So.
1I8. Brewster, Horikatoa, p. 88. Ishii, "Sanuki," p. 418.
119. Brewster, Horlleatoa, p. 112. Ishii, "Sanuki," pp. 453-54.
120. Brewster, Horibaioa, p. 22.
12I. Brewster, Horilauoa, p. 114. Ishii, "Sanuki," p. 456.
122. This diary, which covers the period 907 to 948, survives only in the extracts
made by Tadahira's son Saneyori, probably about ten years after Tada-
hira's death. Kyiireki, the diary of Fujiwara no Morosuke (908-60), another
son of Tadahira's, is also preserved only in extracts.
123. The title of the work (like that of other kambun diaries of the period) is
derived from a title, gon dainagon, or acting major counselor, the highest
office Yukinari attained. There are several references to Yukinari's cal-
ligraphy, with the name pronounced as Kozei, in Essays in Idleness. See
Donald Keene, Essays in Idleness, pp. 26, 195-96.
124. There is a complete translation of this work into French by Francine
Herail, Notes journalieres de Fujiwara no Michinaga. The translation is
augmented by an important introduction, extraordinarily rich annotations,
and superb indices that make this by far the best edition of the work in
any language.
Heian Diaries
125. Translation in Bowring, Murasahi, p. 145. Text in Yamamoto, Murasaki,
p. 103.
126. See Herail, Notes, III, p. 461.
127. The name Chuyu was the abbreviation of Nakamikado Udaijin, read in
Sino-Japanese pronunciation. Ki means "record."
128. Toda Yoshimi, Chuyuki: Yakudo suru Insei ]idai no Gunzo, p. 276.
129. Ibid., p. 278.
130. See above, note 122.
131. Toda, Chuyuki, p. 59. The phrase in the kundoku reading of the Japanese
is shinjitsu wo nasu hito.
13 2 . Ibid., pp. 74-75.
133. Ibid., p. 76. See the translation in Brewster, Horihatoa, p. 18.
134. T oda, Chuyuki, p. 296.
135. For example, Bowring in Murasalri, pp. 183-98, translated passages from
two kambun diaries, Fuchiki and Shoyuki, that describe the birth of Prince
Atsuhira, given such prominent attention in The Murasaki Shikibu Diary.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Akiyama Ken. "Kodai ni okeru Nikki Bungaku no Tenkai," in Heian-cho

Nikki, I, in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo Sosho series. Yuseido, 1961.
Bowring, Richard. Murasaki Shikibu: Her Diary and Poetic Memoirs. Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1982.
Brewster, Jennifer. The Emperor Horikaioa Diary. Honolulu: The University
Press of Hawaii, 1977.
Cranston, Edwin A. The Izumi Shikibu Diary. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1969.
Enchi Fumiko and Suzuki Kazuo. Zenko Izumi Shikibu Nikki, rev. ed. Shi-
bundo, 1971.
Fujioka Tadami, Nakano Koichi, Inukai Yasushi, and Ishii Fumio. Izumi
Shikibu Nikkl~ Murasalei Shikibu Nikki, Sarashina Nikki, Sanuki no Suke
Nikki, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshii series. Shogakukan, 1975.
Hagitani Boku. Shintei Tosa Nikki, in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shim-
bun Sha, 1969.
- - - . Tosa Nikki Zcnchiishaleu, in Nihon Koten Hyoshaku Sosho series.
Kadokawa Shoten, 1967.
Hasegawa Masaharu, Imanishi Yuichiro, Ito Hiroshi, and Yoshioka Hiroshi.
Tosa Nikki, Kagero Nikki, Murasaki Shikibu Nikki, Sarashina Nikki, in Shin
Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei Series. Iwanami Shoten, 1989.
 Early and Heian Literature
Herail, Francine. Notes journalieres de Fujiwara no Michinaga, 3 vols. Ceneve-
Paris: Librairie Droz, 1987-91.
Higuchi Hiroshi. "Tosa Nikki ni okeru Tsurayuki no Tachiba," in Heian-cho
Nikki, I, in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo Sosho series. Yuseido, 1961.
Hirabayashi Fumio. ]Ojin Ajari Haha no Shu no Kisoteki Kenkyu. Kasama Shoin,
1977-
Inukai Kiyoshi. Kagero Nikki, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shin-
chosha, 1982.
Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
- - - . Essays in Idleness. New York: Columbia University Press, 1967.
- - - . Travelers of a Hundred Ages. New York: Henry Holt, 1989.
Koyano [un'ichi. Sanuki no Suke Nikki Zenchushaeu, Kazama Shobe, 1988.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Koliin Wakashu. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Univer-
sity Press, 1985.
- - - . Okagami. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1980.
Miyazaki Sohei. ]Ojin Haha Ajari no Shu, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko.
Kodansha, 1979.
Morimoto Motoko. Sanuhi no Suke Nikki, III Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko.
Kodansha, 1977.
Morris, Ivan. As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams. New York: Dial Press, 1971.
- - - . The World of the Shining Prince. London: Oxford University Press,
1964.
Muramatsu Seiichi, Kimura Masanaka, and Imuta Tsunehisa. Tosa Nikki, Ka-
gero Nikki, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series. Shogakukan, 1973.
Nitta Takako. Tonomine Shosho Monogatari no Yoshiki. Kazama Shobe, 1987.
Nomura Seiichi. Izumi Shikibu Nikki, Izumi Shikibu Shu, in Shincho Nihon
Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1981.
Reischauer, Edwin O. Ennin's Diary: The Record of a Pilgrimage to China in
Search of the Law. New York: Ronald Press, 1955.
- - - . Ermin's Travel's in Tang China. New York: Ronald Press, 1955.
Seidensticker, Edward. The Gossamer Years. Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle, 1964.
- - - . The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1976.
Sekine Yoshiko. Sarashina Nikki, 2 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansha, 1977.
Shioiri Yoshimichi. Nitta Guho Junrei Ki, 2 vols., in Toyo Bunko series. Hei-
bonsha, 1970.
Tarnai Kosuke, Nikki Bungaku no Keneyu, Hanawa Shobe, 1965.
- - - . Sanuki no Suke Nikki, in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shimbun
Sha, 1953.
- - - . Tonomine Shosho Monogatari. Hanawa Shobe, 1960.
Toda Yoshimi. Chuyuki: Yakudo suru Insei Jidai no Guneo, Soshiete, 1979.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene. Sources of
Japanese Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958.
Heian Diaries
Uernura Etsuko. Kagero Nikki, 3 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
1978.
- - - . Kagero Nikki no Kenky«. Meiji Shoin, 1972.
- - - . "Kagero Nikki Sakusha, Seiritsu, Dempon," in Heian-cho Nikki, I, in
Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo Shu series. Yuseido, 196I.
Walker, Janet A. "Poetic Ideal and Fictional Reality in the Izumi Shikibu Nikki,"
Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 37, 1977.
Yamamoto Ritatsu. Murasaki Shiltibu Nikki, Murasaki Shiltibu Shu, in Shincho
Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1980.
 1O.
THE PILLOW BOOK OF
SEI SHONAGON

~e most brilliant example of the zuihitsu genre ("following the brush")

is undoubtedly Makura Soshi' (The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon), a
collection of prose pieces ranging in length from a line or two to several
pages, in which the author recounted her experiences at the court and
her observations of nature and of other people's behavior. She made no
attempt to unify or arrange in order these sparkling short essays, but
her style-flashing with witty perceptions-gives a consistency to the
work as whole. Her voice is heard distinctly in each of the some three
hundred episodes, a voice that proved to be inimitable, though works
in the zuihitsu tradition that she established would be written by in-
numerable Japanese over the centuries. Sei Shonagori's observations were
expressed in prose rather than poetry, but they are so acute as to defy
any poet to surpass her.
Not much is known about the life of Sei Shonagon.' Even her name
is something of a mystery: Sei is obviously the Sino-Japanese pronun-
ciation of the first character in Kiyohara, the surname of her family,
but we do not know why she was known es shimagon, or lesser counselor.
It was the practice at the Heian court to call a woman by the title of
either her father or her husband, but Sei's father was not a shonagon,
nor was either of the two men she married. It has been suggested, mainly
out of desperation, that it was the title of a third husband.'
Sei Shonagon was born in or about 966.4 Her father, Kiyohara no
Motosuke (908-990), was a distinguished waka poet, one of the five
members of the "Pear Court" who compiled the imperial anthology
Goscnshii. His own poetry, preserved in a private collection, included
one poem that was made immortal by being chosen for the Hyakunin
Isshu. His grandfather, Kiyohara no Fukayabu, was an even more dis-
tinguished poet; forty-one of his poems appeared in imperially sponsored
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh on a g o n

anthologies. Sei Shonagon's extraordinary literary gifts have been at-

tributed to this heritage.
Extremely little is known about Sei's life before she took up service
at the court in 993. She herself gives in The Pillow Book a touching (and
rather uncharacteristic) account of her emotions on first becoming a
waiting woman:

When I first went into waitmg at Her Majesty's Court, so many

different things embarrassed me that I could not even reckon them
up and I was always on the verge of tears. As a result I tried to
avoid appearing before the Empress except at night, and even then
I stayed hidden behind a three-foot curtain of state."

Seeing court ladies perform their duties with the effortlessness born
of long practice, she wondered when (if ever) she would be able to
conduct herself with equal confidence and grace. She listened with
admiration to the banter exchanged by the empress and her brother,
commenting that it resembled the elegant conversations she had hitherto
known only from romances. When Korechika, the empress's brother,
addressed Sei, she was overcome with embarrassment and tried to hide
her face with a fan, but Korechika snatched it away, then proceeded to
tease Sei by alluding to her reputation for knowing absolutely everything.
The arrival of another gentleman, even more splendidly attired than
Korechika, made her wonder what creatures from another world such
courtiers must be:

Yet, after some time had passed and I had grown accustomed to
Court service, I realized that there had been nothing very impressive
about their conversation. No doubt these same ladies, who talked
so casually to Lord Korechika, had been just as embarrassed as I
when they first came into waiting, but had little by little become
used to Court society until their shyness had naturally disappeared."

This passage is especially striking because virtually every other entry

in The Pillow Book depicts Sei Shonagon as a woman of matchless wit
who again and again demonstrates her intellectual superiority to any
man who ventures to engage her in conversation. Her initial shyness
seems to have melted away in record time, but on one occasion she was
reprimanded by the empress for a thoughtless word. This took place
early in Sci's service at court. She had spent a period of abstinence
 Early and Heian Literature

(monoimi) away from the court. The empress sent Sei a poem describing
how much she missed her, and received this response:

kumo no ue mo On these days in spring

kurashinikanekem So hard for you to endure
ham no hi u/o Even above the clouds-
tohorogara tomo How I am lost in brooding
nagametsuru kana In this humble place below'?

The empress was apparently offended by the word kurashinikanekeru,

"which have been difficult to live through." Her ladies also criticized
the poem severely. No reason is given for their annoyance, but it may
have been because they thought Sei had been presumptuous in accepting
as literal truth the empress's conventional expression of loneliness during
Sci's absence. The empress probably resented the implication that (re-
gardless of what she had written in her poem) anyone could ever be
bored or lonely at her brilliant court situated "above the clouds."? But
in the end the empress found Sci's presence indispensable.
The empress on whom Sei Shonagon waited was Teishi? (976-1001),
the daughter of Fujiwara no Michitaka (953-995) and the consort of
the Emperor Ichijo. She was appointed ch ugu, or empress, at a time
when her father enjoyed the favor of the emperor. When the father
died in 995, it was assumed that Teishi's brother Korechika would
succeed him as chancellor, but to Korechika's disappointment, his elderly
uncle was appointed instead. The uncle died a week after the appoint-
ment was made, and Korechika once again expected to be named as
chancellor, but this time another uncle, Michinaga, received a position
which, though not that of chancellor, gave him effective control over
the court, and he was ill-disposed toward Korechika. In the following
year, 996, Michinaga succeeded in having Korechika exiled to Kyushu
for a variety of offenses, including that of having shot an arrow at a
retired em peror."
In 999 Michinaga arranged for his daughter Shoshi (Akiko) to be
taken into the emperor's household, and in the following year, at his
insistence, she was named chugu. Teishi, supplanted in that position,
was given the title of kogo, which also designated an empress." This
was the first time that two empresses reigned at the same time. The
rivalry between Korechika and Michinaga was reflected in the courts
of the two empresses: Sei Shonagon served Teishi and Murasaki Shikibu
served Shoshi. Judging from Murasaki Shikibu's diary, the two great
writers were not on the best of terms.
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh o n a g o n

It has long been a tradition to contrast the two women-Sei Sho-

nagon the brilliant conversationalist and Murasaki Shikibu the sensitive
and retiring observer of court life. The clearest evidence of rivalry IS
found in Murasaki Shikibu's diary, where she wrote,

Sei Shonagon, for instance, was dreadfully conceited. She thought

herself so clever, and littered her writings with Chinese characters,
but if you examined them closely, they left a great deal to be desired."

Despite this criticism, Murasaki Shikibu had without question read

The Pillow Book, and she borrowed imagery and even scenes when
writing The Tale of Genji." The diary of Murasaki Shikibu has been
tentatively dated 1006. Her use of the past tense when referring to Sei
Shonagon suggests that the latter was no longer at the court or perhaps
no longer even in the capital. It is not certain that the two women ever
met; Murasaki Shikibu may have formed her opinions of Sei Shonagon
on the basis of rumors or gossip picked up from the rival court, or
perhaps they were mainly derived from a reading of The Pillow Book.
It may even be that she was induced by Shoshi to write The Tale of
Genji as an "answer" to the masterpiece produced at the other court.
The rivalry between the two empresses ended in lO01 with the death
of Teishi. Shoshi died at the age of eighty-six in 1074, having become
empress dowager in 1012 and grand empress dowager in 1018. She is
known also as Jato Mon'in, her title after entering Buddhist orders in
1026.
The first question that suggests itself when we take up The Pillow
Book is the meaning of the title. Probably Sei Shonagon did not give
her book this or any other title, but some scholar or copyist of later
times, searching for an appropriate designation for the manuscript, may
have found it in the epilogue:

One day Lord Korechika, the Minister of the Centre, brought the
Empress a bundle of notebooks. "What shall we do with them?"
Her Majesty asked me. "The Emperor has already made arrange-
ments for copying the Records of the Historian."
"Let me make them into a pillow," I said.
"Very well," said Her Majesty . "You may have them.l'"

The translation conveys the words exchanged by the empress and

Sei Shonagon, but the meaning of "pillow" remains unexplained. Surely
it was not a pillow in the usual sense of the word; paper was far too
 Early and Heian Literature

precious at that time to be used for making pillows. Nor is it likely that
the meaning was a livre de chevet, or "bedside book," in the normal
sense of these words: Sei would hardly have been so conceited as to
keep at her bedside for repeated reading a book that she herself had
written. Ivan Morris suggested that it was a "notebook or collection of
notebooks kept in some accessible but relatively private place, and in
which the author would from time to time record impressions, daily
events, poems, letters, stories, ideas, descriptions of people, etc.'?" Other
scholars, whose interpretation of the word "pillow" is essentially the
same as Morris's, have suggested that the book was kept in the drawer
of one of the wooden pillows on which ladies of the court at that time
rested their elaborately coiffured heads when they slept. No aspect of
The Pillow Book has given rise to as many different theories as the
meaning of "pillow" in this passage.
Perhaps, as has been plausibly suggested, Sei Shonagon meant by
"pillow" a writer's notebook in which she intended to record topics for
poetry and prose composition. The word utamakura, literally "poem
pillow," had at this time the meaning of a handbook in which the
essentials of literary composition were transmitted," and Sci's "pillow"
might have been a shortcut for designating this kind of book, though
in later times utamakura generally referred to sites that were famous
because of mentions in poetry." It is also possible that Sei had this more
restricted use of utamakura in mind when she announced her intention
of making a "pillow"; the lists of waterfalls, rivers, bridges, villages,
and so on that are a conspicuous feature of The Pillow Book were per-
haps intended as a thesaurus to be consulted when composing poetry.
It may be also that Sei's many lists, whether bare enumerations of place-
names and the like or brief essays, represent the original form of
The Pillow Book. The celebrated opening of the work is a kind of cata-
logue describing the time of day for best admiring each of the four
seasons:

In spring it is the dawn that is most beautiful. As the light creeps

over the hills, their outlines are dyed a faint red and wisps of purplish
cloud trail over them.
In summer the nights. Not only when the moon shines, but on
dark nights too, as the fireflies flit to and fro, and even when it
rains, how beautiful it is!
In autumn the evenings, when the glimmering sun sinks close
to the edge of the hills and crows fly back to their nests in threes
and fours and twos; more charming still is a file of wild geese, like
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh o na g o n

specks in the distant sky. When the sun has set, one's heart is moved
by the sound of the wind and the hum of the insects.
In winter the early mornings. It is beautiful indeed when snow
has fallen during the night, but splendid too when the ground is
white with frost; or even when there is no snow or frost, but it is
simply very cold and the attendants hurry from room to room stirring
up the fires and bringing charcoal, how well this fits the season's
mood! But as noon approaches and the cold wears off, no one bothers
to keep the braziers alight, and soon nothing remains but a pile of
white ashes."

Perhaps this marvelous opening originated as a simple series of

notations such as "Spring: dawn. Summer: night. Autumn: evening.
Winter: early morning." Even such laconic observations would testify
to an exceptionally perceptive mind and would have provided poets with
valuable reference points for their compositions, as we can surmise from
the well-known spring poem by the Emperor Gotoba (1180-1239) in
the Shin Kokinshu:

miwataseba When I gaze far off

yamamoto kasumu The mountain slopes are misty-
Minasegawa Minase River:
yube wa aki to Why did I ever suppose
nani omoiken" Evenings are best in autumn?

Gotoba denies Sei Shonagon's claim that evenings are best in autumn;
evenings in spring can be even more affecting. Another poem from the
same collection, this one by Fujiwara no Kiyosuke (1104-1171), also
took exception with Sei Shonagon:

usugm no The morning dampness

magaki no hana no On flowers along a fence
asajtmeri Swathed in a thin mist:
aki wa yube to Who was it claimed that autumn
tare ka iiken20 Was best enjoyed at evening?

Here, the poet insists that mornings in autumn are even more beautiful
than autumn evenings, despite what The Pillow Book says.
Regardless of whether a poet accepted or rejected Sei's ratings of
the times of day best suited for appreciating the different seasons, she
was not ignored. But this first "list" in The Pillow Book goes far beyond
 Early and Heian Literature
providing useful pointers for persons who are about to compose seasonal
poems. The characteristics of, say, a frosty winter morning had been
evoked in many poems, but the greater amplitude of prose enabled Sei
to extend her comments to human beings in wintry landscapes, and
finally, to note how much less beautiful the scene becomes when once
the morning sun melts the frost.
The Pillow Book contains two varieties of "catalogues." The first
consists of places, plants, and objects familiar from their use in poetry,
such as "peaks," "plains," "markets," "ferries," and so on;" the second,
much richer in content, consists of "things" to which Sei Shonagon has
some individual reaction, such as "awkward things," "things that should
not be seen by firelight," or "things that look pretty but are bad inside."22
The difficulty of compiling lists of the latter variety that are both amusing
and psychologically true is known to anyone who has ever tried to make
one in emulation of Sei Shonagon,
Scholars have searched, thus far in vain, for convincing antecedents
for the lists in The Pillow Book. Arthur Waley in his translation compared
Sei Shonagon's lists, notably those of the "things" variety, to the some-
what similar lists in the short text called I-shan tsa-tsuan (I-shan's Mis-
cellany) attributed to the late-Tang poet Li Shang-yin (812?-858?); but
nothing indicates that Sei Shonagon ever saw this book or, indeed, that
it was known to Japanese of her time." Passages have been traced to
Chinese poetry, especially the poetry of Po Chu-i," but few of the
discoveries are convincing. For example, Sei need not have turned to
Po Chu-i for a revelation that mist is particularly beautiful in spring or
that sunsets are lovely in autumn." This is not to say that she absorbed
absolutely no influence from her readings in Japanese and Chinese
literature, but that The Pillow Book was probably an original conception.
It is possible that Sei, having at first nothing more ambitious in mind
than drawing up lists of utamakura, was led to compile lists of amusing
and other "things" she had observed during her life at the court, and
finally to descriptions of the life itself, which she related in a manner
similar to that of the Heian court lady's diary.
Sei Shonagon served at the court from 993 to 1001. 26 During this
time the only "events" of her life that we know about were her visits
to various Buddhist temples (such as Kiyomizu-dera and Hase-dera)
and Shinto shrines (such as Inari-jinja and Karno-jinja). Most of the rest
of her time was spent, it would seem, conversing with men and women
of the court, attending palace ceremonies, or writing her book. Although
she was officially married at least twice, she evidently had affairs with
several other men of the court and, though not notorious as a promis-
The Pillow Book of Sei Sb o n a g o n

cuous woman (in the manner of Izumi Shikibu), she discussed her love
affairs openly in such passsages as:

In the winter, when it is very cold and one lies buried under bed-
clothes listening to one's lover's endearments, it is delightful to hear
the booming of a temple gong, which seems to come from the bottom
of a deep well. The first cry of the birds, whose beaks are still tucked
under their wings, is also strange and muffled. Then one bird after
another takes up the call. How pleasant it is to lie there listening as
the sound becomes clearer and clearer 12 7

She did not neglect to describe disappointing lovers, as in the section

"Hateful Things":

A lover who is leaving at dawn announces he has to find his fan

and his paper. "I know I put them somewhere last night," he says.
Since it is pitch dark, he gropes about the room, bumping into the
furniture and muttering, "Strange! Where on earth can they be?"
Finally he discovers the objects. He thrusts the paper into the breast
of his robe with a great rustling sound; then he snaps open his fan
and busily fans away with it. Only now is he ready to take his leave.
What charmless behaviour! "Hateful" is an understatement."

This episode shows Sei Shonagon at her best. Perhaps the key to
her mastery of psychology is most apparent in the words "he snaps open
his fan and busily fans away with it." The lover, we can be sure, did
not fan himself because he felt hot; and this was the least felicitous
gesture he could make as he took leave of his lady. Why did he use the
fan, then? Because that was his-and everyone else's-conditioned re-
flex on picking up a fan, as surely as salivating was the reaction of
Pavlov's dog to the sound of a bell. We, readers of a thousand years
later, smile as we recognize a universal, somehow endearing though
foolish, human action.
Sei Shonagon must have realized, even as she wrote, that some day
her words would be read by other people. She certainly anticipated that
the Empress Teishi would read the "pillow" for which she had supplied
the paper. But only in the last section of the work does Sei reveal that
her manuscript was already in circulation. After expressing surprise and
regret that people had found out what she had been writing, she mentions
her fear that she would be harshly judged on the basis of the unflattering
observations she has made about various people.
 Early and Heian Literature
The final section of the work otherwise provides the only information
we have about the circumstances under which Sei commenced writing
the book and how the book was evaluated in its own time." Though
hardly a page long, its importance is such that scholars have generally
treated it separately as an "epilogue" (batsubun), and the most exhaustive
scrutiny has been given to its every word." Toward the conclusion of
the epilogue Sei wryly referred to those who had expressed admiration
for her book as "persons who like what other people detest, and dislike
what they praise." She claimed to be able to see through such people,
perhaps because she suffered from the same defect. The Pillow Book
concludes with this passage:

When the middle general of the Left was still the governor of Ise,31
he came to visit me at my home. I put out for him the mat closest
to hand, only to notice to my horror that this notebook was on top.
In confusion, I pulled back the mat, but he kept his grip on the
notebook and took it off with him. It did not come back until a
considerable time later. That, I imagine, is when it first began to
circulate."

If we can accept this as literal truth, Sei Shonagon must have com-
posed the first draft of The Pillow Book-the manuscript that the middle
general carried off-between 994 and 996. The last datable event re-
corded in the work is the visit of the empress to the Sanjo residence of
Taira no Narimasa in 1000,33 Probably Sei continued to work on the
manuscript for at least another two years."
There remains, however, a textual problem: if, as most authorities
agree, the Sankan text (which lacks the passage about the middle general)
is the best," should this passage be regarded as an interpolation by a
later hand and therefore worthless as a source of information about Sei
Shonagon and her work?" The problem is compounded by the fact that
there is no discernible order in the successive episodes, not even as much
order as has been found in Tsurezuregusa (Essays in Idleness), a later
example of zuihitsu often compared with The Pillow Book. Even if Sei
Shonagon wrote every word of the fullest text, there is nothing to indicate
that she personally arranged the materials, and at any stage in the process
of editing her manuscript, a copyist's errors, glosses, and intrusions might
have crept into the text.
Another passage in the epilogue, found only in the Noin text, ex-
presses Sci's concern over what the Empress Teishi will think on reading
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh o n a g o n 42 1

the book: "I greatly fear that because I have not only told people about
things that have impressed me but written them down in this way, I
may seem frivolous to Her Majesty.':" Sei seems to be saying that even
people who enjoyed her repartee at court might disapprove of her de-
cision to commit her observations to paper. It is clear, in any case, that
she expected people to read and comment on her work.
Sei Shonagon also revealed in the epilogue the circumstances under
which she first began to write The Pillow Book:

I wrote and collected these notes at home, when I had nothing better
to do, setting down things I had noticed and thoughts that had
occurred to me, wondering all the while if someone would see them."
Unfortunately, there are places here and there which other people
might consider to be deplorable exaggerations. I thought I had hid-
den away the manuscript quite successfully, only to learn to my great
surprise that the contents had leaked out and were now public.

This passage leads without transition" into the one, already quoted,
in which the empress gives paper to Sei Shonagon, who says she will
use the paper to make a "pillow." The next section seems to resume
the train of thought interrupted by the anecdote. Sei describes the kinds
of materials she included in her work:

I chose lines of poetry that people find amusing, and things that
everybody is apt to admire. I am sure that if! started out by discussing
poems or writing about trees, plants, birds, and insects, I would be
maligned in terms of "It's even more boring than we expected. One
can see just how shallow she is." As a matter of fact, I wrote down,
in a spirit of fun and without help from anyone else, whatever
happened to suggest itself to me. I thought it most unlikely my book
would ever be considered in the same breath with other people's or
that I should ever hear it discussed on their level; but, strange as it
may seem, people who have read it say such things as, "You put us
all in the shade! "40

The most striking aspect of this passage, viewed in the light of other
writings of the time, is Sei Shonagon's insistence that she wrote "for
fun" (tawabure ni). Indeed, the adjective she most frequently used in
the course of her work is okashi; it appears 445 times in The Pillow Book
42 2 Early and Heian Literature

out of a total of some 3,660 adjectives." This adjective can often be

translated as "amusing" or "funny," but it is always used in a good
sense, not with the meaning of "ridiculous."? Sometimes the word can
be effectively rendered in translation as "splendid," "adorable," "inter-
esting," and so on, but regardless of the nuance, okash: always indicated
a reaction of pleasure and usually of amusement. The literary ideal of
okashi is often contrasted with aware, a word that typified Murasaki
Shikibu's writings, used to evoke the moving and touching aspects of
human experience. Aware would occur many times more frequently in
the Japanese literature to come than Sei Shonagon's okashi, suggesting
the rarity of the kind of humor found in her writings.
Again and again in The Pillow Book Sei Shonagon relates with
evident self-satisfaction her amusing or learned spontaneous comments.
Such episodes generally end with the empress's laughing with pleasure
or else expressing her admiration for Sei's unique learning, as in the
following:

One day, when the snow lay thick on the ground and it was so cold
that the lattices had all been closed, I and the other ladies were
sitting with Her Majesty, chatting and poking the embers in the
brazier.
"Tell me, Shonagon," said the Empress, "how is the snow on
Hsiang-Iu Peak?"
I told the maid to raise one of the lattices and then rolled up
the blind all the way. Her Majesty smiled. I was not alone in re-
cognizing the Chinese poem she had quoted; in fact all the ladies
knew the lines and had even rewritten them in Japanese. Yet no
one but me had managed to think of it instantly.
"Yes indeed," people said when they heard the story. "She was
born to serve an Empress like ours."?

Such examples of self-praise risk irritating the reader, but they were
intended perhaps to arouse admiration for the rare intelligence and
discrimination of the empress, rather than of the author. Indeed, The
Pillow Book can be interpreted as an act of homage toward the empress,
possibly written after her death, as a means of expressing Sei Shonagon's
conviction that never before and probably never again would there be
so gifted and delightful a royal personage.
The Pillow Book is famous, above all, for its many lists. There are
seventy-seven of the type that gives examples of famous mountains,
birds, dances, and so on; and another seventy-eight along the lines of
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh o n a g o n

"things that make one impatient" or "things that fall from the sky.':"
The following list of "Hateful Things" suggests how items of a list
could develop into vignettes:

One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away.

If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying,
"You must tell me about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of
visitor whose presence commands one's best behaviour, the situation
is hateful indeed....
To envy others and complain about one's own lot; to speak badly
about other people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters
and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does
manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone in the most
detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning-how
hateful!
One is just about to be told some interesting piece of news when
a baby starts crying.
A flight of crows circles about with loud caws.
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches
sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One has been foolish enough to invite a man to spend the night
in an unsuitable place-and then he starts snoring."

Sei's wit (like all wit) has a cruel side, especially for modern readers,
as the following will suggest:

It is very annoying when one has visited the Hase Temple and has
retired into one's enclosure, to be disturbed by a herd of common
people who come and sit outside in a row, crowded so close together
that the tails of their robes fall over each other in utter disarray. I
remember that once I was overcome by a great desire to go on a
pilgrimage. Having made my way up the log steps, deafened by the
fearful roar of the river, I hurried into my enclosure, longing to
gaze upon the sacred countenance of Buddha. To my dismay I found
a throng of commoners had settled themselves directly in front of
me, where they were incessantly standing up, prostrating themselves,
and squatting down again. They looked like so many basket-worms
as they crowded together in their hideous clothes, leaving hardly an
inch of space between themselves and me. I really felt like pushing
them all over sideways."
 Early and Heian Literature

No doubt this reaction was not confined to Sei Shonagon but true
of the aristocrats of her day. One can imagine an art lover of our own
day feeling similar irritation when local people who have gone to a
church to worship, rather than admire the paintings, obstruct his view.
But even people who would really like to push the peasants out of their
line of view hesitate to commit such undemocratic thoughts to writing.
An even more unpleasant example of how Sei Shonagon and her
friends treated the lower classes is found in the section describing a man
whose house has just been destroyed in a fire. He tells Sei, the first
person he meets on coming into the palace, that the fire started in a
hayloft belonging to the imperial stables and spread to his house. "There
is only a fence between the two buildings, and one of the lads in the
bedroom just escaped being burnt alive. They didn't save a single object."
"We all burst out laughing at this," Sei reports, and then relates
how she wrote a poem and asked a servant to give it to the man. The
servant threw the poem at the man who (being unable to read) supposed
the paper was a list of rice and other food he was to receive by way of
charity, and asked how much she had given. He was told to get someone
to read it. Then, we are informed,

Roaring with laughter, we set off for the Palace. "I wonder if he's
shown it to anyone yet," said one of my companions after a while.
"How furious he will be when he hears what it really is!"
When we saw Her Majesty, Mama [the nurse of the Lord Bishop]
told her what had happened, and there was a lot more laughter.
The Empress herself joined in, saying, "How can you all be so
mad?""

It is difficult for a modern reader to join in the laughter. The ladies

of the court, and even the empress, seem heartless. Perhaps, as one
commentator suggested, the laughter originated in the unabashed way
the man referred to the bedroom of his house and to his wife; he used
for "bedroom" the elegant yodona, hardly suitable for a man of his
humble station, and for "wife" the affectionate u/aratoabe:" The court
ladies, always sensitive to nuances of language, were amused by the
man's inappropriate choice of words, and Sei composed a poem, full of
puns and other types of word-play, teasing the man for having used
such a word as yodono. But even if one accepts this explanation, it still
does not make the behavior of the court ladies any more endearing; in
the end, one has to accept the fact that for members of the court at this
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh o n a go n

time the illiterate mass of Japanese did not belong to the same species
as themselves.
The epilogue continues: "It is getting so dark that I can scarcely go
on writing; and my brush is all worn out. Yet I should like to add a
few things before I end.?" This translation by Ivan Morris follows the
standard interpretation of the words and suggests at the same time a
well-known figure in European literature, the aged chronicler who has
come to the end of his tale. But unless one assumes that Sei Shonagon
wrote The Pillow Book at one sitting, it is curious that, if it was too
dark for her to write on that particular night, she did not consider
resuming the next morning. Moreover, if her brush was actually worn
out, she could easily have obtained another.
An intriguing new interpretation of this passage was given by Mitani
Kuniaki." He believed that Sei Shonagon wrote these words at the age
of thirty-seven (thirty-six by Western count), a year that was considered
to be peculiarly ill-omened for women. He gave examples of various
Heian court ladies who, when they reached this unlucky age, entered
orders as Buddhist nuns and others (like Murasaki Shikibu) who found
this an appropriate time to reflect on their life and write about it. We
are told in The Tale of Genji that Murasaki died at thirty-seven though
her age, if calculated by information previously given about the character,
should actually be thirty-nine. Both Genji's wife Aoi and his beloved
Fujitsubo also die at thirty-seven, evidence of how strong the belief was
in the danger of this year to a woman.
The revised meaning of the opening of the epilogue, following this
new explanation, would be close to: "Everything has become so dim I
cannot write any more. I have worn out my brushes and it is time to
put an end to my writing." The translation is similar to Morris's, but
the implications are different. If we accept Mitani's theory, Sei Shonagon
completed The Pillow Book in 1002, at the age of thirty-seven. Heian
women often made a break at this point in their lives (though thirty-
seven was not considered to be an advanced age even in the Heian
period), and in Sei's case, it followed by just a year the death of her
beloved Empress Teishi.
The Pillow Book did not enjoy in later centuries the popularity of
two other masterpieces of the Heian period, the Kokinshu and The Tale
of Genji, and for this reason old manuscripts are comparatively scarce."
It was imitated from time to time, notably in Essays in Idleness, but no
zuihitsu author ever equaled her achievement. It is the wittiest book in
the Japanese language, one that brings to mind George Meredith's state-
 Early and Heian Literature

ment in Essay on Comedy that only in societies where men and women
associate as equals is wit possible. Sei Shonagon, like the other ladies of
the Heian court, spent most of her time in dimly lit rooms, protected
from the eyes of male visitors by silken hangings; but we know from
her book that she never hesitated to engage men in conversation. She
not only associated with them as equals, but did not hesitate to assert
her superiority when a man seemed an unworthy adversary. She enjoyed
this aspect of life at the court so much that she felt contempt for women
whose lives were bound up with their families:

When I make myself imagine what it is like to be one of those

women who live at home, faithfully serving their husbands-women
who have not a single exciting prospect in life yet who believe that
they are perfectly happy-I am filled with scorn. Often they are of
quite good birth, yet have had no opportunity to find out what the
world is like. I wish they could live for a while in our society, even
if it should mean taking service as Attendants, so that they might
come to know the delights it has to offer."

In later times, such thoughts would be frowned on by the military

rulers, and relations on an equal footing between men and women were
definitely not advocated by the Confucian philosophers. Even today,
when the position of women in society has risen very considerably, The
Pillow Book still remains rather on the fringe of studies of classical
Japanese literature. Scholars, uncomfortable with humor and unable to
extract from The Pillow Book a social message to their tastes, have
sometimes defamed it, but it is impervious to their attacks. It is the
work of an extraordinary woman whose writings have maintained their
freshness and individuality a millennium after they were first conceived.

Notes
I. The pronunciation of the title is uncertain. Maeura Zoshi is also found,
and Maeura no Soshi is even more common than Maleura Soshi, perhaps
because makura-zoshi (with which it is easily confused) came to designate
pornographic books, left by the pillow of an inexperienced bride, that were
intended to teach her what to expect. The original pronunciation seems to
have been Makura Soshi. See Kuwabara Hiroshi, "Makura Soshi no Shomei
ni tsuite," p. 63; also Masuda Shigeo, Makura Soshi, P: 10.
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh o na g o n
2. The biography by Kishigami Shinji, Sei Shonagon, gives all the known facts
of her life, together with the writer's speculations on materials of possible
biographical interest in her works and those of her contemporaries.
3. By Tsunoda Bun'ei in "Sei Shonagon no Shogai," pp. 30-32. Tsunoda's
candidate was Fujiwara no Nobuyoshi, who became a shonagon in 984.
The marriage would have taken place about 985. Nobuyoshi died in 993.
Tsunoda believed that Fujiware no Muneyo, the governor ofSettsu, usually
identified as her second husband, was actually her third. It has often been
stated that Muneyo married Sei Shonagon after she left court service in
rooo, but as Hagitani Boku demonstrated (in "Sei Shonagon wo meguru
Dansei," p. 86), if we accept the data given about Muneyo in Sompi Bum-
myali«, he must have been over seventy at that time, presumably too old
to be the father of Sci's daughter. Hagitani believed that there was an error
in Sompi Bummyahu about the order of birth of Muneyo and his brothers,
and that Muneyo was in fact born in 937, which would have made him
sixty-three in rooo. (Sei Shonagon was thirty-four that year.) Hagitani was
still not too happy about a man of sixty-three being the father of a child,
and suggested that the marriage probably took place in 991 when Muneyo
was fifty-five and Sei Shonagon twenty-five, and that they were divorced
soon after the birth of their daughter. (Hagitani, "Sei Shonagon," pp. 87-
88.) This still does not take care of the problem of why she was known
as shonagon, even if that was the office of her second husband.
4. Four theories, giving dates that range from 964 to 971, are discussed by
Tsunoda in "Sei Shonagon," pp. 15-16. Most scholars are inclined to accept
the date 966 proposed by Kishigami in Sei Shimagon, pp. 38ff.
5. Translation by Ivan Morris in The Pillow Book of Sei Shimagon, I, p. 178.
Morris dates her arrival at court as 990, but states (II, pp. 141-42) that 993
is more widely accepted by Japanese specialists.
6. Ibid., I, pp. 181-82.
7. Cf. ibid., pp. 244-45. The passage is found in section 280 of the text Morris
used (the Shunsho Shohon text); in other texts it is section 286 (Yornei
Bunko text) or 284 (Sankan text).
8. See Kishigami Shinji, "Sei Shonagon Kenkyu e no Shotai," P: I I.
9. The name is normally read as Sadako.
ro. For an account of these developments, see Francine Herail, Notes journa-
liercs de Fujiwara no Michinaga, I, pp. 8-9, 185, 290. The retired emperor
was Kazan.
I I. Although chugu had up to this time been used for the consort of the
emperor, Teishi's promotion to kogo indicates that this rank was considered
to be somewhat higher in prestige. In other words, there were two em-
presses, a senior and a junior.
12. Richard Bowring, Murasaki Shikibu: Her Diary and Poetic Memoirs, p. 13I.
13. Shimizu Yoshiko, a specialist in The Tale of Genji, declared that in places
The Pillow Book gives the impression of having served as a "writer's note-
 Early and Heian Literature
book" (sosaku noto) for The Tale of Genji. (In "Sei Shonagon to Murasaki
Shikibu," p. 151.) Shimizu cited several examples of close parallels, both
in conception and wording, between the two works.
14. Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 267. A quite different interpretation of the passage
is given by Hagitani Boku in Makura Sosh«, II, pp. 1276-77. He believed
that Sei's mention of a "pillow" was no more than a clever response to the
news that the emperor was having Shiki (Records of the Historian) copied.
She pretended to interpret shiki as "horse blanket," and declared she would
place a "saddle" (ma-kura) atop the blanket. The two words suggested by
Hagitani are so rare that they do not appear in dictionaries of old Japanese.
The more usual meaning of shiki as "bedding," and mahura as "pillow,"
would also make a suitable play on words, but surely the meaning given
in Morris's translation was uppermost in Sei's mind.
IS. Ivan Morris, Pillow, II, p. 195.
16. See Masuda, Maeura Soshi, pp. 11-12.
17. For an excellent guide to these utamakura, see Katagiri Yoichi, Utamakura
Kotoba ]iten. Katagiri gives not only place-names but many other nouns
and verbs that were frequently employed when composing poetry.
18. Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 1.
19. Shin Kokinshu 36. The poet is saying that this particular evening in spring
is so lovely that he wonders why evening in autumn should be so celebrated.
20. Shin Kokinshi; 340.
21. An exhaustive analysis of such lists is given by Sugiyama Shigeyuki in
"Makura Soshi no Ruijuteki Shodan," pp. 293-96.
22. Japanese scholars when discussing these lists refer to the former as the wa
type and the latter as the mono type; the headings or first statements of
any list conclude with one or the other word. For example, the section on
mountains is headed yama u/a and consists mainly of the names of mountains
worthy of being celebrated in poetry. The section "things that make one's
heart beat faster" begins kokoro tokimeki suru mono. For a discussion in
English of the two kinds of lists, see Mark Morris, "Sei Shonagon's Poetic
Catalogues," pp. 8-28.
23. See Arthur Waley, The Pillow-Book of Sei Shonagon, pp. 22-23. For a
discussion of different theories about possible literary antecedents of Sei
Shonagon's lists, see Mark Morris, "Sci Shonagon," pp. 42-5°.
24. See Yahagi Takeshi, "Makura Soshi no Gensen-Chugoku Bungaku," pp.
149-50, where he tabulates possible Chinese sources for individual phrases
in The Pillow Book. His conclusion (p. IS0) was that "apart from The
Collected Works ofPo Chii-i and Wakan Roei Shu, Sei Shonagon's knowledge
of Chinese literature was rather restricted." Wakan Roei Shu, discussed
above, pp. 341-344, was compiled about 1013; ifSei Shonagon was actually
influenced by Chinese poetry apart from the poems of Po Chil-i, she must
have had access to the manuscript of Wakan Roei Shu or else her book was
written after 1013.
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh o n a g o n
25. See Yahagi, "Makura Soshi," pp. 133-34, for poems by Po Chu-i that are
alleged to have influenced the opening section of The Pillow Book. He
believed that Chinese influence was responsible for deepening Sei's con-
ception of the beauty of the seasons beyond the usual Japanese mentions
of cherry blossoms in the spring and colored leaves in autumn; but the
poems by Po Chu-i that he quotes do not in the least resemble the opening
of The Pillow Book.
26. The Empress Teishi died in the twelfth month of 1000, or in 1001 by the
solar calendar. Sei Shonagon is presumed to have served at the court until
the death of the empress.
27. Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 64. This is in section 69 in the text known as the
second variety of the Sankan text. See Masuda, Makura Soshi, p. 55.
28. Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 29. This passage is found in different sections of
The Pillow Book, depending on the text. In the Shunsho Shohon version,
which Morris used, it is in section 27; in the Noin-bon it is section 28; and
in the Sankan-bon it is section 60.
29. The contents of the epilogue depend to a considerable extent on the man-
uscript. The Sankan (Three-Volume) text, accepted as the most authentic
by the majority of scholars, gives a disappointingly meager account. For
what seems to be the full version, one must turn to one of the two Noin
texts, as Ivan Morris did in his translation. For a comparison of the two
Noin and the Sankan texts, see Mitani Kuniaki, "Makura Soshi no Batsubun
wo megutte," pp. 84-87.
30. Hayashi Kazuhiko, the author of the monumental Makura Si5shi no Kenkyu,
which runs to nearly one thousand pages, devoted the second half of this
book entirely to a consideration of the batsubun. See also Mitani "Makura
Soshi," pp. 74-75.
31. A reference to Minamoto no Tsunefusa, who was governor of Ise from
995 to 997 and became middle general of the Left (sachujo) in 998. He
remained in this office until 1000. This passage must therefore have been
written between 998 and 1000.
32. Hagitani, Maeura Soshi, II, p. 278; Matsui Satoshi and Nagai Kazuko,
Maleura Si5shi, p. 465; Ikeda Kikan and Kishigami Shinji, Maleura Soshi, p.
332. Morris did not translate this passage, possibly because he found it
anticlimactic.
33. See Ishida [oji, "Makura Soshi no Seiritsu," p. 30. Translation by Ivan
Morris, Pillow, I, p. 199. Text in Hagitani, Maleura Si5shi, II, p. 135; Matsui
and Nagai, Maleura Soshi, p. 360; and Ikeda and Kishigami, Makura Si5shi,
pp.262- 63·
34. The unusual number of textual variants may represent different stages of
the text, but scholars are by no means agreed as to which texts represent
the earlier and which the later stages.
35. The text prepared by Hagitani Boku for the Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei
series opens with the editor's declaration that he has tried, insofar as hu-
430 Early and Heian Literature
manly possible, to eliminate the "arbitrary emendations" in popular edi-
tions, and to find instead the "stylistic psychology" of the original author,
as revealed in the Sankan text, where alone it can be discovered.
36. The problem of the various texts is not confined to this one example. The
marvelous account of the lover who ineptly takes his leave at dawn is not
found in all texts. It has been suggested that the Sankan text may be earlier
than the Noin text. In that case, assuming Sei Shonagon wrote the Noin
text, the latter should be preferred. See Matsui and Nagai, Makura Soshi,
pp. 39-4 I, for a summary of the opinions of various scholars who have
considered the order of composition of the two main lines of text. Mitani
(in "Makura Soshi," p. 95) expressed categorically the opinion that the
Sankan text is later than the Nain text.
37- Matsuo and Nagai, Maltura Soshi, p. 465. Mitani ("Makura Soshi," p. 93)
believed that the word kimi, translated here as "Her Majesty," meant not
only Teishi but the people immediately around her.
38. My translation follows the interpretation of Hagitani in Maleura Soshi, II,
p. 276. Matsui and Nagai (in Mahura Soshi, p. 465) interpret the same words
hito ya u/a min to sum as meaning "I thought it unlikely anyone would see
them."
39. That is, in the Sankan text. In the Noin text there is an additional sentence
that Morris rendered as "I now had a vast quantity of paper at my disposal,
and I set about filling the notebooks with odd facts, stories from the past,
and all sorts of other things, often including the most trivial material."
(Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 267.) Morris's translation is far clearer than the
original; see Matsui and Nagai, Maeura Soshi, p. 464, for a discussion of
some of the problems.
40. This passage contains a number of thorny points that some commentators
pretend not to notice and others more candidly describe as unclear. The
frankest discussion of such points is in Matsui and Nagai, Maleura Soshi.
Despite the problems, however, the verve of Sei Shonagon's prose keeps
the reader's attention.
4I. Kikuta Shigeo, "Makura Soshi no Biishiki (I)," p. 237. Kikuta gives (on
p. 249) two other calculations of the number of times the word appears:
one scholar put it at 46I and another at 466. Ivan Morris (Pillow, II, p.
I95) gave 439 times. Obviously, when different texts are used, there will
be a different number of occurrences of the word.
42. The adjective ohash! has been derived from the obsolete verb oleu, "to
invite," or "to beckon to." The original meaning seems to have been to
invite closer to the speaker something that had pleased him.
43. Translation in Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 243. This is episode 278 in his
text. It is episode 280 in the text prepared by Hagitani, episode 278 in the
text of Matsui and Nagai, and episode 299 in the text of Ikeda and Kish-
igami. The allusion is to a poem by Po Chu-i: "Pushing aside the blind,
The Pillow Book of Sei Sh o n a go n 431

I gaze upon the snow of Hsiang-Iu peak...." (Ivan Morris, Pillow, II, p.
180.)
44. The figures are from Sugiyama, "Makura Soshi," p. 291. Sugiyama included
(pp. 293-96) a table comparing the lists as they appear in four different
texts.
45. Translation in Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, pp. 25-26. This is episode 25 in
Hagitani and in Matsui and Nagai, but episode 28 in Ikeda and Kishigami.
46. Translation in Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 258. This is episode 308 in the
text of Matsui and Nagai. It is variant edition (ippon) 26 in Hagitani and
variant edition 28 in Ikeda and Kishigami.
47. Translation in Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, pp. 252-53. Text is given by Hagitani
in II, pp. 249-52; by Matsui and Nagai, pp. 441-44; and by Ikeda and
Kishigami, pp. 320-21.
48. The word warawabe usually meant a child (Morris's "lad"), but recent
commentators agree that it means here the wife of the man, warawabe
having been used affectionately of one's wife, suggesting she is still a
childlike creature.
49. Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 267. The Japanese text is: mono kuro narite, moji
mo kakarezu narinitari. Fude wo tsukaihatctc, kore wo kakihatebaya. Text in
Matsui and Nagai, Maleura Soshi, p. 463.
50. Mitani, "Makura Soshi," pp. 89-91.
51. See Masuda, Maeura Soshi, p. 17.
52. Free (and effective) translation in Ivan Morris, Pillow, I, p. 20. Text in
Hagitani, I, p. 61; Matsui and Nagai, p. 91; Ikeda and Kishigami, P: 63.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Bowring, Richard. Murasalii Shieibu: Her Diary and Poetic Memoirs. Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1982.
Hagitani Boku. Maeura Soshi, 2 vols., in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series.
Shinchosha, 1977.
---"Sei Shonagon wo meguru Dansei," in Makura Sosh! Koza, I.
Hayashi Kazuhiko. Maiiura Soshi no KenkYu. Yubun Shoin, 1964.
Herail, Francine. Notes journaiieres de Fujiwara no Michinaga, 3 vols. Ceneve-
Paris: Librairie Droz, 1987-91.
Ikeda Kikan. KenkYu Maliura Soshi. Shibundo, 1963.
Ikeda Kikan and Kishigami Shinji. Mahura Soshi, in Nihon Koten Bungaku
Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1958.
Ishida [oji. "Makura Soshi no Seiritsu," in Malrura Soshi Koza, II.
432 Early and Heian Literature
Katagiri Yoichi. Utamakura Kotoba Jiten. Kadokawa Shoten, 1983.
Kikuta Shigeo. "Makura Soshi no Biishiki (I)," in Maleura Soshi Koza, I.
Kishigami Shinji. Sei Shiinagon. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1962.
---"Sei Shonagon Kenkyu e no Shotai," in Mahura Soshi Koza, I.
Kuwabara Hiroshi. "Makuta Soshi no Shomei ni tsuite," in Mahura Soshi .
Koza, II.
Makura Sosh] Koza, 4 vols. Yuseido, 1975.
Masuda Shigeo. Makura Soshi. Osaka: Izumi Shoten, 1987.
Matsui Satoshi and Nagai Kazuko. Makura Soshi, in Nihon Koten Bungaku
Zenshu series. Shogakukan, 1974.
Mitani Kuniaki. "Makura Soshi no Batsubun wo megutte," in Makura Soshi
Kiiza, II.
Morris, Ivan. The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, 2 vols, New York: Columbia
University Press, 1967.
Morris, Mark. "Sei Shonagori's Poetic Catalogues," Harvard Journal of Asiatic
Studies, Spring 1980.
Nakano Koichi. "Makura Soshi no Dokusha Ishiki," in Maeura Soshi Koza, I.
Sawada Masako. Maleura Soshi no Biishik]. Kasama Shoin, 1985.
Shimizu Yoshiko. "Sei Shonagon to Murasaki Shikibu," in Maltura Soshi
Koza, I.
Shimotamari Yuriko. Mabura Soshi Shahen Ron. Kasama Shoin, 1986.
Sugiyama Shigeyuki. "Makura Soshi no Ruijiiteki Shodan," in Maleura Soshi
Koza, I.
Tsunoda Bun'ei. "Sei Shonagon no Shogai," in Makura Soshi Koza, I.
Waley, Arthur. The Pillow-Book of Sei Shiinagon, Boston: Houghton Mifflin,
1929.
Yahagi Takeshi. "Makuta Soshi no Gensen-Chiigoku Bungaku," in Makura
Soshi Koza, IV.
 1 1.
THE BEGINNINGS OF
FICTION

For over a thousand years works of fiction composed in Japanese were

known as monogatari, a term that means "telling of things." The word
still exists as a general designation for a story, but no one today would
call a work of literature a monogatari without being aware that he was
employing an archaism. The earliest use of the word occurs in a poem
in the Man'yiishu, where it seems to have the meaning of a "legend."!
Instances in old writings where mono was used to mean the gods or the
souls of the dead have suggested to some that monogatari were originally
narrations about supernatural beings, both gods and the deified ancestors
of the different clans.'
No doubt there were Japanese from ancient times who were known
for their ability to tell stories that entertained the members of their
family or their village, quite apart from priests whose business it was
to relate the deeds of the gods, but the first examples of written fiction
date no further back than the Heian period. The earliest examples were
probably crude and implausible, as we can infer from pejorative ref-
erences in The Gossamer Years or The Tale of Genji, but with time they
acquired greater polish, as we know from the different stages of some
surviving works. The ladies of the court read monogatari to pass the
time on a long summer's day or while waiting for nightfall and the
possibility of a lover's visit. Many of the books they read have been
totally lost or are known today only by the title and a few poems. Paper
was scarce and expensive, and since a single manuscript sufficed for the
limited number of readers, a minor fire could destroy a work ofliterature
forever.
Two varieties of monogatari were composed in Japan, beginning in
the late ninth century. The first, known as tsuleuri monogatari, or "in-
vented tale," like similar stories told elsewhere in the world, relate the
actions of unusually good or bad people. They sometimes included
434 Early and Heian Literature

realistic details, but they were generally marked by elements of fantasy

or the supernatural, and they also drew inspiration from folklore. The
second variety, the uta monogatari, or "poem-tale," a more specifically
Japanese development, consisted mainly of poems and accounts of the
circumstances of the composition of the poems; these tales, prevailingly
realistic in content, for the most part described life at the court, and
were usually short, unconnected anecdotes rather than single stories.
The two streams of fiction converged in the late tenth century and made
possible the composition of the major works of Heian fiction of the
eleventh and twelfth centuries.

THE INVENTED TALE

The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter

The oldest surviving monogatari is Taketori Monogatari (The Tale of

the Bamboo Cutter);' Its date of composition is unknown, but on the
basis of both internal and external evidence it seems likely the work
was completed no later than 909. An episode in the poem-tale Yamato
Monogatari (Tales of Yarnato) includes this verse:

talietori no The Bamboo Cutter

yoyo ni naeitsutsu Sadly weeping every night,
todomekcn Tried to detain her:
kimi wa kimi ni But tonight you are about
koyoi shimo YUkU4 To go to His Majesty.

The poem, addressed by the courtier Minamoto no Yoshitane to Princess

Katsura, compares the speaker to the Bamboo Cutter who tearfully
attempted to dissuade Kaguya-hime from leaving him. Yoshitane was
trying to persuade the princess not to go to the palace of her father, the
Cloistered Emperor Uda, for a moon-viewing party. The party took
place in 909;5 The Tale ofthe Bamboo Cutter must have existed in some
form by this date.
Mention at the end of The Tale ofthe Bamboo Cutter of smoke rising
from Mount Fuji indicates that the volcano was still active at the time
of composition, but the kana preface to the Kokinshu, written in 905,
stated that smoke no longer rose from the mountain; it has therefore
been conjectured that The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter must have been
The Beginnings of Fiction 435
written prior to 905. Other evidence suggests a date of composition
between 871 and 881.6
The author of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter is not known, but
scholars (with varying degrees of confidence) have attributed it to Mina-
moto no Shitago, to the Abbot Henjo, to a member of the Imbe clan,
to a member of a political faction opposed to the Emperor Temmu, and
to the kanshi poet Ki no Haseo (845-912).7 It is not clear whether one
or several persons had a hand in the text." The original language of the
tale has also been much debated." In short, nothing is certain about the
date, author, or original literary style of the work.
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter has been known as "the ancestor of
all romances" ever since Murasaki Shikibu described it as such in The
Tale of Genji. She added, "The story has been with us a very long time,
as familiar as the bamboo growing before us, joint upon joint."10 There
is little dispute about The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter being the oldest
monogatari, but some scholars characterize Sango Shiiki (Indications of
the Goals of the Three Teachings) by Kukai as the first Japanese
"novel."!' This work, however, is a philosophic dialogue with some
literary flourishes, rather than a novel, and it exercised no influence on
the development of the monogatari.
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter is the story of the beautiful Kaguya-
hime and not of the old Bamboo Cutter, who serves mainly to open
and close the tale. The poverty-stricken Bamboo Cutter and his wife
were unhappy because they were childless. One day the Bamboo Cutter
found a stalk of bamboo that gave forth light, and he discovered inside
a tiny little girl whom he took home. Within three months she grew
to full adult height and word spread of her extraordinary beauty. Various
suitors came to woo her, but she refused even to appear before them.
In the end, only five men persisted, and at the Bamboo Cutter's urging
(he reminded Kaguya-hime that in this world men and women custom-
arily marry) she agreed to marry one of the suitors, provided he per-
formed whatever service she asked of him. The suitors gladly accepted
this condition, but were dismayed when they learned the tasks involved
bringing to her some unobtainable object, such as the begging bowl the
Buddha himself had used or a jewel from the head of a dragon. All
five men nevertheless attempted to meet her demands, but each ulti-
mately failed, to the boundless delight of Kaguya-hime, who had no
intention of marrying.
The emperor heard of Kaguya-himc's beauty and, with the conniv-
ance of the Bamboo Cutter, called at her house while out on a hunt.
 Early and Heian Literature
Unable either to refuse or accept him, she turned herself into a shadow."
The emperor regretfully abandoned his suit.
After three years had gone by, Kaguya-hime became increasingly
pensive, spending much of her time gazing at the moon. One night she
burst into tears and revealed to the Bamboo Cutter that she was not a
creature of this world but had come from the Palace of the Moon. Soon,
she predicted, people from the moon would come to fetch her. The
Bamboo Cutter vowed to prevent them from taking away his daughter,
but when the flying chariot arrived from the moon he was powerless
to resist. One of the celestial beings gave Kaguya-hime a jar of the elixir
of immortality. She offered some of it to the old man and his wife, but
now that Kaguya-hime was lost to them, life itself had lost its pleasure,
and they refused to taste it. The elixir was offered to the emperor, who
also refused because he could not see Kaguya-hime again. He com-
manded a messenger to take the elixir to the top of the highest mountain
and set it afire. The tale concludes, "Ever since they burnt the elixir of
immortality at the crest of the mountain, people have called the mountain
Fuji, meaning immortal. Even now the smoke still rises into the
clouds. "13
Each of the main elements of this tale has precedents or parallels in
the folklore and other literature of Asia." Clues not only to the time of
composition but to the work's purpose have been sought in the names
of the five suitors." All five suitors were adherents of the Emperor
Temmu, and this suggested that the author of The Tale of the Bamboo
Cutter was indirectly expressing his dislike for Temmu and his line by
these satiric portraits." One of the suitors, Kuramochi, was the ancestor
of Fujiwara no Yoshifusa (804-872), the dominant political figure of the
day, and the ridicule directed at Kuramochi may reflect the author's
dislike of Fujiwara rule or possibly of the entire nobility."
Perhaps the suitors originally included the Bamboo Cutter. Although
he describes himself at the beginning of the tale as being over seventy
years old (and therefore disqualified as a suitor), toward the end of the
work he is said to be just fifty. This means that when he found Kaguya-
hime some twenty years earlier," he might well have been a suitor,
though his wife represented something of an obstacle." It is puzzling
why the work was named after the Bamboo Cutter, rather than Kaguya-
hime, the central figure, but some have called attention to the sacred
nature of the profession of gathering bamboo."
No fewer than twenty-two theories have been advanced concerning
the purpose of the author in writing The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter."
The two main interpretations are those that see the work as being
The Beginnings of Fiction 437
essentially a realistic portrayal of life among the Heian courtiers, and
those that insist it is a fairy tale from the world of make-believe with
few realistic elements." The great folklore scholar Yanagita Kunio di-
vided The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter into fixed and free elements, the
former being parts of oral tradition that had to be incorporated in any
retelling of the story, the latter the parts that storytellers could add or
drop as the inspiration moved them. Yanagita believed that the sections
of the work of greatest interest to the authors were those devoted to
the fruitless quests of the five suitors."
A study of the use in the work of the suffix -keri, found after verbs
to indicate reported action, revealed that -keri occurred almost exclusively
in the "frame" story, the parts of the work derived from earlier accounts.
One does not find -keri in the "free" sections of the work (those not
borrowed from predecessors)." The additions, departing from the fa-
miliar tale, presumably appealed to readers who were rather bored with
the overly familiar "fixed" elements, and it was in the "free" sections
that the author demonstrated his attitude toward the materials.
Perhaps the least discussed aspect of the work has been its literary
appeal, though a somewhat less than startling "moral" has been extracted
to the effect that nobility of spirit transcends wealth or poverty." Nothing
in the text indicates for whom The Tale ofthe Bamboo Cutter was written,
but it must have been for educated readers. The style, however, is
astonishingly simple and straightforward; it is perhaps the easiest to
read of all Heian texts. The simplicity of style suggests that its language
was close to the colloquial of the time (the text contains an unusually
high proportion of dialogue), but it may also be attributed to the complete
absence of the kind of introspective elements that contributed to the
complexity and difficulty of the major works of Heian prose, notably
those by women. The high percentage of words of Chinese origin (for
a work written in kana) also suggests that the author was a man." The
most likely reason for anyone's writing such a story was to please or
amuse people at the court.
The humor in the work certainly suggests that the author's main
intent was to divert. The satire directed at the unlucky suitors has
frequently been noted, but there is also humor in the characterization
of the Bamboo Cutter and Kaguya-hime. The Bamboo Cutter is a dim-
witted man who, by the accident of having found Kaguya-hime, rises
to a position of importance. His knowledge is commonsensical: Kaguya-
hime, when she is fully grown, should get married like every other girl.
It does not occur to him that a girl found in a stalk of bamboo might
be an exception to this general rule. He is also so guileless that he is
 Early and Heian Literature
unable to realize what is happening even as Kaguya-hime systematically
disposes of one suitor after another. When workmen accost the second
suitor, Prince Kuramochi, and demand their wages for having fashioned
the "jeweled branch from paradise," the old man shakes his head in
perplexity, wondering what they are talking about.
Again, he is so impressed by the robe of fire-rat fur offered by the
minister of the Right, the third suitor, that the Bamboo Cutter insists
on inviting him into the house. Kaguya-hime attempts to restrain him,
pointing out that they have not yet tested the robe and made sure that
it will not burn in fire, but he answers, "That may be so, but I'll invite
him in anyway. In all the world there is not another such fur robe.
You'd best accept it as genuine. Don't make people suffer so." The
contrast in personality between the Bamboo Cutter and Kaguya-hime
is graphically expressed: the old man is foolish but good-hearted, but
Kaguya-hime, for all her charm, is icy.
The Bamboo Cutter's foolishness is most clearly depicted in the
section describing the imminent arrival of the celestial beings who have
come to escort Kaguya-hime back to the moon. He insists that he is a
match even for supernatural creatures: "If anyone comes after you, I'll
tear out his eyes with my long nails. I'll grab him by the hair and throw
him to the ground. I'll put him to shame by exposing his behind for all
the officers to see!" But when the celestial horde actually appears, the
old Bamboo Cutter is unable to resist: "The old man, who had assumed
such an air of defiance, prostrated himself before the strangers, feeling
as though he were in a drunken stupor." His last resource is peasant
cunning: when the king demands to see Kaguya-hirne, saying she was
condemned to live for a short while in humble surroundings on earth
because of a sin committed in the past, the old man answers, "I have
been watching over Kaguya-hime for more than twenty years. You speak
of her having come down into this world for 'a short while.' It makes
me wonder if you are not talking about some other Kaguya-hime living
in a different place."
The Bamboo Cutter may seem foolish, but he is treated with affection
by the author. Kaguya-hime, on the other hand, is far from eliciting
our sympathy, let alone affection. She is portrayed as a woman who
delights in making men suffer. From the first, when many men come
to court her, she shows not a flicker of compassion, and she is not
impressed by the five suitors who, without the least encouragement,
persist in their courtship "undaunted by hindrances, whether the falling
snows and the ice of midwinter or the blazing sun and the thunderbolts
of summer." The old man urges Kaguya-hime to choose one of the five
The Beginnings of Fiction 439
suitors. She agrees, but insists on testing the men to make sure they
really love her. "I am not asking for anything extraordinary," she says,
but after she has enumerated the five tests, the stunned old man replies,
"How shall I break the news of such difficult assignments?" "What's
so difficult about them?" asks Kaguya-hime. When the suitors are in-
formed, they exclaim, "Why doesn't she simply say, 'Stay away from
my house'?" They leave in disgust.
The suitors' ardor is presently revived, however, and they set about
performing their tasks. No one could fulfill such assignments honestly,
but each man attempts in his own way to achieve the impossible. The
failure of the first suitor, the highest-ranked noble, excites no pity, and
he is given short shrift not only by Kaguya-hime but by the author.
The second suitor, who like the first resorts to deceit in his effort to
win Kaguya-hime, is equally unsuccessful, but his fabrication is at least
interesting. The remaining three men each try to obtain by legitimate
means the object Kaguya-hime has demanded. For a while she fears
that the minister of the Right has been successful in his quest of a robe
that will not burn in fire, but when she tests it, the robe burns brightly.
The minister turns the color of leaves of grass, but Kaguya-hime is
enchanted.
The fourth suitor, the grand counselor, sends his men to get the
five-colored jewel from a dragon's neck, but when they fail to return
he sets off himself, only to encounter a terrible storm at sea. The grand
counselor, terrified that he might lose his life, solemnly vows that he
will never again attempt to harm a dragon, and the storm subsides. He
returns home, more dead than alive, only to be informed that his men
have been equally unsuccessful. He is pleased, rather than grieved: "If
you had actually caught a dragon, it would certainly have meant the
death of me! I'm glad you didn't catch one! That cursed thief of a
Kaguya-hime was trying to kill us! I'll never go near her house again."
The last suitor, attempting to get the easy-delivery charm carried
by mother sparrows, falls from a height just as he takes the charm in
his hand; the charm proves to be bird droppings. Kaguya-hime vouch-
safes to send a poem of inquiry about his health to which he feebly
replies before he expires. We are told that Kaguya-hime was somewhat
moved.
The cold-heartedness of Kaguya-hime is evoked with humor, but
over the centuries her character has been subjected to a process of
sentimentalization in the later versions of the tale, and she is now
generally depicted as a lovable creature come from another world who
is unsullied by base human emotions. However, the author of the
44° Early and Heian Literature

thirteenth-century diary Kaidoki (Journey Along the Seacoast Road)

characterized her as a "poisonous, transformed woman?" who troubled
the emperor's heart, a reference to her refusal to yield even to the emperor
when he courted her, and an apt evocation of how she treated all her
suitors.
The visit of the emperor is the least successful episode of the work.
In it Kaguya-hime's refusal to marry is given the ultimate test, a request
for her hand by the one person she cannot refuse; but instead of pre-
senting this as the climax of the account of the unlucky suitors, the
author emphasizes her nonhuman nature by transforming her into a
shadow.
The final part of the tale describes the arrival of people from the
moon who, in defiance of the Bamboo Cutter and a body of soldiers
sent by the emperor, carry off Kaguya-hime. In order that she may
ascend to the moon, they give her a robe of feathers, a familiar element
in Japanese folktales dealing with women who come from another world
and, after a sojourn on earth, return to their original homes. In Kaguya-
hime's case, the robe is really not necessary since a chariot has come to
escort her to the moon, but putting on the feather robe symbolizes her
breaking her ties with this world; we are told that anyone who wears
this robe instantly forgets all earthly attachments. Kaguya-hime delays
putting on the robe in order to write a final poem to the emperor, then
departs with the celestial beings for the moon.
The Tale ofthe Bamboo Cutter shares "fixed" elements with Japanese
and other folktales that describe the miraculous births of tiny human
beings inside a stalk of bamboo, a song thrush's egg, or a peach, or that
relate how a celestial being, deprived of the robe of feathers that permits
her to ascend to heaven, becomes the wife of a human being (usually
the man who found and hid the robe), but returns to heaven when she
finds the missing garment. Variations on the thematic material are found
in the folklore of the world and even within Japanese traditions, but
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter is distinguished from other accounts by
the presence of literary intent.
Perhaps the intent of the author was to satirize the idle and inef-
fectual aristocrats, as many commentators have suggested, but he may
have had in mind nothing more ambitious than an urbane retelling of
a childish tale. In variants of this and similar tales of suitors who are
assigned tasks, the lady marries either the man who first found her or
else the last of the many men she tests, but Kaguya-hime does not yield,
avoiding lese-rnajeste by the expedient of vanishing. The suitors are
treated with humor, but we are likely to sympathize with at least two
The Beginnings of Fiction 441
of them. The author's detachment from his materials made it possible
for him to tell a children's tale in a manner that appeals to adults, rather
like Jean Cocteau's retelling of the story of Beauty and the Beast.
The manner of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter was perhaps too
sophisticated for most readers of the time. It does not seem to have led
to other works in the same mode, though it undoubtedly helped to create
the tsukuri monogatari. The birth of Kaguya-hime and her final ascent
to the moon were surely not taken as literal truth even in the tenth
century; but despite the elements of fantasy contained in The Tale of
the Bamboo Cutter, it is also rich in realistic detail of a kind not often
found in the elegant poem-tales, as in the description of the grand
counselor's seasickness or of the bird droppings clutched by the unfor-
tunate middle counselor. It also contains fifteen waka; the inclusion of
poetry would be typical of all future monogatari."
Various underlying assumptions and attitudes of the Heian court
society revealed in this work, perhaps unconsciously, would also be
prominent in later monogatari. The dread of what people might think
(which obsesses the unlucky victims of Kaguya-hime's wild-goose
chases), for example, would be typical of other Heian works of fiction.
The repeated mention of tears, notably in the account of the Bamboo
Cutter's grief over the loss of Kaguya-hime, prepared the way for the
rivers of tears and pillows floating in tears of later works." But the chief
contribution of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter to the development of
Japanese fiction lay in its success in using the Japanese language as a
medium of artistic expression.

The Tale of the Hollow Tree

Almost all of the works of fiction composed during the tenth and
eleventh centuries have been lost or survive only in later reworkings.
Two "invented tales," Utsubo Monogatari" (The Tale of the Hollow
Tree) and Ochikubo Monogatari (The Tale of Ochikubo), are all that
remain. The dating and authorship of these tales have been much dis-
puted, but both seem to antedate The Tale of Genji and provide in their
different ways a transition between the fairy tale (represented by The
Tale of the Bamboo Cutter) and the complex masterpiece of Murasaki
Shikibu.
The dating of The Tale of the Hollow Tree presents many problems,
but it is probably safe to say that it was written between 970 and 983,
though the last chapter may have been added after 1000.3 1 The work
442 Early and Heian Literature
has most often been ascribed to the scholar and poet Minamoto no
Shitago (911-983), though the evidence is by no means conclusive." The
title of the work is derived from the hollow tree where Nakatada (the
chief male character) and his mother live after the death of his grand-
father, Toshikage.
The chief distinction of The Tale of the Hollow Tree is that it was
the first work of fiction of book length to have been composed in Japan
and possibly in the world. It is clear, however, that the author or authors
did not commence the work with this intention. Although an attempt
was made, presumably at some late stage, to unify the disparate chapters,
they hang together poorly. Numerous contradictions within the text
confirm the impression that the work originally consisted of perhaps
four or five independent stories that were arranged in chronological
order and otherwise given unity by having characters make brief ap-
pearances in previously unrelated stories." The texts of The Tale of the
Hollow Tree contain an exceptionally large number of variants, providing
many happy hours for industrious collators. Even the order of the chap-
ters is uncertain: for example, the chapter "Tadakoso," a story complete
in itself that refers very little to any other section of the tale, appears as
the second, third, or fourth chapter, depending on the manuscript tra-
dition." The hoarding of texts by collectors (whether members of the
aristocracy in the past or merely rich men today) has ensured a seemingly
never-ending supply of new variants as the manuscripts are gradually
published. This is true not only of The Tale of the Hollow Tree but also
of a large part of the literature composed before printing became general
in the seventeenth century.
The longest sequence of stories is devoted to the courtship of the
beautiful Princess Atemiya by a variety of suitors." Unlike Kaguya-
hime, she does not deign to set tasks for these men, but stonily refuses
even to acknowledge their letters. When one suitor, the Chancellor
Sanetada, seems about to expire because of unrequited love, Atemiya at
first feels pity and considers writing him a note, but decides against it,
for fear of what other people might think." She finally marries the
crown prince, who is captivated by her superb playing of the koto; but
there is not the slightest indication that she prefers him to the other
suitors or, indeed, that she has any preferences.
The story of Atemiya and her suitors seems to have been the central
episode around which the other stories in The Tale of the Hollow Tree
were grouped, but the book as a whole is given unity by the theme of
music, which runs through every episode. The work (in its present form,
though there is reason to suspect that the original form was different)
The Beginnings of Fiction 443
opens with the account of Toshikage, a brilliant young prince who is
sent to China with an embassy. Two of the three ships of the embassy
sink, and the third, with Toshikage aboard, drifts southward until it
reaches the land of Hashi, a country that has been identified variously
as Persia or Malaysia." The ship founders off the coast of Hashi, and
Toshikage is the only survivor. He prays to the bodhisattva Kannon,
whom he has worshiped ever since he was a child, and a miracle occurs:
a white horse, saddled and ready to be mounted, suddenly appears on
the deserted beach, prancing and whinnying. T oshikage, recognizing
the source of this miracle, bows in thanks to Kannon. (This intrusion
of the supernatural is typical of the early sections of The Tale of the
Hollow Tree and links it with Buddhist tales of the same era.) Toshikage
is carried by the horse to an enchanted realm where he learns the secrets
of playing the koto.
Toshikage's tutors are three men who spend their entire days playing
the koto, and he shares their simple meals of dew from the flowers and
drops of water from the red maple leaves. In the spring of the following
year he hears the sound of a tree being felled far off to the west, and
the echoes continue to reverberate for three years. It occurs to Toshikage
that wood from this reverberative tree would make a marvelous koto.
He leaves his three teachers and travels westward for three years until
he finds the tree at the crest of a mountain. The tree is guarded by a
fierce being called an asura who intimidates Toshikage by announcing
that he devours every creature, be it tiger, wolf, or merely bug, that
falls into his trap. He rolls eyes that are like wheels and gnashes his
rapierlike teeth.
The asura is not, however, devoid of feelings: when he learns that
Toshikage is from Japan, he offers to guide him back to his country,
provided Toshikage promises to hold a Buddhist service for him. To-
shikage, emboldened by this show of compassion, asks for a piece of the
tree in order to make a koto. The asura angrily refuses, whereupon the
sky grows dark, a torrential rain falls, lightning flashes, and a boy riding
on a dragon's back descends from heaven with a golden tablet inscribed
with the words: "Give the bottom third of the tree to Toshikage, a
mortal from Japan!" The terrified asura bows seven times before To-
shikage, and, in obedience to the command, he cuts the tree into three
portions and gives Toshikage the bottom third, the best part. The ce-
lestial boy, hearing the sounds of the asura's axe, descends once again
from heaven and fashions thirty kotos from the wood. He is followed
by celestial maidens who lacquer and string the kotos.
Toshikage tests the thirty kotos. Twenty-eight produce similar
444 Early and Heian Literature
sounds, but when the remaining two are played, mountains crumble,
the earth is sundered, and the "seven mountains" sway together." A
band of celestial ladies riding on a purple cloud reveals to Toshikage
that it is the will of heaven that he found a line of great koto players.
He is informed that he must go to the Buddha's paradise for instruction
in the ultimate secrets of the koto.
Toshikage proceeds to paradise, as directed, with the help of a
peacock and an elephant who carry him over difficult stretches of the
terrain. Obliging whirlwinds carry the thirty kotos all the way. In par-
adise Toshikage receives the promised instruction from seven immortals.
The sound of their music reaches the ears of the Buddha himself, who
expresses admiration for Toshikage and promises that one of the seven
immortals will be reborn as his grandson.
Soon afterward Toshikage, having mastered the secrets of the koto,
leaves paradise and sets off on the homeward journey to Japan. He has
been away for twenty-three years and is worried about his parents. He
catches a ship going in his direction, and before long reaches home. He
learns that his parents are dead, and goes into mourning for three years.
When his period of mourning is completed, he attends court, where he
is cordially received by the emperor, who appoints him vice-minister of
ceremonies."
From this point on the story of The Tale ofthe Hollow Tree becomes
more or less realistic. The narration, with the exception of the account
of prodigies attributed to the two miraculous kotos, is devoted chiefly
to activities at the court. In some ways the descriptions of life at the
court are more realistic than those in The Tale of Genji: at the banquets
the nobles get drunk and boisterous; they eat food that sounds most
unappetizing (though nobody in The Tale of Genji does anything so
vulgar as eat); they stake bets on the outcome of games of go. The world
is altogether more believable than the peerless one in which Genji moved,
but it is also boring, as court life tends to be. Only the insistence on the
beauty of music imparts an intermittent elegance of the kind that
abounds in The Tale of Genji.
The last chapter is devoted to the account of a concert attended by
two former emperors at which Nakatada, the grandson of Toshikage
and the successor to his knowledge of the secret traditions of the koto,
Nakatada's mother, and his daughter all play. The two magical kotos
Toshikage brought back to Japan are played by Nakatada's mother to
such powerful effect that the earth trembles, stars veer from their courses,
and the waters of a nearby lake overflow. As the melody changes, the
The Beginnings of Fiction 445
foolish become wise, the wrathful are calmed, the sick are cured, and
invalids who have been unable even to move leap with joy."
It can hardly be doubted that the author loved music, but he was
ineffectual in describing its charms, and the innumerable accounts of
amazing performances of koto music become tedious. The first time we
read of playing so magnificent that snow falls even in midsummer, we
may be impressed, but in the absence of more internal descriptions of
the pleasures of music, it is difficult to take these prodigies seriously.
Little besides the mentions of music can be said to unify this badly
organized work; and there are still many loose ends when we reach the
last chapter, despite the author's efforts to round off the story by re-
turning to the kotos Toshikage acquired abroad. The prophecy of the
Buddha that one of the seven immortals would be reborn as Toshikage's
grandson is not specifically fulfilled, though Nakatada's musical talent
may be attributed to this heritage.
Like all of the "invented" tales, The Tale ofthe Hollow Tree was set
in the past. The world portrayed seems to be that of the early tenth
century, when music enjoyed unequaled popularity at the court and the
waka, long subservient to the kanshi, had come into its own with the
compilation of the Kokinshii. Close to a thousand waka are scattered
among the twenty books of The Tale of the Hollow Tree, as opposed to
794 in The Tale of Genji, which is almost twice as long, suggesting the
importance of poetry in the life of the court. None of the poems in The
Tale ofthe Hollow Tree is memorable, but one is quoted in The Gossamer
Years, proof that the work circulated at court.
It is not clear for whom The Tale of the Hollow Tree was written.
Konishi [in'ichi offered the theory that various "sponsors" commissioned
a man who was known for his literary skill to write stories for them."
It is unlikely that anyone, even at the court, would have written a work
of fiction for his own diversion or for literary practice unless someone
provided at least the paper. The expected audience was probably very
small, no more than the sponsors and members of their circle. Stories
may have been written for several sponsors at the same time, perhaps
describing the same characters, though with different plots. The stories
might be broken off if their sponsors found them insufficiently inter-
esting, or might be prolonged by request of a satisfied sponsor. When
the original writer or his literary executor decided to assemble under
one title the various stories, he undoubtedly tried to give the work greater
consistency. Later on, a sleepy scribe might introduce textual errors, or
he might unwittingly eliminate passages, or (when less sleepy) add flat-
 Early and Heian Literature

tering references to the family of whoever had asked him to copy the
original manuscript.
One unusual feature of The Tale of the Hollow Tree is the presence
in the texts of descriptions of illustrations, sometimes merely the notation
"There is a picture here" or "This is Chikage's palace" but sometimes
more lengthy. It is not clear who wrote these passages or what their
purpose might have been, but it has been suggested that they were
written by the author himself, perhaps to describe illustrations contained
in a separate volume (or scroll). One can imagine a gentlewoman's
reading aloud the text while ladies of the court followed the illustrations.
But it is not necessary to accept this particular interpretation: we do not
know why The Tale of the Hollow Tree contains notations on the illus-
trations, but literature and illustrative paintings were closely identified
at this time.
The Tale of the Hollow Tree has attracted favorable attention in the
twentieth century because it included such political materials as the
description of an abdication or the account of a rivalry over succession
to the throne. Such elements are undoubtedly present, but they occupy
a very small part of the author's attention. Similarly, the presence among
the characters of persons who do not belong to the upper ranks of the
nobility has been contrasted favorably with The Tale of Genji. For ex-
ample, the indigent student T6ei makes a pleasant contrast with the
flawlessly costumed, exquisitely scented nobles who were more often
treated in Heian fiction. Three of Aterniya's suitors are comic-an
eccentric rich man, a miser, and a rustic widower-and the people in
their service are at least momentarily interesting because gamblers, me-
diums, diviners, and the riffraff of the capital do not otherwise appear
in early fiction. But the book is long, and these brief sketches of un-
familiar members of Heian society do not compensate for the ineptitude
of the whole. The most memorable feature of The Tale of the Hollow
Tree is perhaps its length. It suggested to more talented writers new
possibilities in the art of fiction.

The Tale of Ochikubo

The Tale of Ochlkubo is a far more successful work, and may have been
the first full-length tale planned as such. It is the story of a good and
beautiful girl harshly treated by her stepmother, who favors her own
daughters. She poisons her husband's mind against his daughter and
keeps him from interfering. Luckily for the girl, a handsome young
The Beginnings of Fiction 447
prince rescues her from the dungeon where her stepmother had confined
her, and they live happily ever after. The wicked stepmother is humil-
iated and her daughters, who treated poor Ochikubo as a servant, have
no choice but to depend on her kindness.
The story corresponds so closely to that of Cinderella that the West-
ern reader may miss the presence of a fairy godmother, but the tale is
firmly anchored in this world and has none of the fantasy of The Tale
of the Hollow Tree. It is also resolutely unpoetic both in the narration
and in the scarcity of waka. The last of the four books may be by a
later hand, but even so, the work as a whole is a sustained and effective
story.
The author of The Tale ofOchikubo is not known, though Minamoto
no Shitago has traditionally been credited with this work." Apart from
a few allusions to Chinese literature that suggest the author had a
reasonably good education, there is little to substantiate this attribution.
If the dates most commonly accepted for the composition of the work,
between 990 and 998, are correct, Shitago, who died in 983, obviously
could not have played an active part in the final version.
The heroine of The Tale of Ochikubo derives her name from the
room where her stepmother compelled her to live: ochileubo means a
room at one level lower than others in the house. The cruel stepmother
insists that Ochikubo sewall the clothes for the large household though
she herself is given only threadbare old clothes to wear. One day, how-
ever, the handsome young nobleman Michiyori, who had heard rumors
about the beautiful young woman kept a prisoner in the house of her
senile father, pays her a visit with the connivance of Akogi, her waiting
woman. At first his intentions seem to have been frivolous, but he
gradually falls in love with Ochikubo and decides to make her his wife.
The wicked stepmother, learning from an intercepted letter that Ochi-
kubo has a gentleman visitor, is enraged to think that her useful little
seamstress may be stolen from her, and shuts Ochikubo in a locked
storeroom. She further arranges to humiliate the girl by inducing a
lecherous old man to visit her at night. Ochikubo and Akogi contrive
to frustrate the old man, and finally Michiyori smuggles Ochikubo out
of the dungeon and takes her to his house.
Not satisfied with having secured his prize, Michiyori is determined
to make Ochikubo's family suffer for all the cruelty they had inflicted
on her. By one device or another he manages to bring misery to all of
Ochikubo's tormentors, tricking one sister into accepting as her husband
a grotesque half-wit, depriving Ochikubo's father of the house he had
furnished at great expense, and finally stealing all the good servants.
 Early and Heian Literature
His greatest severity is naturally reserved for the stepmother, whom he
humiliates in numerous ways. Only when Ochikubo's family has been
reduced to misery and is utterly at his mercy does he relent and display
(in the last of the four books) his filial piety, enabling his father-in-law
to realize his lifetime ambition of becoming a major counselor by yielding
his post to the old man. And when the wicked stepmother, now contrite
save for rare flashes of her old nastiness, finally dies, Michiyori provides
a splendid funeral.
We are likely after reading The Tale of Ochieubo to remember
Michiyori's sadistic treatment of his wife's family more vividly than the
cause of his anger. But it is unfair to treat The Tale of Ochikubo as if it
were a novel with believable characters whose actions can be analyzed;
although the setting is realistic, it is a tale in which the good people are
absolutely good, and the bad people very bad indeed. Ochikubo is patient
and long-suffering, but we learn little about her emotions. Her only
reaction after spending her first night with Michiyori is shame that her
clothes are so shabby. She is a poor-spirited creature who does nothing
to stop her husband from persecuting her father, though she does not
actually encourage him in his vengeance. She has no trace of the in-
trospective character that would be typical of later monogatari. Michiyori
is a model Heian husband and, that great rarity, a confirmed monogamist
who is so faithful to Ochikubo that he refuses the hand of the prime
minister's daughter. His rise to power is nonetheless spectacular, and at
the end of the book he is the most powerful man in the realm.
The most effectively drawn character in The Tale of Ochikubo is
Ochikubo's waiting woman and confidante, Akogi. Persons like Akogi
are found in the literatures of other countries-the quick-witted servant
who foils the enemies of her mistress (too frail and too well behaved to
resist their machinations)-but it is surprising to find the type so well
developed in an early Heian work of fiction. Strangest of all is the last
sentence of the work, which proclaims that Akogi (and not Ochikubo
or Michiyori) "lived until the age of two hundred." The prominence of
Akogi is such that the first translator into English found "more auto-
biographical feeling" in the portrait of Akogi than of the rest of the
characters, adding, "Many details of style and expression certainly do
point to a man as the author, yet still I feel reluctant to give up my first
impression that a woman of the same station in life as Akogi was the
author, even though the whole weight of the opinions of all the expe-
rienced commentators is against this conjecture.":" Some Japanese have
since given this theory serious consideration," but it is hard to avoid the
The Beginnings of Fiction 449
conclusion that the author was probably a man. It was not a prototype
of Akogi who wrote the book; rather, the book seems to have been
written in the hope of pleasing women readers of the same station as
Akogi, though we cannot be sure who actually read the manuscript.
The coarseness and even scatological humor that characterize The
Tale of Ochileuba, distinguishing it from most of the Heian monogatari,
suggest an author who lacked refinement, but he might have been a
"professional" who judged that such touches would capture the attention
of his audience. Readers like Akogi would have found it easier than
their mistresses to accept not only the lapses from good taste but the
childishness of the story itself.
The theme of the stepmother's cruelty toward her stepdaughter,
which first appears in The Tale of Ochikubo, would become prominent
among the works of fiction of the Kamakura and Muromachi periods.
Origuchi Shinobu for this reason doubted that the work could have
been composed during the Heian period," and many later scholars
accepted his view; but others insisted that the theme of the cruel step-
mother was found in Heian literature long before The Tale ofOchikubo.
They pointed out, for example, that in The Tale of the Hollow Tree
Tadakoso, a young man, is accused by his stepmother of a theft of which
he is entirely innocent, irreparably harming his relations with his father.
It is true that the woman is Tadakoso's stepmother, but only by a
technicality: Tadakoso's father felt so sorry for the old hag that he
condescended to visit her for three nights, in that way establishing marital
relations. The father avoided the woman afterward and she sought
comfort from Tadakoso. Her cruelty was caused not by eagerness to
advance her daughters' prospects (she is childless) but by fury that
T ada koso had spurned her-not surprising, considering she is old
enough to be his stepmother. T adakoso's nearest equivalent in Western
literature is not Cinderella but Hippolytus, the stepson of Phaedra."
A more likely predecessor of this story of a stepmother's cruelty is
Sumiyoshi Monogatari (The Tale of Sumiyoshi). Unfortunately, the only
surviving texts are revised versions made during the Kamakura period
or later, and it is difficult to be sure of the contents of the original Tale
of Sumiyoshi mentioned in The Tale of Genji. Probably it was similar in
general outline to the present text. The story, as we now have it, concerns
a major counselor who had two wives, one the daughter of an important
official, the other a member of the imperial family. His union with the
former produces two daughters, and with the latter one daughter whose
mother dies when the girl is still a small child. The major counselor
45° Early and Heian Literature

decides to assemble his entire family under one roof, but this leads to
the stepmother's ill-treatment of the motherless girl. Unlike most ver-
sions of the Cinderella tale, the girl gets along well with her half-sisters,
but her stepmother prevents an eligible young man from visiting the
girl and contrives to have him marry one of her daughters instead. The
stepmother attempts to foist an old man on the girl as her husband, but
she escapes to Sumiyoshi. The gentleman who had married the girl's
half-sister is unable to forget the girl, and eventually he learns her
whereabouts in a dream and takes her to his house. At the conclusion
the stepmother's wickedness is revealed. She is disgraced and reduced
to penury."
The most striking difference between The Tale of Ochihubo and The
Tale of Sumiyoshi is the divine intercession in the latter, which takes the
form of a dream revelation vouchsafed to the gentleman. This religious
element perhaps crept into the story when it was retold in the Kamakura
period; it would become even more conspicuous in medieval stepmother
stories, and perhaps its absence in The Tale of Ochileubo is the strongest
evidence for assigning the work to the Heian period.
Heian Japan was not a likely place for the creation of stories about
wicked stepmothers. The Heian gentleman usually did not live even
with his chief consort (kita no kata) until a considerable time had elapsed
after the "wedding," which consisted of visits to the future wife on
successive nights, the third distinguished by the consumption of certain
traditional foods. There was no religious ceremony and sometimes, at
the convenience of the groom, the "wedding" was kept secret. Secondary
wives lived in separate establishments and their children lived with them.
If the mother of the children of a second or third wife died, the children
were reared by grandparents rather than by the chief consort. In The
Tale of Ochilad»: the author carefully noted that Ochikubo's grand-
mother had also died, and that was why she was subjected to the cruelties
of a stepmother. But such cases seem to have been relatively rare. The
spate of original and revised works on the theme of the mistreated
stepdaughter did not stem from any special abundance of such cases in
Japanese society; rather, having been harshly treated by a stepmother
seems to have enhanced a girl not only in the eyes of her Prince Charming
but of the readers as well. Perhaps stories about wicked stepmothers
were also read to children in order to make them better appreciate their
own parents."
The transition from The Tale of the Hollow Tree and The Tale of
Ochikubo to The Tale of Genji involves a staggering leap: the earlier
The Beginnings of Fiction 451

works make little appeal to a mature mind, but The Tale ofGenji stands
with the great creations of prose of the world. The genius of Murasaki
Shikibu made this possible, but not even she could have moved from
the "invented stories" described above to her masterpiece had there not
already been another tradition of fiction, the poem-tale, and another
tradition of prose (as we have seen), the diary.

THE POEM-TALE

The second variety of monogatari developed during the late ninth or

early tenth century, the uta monogatari, a name first given to the genre
during the Meiji period." Even works of straightforward narration like
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter contained poetry, included as an integral
part of the experiences of the persons described, but in the poem-tales
the poems form the core of successive episodes, and the accompanying
prose may consist of no more than brief evocations of the circumstances
that inspired the poems. There may be no apparent connection between
one episode and the next, or they may be linked by their having been
composed by members of the same court society.
The authors of the poems in these tales are generally unidentified,
but it is sometimes possible to determine who wrote them because the
same poems were also included (with the authors' names) in court
anthologies. It was long believed that the poem-tales originated in the
prefaces that introduce waka in the anthologies and private collections;
but recent scholars of Japanese literature have categorically rejected this
theory." The kotobagaki usually state no more than basic information
about the time and place of composition of the poems, but occasionally
there is a fairly lengthy description of the background. The prefaces in
the Man 'yoshu were at times longer than the poems, and those in the
Gosenshu were also exceptionally detailed.
The ambiguity of many poems probably necessitated such prefaces.
The Japanese preferred blurred outlines to hard clarity. But the readers
at times wanted to know which of various possible meanings the poet
actually had in mind, and this may have been the origin of the utagatari
(talks on poetry)," sessions when friends related their knowledge of the
backgrounds of poems. The narrative style of such conversations led
more naturally into the poem-tales than the dryly factual prefaces of the
poetry collections.
452 Early and Heian Literature

Tales of Ise

The most celebrated of the uta monogatari is Ise Monogatari (Tales of

Ise). Together with the Kokinshu, it probably exercised the greatest
influence on later literature of any work of the Heian period." It may
seem strange that a collection of 125 casually connected episodes," some-
times hardly more than bare explanations of the circumstances behind
the poems, should have possessed such enormous appeal for later gen-
erations. Perhaps the length of The Tale of Genji, a far superior work,
militated against its being widely circulated and imitated; the brief
episodes of Tales of Ise, taken individually or all together, made fewer
demands on the reader's attention. It was also less expensive to copy a
short text. In an age when literary works were not printed, anyone who
wished to read a work of fiction or a collection of poetry had first to
borrow someone else's manuscript, buy the paper, then pay for a copyist's
services during the weeks or months it took him to complete the task.
But probably the chief reason why Tales of Ise was so popular was that
it presented in encapsulated form the glamour of the Heian court and
was therefore irresistibly attractive to members of later generations who
yearned for that golden age.
We do not know the author of Tales of Ise. Probably there was no
single author who at a particular time sat down to write the work."
The central figure, Ariwara no Narihira (825-880), may himself have
written the earliest version, presenting the poems that he and people
around him had composed on various occasions along with explanations
(not necessarily truthful) of what had inspired the poems. It is easy to
imagine that someone, finding such a manuscript after Narihira's death,
decided to expand it with other poems by Narihira, together with related
anecdotes. It may have been at this point that various unconnected
episodes were first arranged in a roughly chronological order from the
time of Narihira's coming of age until his death.
Not all of the 125 episodes concern Narihira, and the period of many
is vague, but readers over the centuries have accepted Tales of Ise as a
kind of biography. If the expanded version of the original text was made
not long after Narihira's death, there may still have been people who
were present when the poems were composed or who had heard of the
circmstances from the poet himself. When the backgrounds of the poems
had been clarified and recorded in a style of high literary quality, what-
ever ephemeral interest that they possessed as gossip was forgotten, and
these evocations of court life aroused nostalgia and envy.
The pervading quality of Tales of Ise is conveyed by the word miyabi,
The Beginnings of Fiction 453

translatable as "elegance," though it referred specifically to the refined

ways of the capital, as opposed to rustic inelegance." The word itself
occurs only once in the work, at the conclusion of the first episode:
Mukashi hito wa kaku ichihayaki miyabi wo nan shikeru. (People in the
past displayed in this manner remarkable elegance.) The elegance in
Tales of Ise is epitomized by the behavior of the hero, who is usually
referred to simply as otolto (the man). The "man" has always been
identified by readers as Narihira, though some events in the work occur
fifty years before his birth and others long after his death. Many episodes
open with the short sentence Mukashi otoko arikeri (Long ago, there was
a man). This repeated association of the hero with the past no doubt
helped to establish Narihira as the emblematic figure of a glorious but
vanished age. 56
Narihira combined all the qualities most admired in a Heian courtier:
he was of high birth (a grandson of the Emperor Heizei), extremely
handsome, a gifted poet, and an all-conquering lover. He was probably
also an expert horseman, adept in arms, and a competent official. These
aspects of his life are not emphasized in Tales of Ise, but they distinguish
Narihira from other heroes of Heian literature, including Genji.
The repetition of the word mukashi (long ago) at the beginning of
many episodes suggests that Tales of Ise was written long after the events
described, but the work, in more or less its present form, probably existed
by the middle of the tenth century and perhaps earlier." The process
of evolving the present text of Tales of Ise probably took seventy years,
beginning with Narihira's death in 880. 58
Surviving texts follow the same order, opening with the story of a
young man who, shortly after coming of age, goes hunting on his estate
near Nara, and concluding with the poem the man composed when he
was ill and sensed that he was dying. However, the Buddhist monk
Kensho (c. II 30-C. 1210) mentioned that some texts began with episode
69 of the present version." The fact is of more than usual interest because
episode 69 describes the visit of "the man" to the Great Shrine of Ise
where he has a brief romance with the high priestess. It has often been
suggested that the title of the work was derived from this especially
striking example of the man's audacious lovemaking. If this episode
stood at the head of the work the theory would be convincing, but even
if it did not (no such text survives), the episode is central, both in its
characterization of Narihira and its description of a love affair that took
place despite the strict prohibition on the high priestess, an imperial
princess, having relations with men. The notoriety of the affair might
well have given its name to Tales of Ise. This explanation of the title
454 Early and Heian Literature

seems more plausible than most that have evolved over the centuries.s?
The first readers of Tales of Ise were surely aware that if Narihira
had actually had an affair with the high priestess it was not an occasion
for poetic commemoration: they would both have been severely pun-
ished. The episode must be largely fictitious, but as time went on, most
readers probably lost sight of historical fact and assumed that the account
of the legendary hero was true. Medieval scholarship did not dwell on
such points, but concentrated instead on identifying the many anony-
mous men and women who appear in the work. Sometimes this schol-
arship was incorporated into the text itself, as the following episode
(number 79) suggests:

Long ago a prince was born to a certain family, and at the ceremonies
afterward people composed poetry. Here is the poem written by an
old gentleman who was the baby's relative on its grandfather's side:

wa ga kado ni By the gate of our house

chihiro aru take wo Bamboo, a thousand cubits high
uetsureba Has now been planted;
natsu fuyu tare ka In summer and in winter
kakurezarubeki Who will not take shelter here?

This refers to Prince Sadakazu. Gossip at the time had it that the
baby's father was the middle captain. The baby was born to the
daughter of his elder brother, Middle Counselor Yukihira."

The identification of the baby as Prince Sadakazu and the rumor

that Narihira ("the middle captain") was its father was undoubtedly
added later, after Narihira had established his reputation as a great
lover. Yukihira, Narihira's brother, died in 893 thirteen years after
Narihira. His daughter was a consort of the Emperor Seiwa. The al-
legation that Narihira was the child's father thus reflected adversely on
Yukihira, his daughter, and the Emperor Seiwa. Such a remark could
hardly have been committed to writing while the persons involved were
still alive. Perhaps Prince Sadakazu's remarkable beauty as a child in-
spired the rumor that the father was actually Narihira, and the rumor
was incorporated into the text." A recent commentator, after noting
that the lines after the poem were a later addition, commented, "A
vulgar note, and probably not true."63
A key episode in Tales of Ise (number 9), describing Narihira's
journey to Azuma, opens:
The Beginnings of Fiction 455
Long ago, there was a certain man. Convinced that he could serve
no useful function if he remained in the capital, he decided to set
out for the East in search of a suitable place to live in that region."

The interest of this passage lies in Narihira's characterization of

himself as yonaki mono, meaning a "useless," or superfluous, man. The
philosopher Karaki Junz6 believed that the term indicated that Narihira
was a new phenomenon in Japanese history, a man who did not fit into
his society. It was lonely to be cut off from other men and their aspi-
rations, but by removing himself from the busy capital, where he was
doomed to be always a stranger, Narihira discovered a world of his own
of true miyabi and of mono no aware, a sensitivity to things." Karaki
termed Narihira the first of the Japanese bunjin, men of letters, who
chose to remain aloof from the ambitions that occupy most men and
who eschewed a profession as being unworthy of a gentleman. An odor
of decadence clings to such men, but they are more attractive than the
successful courtiers of their day.
Narihira's journey to Azuma-to the region around modern Tokyo
and to the mountainous districts of central Japan-inspired innumerable
later travelers. Few of them missed the opportunity when they traveled
in that part of the country to examine the Eight Bridges that Narihira
had described, even after generations of diarists had reported that the
bridges were all down and the irises by the bridges (also mentioned by
Narihira) had long since withered. Yatsuhashi became perhaps the most
celebrated of all utamahura, places that inspired poetry.
However, for centuries there was a tradition that Narihira never
actually visited Azuma. The whole of the ninth episode, it was averred,
consisted of elaborate allegories that hid the central fact that Narihira
was in disgrace because of an affair with Takaiko, the consort of the
Emperor Seiwa. Narihira may have had such an affair, as commentators
for centuries insisted, but nothing in Tales of Ise suggests that he was
in disgrace. The medieval commentators, reluctant to accept surface
meanings, indulged in speculation:

When it says he felt reluctant to remain in the capital and went to

the East, this refers to his having been left in the custody of the
Chancellor Yoshifusa of Higashiyama. When it says he pursued his
journey to the province of Suruga, it means he went to the house
of Sadaiben Takatsune, then the governor of Suruga. When it says
he looked at the peak of Fuji, it is referring to the Emperor Seiwa.
He was comparing the rank of the sovereign to Mount Fuji and his
 Early and Heian Literature

own rank to Mount Hiei .... The boatman of the Sumida River was
the Horikawa Chancellor Mototsune."

As proof of the truth of their elaborate (but unconvincing) "expla-

nations," the commentators asserted that if Narhira had really traveled
all the way to the east he would surely have produced more than five
poems about his journey." Perhaps Narihira really had some other reason
for making the journey than his conviction that he was a "useless"
member of society; one scholar has suggested that he may have been in
mourning for his mother, a time when he was excused from official
duties." But, far from being in disgrace, he probably made the journey
at government expense for reasons of health, and chose the east, rather
than some other part of the country, because he had close friends and
relatives there."
Almost any extended episode of Tales of lse is worthy of detailed
examination. Although the sentences are generally simple, little is plainly
stated, and the commentators have felt obliged to explain at length almost
every phrase. For example, the frequent use of the verb ending -keri
has suggested to some that Tales of lse was originally narrated, perhaps
to a small circle at the court, in the manner of the utagatari. Scholars
have also pointed out the influence of earlier works: episode 14 contains
a poem that is a reworking of one from the Man 'yoshu, and the celebrated
episode 69 (describing Narihira's tryst with the high priestess of Ise)
seems to have been inspired by a short story of the Tang poet Yuan
Chen (779-831).70 The existence of such literary influences confirms the
belief that Tales of lse should not be considered, as often in the past, a
factually truthful account of Narihira's life. In the process of creating a
literary work from what originally may have been little more than gossip
about the events behind Narihira's poems, the compilers did not hesitate
to "improve" the text with materials of their own or other people's
invention.
Even recognizing that Tales of lse contains fanciful, sometimes im-
plausible elements, this is by no means the kind of fantasy we find in
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. With the exception of a strange passage
in episode 6 that relates how an abducted woman was swallowed "in
one gulp" by a demon, the supernatural does not figure in the stories,
and even this episode was provided with a rationalistic explanation that
the woman was not in fact swallowed by a demon but rescued from
her abductors by her brothers, who happened to pass by and hear her
weeping. The need the reviser felt to explain the demon is evidence of
his understanding that it had no place in the world of Tales of lse.
The Beginnings of Fiction 457
The poems in the work benefit immensely from their prose settings.
Even poems that seem perplexingly obscure when read in isolation
become intelligible in the light of the prose; and both poetry and prose
create a picture of a nostalgically remembered world.
An awareness of the passage of time and the sad changes it causes
colors much of Heian poetry and prose. Tales of Ise can even be inter-
preted as a desperate attempt to halt the flow of time by preserving
from oblivion poignant moments from the past." The successful evo-
cation of such moments, even though no thread joins them, no doubt
accounts for the extraordinary popularity over the centuries of a work
that might seem to persons born outside the tradition to be too delicate
and wispy to fully engage the reader's interest. The overtones of Tales
ofIse are not easy to catch on first reading, but they are definitely present
and detectable to anyone who takes the trouble to read slowly and with
the attention befitting a work whose every word has excited admiration
for a millennium.

Tales of Yamato

The best known of the other poem-tales of the Heian period is a col-
lection of 173 episodes, each containing one or more waka. Tales of
Yamato, like Tales of Ise, probably attained its present form only after
various additions had been made to an original text, but the period of
compilation was shorter. Dates of 951-953 have been proposed for the
compilation." Perhaps a group of people at the court was involved from
the outset in the compilation, and one person's story about the back-
ground of a poem was followed by another's, linked to the first by a
poem related in theme or imagery." More specific theories of authorship
have also been proposed, including the suggestion that Ise, the noted
court lady and waka poet, was the principal author and that the work
was completed by her daughter, Nakatsukasa, another well-known
poet."
The problem of authorship is complicated by the dissimilarity be-
tween the two parts into which Tales of Yamato divides. The first 146
episodes are devoted to life at the court of the Emperor Uda (867-93 I).
Over one hundred members of the court are named, and their poems
gave rise to the anecdotes related in this first part.
With episode 147, however, the work changes character and treats
a world remote from the palace. This is the story of a girl who was
courted by two men. She could not choose between them, so her mother
 Early and Heian Literature

set the men a task: whichever of them succeeded in shooting a waterfowl

in the Ikuta River would be given her daughter. Unfortunately, the
arrows of both men hit the target, and the girl, despairing of ever
deciding which man to marry, threw herself into the river, whereupon
both young men jumped in after her, and all three drowned. The story
relates how the three were buried, the poems composed by other people
imagining the emotions that had occasioned the deaths of the three
people, and finally the appearance as a ghost of one of the suitors." Not
only is this episode unrelated to life at the court, but it is much longer
than earlier episodes, and the inartistic trailing off of the conclusion
suggests an authentic folktale. The later episodes of Tales of Yamato are
nevertheless far more interesting than the often pointless anecdotes in
the miyabi manner of the first 146 episodes, and some provided material
for the No plays and other works of literature."
The stories in the first part of Tales of Yamato are not nearly so
interesting as those in Tales of Ise. They lack a central figure to bind
together the disparate anecdotes, and it is hard to keep one's attention
focused on the large cast of characters. Episode 45, which contains a
well-known poem, typifies the first part:

When Tsutsumi no Chunagon first sent his daughter, who would

later become the mother of the thirteenth prince, to serve in the
palace, he was quite anxious about her and asked himself: "I wonder
what the Emperor thinks of her?" Very much concerned, he wrote
this poem which he sent to His Majesty:

hito no oya no Though it is not lost

kokoro a/a yami ni In darkness, a parent's heart,
aranedomo For love of a child,
ko u/o omou michi ni Is apt to lose its bearings
mayoinuru kana And know not which way to turn.

The Emperor was deeply moved by this poem. Although he sent Tsu-
tsumi no Chunagon a return poem, no one remembers the lines."

Tsutsumi no Chunagon (the Tsutsumi middle counselor) is better

known by his name, Fujiware no Kanesuke. He figures prominently
not only in Tales of Yamato but also in the imperial anthologies, where
fifty-five of his waka are found. At the beginning of the tenth century
(from about 900 to 930) the salon in which he and Fujiwara no Sadataka
(873-932) were the central figures dominated waka poetry, and various
The Beginnings of Fiction 459
poems emanating from that salon were included in Tales of Yamato.
The waka by Kanesuke given above also appeared in the imperial
anthology Gosenshii, but with an entirely different preface."
The Tales ofYamato version of the circumstances of the composition
of the poem is more artistic and may even be construed as evidence that
the work has a literary intent absent from the Gosenshic." The poem
itself rises above either set of circumstances to become the expression of
a universal sentiment. Probably that is why it was quoted in The Tale
of Genji more often than any other waka and appears again and again
in other literary works.
Kanesuke does not emerge distinctly as a person in the passages
introducing his poems. Indeed, only one person in Tales of Yamato is
memorable, and that mainly because of her name. Toshiko, the wife of
the official Fujiware no Chikane, appears in a number of episodes, and
scholars, intrigued by her prominence, have fantasized about her rela-
tions with her husband, other lovers, and so on." The special interest
of Toshiko lies in the fact that she is referred to by her personal name
rather than by her father's or her husband's title. In general, we know
the personal names only of women of the imperial family," but Toshiko
is an exception. Why was she singled out for this honor? Perhaps she
was so prominent (or so lively) a member of a salon that the members
always referred to her in an affectionate manner.
Another figure of more than casual interest is the celebrated lover
Taira no Sadafun, whose exploits are recounted in greater detail in Tales
of Hcichii, another poem-tale. The people who appear in the legends
and folktales that make up the second part of Tales of Yamato are
distinctly more memorable than the courtiers of the first part, but many
of them would be treated even more effectively in the tale literature
(setsuwa bungaku) of later times.

Tales of Heichu
Heichii Monogatari (Tales of Heichu) seems to have been completed
between 960 and 965, but there is reason to believe that much of the
work existed during the lifetime of Taira no Sadafun, and it is possible
that he himself was the author." It contains only thirty-nine episodes,
a third as many as Tales of Ise, but they are longer, making the whole
about:hree quarters the length. The greater amplitude of the stories
again and again arouses hopes that something memorable is about to
happen, but each time the reader is sadly let down by the ordinariness
 Early and Heian Literature

of the narration and the feebleness of the conclusions. Perhaps that is

why Tales of Hcichii was all but unknown when the unique manuscript
was discovered in 1931.
Very little is known about the historical Taira no Sadafun, not even
why he was known by the nickname of Heichu (the Taira middle
general)," though it has been suggested that it was by way of parallel
to Zaichii (the Ariwara middle general), a name by which Narihira was
known. Sadafun, however, never rose to a position as exalted as middle
general. His father , Taira no Yoshikaze, was a middle general, and was
also known for his romantic exploits; it has therefore been suggested
that the careers of father and son were confused. Sadafun's career as an
official was in fact so undistinguished that he is not even mentioned in
the historical records of the time, though nine of his waka were included
in the Kokinshu, and the poem competitions (uta-awase) held at his
house were attended by outstanding poets of the day. He was widely
known as a great lover, but before long this reputation was supplanted
by the caricature portrait of Heichu as a comically inept suitor. He does
not appear in this guise in Tales of Heicha, but this work might easily
have given him such a reputation: he is unsuccessful three times as often
as successful in his love affairs.
Tales of Heichii, in the poem-tale tradition, contains 153 poems, 99
of them attributed to Sadafun. The quality of these poems is not high.
Probably they were the poems actually composed extemporaneously on
the occasions described, rather than the much-polished products that
found their way into anthologies. The everyday nature of these poems
provides us with glimpses of court life not found in Tales of Ise or The
Tale of Genji. Of course, we are aware, even as we read Tales of Ise,
that it is improbable that such splendid waka could have been composed
impromptu, but only on reading Tales of Heichii do we realize just how
great the difference was between the first versons of poems composed
at the court and the versions that brought the authors fame.
The traditions of the poem-tale were intimately connected with the
pursuit of love affairs. The poems given in the course of these works
are almost all of courtship, together with the ladies' responses. Heichu
was an appropriate choice as the hero of a poem-tale, but he is far less
attractive a lover than N arihira. We never feel we get inside his thoughts
or emotions, and the women he pursues are equally characterless.
Episode 25 is perhaps the most disappointing because it promises at
first tCJ be of real interest. A woman, a friend of some court ladies who
accidentally met Heichu on a journey, recognizes him from their de-
scription as the former lover who abandoned her, and she warns the
The Beginnings of Fiction

other ladies not to trust him. For a moment we may imagine that she
will prove to be a Donna Elvira who denounces her Don Giovanni even
though in her heart she still loves him. But this Donna Elvira is so
effective in her denunciation of her faithless lover that the other ladies,
after a few exchanges of poems, contrive to elude him completely. The
episode concludes lamely, "I wonder what happened afterwards [ikaga
nariniken]? "~4
Apart from the fleeting character glimpse, the episode is noteworthy
for its details. Weare told, for example, that when the ladies in their
carriages proceeded down the main avenue of the capital, Heichu fol-
lowed on horseback, singing to the tune of a popular song a poem
composed by one of the ladies. It is hard to imagine Genji on a horse,
and impossible to imagine him bawling out a popular song. The poems
composed jointly by Heichu and the ladies on this occasion are also
intriguing:

aki no yo no Insubstantial
yume wa hakanaku As dreams of an autumn night,
au to iu wo The meeting we shared.

When the ladies said this, the man replied,

haru ni kacrue When the spring returns again,

masashiharuran'" Perhaps the dream will come true.

The conventional gallantry behind this early instance of linked verse is

closer to the compliments exchanged by European courtiers and their
ladies than to the world portrayed in The Tale of Genji. In this sense
the inartistry of Tales of Hcichii gives the work greater verisimilitude
than the perfect beauty of the court described by Murasaki Shikibu.

The Tale of Takamura

The most affecting of the poem-tales is Taltamura Monogatari (The Tale
of Takamura). Unlike the poem-tales considered above, it tells essentially
a single story and does not break down into episodes. This is probably
why some manuscripts call it The Takamura Diary, though it is a diary
only in the sense that it relates in chronological order the events of a
man's life. The man in question was the distinguished scholar Ono no
Takamura, famed especially as a kanshi poet. The Tale of Takamura
 Early and Heian Literature

consists of two parts, the first describing the unhappy love affair of
Takamura and his half-sister, the second (separated from the first by
an awkward break in the manuscript) concerns Takarnura's happy mar-
riage, after the death of his half-sister, to the daughter of the minister
of the Right. The two parts were probably composed by different people,
perhaps a century apart; the first part dates from the tenth century, the
second as late as the thirteenth century. Dating is difficult because the
work was written throughout in a stylized literary language that provides
almost no clues to the period of composition. There are not even the
titles of officials or names of buildings that often provide clues to the
period of a work. The author (or authors) is unknown.
The justification for calling The Tale of Tahamura a poem-tale is the
large number of waka it contains. These poems serve as the principal
vehicles for the sentiments of the characters. It has long been doubted
that Takamura wrote the waka attributed to him in the work, but nine
of them were later included in imperial collections, beginning with the
Shin Kokinshu, and attributions in these collections were not made ir-
responsibly. Perhaps the poems were originally contained in a private
collection of Takamura's waka, but if such a collection existed it has
been lost.
Despite all the problems concerning the text and the unsatisfactory
fusion of the two parts, the story is unusually moving and the poems,
if not of first quality, fit perfectly into the narration. The work opens,

There was once a girl whose parents had lavished every care on her
education. When she had mastered all the accomplishments expected
of a young lady, her parents decided that the next step was to teach
her the Chinese classics. "It would be best," they thought, "if we
could find someone close to our family as her teacher." They finally
settled on the girl's half-brother, a student at the university."

It was unusual, in view of the title, for the author to have opened
the work with a description of the half-sister, rather than of Takamura,
who is sent for by the girl's parents (though neither Narihira nor Heichu
would have waited for an invitation). The girl was not eager to have
lessons from her half-brother, whom she scarcely knew, but her parents
persuaded her by asking, when she showed signs of resisting their
decision, "Wouldn't he be better than a total stranger?"
The two fall in love without realizing it. At first the girl is protected
from Takarnura's gaze not only by the usual reed blinds but by curtains.
One day, however, she inadvertently allows him to catch a glimpse of
The Beginnings of Fiction

her face and she also sees his. The text informs us, "They could not
long remain distant in a world where everything conspired to bring
them together." They exchange poems and he scribbles notes to her
during her Chinese lessons.
Had the girl's parents not considered her to be quite remarkable,
they would not have arranged for Chinese lessons, and the rare court
lady who learned to read Chinese normally did not have the benefit of
a private tutor. The parents presumably chose Takamura because of his
reputation as a brilliant student. They may also have supposed that
Takamura would not make advances to his half-sister.
Marriages between children of the same father but different mothers
were tolerated at the Heian court. The Tale of the Hollow Tree even
describes a man who is so passionately eager to marry his full sister that
he pines away and dies when he is refused. The fury of the girl's mother
in The Tale of Takamura when she suspects that her daughter may be
having an affair with her tutor is occasioned by indignation that ad-
vantage has been taken of her precious daughter, but also by annoyance
that the daughter, who has been given the best possible education in
the hope that she might be chosen as a maid of honor (naiji) at the
court, is about to make an unworthy match. Takamura is portrayed as
a penniless student, not the kind of person who usually appears in a
poem-tale." The girl also has a distinct personality and is not a mere
stereotype like most of the court ladies in Tales of Ise and other early
fiction.
A revealing passage occurs not long after the girl's return from a
visit with Takamura and some attendants to the Inari Shrine, where
she had caught the attention of a handsome young officer who later
sent her several notes, most of which Takamura managed to intercept.
The girl was surprised when the officer, who had started the corre-
spondence with great ardor, suddenly stopped writing. One day the
jealous Takamura confronted the girl:

"I gather you've been corresponding with a perfect stranger you

merely happened to pass on the street and now you've fallen in love
with him. It's true, isn't it? I suppose he'd like to marry you, the
quicker the better. Oughtn't you to consult a matchmaker? But don't
forget, you can't get married without your parents' consent."
The girl replied, "Why should I want to marry him? And what
exactly have you found out that makes you ask so many questions?"
Takamura countered, "Someone who knows as little about love
as you do should refrain from making such remarks. You seem to
 Early and Heian Literature

have no conception of what is involved. You worry me. I should

never have expected anything like this.'?"

The sarcasm of Takamura and the swiftness of the girl's rejoinder

are unlike anything in the earlier poem-tales. The seeming harshness
of Takamura's rebuke is a first indication of his love, which he soon
declares more overtly. But, we are told, even after he and the girl
confessed their love to each other, they could not speak freely for fear
of what her parents might think. One night, unable to endure being
alone, Takamura secretly made his way to the place where his half-
sister was sleeping. From then on he occasionally visited her quarters,
though this was exceedingly difficult. "Seeing each other constantly by
day, though only rarely at night, was more unsettling for Takamura
than if they had never met at all, and he wondered dejectedly what
remedy he could obtain for his grief."89
Not long afterward the girl discovered she was pregnant. She was
no longer in a mood to study Chinese, and her maids, noticing that she
had missed her periods, were soon gossiping. Takamura, not realizing
the cause of her lassitude during lessons, ascribed it to the spring weather.
The girl refused all usual food and asked for nothing but oranges and
other citrus fruit. Her innocent parents ordered the fruit, and when
Takamura gave a dinner for friends at the university, he set aside two
or three pieces of fruit for her, wrapping them in paper he carried in
his kimono. He offered the fruit to his half-sister with this poem:

ada ni chiru Finer than the scent

hanatachibana no When orange blossom petals
ntot nt wa Idly flutter down,
midori no kinu no The perfume emanating
ka koso masarame From my silken robe of green.

"I thought you might like this fruit," he said. The girl replied, "Because
it lay next to your chest,"

nitari to ya I wondered as I sniffed

hanatachibana wo The flowering citrus fruits
kagitsureba If they resembled you;
midori no ka sae But I could not detect
utsurazarikeri" Even the scent of the green.

The green of Takamura's robe associated it with the fruit he gave

his half-sister. It also indicated the humbleness of his rank: it was
The Beginnings of Fiction

prescribed in the legal code Ryo no Gige that officers of the sixth rank
wear dark green and those of the seventh rank wear light green robes.
The girl's mother happened to overhear these poems (which were
recited aloud) and for the first time her suspicions were aroused. While
Takamura was giving his lessons the mother entered, took the girl by
the hand, and dragged her off to her room. She ordered the servants
never to allow "that gentleman from the university" to set foot in the
house again and, to make sure that Takamura would not get even a
furtive glimpse of his half-sister, she had the keyhole of the girl's room
filled in with plaster.
It was impossible for the lovers to meet, but Takamura one night
discovered a crack in the wall of the girl's room through which they
could talk until dawn. The girl, in despair, refused all nourishment and
a few days later she died. That night Takamura lay weeping in his
room, lit only by a dim candle, when he sensed something stirring nearby.
It was an apparition that spoke with his half-sister's voice, telling of her
griefs. The apparition disappeared at dawn, but for twenty-one nights
it returned. Afterward, it appeared only occasionally and its form became
indistinct. When three years had passed Takamura no longer saw his
half-sister even in dreams.
The first part of the tale concludes with the statement "He did not
marry but remained single."?' The second part opens without transition:
"He composed a clever poem in Chinese asking for the hand of a
daughter of the minister of the Right." Soon afterward, he is described
as he appeared before the minister, dressed in a tattered gray gown and
carrying a battered old set of books. He wins the minister's daughter,
but is unable to forget his half-sister. One night he goes to the house
where she had lived and sleeps there; she appears in his dream and
recites this poem:

mishi hito ni Is that really the man

sore ka aranu ka I used to know long ago?
obotsukana I cannot be sure.
mono wasureji to How certain I was that he
omoishi mono won Would never forget the past!

Takamura was so much moved by this experience that he did not

return to his new wife for some days. When he reappeared, she asked
what had happened, and he told her the whole story. She was not only
sympathetic but expressed fear that she could never replace the woman
he had lost. The tale concludes with a brief account of Takamura's
 Early and Heian Literature

subsequent career and the successes of his descendants. The last words
are: "Can we imagine a prime minister today choosing a university
student for his son-in-law? The difference must be that university stu-
dents nowadays are by no means the equal of their predecessors in mind,
appearance, or ability. And surely there will never be another man like
Takamura who, when he wished to marry a minister's daughter, ad-
dressed her a poem in Chinese.':"
The Tale of Takamura is the first Japanese work of fiction that can
be said to be "modern" in that it engages the attention of modern readers
without requiring any concession for its time."

Looking backward, we may get the impression that each of the early
Heian works of fiction contributed to the creation of The Tale of Genji.
The Tale of the Hollow Tree may have suggested to Murasaki Shikibu
the possibility of writing an extended work of fiction; The Tale of
Ochikubo, the importance of a unified plot; Tales of Ise, the manner of
incorporating poems, as events of daily life, in the narration of a story;
and The Tale of Tahamura, the grown-up nature of the conversations.
This by no means explains everything in the formative process of The
Tale of Genji-the diaries probably contributed even more-but helps
to make intelligible the creation of the great masterpiece of Japanese
literature.

Notes
1. Man'yoshu VII: 1287. See Aoki Takako et al., Man'voshu, II, p. 243.
2. Mitani Eiichi, Monogatari Bungaleu no Sekai, pp. 4-5. Neither the legends
of the Kojiki nor the edifying Buddhist stories contained in Account of
Miracles in Japan were known as monogatari. Perhaps because of their close
association with Shinto or Buddhist priests, these tales were not transmitted
by ordinary storytellers though they included materials drawn from the
oral folklore of Asia as well as from written Chinese and Indian sources.
3. My complete translation of this work is included in J. Thomas Rimer,
Modern Japanese Fiction and Its Traditions, pp. 275-305.
4. Katagiri Yoichi et al., Taltetori Monogatari, p. 320. The passage occurs in
section 77. See also the translation by Mildred Tahara in Tales of Yamato,
p. 44, and her explanation of this poem on pp. 224-25.
5. See Sakakura Atsuyoshi et al., Taleetori Monogatari, Ise Monogatari, Yamato
Monogatari, p. 267.
6. Mitani Kuniaki, Monogatari Bungaku no Hoho ; I, p. 212, expressed his belief
The Beginnings of Fiction
that the work was written between "the end of [ogan and the fifth year
of Gangyo." The Jogan era ended in 876 and the fifth year of Gangyo was
881. I have given 871 (ten years before 88I) because on p. 213 he also states
that "it is inconceivable that it could have been composed except during
the period of ten years between the end of Jogan and the fifth year of
Gangyo."
7. Ito Seiji, Kaguya-hime no Tanjo, pp. 85-88, summarizes the major theories.
Mitani Eiichi (Monogatari, pp. 42-46) presents at length the theory of Mitani
Kuniaki, first advanced in 1969, that the author was Ki no Haseo; but
Mitani Kuniaki himself, in his more recent Monogatari, does not identify
the author.
8. Mitani Eiichi expressed (Monogatari, p. 36) his conviction that one man
had written the work, but Ito declared (Kaguya-hime, p. I I) that The Tale
of the Bamboo Cutter was not the work of a single author writing at a
particular time but the product of revisions by many hands over the years.
9. The original language has been much discussed ever since Kana Morohira
(I806-1857) offered the theory that it was composed about 700 in kambun,
as is evidenced by the use in the text of the names of members of the court
of that time. Kana also theorized that the intent of The Tale ofthe Bamboo
Cutter was satiric, and for this reason it was originally kept a secret. About
a century later, someone uncovered the manuscript and rewrote it in the
form of a picture book. Finally, Kana suggested, the work was translated
from Chinese into Japanese. See Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, IV, p. lSI,
for a summary of Tahetori Monogatari-Ito by Kana Morohira. Kana's thesis
that the work must have been composed about 700 is no longer accepted,
but some scholars admit the possibility that it was originally composed
either in kambun or else in a mixture of kambun and Japanese like the
Kojiki. Scholars who believe The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter was written
before the kana preface to the Kokinshu generally agree that it must have
been written in kambun; otherwise, it is unlikely that a first attempt at
writing kana prose would be so successful. (Ito, Kaguya-hime, p. 9I, quotes
Takeda Yukichi to this effect.) The use in the text of close to one hundred
words of Chinese origin and the Chinese style of the numbers lend cred-
ibility to this theory. But not all scholars agree: one authority, admitting
that some Japanese legends (such as the tale of the fisherman U rashima
Taro) were first recorded in kambun during the ninth century, insisted
that no Japanese of the time was capable of writing in kambun a work of
the length of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. He believed that the hundred
or so words of Chinese origin had already entered the speech not only of
the author but also of his expected readers (Noguchi Motohiro, Takctori
Monopatari, pp. 177-78). This implies that the author was an intellectual,
writing for other intellectuals, and not a purveyor of tales for women and
children who could read only kana. (Noguchi, Takaori, pp. 170-73.) Parts
of the work, notably the waka and the word-play, could not have been
 Early and Heian Literature
conceived of except in Japanese, but unless kana had come into general
use earlier than the last decades of the ninth century or, alternatively, The
Tale of the Bamboo Cutter was composed later than now supposed, the
work must originally have been written entirely in Chinese characters.
10. Translation by Edward Seidensticker in The Tale of Genji, I, p. 31 I.
I I. For an account of this work, see pp. 183-85.

12. Or perhaps a pool of light, depending on how the word kage is interpreted.
13. In making my translation of the work I followed the Kohon version because
I thought it makes the best sense, but most commentators prefer the oldest
datable text, known as the Mut6 text. According to the Muto version, the
mountain is called Fuji because a large party of soldiers (shi) climbed it,
making it rich ifu) in soldiers.
14. The most striking of the parallels is with a Tibetan folktale, first recorded
by a Chinese scholar in 1954 and introduced to the Japanese reading public
in a book published in 1971. The text is given by Noguchi in Taketori, pp.
201-20, in a Chinese rendering of the original Tibetan, together with a
Japanese translation.
The parallel Tibetan tale opens with the discovery of a tiny little girl
inside a bamboo stalk, though in this case the discoverer is a young man
rather than an old bamboo cutter. When the girl is fully grown, a process
that requires considerably more time than in the Japanese version, the
young man's mother urges Bamboo Girl (as she is known) to marry the
young man, but the girl begs for three years in which to make a decision.
In the meantime, five other young men, all of well-to-do families but lazy
and without talent, happen to get a glimpse of Bamboo Girl while they
are enjoying an excursion. Each of the five men falls desperately in love
with Bamboo Girl.
Unfortunately for the girl, her fiance has gone off to visit relatives, and
she has no one to help her fend off the young men's importunate requests
for marriage. She sets tasks for each of them, giving them three years in
which to prove their worth by bringing her what she has asked for. The
tasks assigned by Bamboo Girl are not exactly the same as those imposed
by Kaguya-hime, but they are strikingly similar and in two cases identical.
The five suitors naturally fail in their assignments, and at the end Bamboo
Girl marries the young man who first found her.
The "birth" of the girl in a bamboo stalk and the similarities in the
tasks she sets the suitors created a sensation when the Tibetan text was
published in Japan. Many scholars unhesitantly accepted the evidence that
the oldest Japanese tale had originated on the border between Tibet and
China; but the lack of a similar tale elsewhere in China, and the excessively
close resemblances between a Japanese text of the ninth century and a
Tibetan folktale narrated over one thousand years later suggested to others
that some Japanese-perhaps one of the military who infiltrated the area
during the 192os-had passed the story on to the Tibetans. See the article
The Beginnings of Fiction
"Taketori Monogatari" by Mitani Eiichi in Nihon Koten Bungabu Daijiten,
IV, p. 149. Doubts about the authenticity of the Tibetan tale were also
voiced by Katagiri Yoichi in "Taketori Monogatari wa Chugoku-dane ka."
Other doubts about the direct influence of foreign folktales on The Tale
of the Bamboo Cutter were expressed by Shinoda Koichiro in Tahetori
Monogatari to Ukigumo, pp. 20-21, 43-44. Shinoda's main point was that,
unlike written texts that are intentionally modified when copied, folktales
are subject to constant, unintentional changes. Different versions of essen-
tially the same story are found in unrelated parts of the world, and it is
impossible to trace the direction in which influences may have gone.
15. Some are identical with those in official records, others were matched with
difficulty to historical names.
16. Mitani Eiichi, Monogatari, p. 37. Mitani Kuniaki (Monogatari, I, pp. 216ft)
also called attention to the identity of the five suitors with men who had
distinguished themselves during the [inshin War of 672. He considered
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter to be an "allegory" directed against extrav-
agance at the court, and cited (pp. 214-15) the petition against extravagance
made by the scholar-statesman Miyoshi Kiyotsura (847-918) as evidence of
the prevalence of luxurious habits at the court.
17. See Mitani Eiichi, Monogatari, p. 37, and Imai Takuji, Monogatari Bungaku
Shi no Kcnky«, p. 224, who characterized the author as someone "fiercely
critical" of the upper-class aristocrats in the work. Tanaka Gen, Taketori,
Ise Monogatari no Seeai, pp. 174-81, discussed the ridicule to which the
aristocrats were subjected.
18. The Bamboo Cutter says this to the celestial horde who have come for
Kaguya-hime, but the story itself does not suggest so long a period of time.
19. Shinoda, Talietori, p. 65·
20. Mitani Eiichi, Monogatari, pp. 22-23. Also Ito, Kaguya-hime, p. 196.
21. See Tanaka, Taketori, for summaries of the main theories.
22. The former theory is associated with Tsuda Sokichi, the latter with Watsuji
Tetsuro, both eminent historians. See Tanaka, Tahctori, pp. 153-58.
23. Yanagita Kunio, "Taketori no Okina," in Teihon Yanagita Kunio Zenshu,
VI, pp. 173-74.
D. E. Mills, "Soga Monogatari, Shintosha and the Taketori Legend," is
a study of parallel accounts of the Taketori legend. The oldest considered,
the manabon of Soga Monogatari (The Tale of the Soga Brothers), contains
the story of the old couple who find a little girl in the bamboo of their
garden and rear her. She later becomes the wife of a provincial governor,
but after five years of life with him reveals that she has come to earth from
the Immortal's Abode on Mount Fuji and must return there. The suitors
do not appear in this prosaic version of the tale (translated by Mills, in
"Soga" pp. 38-40). The version in the fourteenth-century Shmtoshi; (Mills,
pp. 40-42) is very similar. The emphasis in both accounts is on Kaguya-
hime's return to Mount Fuji, mentioned only incidentally in The Tale of
470 Early and Heian Literature
the Bamboo Cutter, an indication perhaps that the story was used as a
honjimono (a story that tells the history of a shrine) for the Sengen Shrine
on Fuji.
Mills gives various later versions of the story of Kaguya-hime, some of
them associated with particular shrines, and on pp. 66-67 he presents in
the form of a chart the main themes found in sixteen texts, showing which
themes appear in which works. He is inclined to believe that the account
of Kaguya-hime in Kaidoki (Journey Along the Seacoast Road) was not
derived directly from The Tale ofthe Bamboo Cutter because Kaguya-hime
is described as having been born from the egg of an uguisu. But the text
of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter was widely disseminated, and it is hard
to imagine that the author of Journey Along the Seacoast Road was ignorant
of its existence.
24. Sakakura et al., Taeetori, pp. 14-18. Sakakura believed that the additions
to the basic tale were in a style associated with translations from the Chinese
that the author (as an intellectual) would have found most congenial. In
this style -keri is not used for this purpose.
25· Shinoda, Taketori, p. 97·
26. In support of the theory that the author was male, it has been claimed that
the work reveals a fairly detailed knowledge of Buddhism and familiarity
with the inner workings of court society. See Imai, Monogatari, p. 224.
27. See Donald Keene, Travelers of a Hundred Ages, p. 119.
28. Noguchi, Taketori, p. 147, made this distinction between monogatari and
other forms of fiction such as the setsuwa or shosetsu,
29. Tanaka, Tahetori, p. 201.
30. The original pronunciation was more like Utsuho, and for centuries (until
the late Tokugawa period) it was known as Utsuo. Utsubo is, however,
normally used today.
31. Fujikawa Fumiko, A Study of the Dates and Authorship of the Tale of the
Hollow Tree, pp. 468-69. These pages give the author's conclusions, after
over four hundred pages of detailed consideration of earlier theories and
available evidence. Konishi [in'ichi in "Utsubo Monogatari no Kosei to
Seiritsu Katei," pp. 91-92, suggested a time lapse of twenty to thirty years
between the first and second halves of the work, the first half having been
written during the reign of the Emperor En'yu; however, he believed that
the last chapter was written still later. Kono Tama (in Utsubo Monogatari,
III, p. 39) suggested earlier dates, 952 to 965.
32. See Fujikawa, A Study, pp. 467-74, for her presentation of the evidence
both for and against the attribution of authorship to Minamoto no Shitago,
Konishi, "Utsubo," p. 85, expressed his belief that the work was written
by one man over a considerable period of time. Noguchi Motohiro in Kodai
Monogatari no Kozo, p. 301, stated, "Minarnoto no Shitago has long been
suggested as the author of the tale, and in recent times this possibility has
been increasingly stressed. Some critics still hesitate to attribute the work
The Beginnings of Fiction 47 1
to a single person, Shitago, but no one seems to deny that the work was
written for his own amusement by a Confucianist who had consecrated
his life to the art of letters."
33· See Konishi, "Utsubo," p. 93.
34. See Kono, Utsubo, I, p. 5, for a comparison of texts. Most scholars, noting
references within this chapter to persons and events not previously de-
scribed, believe that the chapter "Fuji no Kimi" should precede "Tada-
koso." See Konishi, "Utsubo," pp. 79-80.
35. There is a translation of this section of the work by Edwin A. Cranston
entitled, "Atemiya: A Translation from the Utsubo monogatari."
36. Kono, Utsubo, II, p. 86.
37. Ibid., I, p. 451, denies that Hashi could have been used in its normal meaning
of Persia because the work seems to situate it between India and China.
38. Ibid., p. 42. The "seven mountains" are not identified by Kono. In some
manuscripts the word "seven" does not appear, suggesting that the author
had no particular mountains in mind.
39. Ibid., p. 51.
40. Ibid., III, p. 519.
41. See Konishi, "Utsubo," especially pp. 65-68 and 82-83.
42. Inaga Keiji, writing in 1977, suggested that Shitago wrote the first three
books and Sei Shonagon the fourth (Inaga Keiji, Ochikubo Monogatari, p.
3 19).
43. Wilfrid Whitehouse, The Tale ofthe Lady Ochiliubo, p. 261. His translation
was first published in 1934.
44. See, for example, Mitani Eiichi and Inaga Keiji, Ochieubo Monogatari, pp.
19-20.
45. Origuchi Shinobu Zenshu, XII, p. 245.
46. For a study of the theme of the stepmother who unsuccessfully attempts
to seduce her stepson, see my article "The Hippolytus Triangle."
47. For a description of the Kamakura period version of the same tale, see
below, pp. 814-17.
48. Ikeda Yasaburo, Bungaku to Minzokugaku, pp. 52, 114.
49. Fukui Teisuke, "Kaisetsu," in Katagiri Yoichi et al., Taketori Monogatari,
p. 1I8.
50. Sakakura Atsuyoshi published in 1953 a study of uses of the particle nan
called "Utamonogatari no Bunsho-nan no kakarimusubi wo megutte,"
in which he contrasted the frequent use of nan in the poem-tales, as an
integral part of the narration, with the absence of this particle from the
prefaces. He concluded, "The prose style of the poem-tales could not have
been created directly from that found in the kotobagaki, regardless of
whether one believes it developed more or less directly from the existing
model or was to some degree elaborated." (Quoted by Masuda Katsumi in
Setsuwa Bungaku to Emaki, p. 119') Katagiri Yoichi, approaching the ques-
tion from a different angle, demonstrated that the first version of Tales of
472 Early and Heian Literature
Ise antedated the compilation of the Kokinshu, and that borrowing must
have gone in the opposite direction. (Katagiri Yoichi, Ise Monogatari, Yamato
Monogatari, p. IS') He conceded, however, that some second-stage or third-
stage material in Tales of Ise was probably borrowed from the Kokinshu.
51. The word occurs in the "Sakaki" (Sacred Tree) chapter of The Tale of
Genji, though in this instance only two persons-Genji and his father, the
old emperor-participate in the utagatari.
52. Katagiri, Ise, p. 9.
53. The standard text (in the hand of Fujiware Teika) has 125 episodes, but
other texts have as many as 143.
54. Katagiri Yoichi declared he did not believe anyone still supposed that there
was a single author and time of composition. See his "Ise Monogatari no
Hoho," p. 14.
55. See Tanaka, Tahctori, p. 276. Also, Kawaguchi Hisao, Hana no Utage, pp.
2-20, for a discussion of miyabi, especially in reference to Genji.
56. In time the words multashi atoka were run together to form the noun
mukashiotoho, meaning "a man of long ago," referring (as in the No play
Izutsu) specifically to Narihira.
57. Fukui, "Kaisetsu," p. 115. Katagiri (in Ise pp. 15-23) distinguished three
stages in the composition of the work. The first stage was based directly
on Narihira's poems though the background events do not necessarily
conform to the facts of his life. The second stage contains many poems
that were probably not by Narihira, and the proportion of fiction to fact
is higher. In the third stage the writer, standing at some remove from
Narihira, mentions him by name (instead of referring to him merely as
"the man") and treats him as a legendary figure of the past rather than as
a particular person who wrote certain poems. Katagiri cites many incidents
in the text that confirm his division into three stages.
58. For a discussion in English of the different texts of Tales of Ise, see Helen
Craig McCullough, Tales of Ise, pp. 187-93. Her translation includes not
only the 125 episodes of Teika's text but an additional 18 episodes culled
from other sources.
59. McCullough, Tales, pp. 183-84. Also Fukui, "Kaisetsu," pp. 121-22.
60. See Katagiri, Ise, pp. 10-1 I, and Fukui, "Kaisetsu," pp. 115-17, for other
explanations of the name. The most fanciful was the theory that i meant
"woman," and se meant "man," and that the title revealed the amatory
nature of the work. Katagiri felt sure that a text of Tales of Ise headed by
episode 69 existed in the late Heian period. See Katagiri, Ise, p. 26.
61. I have followed the text given by Katagiri in Ise, p. 183, but other texts
give kage (shadow) rather than take (bamboo) in the second line. The
meaning-that the family will in the future depend on the newborn babe
for "shelter"-is much the same.
62. See Katagiri, Ise, p. 184.
63. Watanabe Minoru, Ise Monogatari, p. 94. For a general discussion of the
The Beginnings of Fiction 473

appended remarks, see Yamada Seiichi, "Ise Monogatari no Kosei Ishiki

ni okeru Mondai," pp. 92ff.
64. Text in Katagiri, Tahetori, pp. 140-41. See also McCullough, Tales, pp. 74-
75. The acrostic poem in this section is discussed above, p. 230.
65. Karaki [unzo. Muyomono no Keifu, pp. 16-20.
66. Tsunoda Bun'ei, "Narihira no Azuma-kudari," p. 37. See also Katagiri
Yoichi, Ise Monogatari no ShinkenkYu, pp. 44-51, for equally ludicrous
examples of medieval commentaries on the work.
67. Tsunoda, "Narihira," p. 38.
68. Ibid., p. 41.
69· Ibid., pp. 43-46.
70. See Katagiri, Ise, pp. 168-69, for this theory, first advanced by Mekada
Sakuo. The story in question was contained in Huai-chen-chi, known in
English as "The Story of Ying-ying."
71. Katagiri, Tahetori, p. 97·
72. Katagiri, Ise, p. 238. The most recent datable event occurred in 951.
73· Ibid., p. 247·
74. This is the suggestion of Yamazaki Masanobu, presented in Amagai Hi-
royoshi et al., Yamato Monogatari no Hitobito, pp. 141-60.
75. For a translation, see Tahara, Tales, pp. 93-98.
76. Episode 147 is the source of the N6 play Motomezuka, one of the most
somber of the entire repertory.
77. Translation from Tahara, Tales, p. 26. Text in Katagiri, Taketori, pp. 298-
99. See also Katagiri, Ise, pp. 285-9°.
78. For this preface (and a different translation of the poem) see above, p. 283.
79. This is the opinion expressed by Katagiri in Ise, p. 290.
80. See, for example, the theories of Suzuki Kayoko in Amagai et al., Yamato,
pp·7- 26.
81. The pronunciations of these names are so uncertain that scholars today
usually refer to these ladies by the Sino-Japanese readings of their names;
Toshiko's name, however, is given in kana.
82. Mekada Sakuo, Heichu Monogatari, p. 230, advanced this theory and sug-
gested that the work can be read both as a diary and as a collection of
poetry.
For detailed information about Sadafun in English, see Susan Downing
Videen, Tales of Heicha, pp. 8-1 I.
83. Videen (Tales, p. 9) states that there is no evidence that Sadafun ever used
the name Heichu during his lifetime.
84. The episode is translated by Videen in Tales, pp. 61-66.
85. Text in Endo Yoshimoto and Matsuo Satoshi, Tahamura Monogatari, p. 84.
Another translation in Videen, Tales, p. 65.
86. Text in Endo and Matsuo, Takamura, p. 25.
87. It has been suggested that the student T6ei in The Tale of the Hollow Tree
was the model for Takamura. See Tsumoto Nobuhiro, "Takamura Mo-
474 Early and Heian Literature
nogatari no Seiritsu wo megutte," in Ishihara Shohei et al., Tahamura
Monogatari Shinko, pp. 132-36.
88. Text in Endo and Matsuo, Tahamura, p. 30. I have, however, accepted
some of the interpretations by Ishihara et al. in Takamura, pp. 40-44. For
another translation, see Ward Geddes, "Takamura Monogatari," p. 285.
89. Endo and Matsuo, Tahamura, p. 31.
90. Ibid., p. 32. See also Ishihara et al., Takamura, pp. 49-52.
91. Endo and Matsuo, Taeamura , p. 35.
92. Ibid., p. 36.
93· Ibid., p. 37·
94. Tanizaki [un'ichiro, after retelling the story of The Tale of Takamura In
"Ono no Takamura Imoto ni koi suru koto" (1950), expressed his regret
that he had not turned the material into a novel of his own. See Tanizaki
[un'ichiro Zcnshii, XVI, p. 459. Not long before (1949-50) he had written
Shosho Shigemoto no Haha, a novel set in the Heian period in which Heichu
appears.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Akiyama Ken (ed.). Ocho Bungaku Shi. Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1984.
Amagai Hiroyoshi, Yamazaki Masanobu, and Suzuki Kayoko. Yamato Mon-
ogatart no Hitobito. Kasama Shoin, 1979.
Aoki Takako et al. Man'yoshu, II, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series.
Shinchosha, 1977-
Cranston, Edwin A. "Atemiya: A Translation from the Utsubo monogatari,"
Monumenta Nipponica, 24:3, 1969.
Endo Yoshimoto and Matsuo Satoshi. Taliamura Monogatari, Heichii Mono-
gatari, Hamamatsu Chiinagon Monogatari, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei
series. Iwanami Shoten, 1964.
Fujikawa, Fumiko M.e. A Study of the Dates and Authorship of the Tale of the
Hollow Tree. Hamburg: Gesellschaft fur Natur- und Volkerkunde Ost-
asiens, 1977.
Fukui Teisuke. "Kaisetsu," in Katagiri Yoichi et al., Talictori Monogatari, Ise
Monogatari, Yamato Monogatari, Hcichu Monogatari.
Geddes, Ward. "Takamura Monogatari" Monumenta Nipponica 46:3, 1991.
Hakeda, Yoshito S. Kideai: Major Works. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1972.
Heian-cho Monogatari, 3 vols. in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo Sosho series.
Yuseido, 197°-79.
Ikeda Yasaburo. Bungaku to Minzokugaku. Iwasaki Shoten, 1956.
The Beginnings of Fiction 475

Imai Takuji. Monogatari Bungaleu Shi no Kenkya. Waseda Daigaku Shuppanbu,

1977-
Inaga Keiji. Ochikubo Monogatari, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shin-
chosha, 1977.
Ishihara Shohei, Nemoto Keizo, and Tsumoto Nobuhiro. Tahamura Monogatari
Shinko. Musashino Shoin, 1977.
Issatsu no Kiiza: Ise Monogatari. Yuseido, 1983.
Ito Seiji. Kaguya-hime no Tanjo, Kodansha, 1973.
Karaki [unzo, Muyomono no Keifu. Chikuma Shobo, 1964.
Katagiri Yoichi, "Ise Monogatari no Hoho," in Issatsu no Kiiza: Ise Monogatari.
- - - . Ise Monogatari no Shinkenkya. Meiji Shoin, 1987.
- - - . Ise Monogatari, Yamato Monogatari, in Kansho Nihon Koten Bungaku
series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1975.
- - - . "Taketori Monogatari wa Chugoku-dane ka," Kokubungaku 22:11,
1977-
Katagiri Yoichi, Fukui Teisuke, Takahashi Seiji, and Shimizu Yoshiko. Take-
tori Monogatari, Ise Monogatari, Yamato Monogatari, Heichu Monogatari, in
Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series. Shogakukan, 1972.
Kawaguchi Hisao. Hana no Utage. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1980.
Keene, Donald. "The Hippolytus Triangle, East and West," in Yearbook of
Comparative and General Literature, XI, 1962.
- - - . Travelers of a Hundred Ages. New York: Henry Holt, 1989.
Konishi [in'ichi, "Utsubo Monogatari no Kosei to Seiritsu Katei," in Heian-
cho Monogatari, II.
Kono Tama. Utsubo Monogatari, 3 vols., in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei
series. Iwanami Shoten, 1959-62.
Masuda Katsumi. Setsuwa Bungaku to Emah], San'ichi Shobe, 1980.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Tales of Ise. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1968.
Mekada Sakuo. Heichu Monogatari, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansha, 1979.
Mills, D. E. "Soga Monogatari, Shintoshi; and the Taketori Legend," Monumenta
Nipponica 30:1, 1975.
Mitani Eiichi. Monogatari Bungaku no Seleai. Yuseido, 1978.
Mitani Eiichi and Inaga Keiji. Ochikubo Monogatari, Tsutsumi Chiinagon Mo-
nogatari, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series. Shogakukan, 1972.
Mitani Kuniaki. Monogatari Bungaku no Hoho, 2 vols. Yuseido, 1989
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Noguchi Motohiro. Kodai Monogatari no Kozo. Yuseido, 1969.
- - - . Tahetori Monogatari, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shin-
chosha, 1979.
Origuchi Shinobu Zenchu; XII. Chuo Koren Sha, 1966.
Rimer, J. Thomas. Modern Japanese Fiction and Its Traditions. Princeton, N.J.,
Princeton University Press, 1978.
476 Early and Heian Literature
Sakakura Atsuyoshi, Otsu Yuichi, Tsukijima Hiroshi, Abe Toshiko, and Imai
Gen'e. Taketori Monogatari, Ise Monogatari, Yamato Monogatari, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1957.
Seiden sticker, Edward (trans.), The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred
A. Knopf, 1976.
Shinoda Koichiro, Tahetori Monogatari to Ukigumo. Shueisha, 1981.
Tahara, Mildred. Tales ofYamato. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1980.
Tamagami Takuya. Ochobito no Kohoro, Kodansha, 1975.
Tanaka Gen. Takctori, Ise Monogatari no Sceai, Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1982.
Tanisaki [un'tchird Zcnshii, XVI. Chua Karon Sha, 1974.
Tsunoda Bun'ei. "Narihira no Azuma-kudari," Bungaleu 37: 12, no. 12, 1969.
Uraki, Ziro (trans.), The Tale of the Cavern. Tokyo: Shinozaki Shorin, 1984.
Videen, Susan Downing. Tales of Heichu, Cambridge, Mass.: Council on East
Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1989.
Watanabe Minoru. Ise Monogatari, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series.
Shinchosha, 1976.
Whitehouse, Wilfrid (trans.). The Tale of the Lady Ochileubo, Garden City,
N.Y.: Doubleday, 1971.
Yamada Seiichi. "Ise Monogatari no Kosei Ishiki ni okeru Mondai," in Chuko
Bungaku Kenkyukai (ed.), Shoki Monogatari Bungaku no Ishiki. Kasama
Shoin, 1979.
Yanagita Kunio. Teihon Yanagita Kunio Zenshu, VI. Chikuma Shobe, 1963.
 1 2.
THE TALE OF GEN]I

Genji Monogatari (The Tale of Genji) is considered to be the supreme

masterpiece of Japanese literature. The author, Murasaki Shikibu, bor-
rowed much from earlier monogatari and collections of waka, and
especially from the diaries of court ladies, but her novel rises in solitary
grandeur like a great mountain over lesser hills. In every age since The
Tale of Genji was first written and circulated at the court it has been
accorded special respect, and it would not be possible to list all the other
works of Japanese literature it has inspired. During the centuries after
the completion of The Tale of Genji the court life it so superbly evoked
was overshadowed by the rise to power of the samurai class, and at
times its very existence seemed to be imperiled; but the fierce warriors
who threatened the way oflife at the court generally did not long remain
immune to its charms, and they turned with respect and a kind of
nostalgia to The Tale of Genji. Kawabata Yasunari once wrote that it
was impossible to understand the culture of the Muromachi period
(though it is often discussed by historians in terms of turbulent forces
from below overthrowing the traditional authorities) without a knowl-
edge of the extraordinary influence this supreme product of the aris-
tocratic culture continued to exert.' Even today its magnetic attraction
persists, as we know from the many translations and adaptations into
modern Japanese made by writers who felt they needed to replenish
their writings through their culture's central work of literature. And,
at the time of the greatest crisis of modern Japan, the wartime bombings
and the defeat, Kawabata turned to The Tale of Genji for reassurance
and comfort. He related that reading it, at a time when the thought of
death never left him, persuaded him that he must go on living "along
with these traditions that flowed within me."? The Tale of Genji is not
only the quintessence of the aristocratic culture of Heian Japan, but has
 Early and Heian Literature
affected the aesthetic and emotional life of the entire Japanese people
for a millennium.

AUTHORSHIP OF THE WORK

Our best source of information concerning the authorship of the novel'

is the diary kept by the author, Murasaki Shikibu, herself. An entry for
the eleventh month of roof mentions the existence of a rough draft of
part (or perhaps all) of the work. It has been conjectured from other
evidence that Murasaki Shikibu began writing The Tale of Genji some-
time between roo r , the year her husband Fujiwara no Nobutaka died,
and ro05, when she entered the service of the Empress Shoshi (Akiko),
Dates ranging from ro05 to after 1013 have been suggested for the
completion.' We know from mention in The Sarashina Diary, written
about roz r, that all of The Tale of Genji must have been completed by
that date."
Murasaki Shikibu's diary reveals unusual gifts of expression, but
neither the diary nor any of the earlier monogatari prepares us for the
achievement of The Tale of Genji. In the past (especially during the
Muromachi period) some, reluctant to believe that a woman could have
written so grand a work, insisted that it must have been composed by
Murasaki Shikibu's father, Fujiwara no Tametoki, who merely left
details for his daughter to fill in," No one now denies that Murasaki
Shikibu wrote all, or at any rate most, of The Tale of Genji, though
differences of style, vocabulary, and the manner of waka composition
have led critics to question the authorship of some chapters.'
The ten chapters at the end were also at one time attributed to
another hand, most often to Murasaki Shikibu's daughter, the waka
poet Daini no Sammi. This theory" is no longer taken seriously, though
these chapters have an unquestionably darker, more oppressive tone
than the earlier ones. Others have argued that some additional chapters
existed before the present text in fifty-four chapters became standard,
but little evidence supports such a hypothesis. One missing chapter,
entitled "Kumogakure" (Disappearance in the Clouds), is said to have
related the death of Genji, not described in any current text; but opinions
in the old commentaries are divided between the view that it was so
painful for the author to contemplate Genji's death that she could not
bring herself to write this chapter (even though she gave it a name),
and the contrary assertion that although Murasaki Shikibu wrote the
chapter it was destroyed by imperial command because this example of
The Tale of Genji 479

the evanescence of human life had induced an excessive number of

readers to "flee the world" and take refuge in Buddhist monasteries."
Modifications of the text unquestionably occurred, as we can infer from
the numerous variants, but for most purposes it can be assumed that
Murasaki Shikibu wrote the entire work.

MURASAKI SHIKIBU

The dates of the birth and death of Murasaki Shikibu have not been
established, but 973 is now accepted by many scholars as the year of her
birth, and her death occurred sometime after 1013, when she was men-
tioned for the last time in a contemporary document.
We know from Murasaki Shikibu's own writings as well as other
sources that she was the daughter of Fujiwara no Tametoki, an official
who, though of highly distinguished ancestry, enjoyed only a mediocre
career as a provincial governor. An office he held early in his career,
Shikibu no Daijo, accounted for the title shikibu (secretariat) in the name
by which Murasaki Shikibu is known; it was common for women to
be called by the names of the offices held by their fathers or husbands.
Murasaki was a nickname, probably derived from the character of the
same name in her novel; she seems to have been known, before she
acquired her nickname, as To (for Fujiwara) Shikibu.'?
Tametoki was a fourth-generation descendant of Fujiwara no Fu-
yutsugu, the founder of the "flowering fortune" of the Fujiwara family,
and his wife (Murasaki's mother) was a fifth-generation descendant of
the same man. By Tametoki's time, however, the glory of this particular
branch of the Fujiwara family had been dimmed, and its members
belonged to the zuryo class. II The most distinguished literary figure
among Murasaki's ancestors was her great-grandfather, Fujiwara no
Kanesuke, one of the chief Gosenshii poets. Later generations of Mu-
rasaki's ancestors had been honored by the inclusion of poems in imperial
anthologies of waka, but this literary distinction had not brought them
political power.
Tametoki was not only an accomplished waka poet but excelled at
kanshi composition." Many of his kanshi were included in such collec-
tions as the Honcho Reiso (c. 1010).13 In 996, after ten years without
office, Tametoki was appointed governor of Awaji, an inferior post.
Disappointed, he composed a kanshi describing his grief and presented
it to the Emperor Ichijo. The kanshi so impressed the emperor that he
directed Fujiwara no Michinaga, who had already appointed a relative
 Early and Heian Literature
governor of Echizen, to cancel this appointment and give the post to
Tametoki instead." The anecdote indicates the recognition accorded to
Tarnetoki's kanshi, but it must have been galling for a man of his ancestry
to have to depend on a poem for preferment.
Murasaki Shikibu apparently lost her mother when she was a small
child. She grew up in her father's house, where she was educated together
with a brother, as we know from a passage in her diary, in which she
described how much more quickly than her brother she (from her place
on the other side of a screen) absorbed the lessons in Chinese given by
their father. She recalled, too, that her father regretted that she had not
been born a boy: if she had been a man, she might well have developed
into a capable, perhaps even brilliant, writer of kanshi and excelled
otherwise at the kinds of learning that brought recognition from the
court. This, however, would have deprived Japanese literature of its
greatest glory, for men scorned to write fiction, and the composition of
waka was virtually the only exception to their refusal to use Japanese
for literary purposes.
We know little else about Murasaki's early years, though her poems
suggest that she fell in love at least once. In 996 she violated custom by
accompanying her father to his post in Echizen, apparently in order to
avoid marriage with a second cousin, the governor of Chikuzen. The
suitor, Fujiwara no Nobutaka, was in his middle forties, had several
wives and concubines, and a number of children, the oldest a son of
twenty-six. The difference in age and these family circumstances, more
than the personality of the man, may have occasioned Murasaki Shikibu's
reluctance to marry him; however, life in the unfamiliar, depressing
surroundings of Echizen seems to have changed her mind: in the spring
of 998, before her father completed his term of office, she returned alone
to the capital, and that autumn she and Nobutaka were married.
In the following year the daughter later known as Daini no Sammi
was born. Judging from the poems she and Nobutaka exchanged, Mu-
rasaki's married life was happy, but in roor, less than three years after
their marriage, Nobutaka died, perhaps a victim of the epidemic that
had raged since the previous year. His death deeply affected Murasaki,
as we can infer from poems she composed at the time:
"Remembering how I had grieved over my fate and then gradually
returned to normal, I wrote:"

kazu naranu Helpless as I am,

kokoro ni mi wo ba I cannot lead my life as
makascnedo My heart desires;
The Tale of Gen j i

mi ni shitagau wa I have learned how to submit

kokoro narikeri'? My desires to my fate.

kokoro ni wa I wonder what place

ika naru mi ni ka In the world could satisfy
kanauran Such desires as mine?
omoishiredomo Although I know to hope is vain,
omoishirarezu16 I cannot keep from hoping.

It has been conjectured that Murasaki Shikibu began writing The

Tale of Genii before 1005-1006, when she was appointed lady-in-waiting
(nyobo) to Shoshi, the consort of the Emperor Ichijo, A brilliant group
of court ladies had been assembled around Shoshi by her father, Michi-
naga, and Murasaki Shikibu may have been invited to join this group
because parts of The Tale of Genii had already been circulated and
admired. Murasaki Shikibu's activities at Shoshi's court are described
in the diary in which she recorded events between the autumn of
1008 and the beginning of 1010. Perhaps Murasaki Shikibu kept the
diary at the suggestion of Michinaga, as an "answer" to The Pillow Book
of Sei Shimagon, written at the rival court of the Empress Teishi
(Sadako)."

COMPOSITION OF THE WORK

Murasaki wrote little in her diary about the composition of The Tale of
Genii, but passing references make it clear that the work was already
well known, perhaps from having been read aloud before the Emperor
Ichijo and Shoshi, Men at the court normally did not read fiction,
considering even the best examples to be no more than diversions for
women, but perhaps Ichijo, hearing praise of the work from the ladies
around him, was curious about the contents. It is recorded that he praised
the knowledge of Chinese revealed by allusions in the text, expressing
the belief that Murasaki must have read the Nihon Shoh], He probably
meant that she wrote in a far more coherent and organized manner
than earlier writers of fiction, more like a historian than a romancer.
Its high reputation among men of the court is also attested by mention
of Michinaga's generosity in providing fine paper, ink, and brushes for
the scribes who made the copy, though it is unlikely that Michinaga
himself read the novel; his readings seem to have been confined to the
Chinese classics.
 Early and Heian Literature
It has been speculated that the first germs of The Tale of Genii were
probably tales of court life of the past related by some lady to the empress
and her entourage. Although this lady may have been guided by a
"scenario" written in kambun'" that gave the essential facts of the tales,
she extemporized in "free" sections that were not part of the frame
story." Murasaki's act of writing down the text ended the possibility of
significantly modifying the story in retelling; but the word monogatari
(telling of things) itself continued to be used, as if it were still being
orally related. Many passages in the present text of The Tale of Genii
suggest the typical manner of speech of court ladies, though at times
Chinese literary influence also seems to be present."
It is difficult to establish sources for The Tale of Genii, and equally
difficult to determine how Murasaki Shikibu set about writing her book.
It would be natural to assume that she began with the first chapter,
"Kiritsubo," but there have long been theories to the contrary. One
persistent tradition is that Murasaki, gazing from the Ishiyama Temple
at the moon reflected in the waters of Lake Biwa, was inspired to write
about her hero, Genji, during the period when he was exiled to Suma,
a place with a somewhat similar landscape. The title of the best-known
text of the work, Kogetsu-sho, meaning "lake moon collection," alludes
to this legend, and visitors today to the Ishiyama Temple are shown the
room (known as Genii no ma) where Murasaki Shikibu began writing
The Tale of Genii, and even the inkstone she used." Another recurrent
theory is that Murasaki Shikibu began by writing the chapter "Waka-
Murasaki" (Young Murasaki), perhaps by way of imagining in Genji
an ideal husband for her own daughter."
Scholars who accept "Kiritsubo" as the first chapter in order of
composition are divided between those who express boundless admi-
ration for the skill with which Murasaki adumbrated in this chapter
the major themes of the entire work, and those who ask that it be read
with indulgence, making allowance for her inexperience."
The order of composition of the chapters is complicated by the fact
that some relate events that occur simultaneously to those in earlier
chapters instead of advancing the narrative in chronological sequence.
These chapters are known as narabi, or parallel chapters, as contrasted
with the hon no maki, or basic chapters." The existence of these "parallel"
chapters has suggested that the work was not written in the present
order, but that some chapters were inserted into an existing text, even
though there was no room for them chronologically.
Basic doubts about the order of composition of the chapters were
The Tale of Gen j i

convincingly expressed by Takeda Munetoshi in 1954.25 He postulated

the existence of an "Ur-text" of The Tale ofGenji consisting of seventeen
chapters in which Murasaki was the principal character. Sixteen chapters
in which Tamakazura was the principal character were subsequently
inserted at appropriate places to make up the thirty-three chapters of
the First Part of the work. The original seventeen chapters ended with
Genji acclaimed by all as the foremost man of the land. His son, the
Emperor Reizei, whom everyone supposes to be the son of the old
emperor, Genji's father, has learned the secret of his birth, and he bestows
on Genji a rank second only to a retired emperor. He further insists
that Genji sit by his side, sharing with him the place of honor, an
unprecedented mark of respect."
The main female characters in the Ur-text, or "Murasaki line" of
chapters, apart from Murasaki herself, are Kiritsubo (Genji's mother)
and Fujitsubo (the romantic obsession ofGenji's life). The "Tamakazura
line," named after the daughter of Genji's friend To no Chujo, includes
such memorable women as Yugao and Suetsumuhana. The characters
of the "Tarnakazura line" are not mentioned in the chapters of the
"Murasaki line" because, following Takeda, they had not yet been cre-
ated; but characters of the "Murasaki line" do appear in the "Tama-
kazura line" because they already existed. Takeda reinforced this theory
with objective evidence, such as the different titles and other appellations
used for the characters in the two lines." The characters who first appear
in the "Tamakazura line" are more complex, in Takeda's view, than
those of the "Murasaki line" and are sometimes treated with a humor
not present earlier, suggesting an evolution in the author's manner."
Takeda's thesis has not been universally accepted, but it is the most
plausible explanation yet offered of the parallel chapters and the many
discrepancies of style.
Takeda believed that after Murasaki Shikibu had written the first
thirty-three chapters she was persuaded to continue the story. However,
her outlook on the world had for some reason changed, and the glory
of Genji described in the First Part was much diminished. The chief
incident of the Second Part is Genji's marriage to the third daughter
of the Retired Emperor Suzaku, who has taken Buddhist orders. Suzaku,
worried about the future of his favorite daughter, induces Genji to marry
her. Genji accepts, in part because the princess is also a niece of his
beloved Fujitsubo.
The marriage has unfortunate consequences for everyone concerned.
First of all, it creates a rift between Genji and Murasaki, who is un-
 Early and Heian Literature
derstandably upset over his marriage to a royal princess. Genji assures
Murasaki of his unchanging love, and explains why he felt obliged to
marry Suzaku's daughter. But Murasaki falls ill and is tormented by
the jealous spirit of the late Lady Rokujo, a lover of Genji who has
never forgiven Murasaki for having taken Genji from her. Murasaki
begs to be allowed to become a nun, but Genii cannot bear to let her
go. Before long, she dies. Genji is so distraught over Murasaki's illness
and death that he neglects the Third Princess, a childlike creature who,
hardly realizing what is happening, has a secret affair with Kashiwagi,
the son of Genji's best friend. Genji, like his father before him, is obliged
to take in his arms and recognize as his own the child of his wife and
another man. His glory no longer seems so radiant.
The Third Part (once again following Takeda) describes events that
take place after Genji's death. The characters in this part of the novel
are remarkably beautiful and gifted, but their failings are also conspic-
uous. They are presumably closer to the real people of Murasaki Shi-
kibu's day than those of the First or Second parts, and their lives are
colored by griefs and passions that would have been immediately familiar
to the people mentioned in her diary. The novel ends in a manner that
may strike readers as inconclusive, but it has never occurred to Japanese
scholars that the novel may be unfinished. Murasaki Shikibu took leave
of her world in the manner of the painters of horizontal scrolls who,
after depicting scenes crowded with people, show at the end one last
haunting figure disappearing into the dark.

STYLE OF THE WORK

The Tale of Genji is famous not only because of its beauty but because
of the difficulty of its style. In the past, when there were few detailed
commentaries and no satisfactory translation into modern Japanese, even
highly educated Japanese were not embarrassed to confess that it was
easier for them to read W aley' s English translation than the original.
The main problem is the poetic ambiguity of many sentences that may
leave in doubt the subject or the nature of the action performed. The
difficulty cannot be explained merely in terms of the antiquity of the
text; some works (like The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter) which antedate
The Tale of Genji are far easier for modern readers to understand. The
style was unique to Murasaki Shikibu, and she employed it because she
felt confident that her anticipated readers at the court would be able to
The Tale of Genji

follow even very complicated sentences without difficulty. Any passage

would do almost equally well to suggest the complexities, which tend
to disappear in fluent translations that eliminate run-on sentences or
augment the original with explanations. The following passage occurs
near the beginning of the "Yugao" chapter:

Mileuruma irubeki kado wa sashitariltcrcba, hito shite Koremitsu mesa-

sete, matasctamaihcru hodo, mutsulrashige naru oji no sama wo miwatase
shitamaeru ni, kono ie no katawara ni, higaki to iu mono wo atarashu
shite, kami uia, hajitomi shigoken baleari agewatashite, sudare nado mo
ito shiro suzushige naru ni, okashiki hitaitsuki no sukikage, amata miete
nozohu. Tachisamayouran shimotsukata omoiyaru ni, anagachi ni take-
takaki kokochi zo sum.

It is not possible to make an absolutely literal rendering, but the

meaning is approximately: "Because the gate through which carriages
were admitted was locked, he sent a man for Koremitsu, and while he
waited, he ran his eyes along the disreputable-looking street [and noticed]
that [someone] in the house next door had newly [put up] what they
call a cypress-bark fence, above which [someone] had lifted the row of
four or five shutters; the blinds looked very white and cool, and he
could dimly see through them many charming foreheads peeping [at
him]. When he tried imagining the lower parts [of the figures] that
seemed to be wandering around, he had a feeling that they must be
very tall."
The translation by Arthur W aley renders this passage:

[H]e managed to find the house; but the front gate was locked and
he could not drive in. He sent one of his servants for Koremitsu,
his foster-nurse's son, and while he was waiting began to examine
the rather wretched-looking by-street. The house next door was
fenced with a new paling, above which at one place were four or
five panels of open trellis-work, screened by blinds which were very
white and bare. Through chinks in the blinds a number of foreheads
could be seen. They seemed to belong to a group of ladies who must
be peeping with interest into the street below. At first he thought
that they had merely peeped out as they passed; but he soon realized
that if they were standing on the floor they must be giants. No,
evidently they had taken the trouble to climb on to some table or
bed; which was surely rather odd 129
 Early and Heian Literature
Edward Seidensticker's translation is closer to the original:

The carriage entrance was closed. He sent for Koremitsu and while
he was waiting looked up and down the dirty, cluttered street. Beside
the nurse's house was a new fence of plaited cypress. The four or
five narrow shutters above had been raised, and new blinds, white
and clean, hung in the apertures. He caught outlines of pretty fore-
heads beyond. He would have judged, as they moved about, that
they belonged to rather tall women. 30

Waley's amplification of the text-especially his placing the women

on "some table or bed," though it is hard to imagine a Heian room
containing either-was undoubtedly inspired by his desire to make the
text as immediately intelligible as possible to the European reader. Mu-
rasaki Shikibu does not explain why the women looked tall, and Waley
felt obliged to insert an explanation." Seidensticker evidently preferred
not to mention the peeping of the women nor their lower parts (shi-
motsukata), nor did he attempt to explain the tallness of the women.
Waley is perhaps closer to the original than Seidensticker in the leisurely
pace of the sentences. But probably no translator could be completely
faithful both to the original and to the English language.
An even more striking aspect of the style is the presence in the text
of almost eight hundred poems. Quickly read in translation, they seem
to add little to the narrative, and one is likely to be left merely with an
impression that people of the Heian period were able to talk in poetry,
and that they beautified their language as they beautified every other
aspect of their lives. Closer reading of the poems, however, makes it
evident that they contribute not only to the beauty of the style but also
to the creation of a lyrical mode of narration."
The style of the prose of The Tale of Genji, despite its difficulty,
would affect writings in the courtly tradition over the centuries. Pas-
sages were incorporated almost word for word in the No plays," and
certain incidents would be alluded to innumerable times, in poetry as
well as prose." The descriptions of nature, whether observed in a pal-
ace garden or at some lonelier spot, are without exception lovely, all
but poems in themselves. The expressive genius of the Yamato lan-
guage-Japanese before it was greatly affected by Chinese influence-
is nowhere better displayed than in the prose and poetry of The Tale
of Genji.
The Tale of Genii

HISTORICAL BACKGROUND

The Tale of Genji covers a period of about seventy years. It opens, as

we can tell from various clues in the text, during the reign of the Emperor
Daigo (897-930), an age that would be recalled as the high point of
Heian civilization, and continues up to a time close to Murasaki Shikibu's
own day. It has convincingly been suggested that the model for Genii
was Minamoto no Takaakira, the tenth son of the Emperor Daigo; not
only was he (like Genji) made a commoner with the surname of Mi-
namoto (or Genji)" but he too was exiled (in 969) and later recalled to
the capital." It is likely that, regardless of whether or not Murasaki
Shikibu had Takaakira in mind when she created the character ofGenji,
her readers, noting the resemblances, associated Genii with the historical
figure. Other references within the novel to historical events confirmed
the impression that the story had actually occurred. The work is never-
theless fiction, not a literary retelling of history.
The world of the "Shining Prince" may well have been Murasaki
Shikibu's refuge from the world in which she actually found herself, a
transmutation of the prose of daily life at the court to the poetry of her
imagination. We know from her diary that the men of the court were
by no means flawlessly decorous. Even the most distinguished among
them not uncommonly got drunk and behaved boorishly. She undoubt-
edly romanticized, attributing to the past a beauty and elegance often
missing from the world she observed, but she did not venture into
fantasy; the people she described, though incomparably more gifted and
beautiful than those she knew at court, were motivated by the unmis-
takable passions of human beings.
The occasions when supernatural events occur in the novel, notably
the appearances of the baleful spirit of Lady Rokujo, have been explained
by some modern commentators in terms of the power of hate or jealousy
to harm and even to kill, but Murasaki Shikibu, like other Japanese of
her time, believed in the literal existence of such spirits." On the other
hand, she dismissed as old-fashioned the kind of unreality present in
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter-the birth of a little girl inside a stalk
of bamboo, or Kaguya-hime's ability to vanish at will-and she looked
down on other early works that relied on the supernatural for their
plots. The world of The Tale of Genji was a sublimation of Murasaki
Shikibu's world, not a never-never land.
 Early and Heian Literature

SOURCES OF THE TALE OF GENJI

The Tale of Genji is likely to seem modern, especially if read in a

translation, whether one in contemporary Japanese or a foreign language.
We believe in the characters of this work in a way not possible in the
case of earlier monogatari such as The Tale of the Hollow Tree or, for
that matter, much Japanese fiction written before the twentieth century.
The characters are so distinctly drawn that we could not confuse the
utterances of, say, Murasaki and Aoi or Rokujo and Tamakazura, and
in the course of the novel the characters develop as they grow older and
have new experiences. Indeed, the internal life of the characters, rather
than their actions, is the subject of The Tale of Genji. In this sense its
ancestor is not the early fiction, noticeably lacking in such qualities, but
the diaries, especially The Gossamer Years. It is hard to imagine Murasaki
Shikibu having created The Tale of Genji if there had not existed a
tradition of women writing down their private thoughts.
With respect to specific literary influences, it is a commonplace of
Japanese criticism of The Tale of Genji to mention its indebtedness to
Chang-hen-ko ("A Song of Unending Sorrow"), the long poem by the
great Chinese poet Po Chu-i that was much admired in Heian Japan.
The poem concerns the love of the Emperor Hsiian Tsung for Yang
Kuei-fei, a beautiful woman who, in the old phrase, "overturned the
country." Murasaki Shikibu was certainly familiar with this poem, and
alludes to it at the opening of her novel, where she wrote,

His court looked with very great misglvlllg upon what seemed a
reckless infatuation. In China just such an unreasoning passion had
been the undoing of an emperor and had spread turmoil throughout
the land. As the resentment grew, the example of Yang Kuei-fei
was the one most freqently cited against the lady."

Although Murasaki was thinking of "A Song of Unending Sorrow"

when she wrote the opening of The Tale of Genji, it is an overstatement
to suggest that Po Chil-i's poem inspired the novel. The poem relates
how the Chinese emperor's passionate love for the incomparably beau-
tiful Yang Kuei-fei endangered the state and caused a rebellion during
which she was executed by soldiers. It also describes how a priest, by
command of the emperor, searched the afterworld for Yang Kuei-fei
until he found her. She nostalgically recalled her love and gave the priest
keepsakes to take back to the emperor. The poem concludes: "Earth
The Tale of Genji

endures, heaven endures; some time both shall end, / While this un-
ending sorrow goes on and on for ever."39
The love of the emperor for Kiritsubo occasioned the jealousy of
other palace ladies, and she died untimely, her hold on life weakened
by unhappiness, but there was never any danger of rebellion, and she
was certainly not cut down by soldiers. The most memorable keepsake
of her union with the emperor was Genji, and the emperor's sorrow
was mitigated by this child. Later he found solace in Fujitsubo, a woman
who much resembled Kiritsubo.
The search for literary sources has been inspired largely by the
difficulty scholars have experienced in imagining that a work of the
magnitude of The Tale ofGenii could have been created without models.
The early commentators found sources in the Tendai Buddhist scrip-
tures, the Records of the Historian of Ssu-rna Ch'ien, the Spring and
Autumn Annals, and other Chinese sources. Other commentators, con-
cerned less with literary sources than with the moral intent of the work,
provided a simplistic Buddhist explanation that persists to this day: The
Tale of Genii is the story of a man who was punished for his affair with
his stepmother when his own wife betrayed him with another man.
The best-known and most persuasive interpretation, however, was
that of Motoori Norinaga, who denied Buddhist and Confucian intent
behind the novel and treated The Tale of Genii as a work embodying
the principle of mono no aware, a sensitivity to things. Motoori wrote
in Tama no Ogushi (The Jeweled Comb):

There have been many interpretations over the years of the purpose
of this tale. But all of these interpretations have been based not on
a consideration of the novel itself but rather on the novel as seen
from the point of view of Confucian and Buddhist works, and thus
they do not represent the true purpose of the author.... Good and
evil as found in this tale do not correspond to good and evil as found
in Confucian and Buddhist writings.... Generally speaking, those
who know the meaning of the sorrow of human existence, i.e., those
who are in sympathy and in harmony with human sentiments are
regarded as good; and those who are not aware of the poignance of
human existence, i.e., those who are not in harmony with human
sentiments are regarded as bad .... Since novels have as their object
the teaching of the meaning of the nature of human existence, there
are in their plots many points contrary to Confucian and Buddhist
teachings. This is because among the varied feelings of man's re-
actions to things-whether good, bad, right, or wrong-there are
 Early and Heian Literature
feelings contrary to reason, however improper they may be.... In
the instance of Prince Genji, his interest in and rendezvous with
Utsusemi, Oborotsukiyo, and the Consort Fujitsubo are acts of ex-
traordinary iniquity and immorality according to the Confucian and
Buddhist points of view .... But The Tale of Genji does not dwell
on his iniquitous and immoral acts, but rather recites over and over
again his awareness of the sorrow of existence, and represents him
as a good man who combines in himself all good things in men."

Motoori, later in the same essay, declared that the purpose of the
author of The Tale of Genji was similar to that of a man who collects
muddy water in order to have lotuses bloom: "The impure mud of illicit
love affairs described in The Tale of Genji is there not for the purpose
of being admired but for the purpose of nurturing the flower of the
awareness of the sorrow of human existence."?
If Motoori's explanation is correct, Murasaki Shikibu was inspired
by a literary rather than a didactic purpose, and similarities between
The Tale of Genji and Buddhist or Confucian writings are therefore
coincidences or of only minor significance. Other scholars have pointed
out the political overtones of the novel; for example, the fact that the
hero belongs to the Minamoto clan (Genji), though the Fujiwara family
was supreme at the time, surely had importance for her first readers,"
and may have suggested even that Murasaki disapproved of Fujiwara
hegemony. Some critics, especially during the I950S, insisted that The
Tale of Genji was an expose of the contradictions and corruption in the
upper aristocracy, written by an embittered member of its lower ranks,
but this is hardly the impression received from the novel itself.
It is not clear to what degree Murasaki Shikibu intended her work
to convey religious or political meaning. In describing the world around
her hero she no doubt drew on the assumptions of her class and par-
ticularly of the women at Shoshi's court. At an even more unconscious
level, she may have drawn on folklore. For example, Genji's exile to
Suma was perhaps derived from the story of the exiled young noble,
known in many parts of Asia." This is the story of a young prince who
is slandered and forced to go into exile; but eventually, after proving
his worth, he returns in triumph to the capital. A knowledge of this
tale may have guided Murasaki Shikibu as she wrote about Genji's time
of trial at Suma and return, but the historical instance of Minamoto no
Takaakira's exile was closer at hand; and Genji's exile at Suma, though
a time of trial, was not the occasion for proving his mettle and winning
a glorious reputation.
The Tale of Gen i i 491
The relations between Genii and his enemy Kokiden, the consort
of his father, the old emperor, have also been traced to folkloristic sources,
in this case the widely known tales about cruel stepmothers." IfMurasaki
Shikibu had these tales in mind when she wrote about Genii and Ko-
kiden, she confused the issue by giving contrasting examples of step-
mother-stepson relations. Genii's love for his stepmother Fujitsubo is of
vastly greater importance to the novel than his suffering at the hands
of Kokiden; and the pains Genii takes to ensure that his son Yugiri will
never see Murasaki are occasioned not by fear that Murasaki will mistreat
her stepson but by a premonition that one glimpse of Murasaki will be
all that Yugiri needs to fall in love with her. Yugiri in fact does get a
glimpse of Murasaki when storm winds blow down the screens that
normally conceal her, and his astonishment over her beauty proves that
Genji's fears were well grounded. If one had to judge from these ex-
amples, one could only conclude that Murasaki Shikibu, far from in-
tending to write a story in the manner of The Tale of Ochikubo, about
a cruel stepmother, was warning of the danger that beautiful stepmothers
are likely to inspire improper sentiments in their stepsons.
Murasaki's clearest statement on why she wrote The Tale of Genji
is found in the celebrated account of the "art of fiction" found in chapter
25, "Hotaru" (Fireflies). Genji, going to Tamakazura's room on a sum-
mer's day, finds her reading a pile of books, to pass the boredom of the
rainy season. At first he teases her over the credulity of women, who
are willing to be deceived by the fabricators of romances. But, on second
thought, he continues in this vein:

If it weren't for old romances like this, how on earth would you get
through these long tedious days when time moves so slowly? And
besides, I realize that many of these works, full of fabrications though
they are, do succeed in evoking the emotions of things in a most
realistic way. One event follows plausibly on another, and in the end
we cannot help being moved by the story, even though we know
what foolishness it all really is....

He moves from this somewhat grudging recognition of the value of

fiction to a more positive statement:

It was rather churlish of me to speak badly about these books as I

did just now, for the fact is that works of fiction set down things
that have happened in this world ever since the days of the gods.
Writings like The Chronicles ofJapan really give only one side of the
492 Early and Heian Literature
picture, whereas these romances must be full of just the right sort
of details.... The author certainly does not write about specific peo-
ple, recording all the actual circumstances of their lives. Rather it is
a matter of his being so moved by things, both good and bad, which
he has heard and seen happening to men and women that he cannot
keep it all to himself but wants to commit it to writing and make
it known to other people-even to those of later generations. This,
I feel sure, is the origin of fiction."

Genji goes on to suggest that fiction may correspond to the "accom-

modated truths" of Buddhism which, though not strictly the truth, have
the same end as the teachings of Buddha: the enlightenment of mankind.
Medieval scholars interpreted The Tale afGenji as a hoben, an expedient
for gaining truth painlessly. But Murasaki Shikibu indicates that, quite
apart from the possible value her work (or any other example of fiction)
may have in enlightening people, it results from the compulsion that
authors feel to record events that have so deeply moved them that they
cannot bear to think that a time might come when they would be
forgotten.

THE STORY

The novel opens with an account of the birth of its hero, Prince Genji,
together with the circumstances preceding his birth. Genji's mother,
Kiritsubo, though much loved by the emperor, is of inferior birth and
lacks backing at the court. She is accordingly slandered and maltreated
by other palace ladies who are jealous of the attentions the emperor
showers on her. She dies when Genji is only three years old. A few
years later, a Korean physiognomist, asked to tell the boy's fortune,
predicts that if Genji should ascend the throne, as his birth (he is the
son of the reigning emperor), his intelligence, and his extraordinary
beauty seem to prescribe, there will be disaster. On the other hand,
Genji's face does not reveal the traits of a minister who can order affairs
of state on behalf of the emperor." The emperor, disturbed by the
prediction, which seems to rule out the boy's ever occupying a position
of importance, decides to preserve the boy from harm by making him
a commoner and giving him the surname of Minamoto, or Genji."
After the death of Kiritsubo, apparently a victim of mental torment,
the emperor is inconsolable until he hears rumors of the daughter of a
former emperor who is said to look exactly like the dead lady. This is
The Tale of Genji 493
the first example of a leitmotiv that runs through the novel: a man will
fall in love again and again with the same woman, though her identity
may be different. Genji falls in love with Fujitsubo after learning how
much she resembles his mother, and later with Murasaki who resembles
her aunt Fujitsubo, now a nun and inaccessible. His interest in Yiigao
and her daughter Tamakazura stems from a single love. Late in the
novel, Genji's supposed son Kaoru loves Ukifune because she resembles
Oigimi.
When the emperor chooses Fujitsubo as his official consort, the
women of the palace cannot complain, for she is of the highest birth.
Genji, on whom his father dotes so much that he can scarcely bear to
let the boy out of his sight, is allowed to play in the presence of his
youthful stepmother, and she soon becomes his ideal of beauty. Even
after his initiation into manhood at the age of twelve and his marriage
to Aoi, six years older than himself, Genji remains under Fujitsubo's
spell, which is one reason why his marriage fails. His wife Aoi, ironically,
is the only woman in the book who remains impervious to Genji's
charm, and Genji first appreciates Aoi's beauty only when she is on her
deathbed. Murasaki Shikibu does not attribute this coldness of husband
and wife to any specific cause, but leads us to believe that they are
incompatible, and that nothing can change this fact.
Genji has a son by Aoi, the intelligent but charmless Yiigiri. He also
has a son as the result of his brief, poignant relationship with Fujitsubo.
This son, whom the world supposes to be the emperor's, eventually
ascends the throne as the Emperor Reizei." Genji is far from exultant
over having a son on the throne; he is tormented by the fear that the
unusual resemblance between Reizei and himself will be noticed, and
filled with shame that he has betrayed his father. After Reizei becomes
emperor he discovers the secret of his birth and is appalled to think that
he has failed to pay his real father the appropriate homage. The honors
he bestows on Genji represent the apogee of Genji's glory and a ful-
fillment of the prophecy of the Korean physiognomist. (He is neither
an emperor nor a surrogate of the emperor but has been given a rank
equivalent to that of a retired emperor.) Many scholars believe that the
chapter "Fuji no U raba" (Wisteria Leaves) marked the end of the First
Part of the work; Murasaki Shikibu seems originally to have intended
to conclude her story of Genji at this point.
At the opening of the Second Part, the Retired Emperor Suzaku,
who has taken Buddhist orders, asks Genji to marry his third daughter.
For all his many affairs with different women over the years, he un-
questionably loves Murasaki best, but she was of insufficiently exalted
494 Early and Heian Literature
birth to be designated as his official consort. Genii accedes to Suzaku's
request, though without enthusiasm. This marriage upsets the harmony
that has hitherto reigned over his Rokujo Palace, where each of Genii's
principal ladies occupies a wing with a garden whose flowers reveal her
choice of season. The childless Murasaki, though resentful of Genii's
alliance with the Lady of Akashi during his exile, never seriously fears
this retiring lady as a rival, and (another example of a model stepmother!)
gladly rears the lady's child as if it were her own. But the status of the
Third Princess makes Murasaki apprehensive, despite Genii's assurances,
that she will be supplanted in his affections. The Third Princess's position
becomes even more exalted when Reizei abdicates in favor of her brother.
The distraught Murasaki expresses the desire to become a nun and
"leave the world," but Genii restrains her. She falls ill, and the distressed
Genii completely neglects the Third Princess. Kashiwagi, the son of
Genii's friend To no Chujo, has fallen desperately in love with the Third
Princess after a single glimpse of her. The two have a brief, guilt-ridden
affair. Soon afterward Murasaki dies. Genii seriously considers taking
vows as a Buddhist priest, but his sense of responsibility to those who
depend on him obliges him to postpone this decision. The Second Part
ends with a description of Genii, who is appearing in public for the first
time after the death of Murasaki. Weare told that he seemed more
beautiful than ever.
The chapter entitled "Niou," at the beginning of the Third Part,
opens with the bleak statement, "Genii was dead, and there was no one
to take his place."? The last third of The Tale afGenji has for its heroes
two young princes, Niou, a grandson of Genii, and Kaoru, the son of
Kashiwagi and the Third Princess. Both are uncommonly attractive, but
each is only a part of Genii: Niou combines Genii's beauty with an
impetuous ardor that generally wins any woman, but he lacks Genii's
sensitivity; Kaoru has more than his share of Genii's sensitivity, but he
lacks self-assurance and fails to win the heart of either of the two women
he loves. The flaws in these young men suggest the diminution that has
occurred in the world since Genii's death. The absence of a hero who
is described only in superlatives has the effect of making the last part
of the novel seem more realistic; it may have been for this reason that
future readers tended to identify themselves with the characters of this
part. Niou and Kaoru are rivals for Ukifune, whose despair at being
forced to choose between them induces her to attempt suicide, a de-
velopment in the plot that would have been inconceivable in earlier
sections of the novel.
The Tale of Gen j i 495
CHARACTERS IN THE NOVEL

We tend to remember, even more than the plot of The Tale of Genji,
the characters created by Murasaki Shikibu. This in itself was an ex-
traordinary achievement: nothing in any of the earlier monogatari pre-
pares us for these characters. Only in the diaries does one come across
people with the complexity of real human beings and who can be
conceived of as having an existence apart from the book. Genji himself
is not especially complex, but on almost every page devoted to him there
is some little touch that makes us believe in him. The opening of the
chapter "Young Murasaki," where Genji sees Murasaki (then a girl of
ten) for the first time, presents numerous effective details that enable
us to see Genji with particular clarity. Although he has gone to the
hermitage in the mountains hoping to obtain a miraculous cure from
the ague that has been bothering him, he is by no means so overcome
by fever that he is oblivious to his usual pleasures. A companion tells
him about a beautiful spot in the west country where an old man, a
former governor, lives with his wife and daughter. At the mention of
a daughter Genji's interest is at once aroused and he wants to know
more about her. The passage is brief and not especially striking, but it
is a first sounding of a theme that will eventually acquire major im-
portance, Genji's exile to the very spot his companion had described,
and his romance with the former governor's daughter, the Lady of
Akashi.
That evening, though still suffering from his illness ("possessed by
a hostile power," according to the holy man who is attempting to cure
him), he ventures out to a nearby house and goes up to the fence in
order to peep through a crack and get a look at the people inside.
Peeping through cracks in fences or hedges was an almost inevitable
feature of courtship in a world where young men of the upper classes
had few opportunities to see women of their class; there is a special
verb, kaimamiru, to describe this action. Genji's curiosity is rewarded:
he sees inside a little girl who reminds him of "a certain person," another
reference to events that have not yet been revealed to the reader, in this
case Genji's love for Fujitsubo. Soon afterward Genji is invited to visit
a learned cleric who lives nearby. The man, as Buddhist priests are apt
to do, speaks of the unreliability of this world and the supreme impor-
tance of the world to come, stirring in Genji thoughts of his own sins,
though once again the reader does not know what specifically is meant.
Genji turns the conversation to the subject of the little girl, and to the
 Early and Heian Literature
priest's great surprise, asks to be allowed to take charge of the girl's
education. He alludes briefly to his unhappy marriage with Aoi, saying
that he is now living alone." The priest imagines that Genji does not
realize the girl is much too young for romance, but Genji waves off
this objection: he is not proposing anything improper, but (for reasons
he does not disclose) he wants the girl near him. Although he insists
that he is not being frivolous, we are inclined to doubt the veracity of
his words, remembering his earlier escapades, but he manages to per-
suade the nun who is Murasaki's guardian that he is earnest, and the
girl comes to live with him.
Was Genji sincere in his professions of disinterested concern for the
young Murasaki's welfare? Probably he does not himself know, but he
clearly is entranced by the girl despite her extreme youth. He behaves
toward Murasaki like a tender father or older brother. One day, for
example, he asks her if she misses him when he is away. She nods, and
he tells her, "You are still a child, and there is a jealous and difficult
lady whom I would rather not offend. I must go on visiting her, but
when you are grown up I will not leave you ever. It is because I am
thinking of all the years we will be together that I want to be on good
terms with her.">' The jealous and difficult lady mentioned by Genji
is, of course, Rokujo, but we do not understand just how terrible her
jealousy is for several more chapters, when we learn that Rokujo's "living
ghost" kills Aoi.
Genji promises to marry Murasaki when she is grown up, but he
never suggests when this might be. The scene where he finally decides
the moment has arrived is surprisingly brutal. We are given no details,
but the implications are unmistakable:

She was clever and she had many delicate ways of pleasing him in
the most trivial diversions. He had not seriously thought of her as
a wife. Now he could not restrain himself. It would be a shock, of
course.
What had happened? Her women had no way of knowing when
the line had been crossed. One morning Genji was up early and
Murasaki stayed on and on in bed ....
She had not dreamed he had anything of the sort on his mind.
What a fool she had been, to repose her whole confidence in so gross
and unscrupulous a man.v

Murasaki's shock and disillusion are likely to be shared by the reader.

For a moment at least Genji's charm is tarnished. Sooner or later this
The Tale of Genji 497
would have had to happen, Genji thought, and perhaps he was right;
but even after Murasaki has come to accept this aspect of Genji's love
and perhaps to desire it, that day when she thought of him as gross and
unscrupulous surely could not have been forgotten. The scene, it may
be noted, occurs not long after the death of his wife Aoi at the hands
of a malignant spirit even as she is giving birth to Genji's child. After
the harrowing experience of seeing his wife being tormented by a venge-
ful spirit so powerful that exorcism was futile, Genji may well have
needed comfort; his violation of Murasaki at this particular time is
psychologically true, but not endearing.
That Genji can be discussed in these terms is evidence that he is
no cardboard Prince Charming. But it would be wrong to infer from
this incident that he was a great lover in the European mold, a Don
Giovanni whose conquests were to be recorded in Leporello's catalogue
by numbers rather than by names. Once Don Giovanni had conquered
a woman he lost all interest in her, and if (like Donna Elvira) she failed
to realize that their affair had ended and that it was futile to appeal to
his love, he humiliated her openly by asking his servant to make love
to her. Genji never forgets any woman he has loved, and even when
he discovers to his horror that he has made a dreadful mistake, as when
he woos the princess with the red nose, he does not drop her, but sees
to it that her needs are taken care of and even continues the pretense
of still being her suitor. With each woman he courts he is different,
not simply in the manner of Don Giovanni's wooing a peasant girl in
a way she can understand, but in satisfying each woman's dreams of a
perfect lover.
Genji's most disastrous love affair was with the proud and aristocratic
Lady Rokujo. He was attracted to her initially by the very difficulty of
approaching such a woman, the widow of a former crown prince. Early
in the novel Genji and several friends discuss the ideal wife and they
agree that women of the highest rank are to be avoided, but Genji was
drawn to Rokujo, who undoubtedly belongs to this class. Once he suc-
ceeded in making her his lover, his passion cooled: "He could not deny
that the blind intoxicating passion which possessed him while she was
still unattainable had almost disappeared. To begin with, she was far
too sensitive; then there was the disparity of their ages, and the constant
dread of discovery which haunted him during those painful partings at
small hours of the morning."53
Rokujo falls far more deeply in love with Genji than he with her.
Realizing that his love has waned, she decides to accompany her
daughter, who has just been named the high priestess, to the Great
 Early and Heian Literature
Shrine of Ise; she hopes that leaving the capital may help her to for-
get Genji. Before her departure she attends the festival of the Kamo
Shrine, supposing that it would prove a distraction, only to suffer the
indignity of having her carriage pushed rudely out of the way by the
attendants of the carriage belonging to Genji's wife Aoi. The proud
Rokujo feels so humiliated that perhaps at that moment she uncon-
sciously wishes Aoi dead. Soon afterward, unbeknownst to Rokujo her-
self, her "living spirit" goes to torment Aoi. At first the cause of Aoi's
sickness baffles the doctors, but diviners eventually succeed in compelling
the spirit that possesses Aoi to speak. The words that issue from Aoi's
mouth are not in her own voice but, as Genji realizes to his horror,
Lady Rokujo's. Moments later Aoi gives birth to a son, and dies soon
afterward.
Rokujo receives the news with mixed feelings. Perhaps she feels
secretly pleased that a rival for Genji's affection is now out of the way,
but for some time she has noticed a strange scent of incense, the kind
used when exorcising demons, clinging to her clothes and hair, no matter
how often she bathes, and she has gradually come to realize that she
herself has been responsible for Aoi's death."
Rokujo is the most interesting of the many women who figure in
The Tale of Genji. Not only does her "living ghost" have the power
to kill, but after her death her "dead ghost" torments Murasaki;
however, she herself is by no means hateful, and Genji, though he
realizes she has killed his wife, cannot face leaving her: "And yet,
after all, he did not wish to make a final break. He told himself that
if she could put up with him as he had been over the years, they
might be of comfort to each other."55 When Genji fails to get in
touch with Rokujo after the death of Aoi, she surmises that it is be-
cause he blames her, and she is all the more determined to leave the
capital and accompany her daughter to Ise. Genji, alarmed at the
thought of losing her, visits her at the Shrine in the Fields, a lonely
place on the outskirts of the capital. The description of the meeting of
Genji and Rokujo contains some of the most beautiful writing of the
entire work:

The autumn flowers were fading; along the reeds by the river the
shrill voices of many insects blended with the mournful fluting of
the wind in the pines. Scarcely distinguishable from these somewhere
in the distance rose and fell a faint, enticing sound of human
music. ... They came at last to a group of very temporary-looking
wooden huts surrounded by a flimsy brushwood fence. The arch-
The Tale of Genji 499
ways, built of unstripped wood, stood out black and solemn against
the sky. Within the enclosure a number of priests were walking up
and down with a preoccupied air. There was something portentous
in their manner of addressing one another and in their way of loudly
clearing their throats before they spoke. In the Hall of Offering there
was a dim flicker of firelight, but elsewhere no single sign of life.
So this was the place where he had left one who was from the start
in great distress of mind, to shift for herself week after week, month
after month! Suddenly he realized with a terrible force all that she
must have suffered."

The meeting of the lovers is tender. They exchange poems. Then,

"suddenly he realized with astonishment that though after that unhappy
incident he had imagined it to be impossible for them to meet and had
so avoided all risk of his former affection being roused to new life, yet
from the first moment of this strange confrontation he had immediately
found himself feeling towards her precisely as he had before their es-
trangement."57 They spend the night together: "At last the night ended
in such a dawn as seemed to have been fashioned for their especial
delight. 'Sad is any parting at the red of dawn; but never since the world
began, gleamed day so tragically in the autumn sky,' and as he recited
these verses, aghast to leave her, he stood hesitating and laid her hand
tenderly in his.?"
At this moment it would be impossible to think of Rokujo as the
fierce incarnation of jealousy who killed Genji's wife. We sense her
beauty, her grief, and, above all, her love for Genji, given special poi-
gnance because she is much older than he; she knows that before long
she must lose him. That is how she is depicted in the No play Nanamiya,
one of the most moving of the entire repertory. Rokujo's suffering
prevents us from passing judgment on her; this, too, is evidence of how
much more complex she is than any character of earlier Japanese
literature.
For most readers, however, Murasaki is the "heroine" of The Tale
of Genji. From Genji's first glimpse of her as a little girl, angry because
a playmate has released her pet sparrow, until her death, she is never
far from his mind, and again and again he reminds himself of her
perfection. But we seldom see her except when she is unhappy-first
when Genji unexpectedly takes her, later when she resigns herself to
never being able to bear a child, and often when she fears that Genji's
love has strayed to another woman. Genji, for all his philandering, always
insists that Murasaki occupies a unique place in his heart; but when he
50 0 Early and Heian Literature
meets Fujitsubo again after the death of the old emperor he is astonished
by her beauty, and he realizes afresh how closely she resembles Murasaki:

For years Murasaki had served to keep Lady Fujitsubo, to some

extent at any rate, out of his thoughts. But now that he saw how
astonishingly the one resembled the other he fancied that all the
while Murasaki had but served as a substitute or eidolon of the lady
who denied him her love. Both had the same pride, the same reti-
cence. For a moment he wondered whether, if they were side by
side, he should be able to tell them apart."

How wretched Murasaki would have been if she had thought that
perhaps she was no more than a substitute for Fujitsubo! The other
ladies in Genji's life expect much less than Murasaki. The Lady of
Akashi, for example, is too self-effacing ever to make any demands on
Genji, and she even surrenders her daughter to Murasaki to raise as
her own. The most striking female characters are those who appear in
what Takeda called the "Tamakazura line" of chapters, especially
Yugao, Suetsumuhana, the Lady of Omi, and Tamakazura.
Yugao is terrified of Genji. When he promises to take her "some-
where very nice where no one will disturb us," she cries out, "No, no,
your ways are so strange, I should be frightened to go with yoU."60
Indeed, he behaves like the hero of some Gothic romance, never revealing
his identity or showing his face before the frightened young woman.
Yugao dies after Rokujo has appeared to her in a nightmare she has in
the abandoned old house where Genji has taken her. Suetsumuhana,
the princess with the red nose, lives in a deserted palace. Genji makes
his way through the underbrush, sure that some sleeping beauty must
be hidden there, only to find a fantastic creature, living in another world,
too shy to appear before others, though she does not suspect how ri-
diculous she appears. The last thing Genji wishes is to have this fright
as his mistress, but he gravely courts her in old-fashioned language,
exactly as she most desires, and she responds with musty gifts. The Lady
of Orni, a minor character, is memorable because of her foolish preten-
sions; she displays a rather appealing vulgarity, a lone exception to the
good taste that rules the court. (She is an unrecognized daughter of
Genji's friend To no Chujo.) Tamakazura, the daughter Yugao bore
To no Chujo, is memorable too, if only because it is to her that Genji,
speaking for Murasaki Shikibu, gives the famous explanation of the
value of fiction.
Genji responds perfectly to each woman. He is a genius at love-
The Tale of Gen j i 50 r

making, and if he had lived in a society where monogamy was strictly

enforced or if, deciding that Murasaki was an ideal wife, he had never
looked at another woman, the world would have been the poorer. Unlike
Don Giovanni, he not only woos and wins each lady but he makes each
feel sure of his love, and each is content with her small part of his life.
When Genji lays out the plans for his Rokujo Palace, there are apart-
ments not only for the women he still loves but for Suetsumuhana and
even for the Lady from the Village of Falling Flowers, a woman much
older than himself who was one of the less important concubines of his
father.
Only one woman in the book is intentionally unkind to Genii, his
father's consort Kokiden. On learning of Genii's affair with her younger
sister Oborozukiyo, she is outraged. She had earlier become Genii's
enemy because she feared that the emperor would name the peerless
Genii, rather than her own son, as his successor. Even after Suzaku
safely ascended the throne, her anger was not appeased, and Genii's
scandalous behavior afforded her a perfect opportunity to demon-
strate that she wielded greater power than Genii at court, despite his
beauty and talent. She creates so unfriendly an atmosphere that Genii
finds life at the court intolerable, and he leaves for exile in Suma.
Kokiden's unkindness recalls the proverbial cruelty of the stepmother,
anxious for the success of her own children, but unlike most stepmothers
of fiction, she has real cause for complaint: Genii, after all, has seduced
her sister.
The only woman who refuses Genii when he makes advances is the
wife of a provincial governor." They accidentally meet again years later
at the barrier house on the road to the east as she is returning from the
provinces with her aged husband. She and Genii exchange poems re-
ferring to the irony of being at the Ausaka Barrier, whose name contains
the verb au, "to meet," though they are destined never to meet again.
Soon afterward the lady's husband dies, and rather than yield to the
advances of another man, she becomes a nun. It is hard to think that
she does not regret her coldness to Genji years before.
Genji remains an important character in the Second Part, but he
does not dominate the action as earlier on. The most memorable figure
is Kashiwagi, the son of To no Chiiio, who has the affair with Genji's
consort, the Third Princess. The overmastering passion that drives him
to violate the wife of the man he most admires brings him no joy or
even relief. He falls ill, and when he sees Genii he is tormented by the
fear that Genii knows his secret. The chapter entitled "Kashiwagi" (The
Oak Tree) opens:
50 2 Early and Heian Literature

The New Year came and Kashiwagi's condition had not improved.
He knew how troubled his parents were and he knew that suicide
was no solution, for he would be guilty of the grievous sin of having
left them behind. He had no wish to live on."

After the Third Princess has given birth to Kaoru, Kashiwagi's child,
she falls into a wasting illness, and in a desperate attempt to save her
life the Buddhist rites of ordination as a nun are administered. The next
morning the malignant spirit who has afflicted the Third Princess reveals
herself, seemingly Rokujo once again, jealous even of so spiritless a
creature as this princess.
Soon afterward Kashiwagi dies. The next chapter, devoted to Yugiri,
describes his wooing of Kashiwagi's widow, Ochiba, the second daughter
of the Emperor Suzaku. Yugiri's wife, Kumoinokari, had been his
childhood sweetheart, and he married her only after overcoming the
opposition of their parents to the match, but Yugiri's great devotion to
Kumoinokari (that had won him praise as a model husband) seems to
have made her into something of a termagant. Turning elsewhere to
escape from his overbearing wife, he decides to court Ochiba, though
she is still in mourning for Kashiwagi. This princess stubbornly refuses
to yield to Yugiri's wooing, her resolve strengthened by the words of
her dying mother, who warned her never to take a second husband.
Kumoinokari, aware that her husband is spending his nights elsewhere
(she does not realize, of course, that Yugiri has been unsuccessful),
becomes obsessively jealous. Yugiri, puzzled and enraged by his failure
to win the princess, pursues her all the more frantically. Ochiba's women
urge her not to be so cold to a splendid gentleman, and finally conspire
to admit Yugiri to her chamber. Not until the next morning does he
get his first good look at the woman for whom he has risked his
reputation as a serious and dignified member of the court." Kumoinokari
returns to her father's house, taking her daughters. When Yiigiri appears
and demands that she return home, she refuses to listen to him. We are
told:

Lying down among the children, he surveyed the confusion he had

managed to create in both houses. The Second Princess must be
utterly bewildered. What man in his right mind could think these
affairs interesting or amusing? He had had enough of them."

Yugiri's self-analysis is exact. Although his appearance is described

with the usual superlatives, he is a much reduced version of his father,
The Tale of Genji

and his pursuit of the reluctant princess is not only undignified but, in
the end, ludicrous. It is as if he decided that, being the son of a great
lover, he must demonstrate on occasion that he, too, can win a desirable
woman. He chooses Ochiba without ever having seen her and knowing
nothing about her qualities, a mechanical display of lust devoid of af-
fection. And once he has succeeded by sordid means in having his way
with the princess, he realizes that it has given him no pleasure. He
comes to his senses, a smaller man even in his own eyes.
Genji allows Yiigiri to see Murasaki's face only after she has died.
Yiigiri wept that such beauty was lost to the world, but for Genji the
shock was so severe that, as many times before (but much more earnestly),
he considered "leaving the world" to become a Buddhist priest. There
had always been a good reason for postponing the step, but at the end
of the chapter "Minori" (The Law) Genji seems at last to have made
up his mind. In the following chapter, "Maboroshi" (Mirage), he destroys
old letters (except those from Murasaki), plays with his grandson Niou,
visits the uncomplaining Lady of Akashi after a long absence, and
reminisces about the two women he loved most, Fujitsubo and Murasaki.
One day succeeds another and Genji has still not carried out his resolve.
The chapter concludes with Genji's watching Niou scampering around
to scare off the devils before New Year and reflecting sadly that soon
he would have to say goodbye to this child, too. This is the last we see
of Genji.
Chapters 42, 43, and 44 are invariably included in editions of The
Tale of Genji, but many scholars have expressed doubts concerning their
authenticity. Chapter 42, "Niou," is germane to the narration, even
though it is literarily inferior to preceding chapters; but chapters 43 and
44, describing respectively a younger son of To no Chiijo and a son of
Tamakazura and Prince Higekuro, are scarcely more than digressions.
Chapter 44, "Takegawa" (Bamboo River) opens in this unpromising
fashion:

The story I am about to tell wanders rather far from Genji and his
family. I had it unsolicited from certain obscure women who lived
out their years in Higekuro's house. It may not seem entirely in
keeping with the story of Murasaki, but the women themselves say
that there are numerous inaccuracies in the accounts we have had
of Genji's descendants, and put the blame on women so old that
they have become forgetful. I would not presume to say who is
right."
 Early and Heian Literature

It is possible that some scribe or commentator, intending to make

the story easier to read, added materials in the hope of tying up loose
ends; or it may be that a quite independent story was woven into the
text of The Tale of Genji by someone who thought that the work would
profit by expansion.v' In any case, it is with relief that we reach the last
ten chapters; indeed, many people believe that they constitute the finest
part of the entire work.
The last ten chapters are known as the Uji chapters. Uji is today a
short way from Kyoto, but at the time it seemed distant and was reached
with difficulty, as we know from descriptions of the journey such as:
"As he came into the mountains the mist was so heavy and the under-
brush so thick that he could hardly make out the path; and as he pushed
his way through thickets the rough wind would throw showers of dew
upon him from a turmoil of falling leaves."? There was also a danger
of encountering bandits on the deserted trails to Uji. Even the name
Uji was depressing: puns were often made on Uji and ushi, meaning
"sad."68 The dismal sound of the Uji River is heard again and again in
these chapters, and it is associated especially with the unhappiness of
the girl Ukifune, torn between two lovers, Niou and Kaoru.
Ukifune is the half-sister of the two princesses who are introduced
to us at the opening of the Uji chapters, 6igimi and Nakanokimi. They
are the daughters of a prince, a younger brother of Genji, who was
living in retirement as a sage and hermit at Uji. The constant noise of
the river was a hindrance to meditation, but he devoted himself to his
religious studies with such diligence that he was revered as a saint.
Kaoru, who has grown up into a bookish young man much attracted
to religion, hears of the prince and visits him. At the prince's house
Kaoru encounters an old woman called Bennokimi who hints that she
knows something of the secret of his birth. Kaoru has long been tor-
mented by uneasiness about the identity of his real father, and this
uncertainty contributes to his inability to act decisively. He eagerly listens
as Bennokimi reveals that Kaoru is the son not of Genji but of Kashiwagi,
and shows him letters Kashiwagi had received from the Third Princess.
Kaoru returns again and again to Uji, despite the hardship of the
journey. His friend and rival Niou suspects that Kaoru's frequent visits
to Uji are inspired by a romance, and his suspicions are confirmed when
he learns of the two princesses. However, Kaoru is in fact not interested
in the princesses, and it is only after their father's death that, more by
way of expressing condolences than as a would-be lover, he addresses
letters to the sisters. He gradually is attracted to the older sister, Oigimi,
Niou also writes her, but she spurns to answer his letters, aware of his
The Tale of Genji 5°5
reputation, but Kaoru's letters are so serious that she responds without
fear. Kaoru before long shows greater affection, but Oigimi has resolved
never to marry, and she rarely vouchsafes more than a few words or a
poem.
Kaoru, attracted by Oigirni's seriousness, a fair match for his own,
hits on the idea of shifting Niou's attention to the younger sister, Na-
kanokimi, though he is aware of Niou's promiscuity. Oigimi for her
part tries to divert Kaoru's affection for herself to her sister. Bennokimi,
sympathizing with Kaoru, admits him to Oigimi's bedroom, but she
senses his approach and flees, leaving her sister alone. When Kaoru
discovers Nakanokimi, he feels sorry for her and angry at Oigimi.
Kaoru's plan is successful. Niou marries Nakanokimi; but this does
not alter Oigirni's resolution not to marry. Worry causes her to lose
weight, and she examines with satisfaction her face in the mirror, sure
that no man will now be attracted to her. When it becomes clear that
Niou is unfaithful to her sister, Oigimi feels disillusion with Kaoru, who
had assured her of Niou's steadfastness. She had trusted Kaoru, but this
is no longer possible, and she begins to think of death as the only release
from her trials. When she dies not long afterward, Kaoru regrets he
did not follow her suggestion and marry N akanokimi, rather than bring
unhappiness both to himself and Oigimi.
Kaoru learns from Nakanokimi about her half-sister Ukifune, and
when he is told that she resembles Oigimi, his interest is aroused. One
day he returns to Uji, where he catches sight of Ukifune through a
crack in a door. The resemblance to Oigimi is indeed astonishing (one
recalls Murasaki's resemblance to Fujitsubo), and he is drawn back again
and again.
Kaoru is by no means infatuated with Ukifune-even after they
have become lovers he cannot help contrasting her unfavorably with
Oigimi-but he is attentive and always behaves correctly. Niou, once
again getting wind of a romance, goes to Ukifune's room one night and,
mimicking Kaoru's voice, gams admission. He spends the night with
her, and pleases her more than the forbidding Kaoru. But she is under
no illusions about him.
One snowy day Niou makes his way to Uji and carries Ukifune off
to a house on the other side of the river where they spend two days
together. Ukifune is torn by mixed feelings-love for Niou, whom she
knows she cannot trust, and fear that Kaoru, whom she does not love,
will learn of her affair with Niou and abandon her. Kaoru in fact
discovers that Niou has been visiting Ukifune and is outraged. He stops
writing, and she thinks of suicide.
 Early and Heian Literature

The girl felt as if she were being cut to shreds. She wanted to die ....
And outside the river roared. "There are gentler rivers," said
her mother, somewhat absentmindedly. "I'm sure the general
[Kaoru] feels guilty about leaving her all this time in this godforsaken
place."
Yes, it was a terrible river, swift and treacherous, said one of the
women. "Why, just the other day the ferryman's little grandson
slipped on his oar and fell in. Any number of people have drowned
in it."
If she herself were to disappear, thought Ukifune, people would
grieve for a while, but only for a time; and if she were to live on,
an object of ridicule, there would be no end to her woes. Death
would cancel out the accounts, nothing seemed to stand in the way."

Ukifune's depression is more profound than any described earlier

in the novel, and toward the end she resolves to throw herself into the
terrible river. She makes preparations for death: "Unobtrusively, she
began tearing up suggestive papers, burning them in her lamp and
sending the ashes down the river."?" She disappears soon afterward.
Everyone supposes she is dead, but she has not drowned, recalling
ironically the meaning of her nickname, "floating (or drifting) boat."
This name was derived from the poem she composed and gave to Niou:
"Immutable may be / the color of the orange tree / on this small island;
/ and yet this drifting boat / cannot know where it is bound.'?'
Kaoru's reactions to the news of Ukifune's death are surprisingly
cold. His calm seems rather out of character, but perhaps he is deceiving
himself: long after Niou has shifted his attentions to other women,
Kaoru, though he cannot forgive Ukifune for deceiving him, still
searches for her.
Ukifune is found by some priests near the river, incapable of speech,
and is nursed back to health. In response to her entreaties, she is admitted
to holy orders, and goes to live with some nuns. Kaoru accidentally
learns where Ukifune is and asks a boy, one of her brothers, to beg her
to see him; but she sends the boy away without an answer. This is
where the novel ends.
The Uji chapters are literally the best part of The Tale of Genji.
There are not many characters, and each is carefully drawn. Genji is
so marvelously beautiful and accomplished that it is hard for readers to
identify with him. This problem does not arise in the case of Kaoru or
Niou, whose beauty is fully described but whose flaws are equally ob-
vious. Both kaoru and niou are verbs meaning "to be fragrant," and
The Tale of Genji

these nicknames suggest their courtliness; but whereas Kaoru's myste-

rious scent is a natural part of him over which he has no control, Niou
resorts to blending perfumes in order to keep up with his rival. Niou
is the less attractive of the two men, even though we are told that he
is handsomer than Kaoru and can gather from Ukifune's preference
that he possesses greater charm; but it is hard to forgive his ruthlessness
in pursuing the few women whom Kaoru has loved. There is a bitterness
in the relations between the two men absent from Genii's with his rival,
To no Chujo, another sign perhaps that they belong to a world in decline
in which friendship is unhesitantly discarded for personal advantage.
The doctrine of mappo, the latter days of the Buddhist Law,72 may
have colored Murasaki Shikibu's portrayal of times closer to her own
than those of the peerless Genii, times when the sorrow of human
existence was no mere phrase. The persons of the Uji chapters live in
a world much darker than Genii's. The unhappy Oigimi has resolved
never to marry; her sister Nakanokimi is persuaded by his beauty to
trust Niou, only to discover his heartlessness; Ukifune, an unsophisti-
cated girl, finds being courted by two desirable young men so oppressive
that she attempts suicide; and the two men, so superlatively gifted, are
both frustrated in their desires. The story of these unforgettable persons
develops systematically and even inevitably; there is no question here
of chapters having been written out of order or later inserted.

CONTEMPORARY ApPEAL OF THE WORK

Murasaki Shikibu devoted her greatest attention to the elements in

human life that have changed least over the centuries. Because the
emotions of her characters are so easily intelligible, we sometimes obtain
a startling impression of modernity, and it is easy to overlook even the
aspects of life in Heian Japan that differ most conspicuously from our
own. Although we are repeatedly informed that court ladies were nor-
mally invisible to men, hidden behind curtains and intervening screens,
it is difficult to believe that these people whom we feel we know so
intimately could have fallen passionately in love without once getting a
proper look at each other, and we may therefore suppress the reality of
the curtains and screens, regardless of what Murasaki Shikibu says. It
is hard even to keep in mind what the faces of the women must have
looked like: women customarily blackened their teeth and shaved their
eyebrows (painting false eyebrows on their foreheads); but when we
attempt to visualize the women of The Tale of Genji we are more likely
5°8 Early and Heian Literature
to think of Japanese women we have actually seen than the lookalikes
of the old illustrations.
Arthur Waley, writing in 1933, discussed the resemblances that re-
viewers had found between The Tale of Genii and the works of Proust,
Jane Austen, Boccaccio, and Shakespeare, commenting, "Her book in-
deed is like those caves, common in a certain part of Spain, in which
as one climbs from chamber to chamber the natural formation of the
rock seems in succession to assume a semblance to every known form
of sculpture-here a figure from Chartres, there a Buddha from Yun-
Kang, a Persian conqueror, a Byzantine ivory."73 Waley did not deny
the resemblances that reviewers had found between the writings of
Murasaki Shikibu and modern writers: "Murasaki, like the novelist of
to-day, is not principally interested in the events of the story, but rather
in the effect which these events may have upon the minds of her char-
acters. Such books as hers it is convenient, I think, to call 'novels,' while
reserving for other works of fiction the name 'story' or 'romance.' "74
Critics have questioned the appropriateness of referring to The Tale
of Genii as a "novel." The lowly reputation of fiction as a whole in the
Heian period contrasts with the prestige that novels enjoy today; but
Tamagami Takuya, who disliked referring to any monogatari as a novel,
conceded that The Tale of Genii was read and discussed by men as well
as women," suggesting that, whether or not modern in any other sense,
the work was treated with the respect due a work of high literary value.
This contemporary evaluation has not wavered. The Tale of Genii is the
central work of Japanese literature. It was read and imitated by gen-
erations of court writers, and was adapted for use in different forms of
drama, not only the aristocratic N 076 but the plebeian Bunraku and
Kabuki theaters. It was the model (though considerably distorted) for
Saikaku's Life of an Amorous Man (1682), the work that is considered
to mark the birth of the characteristic form of fiction of the premodern
period. It furnished the advocates of the Shinto revival of the eighteenth
century (notably Motoori Norinaga) with the supreme example of dis-
tinctively Japanese expression. In the twentieth century it has been trans-
lated into modern Japanese by Tanizaki [uri'ichiro and other important
writers, and through these translations has reached an infinitely greater
number of readers than ever before. It has been beautifully translated
into English, French, and German, bringing it world renown." It oc-
cupies in Japanese literature the place of Shakespeare in English liter-
ature, of Dante in Italian literature, or of Cervantes in Spanish literature.
It is also a monument of world literature, the first novel of magnitude
The Tale of Genii

composed anywhere, a work that is at once distinctively Japanese and

universally affecting.

Notes
r. Kawabata Yasunari Zenshu, XXIII, p. 319.
2. See Dawn to the West, I, p. 824.
). The appropriateness of the term "novel" has been much discussed. I use
it as a convenience, rather than "rnonogatari," "tale," or "romance."
4. Nihon Katen Bungaku Daijiten, II, p. 408.
5. See Ivan Morris, As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams, p. 55. The diarist wrote
that an aunt presented her with "fifty-odd volumes of The Tale of Genji."
She did not date this entry, but it follows close after mention of the death
in 1021 of her nurse.
6. See Nihon Koten Bugaku Daijiten, II, p. 406.
7. It has been suggested that some other person who was close to Murasaki
Shikibu wrote the chapters "Niou," "Kobai," and "Takegawa."
8. It was advanced by Ichijo Kaneyoshi in his book of Genji criticism entitled
Kacho Yojo (1492).
9. See Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, II, p. 406.
10. See Ii Haruki, Genji Monogatari no Nazo, p. 137.
I I. See Akiyama Ken, Genji Manogatari, p. 99.

12. Tarnetoki's waka were included in imperial collections, notably the Go-
shiashi; in which there are three. Poem 147 in this collection is of the jukkai
variety, a complaint, using the imagery of flowers, over his failure to gain
advancement.
13. Akiyama, Genji, p. 100.
14. Ibid., p. IOO. The story is given in Tales of Times Noui Past and elsewhere.
15. See Yamamoto Ritatsu, Murasalei Shikib« Nikki, Murasaki Shikibu Shu, p.
136. The poem is included in the Senzaishii,
16. Ibid.
17- Akiyama, Genji, p. 108.
18. In karnbun, rather than 10 kana, because of its greater conCISIOn, and
possibly also on the analogy of Nihon Ryoiki, which was composed 10
kambun as the basic material for sermons to be delivered in Japanese.
19. Tamagami Takuya, Genji Monagatari KenkYu, pp. 147, 150.
20. Ibid., pp. 150-5 I.
21. Unfortunately for this charming legend, the temple burned to the ground

after the time of Murasaki's supposed visit.

22. See Ii, Genji, P: 45. Abe Akio, a noted specialist of The Tale of Genji, also
 Early and Heian Literature
believed that Murasaki Shikibu began her work with the "Waka-Murasaki"
chapter. See Aileen Gatten, "The Order of the Early Chapters in the Genji
monogatari," pp. 30-33.
23. See Arthur Waley's translation of The Tale of Genji, p. 7, note I, where
he stated, "Murasaki, still under the influence of her somewhat childish
predecessors, writes in a manner which is a blend of the court chronicle
with the conventional fairy-tale." However, the "Kiritsubo" chapter is
singled out for special praise in Mumyo Zoshi (Story Without a Name) and
in many later works.
24. See Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, II, p. 410.
25. Takeda Munetoshi, Genji Monogatari no KenkYu. Gatten, in her absorbing
article "The Order," discussed problems in the narration when the work
is read in the accepted order. She drew on the theory of Abe Akio, who
postulated two lines of composition, the "Wakamurasaki Group" and the
"Hahakigi Group." These two lines correspond very closely to Takeda's
theory. Abe believed that the "Kiritsubo" chapter was written perhaps at
the time of the twenty-first chapter, "Otome," but Gatten decided that the
"Kiritsubo" chapter was indispensable to the narration of the early chapters
and must in some form have existed before the "Wakamurasaki" chapter
was written. (Gatten, "The Order," p. 39')
26. Takeda, Genji, p. 34-35.
27. Ibid., pp. 17ff.
28. Ibid., pp. 64-65.
29. Waley, Genji, p. 92.
30. Edward Seidensticker, The Tale of Genji, I, p. 57.
31. Waley was not the only one to believe that the women must be standing
on something. Ikeda Kikan in his edition of Genji Monogatari (in Nihon
Koten Zensho series), I, p. 234, had the women on fumidai, a kind of
platform. This is more plausible than Waley's table or bed, but it also
requires an explanation of why they were on a fumidai. Other commentators
have suggested that the floor level was higher than Genji would have
expected, and for this reason the women seemed taller than they actually
were.
32. Esperanza Ramirez-Christensen wrote, in "The Operation of the Lyrical
Mode in the Genji Monogatari," p. 39, "What happens in the passages under
consideration is that the poetic function is being superimposed upon the
narrative progression, slowing it down and transforming its constitutive
elements (plot-character-setting) into paradigmatic transparencies of mean-
ing. The paradigm, by reiterating the same message in various reifications,
endows the narrative with a certain permanence, and at the same time a
certain ambiguity and richness." Her essay is specifically concerned with
the first three of the ten Uji chapters, but her illuminating observations
are valid for the entire work.
Another essay in the same book (Ukifune: Love in The Tale of Genji,
The Tale of Genji
edited by Andrew Pekarik) by Amy Vladeck Heinrich, "Blown in Flurries:
The Role of the Poetry in 'Ukifune,''' gives further proof of the vital
function played by the poems, though they are often overlooked by those
who write about The Tale of Genii.
33. This is the subject of Janet Goffs Noh Drama and The Tale of Genii. See
below, pp. 1022-24, for an example of how a passage from the "Surna"
chapter of Genii was used in the No play Matsultaze,
34. I am thinking, for example, of the passage in Part One of the "Wakana"
chapter in which a cat on a leash upsets the screen protecting the Third
Princess from the gaze of outsiders. Kashiwagi gets only a glimpse of the
princess, but it is enough to make him fall desperately in love, the com-
mencement of their tragic affair. See Seidensticker, Genii, II, pp. 592-93;
Waley, Genii, pp. 642-43.
35. Akiyama, Genii, p. 8.
36. Takaakira's rebellion figures in The Gossamer Years, and the Mother of
Michitsuna sent a poem to Aimiya, Takaakira's wife, when he was exiled
to Kyushu, Aimiya was the sister of the Tonomine Captain. See chapter
9, notes 17 and 36 (pages 403-4).
37. The role of ghosts in the work is exhaustively discussed by Mitoma Kosuke
in Genii Monogatari no Minzokugakuteki Kenkyu. See also Norma Field,
The Splendor of Longing in the Tale of Genii, pp. 51-63, where spirit
possession is discussed.
38. Translation in Seiden sticker, Genii, I, p. 3.
39. Translation by Witter Bynner in Cyril Birch, Anthology ofChinese Literature,
I, pp. 266-69.
40. Translation in Ryusaku Tsunoda, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald
Keene, Sources ofJapanese Tradition, pp. 532-34.
41. Ibid., p. 534·
42. See Haruo Shirane, The Bridge of Dreams: a Poetics of "The Tale of Genii,"
pp. 10-II, for a discussion of this aspect of the work.
43. Shirane, The Bridge, pp. 3-4 considers this theme, and cites (p. 228) the
article by the folklore scholar Origuchi Shinobu, "Shosetsu gikyoku bun-
gaku ni okeru monogatari yoso," in which it is discussed. Field (in The
Splendor, pp. 33-35) quotes Origuchi and considers the same theme in Tales
of Ise and similar works. See also Mitani Kuniaki, Genii Monogatari Shi-
tsukeito, pp. 24-31.
44. Field (in The Splendor, pp. 97-103) considers the stepmother (and step-
daughter) theme in Heian literature with reference to The Tale of Genii.
45. Translated by Ivan Morris in The World of the Shining Prince, pp. 308-9.
46. Translation in Seiden sticker, Genii, I, p. 14.
47. Minamoto was one of the two most powerful noble families of the time,
the other being the Fujiwara. The Sino-Japanese reading of Minamoto is
Gen; hence, the name Genji, or "he of the Minamoto clan." The character
Genji is not given a personal name anywhere in the work.
51 2 Early and Heian Literature
48. The irregularity in the succession was responsible for the action of the
prewar militarists in banning publication of the offending chapters of
Tanizaki's modern-language translation of The Tale of Genii.
49. Arthur Waley, The Lady of the Boat, p. 15. The passage occurs in the
Seiden sticker translation in Genii, II, p. 735.
50. See Waley, Genii, p. 146. Seiden sticker, who was evidently using a different
text, omitted this passage.
5I. Seidensticker, Genii, I, p. 142. See also Waley, Genii, p. 227.
52. Seidensticker, Genii, I, p. 180.
53. Waley, Genii, p. roo. See also Seidensticker, Genii, I, p. 63.
54. See Waley, Genii, pp. 262-78; also Seidensticker, Genii, I, pp. 165-74.
55. Seidensticker, Genii, I, p. 183; Waley renders the passage, "He thought
with great tenderness and concern of Lady Rokujo's distress; but it was
clear to him that he must beware of ever again allowing her to regard him
as her true haven of refuge. If however she would renew their friendship
in quite new terms, permitting him to enjoy her company and conversation
at such times as he could conveniently arrange to do so, he saw no reason
why they should not sometimes meet." (Genii, p. 294')
56. Arthur Waley, The Sacred Tree, p. 4I. See also Seidensticker, Genii, I,
p. 186.
57. Waley, The Sacred Tree, P.43.
58. Ibid., p. 44·
59. Ibid., p. 6I.
60. Waley, Genii, p. ro6.
6I. Waley refers to the lady as Utsusemi, Seidensticker by the translation of
this name, the Lady of the Locust Shell. Her rejection of Genji occurs in
chapter 2.
62. Seidensticker, Genii, II, p. 636. See also Arthur Waley, Blue Trousers,
P·23°·
63. See Seidensticker, Genii, II, p. 708.
64. Ibid., p. 710.
65. Ibid., p. 75I. See also Waley, The Lady, p. 4I.
66. In the absence of firm information about the transmission of the text during
the two centuries between Murasaki Shikibu's manuscript and the oldest
surviving manuscript, it is impossible to be sure whether or not these three
chapters were in the original version. For a brief history of the texts of
The Tale of Genii, see Aileen Gatten, "Three Problems in the Text of
'Ukifune," pp. 87-89. The earliest surviving recension of the entire text
with variants was completed by Minamoto Chikayuki in 1255. Four chap-
ters in Fujiwara Teika's handwriting, made early in the thirteenth century,
survive, and later manuscripts purport to be copies of his text.
67. Seidensticker, Genii, II, p. 772.
68. Ibid., p. 78I.
69· Ibid., p. 999·
The Tale of Genji 5 13
70. Ibid., p. 1006.
71. Translation by Amy Vladeck Heinrich in Pekarik, Ukifunc, p. 156.
72. According to the doctrine of mappo, after the death of Shakyamuni Buddha
there would be three great periods affecting his teachings: during the first,
of five hundred years, they would flourish; during the second, of one
thousand years, they would decline; and in the third period, of ten thousand
years, they would gradually disappear. In Japan it was widely believed that
the third period, that of mappo, would begin in 1052. Once the world
entered this phase, it would be impossible for individuals to save themselves;
they would have to depend on the saving grace of Amida for salvation.
73. Arthur Waley, The Bridge of Dreams, p. 23.
74. Waley, The Sacred Tree, pp. 30-31.
75. Tamagami, Genii Monogatari Kenkyu, p. 144.
76. See Goff, Noh Drama, for an account of how the dramatists borrowed from
The Tale of Genii.
77. The earliest English and French (partial) translations, made in the nine-
teenth century, did little to promote the reputation of The Tale of Genii
abroad, but the translations into English of Arthur Waley (1926-33) and
Edward Seiden sticker (1976), into French by Rene Sieffert (1978-85), and
into German by Oscar Benl (1966) have been widely read and admired.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Akiyama Ken. Genii Monogatari, in Iwanami Shinsho series. Iwanami Shoten,

1968.
Benl, Oscar. Die Geschichte vom Prinzen Genii, 2 vols. Zurich: Manesse Verlag,
1966.
Birch, Cyril. Anthology of Chinese Literature, 2 vols. New York: Grove Press,
1965-7 2 .
Field, Norma. The Splendor of Longing in the Tale of Genii. Princeton, N.J.:
Princeton University Press, 1987.
Gatten, Aileen. "The Order of the Early Chapters in the Genii monogatari,"
Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 41: I, 1981.
- - - . "Three Problems in the Text of 'Ukifune,' " in Pekarik, Ukifune.
Goff, Janet. Noh Drama and The Tale of Genii. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 1991.
Heinrich, Amy Vladeck. "Blown in Flumes: The Role of Poetry in 'Ukifune,' "
in Pekarik, Ukifune.
Ii Haruki. Genii Monogatari no Nazo, in Sanseido Sensho series. Sanseido, 1983.
 Early and Heian Literature
Ikeda Kikan. Genji Monogatari, I, in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shim-
bun Sha, 1946.
Kawabata Yasunari Zenshu, 35 vols. Shinchosha, 1980-83.
Kawaguchi Hisao. Genji Monogatari e no Michi. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 199I.
Mitani Kuniaki. Genji Monogatari Shitsukeito. Yuseido, 1991.
Mitoma Kosuke, Genji Monogatari no Minzokugakuteki Kenkyu, Ofusha, 1980.
Morris, Ivan. As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams. New York: Dial Press, 197I.
- - - . The World of the Shining Prince. London: Oxford University Press, 1964.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Oka Kazuo. Genji Monogatari no Kisoteki Kenkyu. Tokyodo, 1966.
Okada, H. Richard. Figures of Resistance. Durham, N.C., and London: Duke
University Press, 199I.
Pekarik, Andrew (ed.). Ukifune: Love in The Tale of Genji. New York: Co-
lumbia University Press, 1982.
Ramirez-Christensen, Esperanza. "The Operation of the Lyrical Mode in the
Genji Monogatari," in Pekarik, Ukifune.
Seidensticker, Edward (trans.). The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred
A. Knopf, 1976.
Shimizu Yoshiko, Mori Ichiro, and Yamamoto Ritatsu. Genji Monogatari Te-
kagami. Shinchosha, 1973.
Shirane, Haruo. The Bridge ofDreams: a Poetics of 'The Tale ofGenji." Stanford,
Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1987.
Sieffert, Rene. Le dit de Genji, 2 vols. Paris: Publications Orientalistes de France.
1978-85.
Stinchecum, Amanda Mayer. Narrative Voice in the Tale of Genji. Urbana, Ill.:
University of Illinois, Center for Asian and Pacific Studies, 1985.
Takeda Munetoshi. Genji Monogatari no Kenkyu. Iwanami Shoten, 1954.
Tamagami Takuya. Genji Monogatari Hyoshabu, 14 vols. Kadokawa Shoten,
1964-69.
- - - . Genji Monogatari Kenkyu (vol. XIII of Genji Monogatari Hyoshabu).
Kadokawa Shoten, 1966.
- - - . Genji Monogatari no Hikiuta. Chuo Koren Sha, 1955.
Tomikura Tokujiro, Mumyo Zsshi Hyokai. Yuseido, 1952.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene. Sources of
Japanese Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958
Waley, Arthur (trans.), Blue Trousers. Boston and New York: Houghton Mif-
flin, 1928.
- - - . The Bridge ofDreams. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1933.
- - - . The Lady ofthe Boat. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1932.
- - - . The Sacred Tree. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1926.
- - - . The Tale of Genji. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1926.
- - - . A Wreath of Cloud. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1927.
Yamamoto Ritatsu. Murasahi Shikibu Nikki, Murasalt: Shikibu Shu, in Shincho
Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1980.
 13.
COURTLY FICTION AFTER
THE TALE OF GENJI

The fiction composed at the court during the two centuries after the
completion of The Tale of Genii is often discussed in terms of the
overpowering influence of Murasaki Shikibu's masterpiece. Every sim-
ilarity in language, plot development, and characterization has been
carefully traced, and one is likely to receive the impression that these
tales contain nothing new, certainly nothing to suggest how much the
world had changed during the years after the completion of The Tale
of Genii.I And yet, anyone who reads these later works with an open
mind will surely discover significant differences between them and The
Tale of Genii, some so striking as to suggest explorations of aspects of
fiction that had not been considered by Murasaki Shikibu.
It is obvious that the authors of the later fiction were not only
thoroughly acquainted with The Tale of Genii but imitated it without
constraint. They also shared the tacit assumption of Murasaki Shikibu
that the only place worthy of being depicted in a monogatari was the
court; hardly a glance was given at life elsewhere in the capital, much
less elsewhere in Japan. Again, the central characters of the monogatari,
male and female alike, were almost inevitably described in terms of
their incomparable beauty, recalling Genji and his ladies. Mundane
problems (such as those relating to poverty) were rarely touched on, and
were never considered important enough to be treated as a central cause
of unhappiness.
The world portrayed by Murasaki Shikibu was not exactly like the
Heian court of her day, as we have seen, but it was not altogether remote
either; and the last third of her book describes a society that fairly closely
resembles the court life of the time as we know it from other accounts.
Monogatari written during the latter part of the eleventh and early part
of the twelfth century also reflected their times, unconsciously perhaps,
especially the changes in the morals and in the way of life of the
 Early and Heian Literature
courtiers-what may, for want of a more precise term, be described as
the decadence of the aristocracy.
The courtly fiction composed after The Tale of Genii changed in
nature even more conspicuously in the middle of the twelfth century,
when a series of aborted coups and other military uprisings shook the
foundations of the court, depriving the nobles of political power and
the means to lead the lives ofluxury described in earlier literature. These
uprisings would be treated in a series of gunki monogatari (martial tales),
but the writers of court fiction, disdaining to write about the changes
brought about by the shift of power from the aristocracy to the military,
continued to write monogatari in the traditional manner, as if nothing
had happened. The variety of fiction composed from the late Heian
period well into the Kamakura period is known as giko monogatari,
meaning "archaic fiction." Unlike the courtly fiction of the post-Genii
era, the giko monogatari were set in the past, during the happy days
when the court was the undisputed center of Japanese culture, and they
were written not in the language of their own time but in close imitation
of the language of the earlier fiction, only inadvertently revealing the
changes that had occurred over the years in Japanese speech. The giko
monogatari, though they resemble in many ways the fiction composed
after The Tale of Genii, will therefore be treated in a later chapter.
It is easy to find instances of direct borrowing from The Tale of
Genii in the later fiction. An obvious example of this tendency occurs
in Torikacbaya Monogatari (If I Could Only Change Them),' where we
are told of a certain prince, a man of great religious devotion, who lives
in Uji with his two daughters. This description also exactly fits Prince
Hachi in the "Hashihime" (Lady of the Bridge) chapter of The Tale of
Genii. It was not essential to the plot of If I Could Only Change Them
for the hero to encounter in Uji a prince with two daughters (as opposed,
say, to a prince with three daughters who lived near Lake Biwa), but
the author undoubtedly expected that readers would accept this bor-
rowing from The Tale of Genii in the spirit of honka-dori, the practice
of waka poets of borrowing material from the poems of their
predecessors.
There can hardly be any disputing the accepted opinion that The
Tale of Genii is incomparably superior to all other examples of court
fiction, and the influence of this towering masterpiece was virtually
inescapable; but reading the later works it soon becomes clear that the
writers were trying in different ways to create something distinctive in
their subject matter or their tone even if they could not hope to surpass
the literary quality of The Tale of Genii. For example, the beauty of
Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Gen j i

Prince Genii, repeatedly extolled by Murasaki Shikibu, created a model

for the heroes of the later fiction, almost always described in terms not
of their skill in running the country, but of their looks. However, the
authors of the later court fiction, not content merely with praising the
faces of their heroes, insisted that these men were radiantly lovely,
sometimes so beautiful that they could easily be mistaken for women.
From this it was a short step (which various authors took) to works of
fiction in which the sexes were virtually interchangeable. The transves-
tism in If I Could Only Change Them, the sole claim of the work to our
attention, is a grotesque exaggeration of an element present in The Tale
of Genji, but the quantitative difference has become qualitative. Beauty
is by no means an inevitable attribute of a hero: it is uncommon to
encounter a beautiful man in a European novel, and in Japan neither
the martial tales of the thirteenth century nor the much later novels of
Saikaku and his successors devoted much attention to the physical ap-
pearance of their heroes. One can hardly imagine there would have been
such insistence on the beauty of the heroes in fiction of the later Heian
period had there not been the model of The Tale ofGenji, but the authors
of these works developed the theme in a manner that would have been
inconceivable to Murasaki Shikibu.
The later tales are not dated and their authors remain uncertain
despite the most painstaking tracing of the meager clues.' Works of
fiction were not printed before the seventeenth century, and though we
must lament the loss of many, it is a miracle that so many survived the
medieval warfare and the burning of libraries, some only in a single
manuscript.
Mumyo 205hi (Story Without a Name, c. 1200),4 the oldest work of
criticism of Japanese fiction, is cast in the form of a conversation among
various literary ladies about their favorite books. They all take it for
granted that The Tale of Genji is the supreme work of fiction. One of
them says,

The more I think of it, the more I am convinced that to have created
this Tale of Genji was such an extraordinary achievement it could
not have been accomplished without divine aid. I believe it was a
genuine miracle granted by the Buddha in response to the author's
prayers. Fiction composed ever since has obviously been very easy
to write. There is no reason why someone who had learned about
the art of fiction from Genji could not produce an even better book.
But, it seems to me, for Murasaki Shikibu to have created such a
work, when the only precedents she could consult were The Hollow
 Early and Heian Literature
Tree, The Bamboo Cutter, and Sumiyoshi, was not the achievement
of a mere human being.'

Although the ladies agreed that it should be easy for someone to

create a work that was even better than The Tale of Genji by skillfully
borrowing its techniques and materials, they clearly did not believe that
any later tale was in fact superior.

THE TALE OF SAGOROMO

The work to which the ladies of Story Without a Name gave the most
attention among those composed after The Tale of Genji was Sagoromo
Monogatari (The Tale of Sagoromo). One lady, asked to state her likes
and dislikes among the tales she had read, replied, "I think The Tale
of Sagoromo is next best to Genji. From the opening words, 'We regret
the passing of the spring of youth," the language is somehow charming,
but although it maintains a wonderfully aristocratic manner,' nothing
strikes especially deep into one's heart. On the contrary, there are many
things in the book that might better not have been there at all."! This
mixed praise is followed by a more favorable evaluation of various scenes
in the work; but the section of Story Without a Name devoted to The
Tale of Sagoromo ends with sharp disapproval of the instances of su-
pernatural intervention, and with condemnation of the resolution of the
tale, the ascension to the throne of the hero, Sagoromo.
The lady is remarkably astute in her analysis of the faults of The
Tale of Sagoromo-its failure to strike deeply into the reader's heart,
the various passages that are unnecessary to the development of either
the plot or the characters, the implausibility of the intervention of a
divine being in a work that is otherwise realistic, and the unconvincing
oracle that leads to Sagoromo's becoming the emperor; but her reasons
for ranking The Tale of Sagoromo second only to The Tale of Genji are
disappointingly brief and uninformative. The judgment nevertheless is
basically sound: with the exception of Yoru no Nezame (Wakefulness at
Night), the work the ladies rated next highest in order of excellence,
The Tale of Sagoromo is the finest example of fiction in the tradition of
The Tale of Genji.
The authorship of The Tale of Sagoromo is nowhere mentioned in
contemporary writings. Fujiwara Teika, writing more than a century
later, expressed the belief that it was the work of a court lady, a daughter
of Minamoto no Yorikuni known by her title of Senji,? who died in
Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Genji

1092 at an advanced age.'? This attribution is generally accepted today,

and internal evidence suggests that the work was probably written about
1080. One other monogatari" and four poems in imperially sponsored
collections are also credited to Senji, and we know that she was in the
service of Princess Baishi (1039-1096), the fourth daughter of the Em-
peror Suzaku. Baishi was the high priestess at Ise from 1046 to 1058,
but later took orders as a Buddhist nun; perhaps her influence explains
the striking combination of Shinto and Buddhist elements in The Tale
of Sagoromo. The work is little read today except by specialists in Heian
literature, but for many years it enjoyed great popularity, as we can
infer from the more than a hundred manuscripts that have been pre-
served, each with its complement of textual variants.
The Tale of Sagoromo is perhaps the first extended work of Japanese
fiction to have been conceived from the outset as a single, unified story."
The three love affairs that make up the bulk of the work are related
more or less independently, but the reader does not get the impression
that chapters, unanticipated when the work was begun, were added in
response to the demands of readers or to a deepening understanding of
the materials on the author's part. Although most manuscripts divide
The Tale of Sagoromo into four books, each with an elegantly written
introductory section, it is from beginning to end an uninterrupted ac-
count of ten years in the life of Sagoromo, a prince of the highest rank
(the son of the kampaku and the nephew of the emperor). He is blessed
with extraordinary beauty and intelligence, as the author frequently
reminds us, but to the end is unsuccessful in his love for his cousin,
Princess Oenji." Other loves or worldly honors, even becoming emperor,
give him no pleasure because of this frustration, and as his despair
accumulates, his thoughts turn incessantly to "leaving the world" as a
Buddhist priest. The work concludes as Sagoromo gazes out over an
autumn garden in the deepening twilight, and wonders about the nature
of the karma that has caused his life in the present world to be so
unsatisfying.
The Tale ofSagoromo opens with the quotation from Po Chu-i praised
by the lady of Story Without a Name, then abruptly plunges into an
account of Sagoromo's secret love for Princess Genji without identifying
by name either Sagoromo or his beloved. After a few pages the story
begins again, this time in a more conventional manner, suggesting (de-
spite the evidence of Story Without a Name) that the present opening
may represent a corruption in the text. The second opening is also rather
unusual because it sets the story in recent years (kono koro], though
monogatari generally were set in some vague but distant past. There
52 0 Early and Heian Literature

follows a description of Sagoromo's immediate ancestry. His father, the

kampaku, was of impeccable imperial birth, a brother of the present
emperor, but he had fallen from the rank of prince and was now a
commoner. All the same, he lived in the utmost splendor with his three
wives, one the younger sister of the former emperor, the second the
daughter of the present prime minister, and the third the younger sister
of an empress. His greatest treasure was his only son, born to his favorite
wife, the emperor's sister. This son, referred to in the course of the work
by his various titles rather than by his name, is otherwise known by the
nickname Sagoromo (garment), derived from the last word of a poem
he composes:

trotro nt I refuse to wear

kasanete wa kiji Layered robes of many hues;
hito shirezu At night I shall wear
omoisumeteshi The garment my love first dyed
yo wa sagoromo" When not a soul was aware.

The meaning of the poem is that Sagoromo intends to be true to Princess

Genji, his first love, though other women may offer themselves.
After introducing Sagoromo's parents, the narrative moves on to
Sagoromo himself, now in his eighteenth year. He is of such flawless
beauty and so wondrously talented that his parents fear an early death
may await him. Their fears seem confirmed when, one night at the
palace, he is asked by the emperor to play the flute. His notes seem to
echo to the heavens, and everyone from the emperor down to the lowliest
servant is moved to tears. Lightning flashes and music is heard from
the sky, harmonizing with the sound of Sagororno's flute. The music
comes closer, and a purple cloud descends bearing a wondrously beautiful
child, who catches hold of Sagoromo's sleeve to pull him up into the
sky. Sagoromo makes no effort to resist, but the emperor, desolate at
the thought of losing Sagoromo, distraughtly clings to him. Sagoromo's
unsuccessful love for Princess Genii has deprived him of all attachment
to this world, but when he sees the emperor desperately tugging at his
sleeve and thinks of how forlorn his parents will be if he leaves them,
he sadly refuses to go, composing a poem in Chinese to explain his
feelings. Now it is the turn of the child, none other than the god of
music Amewakamiko, to weep in disappointment.
The emperor, portrayed with a realism that contrasts with the fantasy
of the scene, feels he must do something to overcome Sagoromo's lack
of attachment to this world. He knows Sagoromo well enough to realize
Co u rt Iy Fiet ion Aft e r The Tal e 0 f G en j i 52 1

that promoting him to high office will have no effect, so he decides to

offer him his most precious possession, his beloved daughter, the Second
Princess." Sagoromo cannot openly refuse this incomparable gift, but
he is prevented by love for the Princess Genji from accepting, and gives
an ambiguous answer. His strange romance with the Second Princess
is the subject of the second of the four books of The Tale of Sagoromo.
The criticisms directed by the lady in Story Without a Name against
this and similar interventions of the supernatural in The Tale ofSagoromo
were entirely apt. The reader is willing to accept the supernatural in a
fairy tale like The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, but this work is otherwise
so realistically plotted-even more so than The Tale of Genji-that the
miracle is an intrusion. The naturalistic, worldly aspects of the novel
are found most conspicuously in the conversations; each character seems
to speak an appropriate idiom, and there are flashes of excitement,
irritation, and even outright anger in the expression, as well as the more
usual bittersweet regret.
The reactions of Sagoromo's parents to the miracle are at once
characteristic and touchingly human. Sagoromo's father is dismayed,
not proud, that his son should have been given so signal a mark of
divine recognition: "He was not in the least happy that his son possessed
such an excess of talents."16 His mother, worried by Sagoromo's lateness
in returning home after the concert in the palace, herself prepares and
serves a meal when he at last gets back, urging him to eat." This is a
touch of startling realism for a court romance: it would be inconceivable
that any of the ladies in The Tale of Genji would have prepared a meal.
It is difficult to visualize a woman dressed in twelve layers of robes
preparing food in the kitchen, but this glimpse of the sister of an emperor,
worrying about her son in the manner of mothers of all times and places,
is undeniably appealing. Somewhat later in the story there is a charming
scene between Sagoromo and his mother in which, during the exchange
of casual, rather witty remarks that suggest a real mother and son, he
hints that his thinness, about which the mother worries, is not caused
by a loss of appetite induced by the summer heat but by hopeless love."
Sagoromo's unsuccessful courtship of Princess Genji provides the
framework for the entire story, but he is involved with other women
who distract him, at least momentarily, from his grief. The first is with
the daughter of a middle counselor and commandant of the Dazaifu
headquarters, a man of consequence but by no means of the highest
birth. One night Sagoromo catches a glimpse of a priest through the
window of a carriage and notices that there seems also to be a woman
inside." His suspicions are aroused and he sends men to investigate.
52 2 Early and Heian Literature

The priest runs away when they question him, and a page informs the
men that the priest has abducted a woman. Not knowing what to do
with the woman, barely visible in the dark, Sagoromo offers to take her
to his palace for the night. She makes no reply. He then asks if she was
accompanying the priest by choice; if so, he will leave her where she is.
The woman only weeps for an answer. Unable to elicit a word from
her, Sagoromo asks with a touch of exasperation, "I take it then that
you have no objection if I leave you here?" She at length controls her
tears long enough to inform him where she lives.
The woman (known as Asukai, from the place-name in a poem she
composes) much resembles Yugao in her inarticulateness and in the awe
she feels toward her unknown rescuer, but the circumstances of Sago-
romo's rescue of Asukai are far more sinister than those of Genji's first
meeting with Yugao, Indeed, one can hardly imagine anything so violent
in The Tale of Genji as a woman being abducted by a lecherous priest,
a reflection perhaps of a deterioration in the morals of Heian society.
Sagoromo's motives in rescuing Asukai are at first disinterested, but
gradually he notices her unusual beauty and he feels a sudden, unex-
pected love for the little creature huddled in terror in her corner of the
carriage. In the usual manner, he ascribes these feelings (and, indeed,
the whole incident) to causes in a previous existence. But at his first
words of endearment she shrinks from him and even tries to leave the
carriage. Sagoromo, irritated, asks, "Why can't you even answer my
questions? If you're glad I'm seeing you home, you might at least invite
me to stay. You're most exasperating." She responds at last with this
poem:

tomare tomo I can't possibly

e koso iwarene Invite you even to stay:
Asultai ni In Asukai
yadori hatsubeki We have no lodgings worthy
kage shi nakarcba" Of one who would spend the night.

Despite her objections, he not only sees her home but spends the night
with her, without revealing his identity.
At this point there is a flashback, an unusual narrative device for
this time, that reveals who Asukai was and how it happened that she
and the priest were in the same carriage. After the death of Asukai's
parents she was left in the care of a menoto, a woman who had at one
time been Asukai's wet nurse but had remained in the household as a
Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Genji 52]

governess, a person of some importance." Deprived of the financial

support of Asukai's family, the menoto asked a priest of the Ninna-ji
to look after the girl, not anticipating he would be tempted into abduct-
ing her.
Now that the priest has been discredited, the menoto does not know
where to turn. The mysterious lover only adds to her problems. She
supposes from their disguise that Sagoromo and his escorts must be
from the police (kebiishi) and complains to Asukai, "Even the maids
who help me once in a while are so frightened that of late they haven't
come at all. It's most annoying. For all I know, he may be a great noble
and a splendid gentleman of the highest rank, but he's not likely to help
you, miss. I am old, and it doesn't matter what happens to me. Some-
body's invited me to the north, and I'd been thinking I would go there.
But when I try to think of who I can ask to look after you when I'm
not here, I realize what an encumbrance you are!"
The menoto's remarks have an earthiness that suggests her plebeian
background, and a comical quality one does not find in The Tale of
Genji, where even the menoto speak the language and share the attitudes
of the women they serve. Asukai, bursting into tears, declares that she
will go wherever the menoto goes. The menoto's irritation gives way
momentarily to pity for the helpless girl, but she has no thought of
sacrificing herself. She thinks, "I wonder if Asukai would be willing to
go as a bride for some fourth-class officer in the depths of Michinoku
province?"22 In these and similar remarks the menoto reveals a nature
that would not be out of place in the fiction of Saikaku or even in a
modern novel.
The menoto, realizing at last how deeply Asukai has fallen in love
with Sagoromo (though she still has no idea of his identity), suggests
that Asukai remain in the capital when she goes to the north, but Asukai
refuses, threatening to kill herself if she is deprived of the only person
she can trust. Sagoromo during his frequent visits constantly assures her
of his undying love, but Asukai has trouble believing his words.
As if to confirm her doubts, this scene between Asukai and the
menoto is followed by one in which Sagoromo first reveals his love to
Princess Genii. Sagoromo's unhappy love for Princess Genii has a com-
plication that distinguishes it from other Heian court tales: he is able
to see her freely." Although they are cousins, a relationship distant
enough to require a woman normally to keep her face shielded from
his gaze, Princess Genii was orphaned as an infant, and raised by Sa-
goromo's parents. She therefore treats Sagoromo as a real brother and
 Early and Heian Literature

does not bother to hide behind curtains at his approach. He-and we-
see her more closely than the heroines of other monogatari, as the
following passage may suggest:

The summer heat was at its most unbearable now and Sagoromo,
no less than the "water-loving bird,'?' burned with a longing that
left no room in his heart for anything else, though no one suspected
it. About noon one day, visiting the apartments of Princess Genji,
he found her dressed in a thin, white unlined robe, reading something
written on bright red paper. Her skin seemed translucent, even
whiter than her robe, and the hair framing her face spilled over
abundantly, the tips twining with the cascade of her back hair. The
trimmed ends of her thick locks suggested they might continue to
grow for some years to come, though her hair was already so abun-
dant there seemed no room for more; its flow and grace were quite
entrancing. The beautiful lines of her body and her arms, visible at
gaps in her tresses through a garment that did not fully conceal her
form, were so little like those of other women that Sagoromo thought,
"I wonder if my love is playing tricks with my eyes?" He gazed
at her, his heart pounding, but managed to control his emotions
and to ask in a casual manner, "What can you be reading in this
terrible heat?"
"A book of pictures the First Princess gave me," she replied. He
was dazzled by the bright glow of her face in the shadeless glare of
the sun. Her face was somewhat flushed, and the look in her eyes
as she avoided his glance, gracefully holding the book to her face
as if to protect it from the sun, was quite indescribable. He was all
but moved to tears. To distract himself from such thoughts he
examined the pictures.
"These illustrations of Narihira's diary" really capture the spirit,"
he said, feeling somehow that he and Narihira shared much the
same emotions. So many of the pictures moved him that finally he
could control himself no longer. He leaned close to her and asked,
"What do you think of this one?" As he pointed, he murmured a
poem:

yoshi saraba Well, then, I'll be plain-

mubashi no ato u/o Examine these instances
tazune miyo From the distant past!
ware no mt mayou Am I the only one who's
koi no michi ka u/a Wandered on the path of love?
Co u rt Iy Fie t ion Aft e r The T a leo f G e n j i

Hardly had he uttered these words than tears spilled from his
eyes. The princess thought this was most peculiar, only for him to
take her hand. Though he pressed his sleeve to his face, it seemed
too frail a barrier to hold back the tears. The princess, greatly shocked
and even afraid, bent her head to weep over the very arm that he
was holding. She looked as if she were held captive by some un-
speakable monster. His thoughts became all the more turbulent, but
he felt incapable of revealing even the smallest part of all that had
accumulated in his heart; he could only collapse in tears.
He said, "It was while I was still a child that I first fell in love
with you. If I should go to my grave without once telling you all
the feelings that have built up within me over the years, I am sure
that such silence would do neither of us any good in the world to
come. That is why I have blurted out my thoughts, shocking though
they are. It would seem from these pictures here that in the past,
too, there were men who suffered as I do from a love that was not
permitted them." You nonetheless seem to look on me with horror,
and this gives me the greatest pain."

kaku bakari Do you wonder if

omoikogarcte I have spent years in extreme
toshi fu to ya Yearning, as I say?
Muro no Yashima no Ask the smoke that rises up
keburi ni mo toe From Muro no Yashima."

The description of Princess Genji is more sensual than the accounts

of beautiful women one finds in earlier fiction. Not only is Sagoromo
able to see her face plainly in the glaring light of the summer sun, but
her thin garment gives him tantalizing glimpses of the lines of her body.
Heian ladies were normally depicted in literature and art as no more
than a head and a hank of hair emerging from a tent of many-layered
robes. It is disappointing that nothing is said, for example, about the
beauty of the eyes, always depicted in paintings of the time as long and
narrow, a clear mark of aesthetic preference; but in the descriptions of
women in this and later monogatari praise is bestowed exclusively on
the hair, not the eyes, the nose, or the mouth. Surely some court ladies,
even of the highest birth, had eyes that were dis pleasingly round, and
the exquisite narrowness of the heroine's eyes should have been worthy
of comment; but only if there were some departure from the ideal (such
as the red-tipped nose of Suetsumuhana in The Tale of Genji) would
such features be noted.
 Early and Heian Literature
Princess Genji remains obdurate to Sagoromo's professions of love
to the very end, but he does not forget her, even while he is diverting
himself elsewhere. This attachment to the one woman who resists his
charms may suggest the love of Genji for Fujitsubo in The Tale ofGenji,
but Princess Genji rejects Sagoromo not out of fear of hurting her
husband (she is unmarried) but simply because she is unable to think
of this man, whom she has respected as an elder brother, as her lover.
There is no suggestion, as in the case of Fujitsubo, that she really loves
Sagoromo; instead, her response to his confession is that she bewails the
fact that she lost her parents when a small child and, being deprived of
their guidance and protection, has had to endure humiliation." It con-
cludes with Princess Genji's outraged exclamation that she hopes she
will never again hear such talk from Sagoromo. When he returns later
to her apartment, he finds not only the princess but his mother, who
challenges him to a game of go. As they play, he darts glances at the
princess, and again her beauty dazzles him, only for him to recall with
regret and embarrassment his promises to Asukai.
That night in the moonlight Sagoromo thinks of Asukai. She is
probably gazing at the moon, her shutters still open, hoping he will
visit. He has absolutely no doubt about her love. He thinks of her with
affection, but his affection does not blind him to the fact that she is in
no way a match for Princess Genji. Still, he recognizes, she is easier to
get along with and her helplessness is appealing. Then a new thought
strikes him: if Princess Genji continues to refuse him but this woman
succeeds in consoling him, she may prove to be a hindrance to salvation
by preventing him from renouncing worldly ties and becoming a priest.
At such moments of calm calculation, rare if not unique in Heian
literature, Sagoromo is not endearing.
The rest of the first book of The Tale of Sagoromo is devoted mainly
to the efforts of the menoto to get Asukai married to a young official
named Shikibu no Tayu" who has fallen in love with Asukai from
having once caught a glimpse of her. Asukai has by this time guessed
Sagoromo's identity, and she also discovers she is pregnant. Tayu, who
has just been appointed to a post in Tsukushi (Kyushu), is desperately
eager to take Asukai with him as his bride. He knows that she has had
an affair with a high-ranking aristocrat (though not that her lover is
Sagoromo), but this does not disturb him. He tells the menoto, "It would
be better for her if she looked into my offer, rather than remain the
kept woman of some little noble."30 The menoto determines to help
Tayu realize his ambition.
The crucial element in the menoto's plan is getting Asukai out of
Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Genji 527
her house and into a carriage that will take her willy-nilly to Tayu. The
menoto invents a reason why Asukai must temporarily move. Asukai
protests that Sagoromo will not be able to find her if she moves, but
the menoto counters that if he really loves her he will find out where
she has gone and follow her." The menoto, employing one ruse after
another, finally succeeds in getting Asukai into a carriage.
Asukai soon realizes that she has been deceived, and before long she
is moved from the carriage to a boat where a man lies down beside her.
Tayu is full of self-confidence. Even the highest-born families want
him as a son-in-law, and no woman has ever disliked him. He urges
Asukai to do what he asks of her and not make a fuss. He repeats his
sneering remarks about insignificant little nobles, and boasts about
the lord he serves-none other than Sagoromo, though he does not
name him."
Sagoromo has had a nightmare in which he saw Asukai throw herself
into the sea, but he is prevented by a directional taboo from going to
see her. When at last he goes it is too late; she is already on her way
to Tsukushi. He is desolate to think he has lost her, and blames himself.
However, he does not allow grief to lower his standards; his remem-
brances of Asukai are excessively objective: "She was not incomparable
in every way, not my ideal. She was just sweet and lovable, and 1 never
expected to lose her so suddenly."33
Asukai, aboard ship, waits for a chance to jump into the water, but
she is closely guarded. Rebuffed by Asukai, Tayu finds a more ap-
proachable lady aboard ship. The menoto, who has been royally treated
by Tayu as long as he thought his suit was going well, is angry with
Asukai. She declares, "I wonder if there is anyone else in the world as
childish and as lacking in understanding as yoU."34 She storms off. The
moment for which Asukai has waited has come. She prepares to throw
herself into the sea. Her thoughts are only of Sagoromo: "I wonder
where he is now and what he is doing. Perhaps he has gone to bed, not
having the least idea of what 1 am about to do. But even if he has, if
he wakes at night, I'm sure he will think again of me."" The book
concludes as Asukai composes a last poem and looks in terror at the sea
into which she is about to throw herself.
1 have related at length the plot of the first book of The Tale of
Sagoromo in order to demonstrate that, contrary to the general assump-
tion, it is not merely a patchwork of elements derived from The Tale
of Genji. The plot is carefully constructed and better organized than
that of The Tale of Genji, and the contrasting shifts of scene are partic-
ularly effective. The characters are restricted, and each (with the un-
 Early and Heian Literature

fortunate exception of Sagoromo) is distinctly drawn. It is possible to

find in Fujitsubo the model for the inaccessible Princess Genji, though
the two women are quite dissimilar; and the other resemblances dis-
covered between characters in the two works often seem to be products
of the tacit conviction that The Tale ofSagoromo could not but be derived
from The Tale of Genii (or, at any rate, from some monogatari written
earlier in the Heian period)."
The most memorable characters in The Tale of Sagoromo are un-
sympathetic. The menoto is not simply a mischievous matchmaker but
an evil woman whose momentary feelings of sympathy for Asukai do
not last long. There is certainly no model for the menoto in The Tale
of Genii, and the closest example of an evil woman, the stepmother in
The Tale of Ochikubo, is hardly more than a cartoon.
Shikibu no Tayu is another disagreeable character, but there is humor
in the portrayal. Once he finally realizes his desires and is actually lying
beside Asukai he indulges in self-advertisement, presumably in order
to persuade her how lucky she is to have found such a splendid man.
A comic interlude (which occurs just before Asukai is abducted)
describes Sagoromo's visit to the unsophisticated Princess Imahime. She
is a foolish young woman, but she is neither vulgar like the Lady of
Omi nor hopelessly out of touch with the times like Suetsumuhana. The
note of coarseness in this section comes not from Imahime herself but
from the ladies of her entourage who gape at Sagoromo, make inde-
corous comments, and so on. One gets the momentary impression that
this was what most court ladies of the time were really like, though
such women do not appear in The Tale of Genii or other works of the
high court tradition.
The resemblances between Sagoromo and Kaoru have often been
pointed out. Kaoru was perhaps the figure in The Tale of Genii who
appealed most to the readers and authors of the later monogatari, and
it is not surprising that some of his characteristics should be found in
the hero of The Tale of Sagoromo. He and Sagoromo are alike in their
failure to win the woman they love most, and various other resemblances
exist, but they are unalike in the most crucial respect: Kaoru is a mem-
orable creation, a man of complex character who is so tormented by the
secret of his birth that he is incapable of achieving even momentary
happiness, but Sagoromo is hardly more than an instrument of the plot
of The Tale of Sagoromo. If Sagoromo had been drawn as effectively as
the surrounding characters this would be a monument of Heian
literature.
Co u rt Iy Fie t ion Aft e r The T a leo f G e n j i

Of the four books of The Tale of Sagoromo, the first is the best. The
second is concerned chiefly with Sagoromo's secret affair with the Second
Princess, a woman he could have married and possessed with the ap-
proval of the emperor and the whole court. The theme is intriguing,
but the plot becomes unwieldy when the empress, learning of the preg-
nancy of her daughter by an unknown man, decides the only way to
avoid disgrace is to pretend that the baby about to be born is her own.
Even amid such improbable plot developments there are passages of
startling directness. When, for example, Sagoromo learns for the first
time that the Second Princess's baby is his, he "blushes violently,"? a
reaction one could hardly imagine of any of the men in The Tale of
Genji. The third and fourth books are built around two oracles, one
that forbids Princess Genji to take Buddhist orders (and thereby leads
to her becoming the high priestess at the Shinto shrine of Ise), and the
second that decrees Sagoromo must become the emperor after the direct
succession to the throne has been broken. These books are inferior to
the first, but the account of the chilly marriage between Sagoromo and
Princess Ippon (likened unconvincingly by the critics to Genji's marriage
to Aoi) is excellently evoked.
The style of The Tale of Sagoromo was much admired. Like other
monogatari of the Heian period, the text is written mainly in kana with
only occasional words of Chinese origin written in kanji, particularly
words referring to Buddhism. The conversations sometimes seem re-
markably close to colloquial speech, and there are even a few coarse
words," but little else distinguishes the language from that written by
Murasaki Shikibu sixty or seventy years earlier. Among the features it
shares with The Tale of Genji are the siishiji, the passages in which the
author directly addresses the reader. The Tale of Genji is referred to
several times, as a work of fact rather than fiction, and mention is also
made of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, The Tale of the Hollow Tree,
and other monogatari, emphasizing the statement made near the opening
of the work that this was a story of more recent times than the others.
The more than two hundred poems in the text were highly rated
by Fujiwara Teika, and at the time of the composition of the Shin
Kokinshii the work was considered to be no less essential an object of
study for aspiring poets than The Tale of Genji," The poetry forms an
integral element of the style, epitomizing the action and supplying leit-
motivs for the different persons of the book. In addition to the original
poems, there are many quoted from the Kokinshii, the Gosenshii, and
other official and private collections. The Tale of Sagoromo has a profes-
53° Early and Heian Literature

sional competence that is still impressive, but the author could not rise
to the supreme test of creating a hero worthy to stand at the side of
Prince Genji.

WAKEFULNESS AT NIGHT

The monogatari next most highly praised by the ladies of Story Without
a Name was Yom no Nezame" (Wakefulness at Night). The title is a
reference to the opening sentence of the work: "Much have I seen of
the varied and devious ways of love, but the romance of the lonely,
wakeful ones, bound by deep love yet doomed to suffer, seems the
strangest of all."!' The word nezame (wakeful) suggests the woman
whose anxiety over not being able to meet her lover causes her to wake
at night and lie sleepless. It was used in this work also as a kind of
nickname for the heroine, whose many worries kept her from sleeping
soundly.
Fujiwara Teika attributed this monogatari to the daughter of Taka-
sue, known chiefly for The Sarashina Diary:" It is the custom of modern
scholars to reject such attributions when unsupported by other evidence,
but Teika's opinion has been cautiously revived in recent years." If there
is little evidence to support the theory, there is equally little reason for
rejection." In any case, it is hard to avoid the impression that it was
written by a woman, and it has been suggested, on the basis of a study
of known facts of the life of the daughter of Takasue, that the work
possesses the features of an autobiographical novel." Most authorities
believe that Wakefulness at Night was written between 1045 and ro68,
though the composition is placed considerably later by others."
The completed work, consisting of four parts, was originally perhaps
half the length of The Tale of Genji, but at some point the second and
fourth parts were lost and less than half survives. 47 It is possible to
reconstruct the general outlines of the work from later adaptations, but
much has been irretrievably lost, and discussion of Wakefulness at Night
can only properly be made of the two books that remain.
The critical attention bestowed on Wakefulness at Night by Story
Without a Name is more satisfying than its treatment of The Tale of
Sagoromo, though the author once again seems to enjoy finding fault
more than bestowing praise. The section devoted to the work opens,

There is nothing specially impressive about Wakefulness at Night,

and no scenes that strike one as being particularly remarkable, but
Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Genji 53 1

from the outset it describes just one person, unwaveringly depicting

that person in a most profoundly affecting manner. One can easily
imagine what intense feelings inspired the author to create so rare
and deeply moving a work."

The accounts of specific parts of the work that were praised or

dispraised by the ladies of Story Without a Name are valuable because
they preserve poems and other excerpts that would otherwise have been
lost, but more important than the particulars of their criticism is the
high overall ranking they give to Wakefulness at Night and their rec-
ognition that the work is devoted to only one person, the heroine,
Nezame. Although earlier monogatari, including The Tale ofthe Bamboo
Cutter and The Tale of Ochileubo, have a woman as the central character,
this is the first work of fiction to deal in a mature manner with a
woman's thoughts and emotions. Again, unlike most earlier monogatari,
Wakefulness at Night contains very little action, contrasting notably with
The Tale of Sagoromo in which the author, though rarely entering into
the thoughts of the characters, gives a full account of their actions. The
style is also reminiscent of the diaries of the court ladies, especially The
Sarashina Diary. During the course of the narration the names of several
historical emperors are mentioned, in this way setting the events about
a hundred years before the time of composition, but no attempt was
made to contrast the past and the present. Probably the author was
merely following the tradition of setting monogatari in the past.
The story is an unbroken account of events in the life of Nezame,
especially those relating to her love for the high-ranking courtier Nai-
daijin. At the opening of the work we are told a little about her family
background. Nezame was the daughter of an imperial prince who had
relinquished his position in order to serve as a minister. He had four
children, and after the death of both his wives he decided not to remarry
but to devote himself entirely to their education. His favorite among
the children was Nezame, his second daughter, who was the most gifted,
especially in music. When she has learned all her father can teach her
about playing the biwa, a celestial being appears in a dream on the night
of the harvest moon to teach her even more difficult works. He reappears
in a dream on the same night of the next year; after teaching her five
more pieces, he announces that this is his last visit, and predicts that
the life of so unusual a person as Nezame will be filled with grief and
anxiety, a prophecy that proves to be all too true.
The celestial being's music lessons may recall the intervention of the
supernatural child in The Tale of Sagoromo, and both occur early in the
532 Early and Heian Literature

work, but he appears in Nezame's dreams only, not before the assembled
court." Far from sounding a jarring note of unreality, this prodigy serves
to emphasize the internal nature of the work.
The main action of Wakefulness at Night begins with an account of
the search of Nezame's father for a suitable son-in-law for Oigimi, his
older daughter. He chooses Naidaijin, a man of such outstanding birth,
position, and talents that the father regrets only that the custom of
daughters' marrying in order of age prevents him from giving Nezame,
his second daughter, to such a paragon. Preparations for the wedding
are soon under way, but (because this is astrologically an unlucky year
for her) Nezame is sent to a house in the south of the capital, for fear
that her presence may exert an unfortunate influence on the marriage.
One moonlit night, shortly before the wedding, Naidaijin goes to
visit his old nurse in the suburbs and hears from a nearby house the
sounds of music so ravishingly played that he peeps into the house from
a hiding place in a bamboo grove. He sees a woman of surpassing beauty
with whom he instantly falls in love. The house is so far from the section
of the capital where the great nobles live that Naidaijin not unreasonably
supposes that the woman must belong to the lower ranks of the aris-
tocracy, fair game for someone like himself. He forces his way into
the house and succeeds in spending the night with Nezame, though she
is terrified of him and has no notion, even when he leaves, who he
might be.
The tragedy of the entire novel stems from this single rash act of
Naidaijin. His brief encounter with Nezame results in her becoming
pregnant; as so often in the fiction of this time, a single meeting leads
to the birth of a child. Before long he discovers that the beautiful woman
with whom he spent the night was none other than the sister of his
bride. It is too late to call off the wedding and, to protect Nezame from
gossip, she is sent off to Ishiyama under pretext of a serious illness to
have her baby there.
There events are related so realistically as indeed to suggest some
autobiographical element in the narration. Less realistic are the descrip-
tions of the beauty of N ezame, but even these passages are not as tedious
as in other monogatari, and hardly a word is said about Naidaijin's
looks. The work from the start is concerned mainly with the internal
meaning of the events related, and such descriptions as are found of
peerlessly beautiful women and their magnificent clothes were probably
a bow in the direction of monogatari tradition, rather than matters of
real concern to the author." There are surprisingly few descriptions of
nature.
Co u rt I y Fie t ion Aft e r The T a leo f G e n j i 533
The second part of the work is devoted largely to the account of
Nezarne's marriage. Although the emperor himself asks for her hand
(as a secondary consort), her father refuses, knowing that without proper
backing at court she will be at the mercy of the empress. The father
decides instead to marry Nezame to a middle-aged widower, who soon
becomes the regent. If this had been a different kind of novel, his action
might be interpreted as a sacrifice of Nezame to her father's greed for
wealth or power, but the father in fact chose altruistically, and the
marriage proves to be unusually happy. Shortly before the wedding,
however, Naidaijin again makes his way to Nezame, unable to bear the
thought of giving her up completely, and she yields to him once more,
and once more a baby is born of a single night's meeting; but the regent,
though fully aware the child is not his own, rears it with affection. One
is reminded of Tatiana and Prince Gremin in Eugene Onegin; marriage
to a much older man is not necessarily a disaster if the man shows
understanding and love. After the death of the regent and also of Nai-
daijin's wife, Nezame and Naidaijin are free to marry. He goes to her
confident that all obstacles have now been removed, only to meet with
an un imagined refusal from Nezame in a scene reminiscent of La Prin-
cesse de Cleves. The possibility of making such comparisons with mas-
terpieces of European literature is not in itself of great significance, but
(apart from The Tale of Genji) this is the first monogatari that suggests
comparisons of this kind."
The third part of Wakefulness at Night was apparently the best in
literary terms; its excellence explains why it (rather than the lost second
and fourth parts) survived, but the survival is puzzling in other terms.
Almost nothing happens during the course of perhaps two hundred
pages, and the few incidents are far less dramatic than those of The Tale
of Genji, let alone earlier monogatari. The appeal of this part of Wake-
fulness at Night for modern readers lies in the subjective and introspective
aspects of the narration. Each action, however small or trivial, elicits a
complex response from Nezame, Naidaijin, or, less often, the emperor.
The work has a curiously modern flavor that is strengthened by such
internally directed questions as: "What must her stepdaughters have
heard about her, what must they be thinking now?"; "What does he
really think? Surely he cannot help despising me"; or "What did it
matter now, he wondered, if everyone reproved him, if appearances
could not be saved?" The other face of the absence of action is the
sensitivity with which internal agitation is depicted.
The principal characters are complicated human beings who cannot
easily be classified in the conventional manner as either good or bad;
534 Early and Heian Literature
in general, they are good, but each has an ambiguous side that makes
us wonder at times if we really understand them, evidence of the author's
success in creating characters who are as self-contradictory as real human
beings. The one character who is prevailingly bad-meaning, hostile to
the interests of Nezame-is the dowager empress, but her machinations
are ultimately inspired by love for her daughter, the unhappy wife of
Naidaijin (whom he married after Nezame rejected him), and by her
frustration that this young woman is by no means as dazzling as Nezame.
The major characters are even more complex. Nezame loves Nai-
daijin, but never utters a word of affection, and seems passive or even
hostile when they are together. She sometimes has occasion to remember
the momentous circumstances of their first meeting, but her thoughts
dwell less on Naidaijin than on her late, devoted husband. (She recalls,
however, that "when her husband had stayed with her constantly, never
looking at another woman, she had found him too tedious. 'If only some
business would take him away,' she had thought at times.... But his
attention had never wavered. He had stayed by her side every mo-
ment.?") Unable to avow the depths of her feelings for Naidaijin, she
tells herself that if they were able to spend the rest of their lives together
"he would often cause me unhappiness and I am sure to be disillusioned
with him.?"
Naidaijin's love for Nezame is unconstrainedly expressed, though
sometimes with words of reproach. Every contact with Nezame-
whether a letter in her superb handwriting or the barest glimpse of her
profile in the obscurity of her curtained chamber-renews his passion,
but he is not entirely indifferent to his wife. He tells her, "You can be
sure that Nezame will never explicitly or openly become my dependent.
She dislikes me so intensely you need never fear that I will begin to
treat you carelessly.">' He talks in this manner to reassure the wife, but
he is not attempting to deceive her. Probably, while he is actually speak-
ing, he believes his own words.
Like many of the heroes of the Heian monogatari written after The
Tale of Genji, Naidaijin is in the tradition of Kaoru rather than of Genji.
He is more successful with the woman he loves than is Kaoru, but
seldom has the satisfaction of feeling that Nezame reciprocates his love.
Toward the end of the third part he becomes convinced that Nezame
is having an affair with the emperor, and he torments her with his
jealousy, though he realizes eventually that she is innocent.
The emperor, though by no means a prominent character, is perhaps
the most intriguing. At the opening of the third part he plots with the
dowager empress to get a glimpse of Nezame, whose beauty is celebrated
Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Genji 535

at the court though few women and even fewer men have ever seen
her face. He peeps at her from a hiding place, and one glance convinces
him that her loveliness is indeed unparalleled. Soon afterward he induces
the dowager empress to arrange a meeting, and this time he shows
himself before the unsuspecting Nezame, who successfully resists his
advances. Neither in this scene nor anywhere else in the work is it
suggested that the emperor is superior to ordinary men except in the
position he occupies. He is ruthless in his pursuit of Nezame and, despite
constant rebuffs that wound his pride as an emperor and as a lover, he
continues the pursuit, sending her letters in which he pours out his
disappointment in the strongest terms. We are told that "he even uttered
curses upon her."55
Frustrated in his attempt to win Nezame, the emperor takes charge
of her son Masako, a boy of eight or nine, and can scarcely be persuaded
to let him out of his sight." Masako is described (in the familiar Heian
manner) as looking as beautiful and graceful as a girl. The emperor is
attracted to him because he looks like his mother: this connection with
the woman he loves is so precious that, we are told, the emperor loses
interest in his wives and the other ladies around him: "The nights his
ladies attended him were far surpassed in number by nights spent with
the boy. Yet, no one dared utter a word of criticism or suggest he was
acting strangely."57
Everyone else in the novel, however, is obsessed with fear about
what people will think or, worse, what they will say. The words "rumor"
and "gossip" occur again and again. Most of the time the feared ru-
mormongers are faceless, unnamed members of the court society, but
they are dreaded even by persons as close to the throne as Nezame and
Naidaijin. Nezame is constantly worried lest her honor-one thinks of
the heroine of a play by Racine referring to rna gloire-be stained by
ugly rumors, and the fear of gossip limits the freedom of even the
emperor. In the small world of the court, where everyone knew everyone
(even if the women's faces were hidden) and the architecture provided
few places for privacy, secrets did not last long. Nezame dreads the
emperor's overtures, not because he is personally repulsive but because
she knows how quickly gossip will spread if she yields. The ladies of
most courts desired nothing more than to be favored by the monarch,
but here the high opinion of other members of the court was even more
important.
False rumors were no less a danger than rumors that originated in
what somebody actually saw or heard. When Naidaijin's wife is ill she
acts as if she is possessed by the living ghost of Nezame. It seems likely,
 Early and Heian Literature

as Naidaijin thinks, that she is only feigning possession in order to

discredit Nezame; but gossip soon reaches the ears of Nezame, who is
appalled to think people may believe she is capable of the malice of a
living ghost. Much of the third part of Wakefulness at Night is devoted
to an account of the despair the rumor produces in Nezame, especially
at the thought that Naidaijin may believe it. She reflects,

So he believes it. If such a spirit appeared and said such bizarre

things, would he hesitate to tell me about it if he did not think it
genuine? He seems to believe it is true. How he must wish to sever
completely all ties with me. In this case, his careful politeness is all
the more humiliating. If I thought that every time he is with his
wife my spirit flees from me and is with him at her side, I would
loathe myself. But is it possible I appeared before thernj "

Nezame's doubts concerning Naidaijin and the self-torture to which

she subjects herself are typical of the work and contribute to its specif-
ically modern quality, even though her reflections are occasioned by an
unmodern dread of being perhaps a "living ghost." Nezarne's fear is so
acute that she decides to "leave the world" and take orders as a Buddhist
nun, but in this, too, she is frustrated, first by Naidaijiri's intervention,
then by the discovery that she is once again carrying his child. The
prediction made long before by the heavenly being who appeared in
her dream, that she would know much suffering, has proven to be all
too true.
Wakefulness at Night is deeply affecting, even in its present truncated
state. The characters linger in the mind not by what they do but by
what they think, and in this sense it represents an advance as a novel
over The Tale of Genji, though it lacks that work's encompassing vision
of the court society and its richness of detail. It is novelistic also in the
resolutely prosaic style and in the comparative scarcity of poems. These
factors probably militated against its reputation in its own day but
contribute to the prevailing impression of modernity. It is an extraor-
dinary work, as close as the Heian storytellers ever came to creating
what even purists might call a novel.

59
THE HAMAMATSU MIDDLE COUNSELOR

The same postscript to Fujiwara Teika's manuscript of The Sarashina

Diary that identified the daughter of Takasue as the author of Wake-
Co u rt I y Fie t ion Aft e r The T a leo f G e n j i 537

fulness at Night also credited her with Hamamatsu Chiinagon Monogatari

(The Tale of the Hamamatsu Middle Counselor}." The title of the work,
as given by Teika and other early sources, was originally Mitsu no
Hamamatsu (The Pine on the Beach at Mitsu), derived from a poem by
Chiinagon, the hero:

hi no moto no The pine on the beach

Mitsu no hamamatsu At Mitsu in the country
koyoi koso Of the rising sun
ware u/o kourashi Tonight-it seems to miss me-
yume ni mietsure" I could see it in my dream."

Teika's attribution of the work has been bolstered in recent years

by comparative analysis of The Sarashina Diary and The Hamamatsu
Middle Counselor, especially the importance of dreams in both. Some
scholars are now reluctant to accept the daughter of Takasue as the
author of Wakefulness at Night, but hardly anyone doubts she wrote
HamamatsuP The dating of the two works divides the critics. Those
who believe she wrote both works opine that Wakefulness at Night came
earlier," but those who think she wrote only Hamamatsu are sure that
Wakefulness at Night was written much later. Judged in more subjective
terms than Japanese critics have been willing to employ, it is easier to
imagine the wonderfully sensitive author of The Sarashina Diary as the
author of the no less sensitive Wakefulness at Night than of the pedestrian
Hamamatsu but, obviously, the authorship and dating of both works
have yet to be determined.
Hamamatsu survives only in texts that lack the first chapter (or,
possibly, chapters). Until 1930 it also lacked the concluding chapter, but
two manuscripts were discovered at that time. Our knowledge of the
lost opening is derived (as so often) from the account in Story Without
a Name and from poems quoted elsewhere. We can gather that the
work began with the unhappiness of the hero, Chiinagon, over his
mother's hasty remarriage after his father's death. This sounds like
Hamlet, but there are no further resemblances. Chiinagon has a dream
revelation that his father has been reborn in China, and he decides to
travel there. At this point the surviving text begins.
A summary of the plot of Hamamatsu is likely to do it more than
justice. The prominence of dreams and reincarnation is intriguing; that
was what attracted Mishima Yukio to the work when he began to write
his final tetralogy, Hojo no Umi (The Sea of Fertility). However, the
narration unfortunately does not live up to the promise of the themes.
 Early and Heian Literature
Chunagon's voyage to China and the account of the great welcome he
receives on arrival are of interest if only because Heian court fiction
hardly ever ventured beyond the limits of the capital. The author seems
to have had little knowledge of China beyond the standard collections
of Chinese poetry and such works of Chinese art as had entered Japan,
but the exotic details probably appealed to readers of the time. Chunagon
has no trouble in finding the reincarnation of his father, the third son
of the Chinese emperor. Although this prince is only seven or eight
years old, Chunagon recognizes his father in his transformed state. More
important than the prince is his mother, called the empress from Ho-
yang-hsien. Chunagon eventually wins the heart of the empress and,
before he leaves China to return to Japan, she bears his child.
In the meantime, the entire Chinese court is captivated by Chunagon,
His poems in kanshi in particular are acclaimed. The greatest nobles
and the highest officials desire nothing more than to have Chunagon
meet their daughters; but Chunagon, who left a pregnant lady friend
in Japan, declares that he has not come all the way to China for a
romance. Such is his attitude until he meets the empress. She is incom-
parably beautiful, in fact exactly like a beautiful Japanese woman, and
he is moved to pledge his love. He later discovers that her mother was
Japanese, and her father (a former minister) has spent so much time
in Japan that he does not seem at all foreign to Chunagon when they
meet.
Shortly before Chunagon returns to Japan, the empress bears his
baby. He takes the infant back to Japan. The baby does not cry even
once during the long journey, persuading Chunagon that he must be
none other than a transformation of the Buddha himself. Chunagon
discovers the empress's mother in Yoshino, and (as we might have
predicted) has a romance with her daughter, Lady Yoshino, born of a
second marriage. Toward the end of the work Chunagon has a dream
in which the Chinese empress reveals that she has died and is now in
heaven. However, she reassures him, she will soon be reborn in Japan
as the daughter of Lady Yoshino. At the end of the book Chunagon
receives confirmation from China that the empress has died. He also
learns that the old emperor has left the world to become a priest and
his third son-the reincarnation of Chunagon's father-has been named
crown prince. At these tidings he dissolves in tears.
Hamamatsu also contains various subplots, most of them involved
with dreams and reincarnation. The author seems not to have been
disturbed by the complications in family relationships when, say, Chu-
nagon has a child by the mother of a boy who is actually his father in
Co u rt I y Fie t ion Aft e r The T a leo f G e n j i 539
a transformed state-but probably readers were not expected to pay
much attention to such details. Although a belief in reincarnation is
basic to Buddhism, it had never before been made the central theme of
an extended work of fiction, and must have intrigued readers for that
reason. The setting of the second (the present first) book in China also
lent exotic charm, though Chunagon, after initially being surprised by
everything he sees, soon realizes there are usually Japanese equivalents;
he reaches the conclusion that the two countries are basically the same.
If there are differences, they exist not in the material world but in the
natures of the people of the two countries: the Chinese are straightfor-
ward and honest, whereas the Japanese are more subtle and artistic.
Perhaps this was the impression that the author gained from comparing
Chinese and Japanese poetry.
Hamamatsu is disappointing as a novel, but it suggests some of the
complex feelings entertained by the Japanese toward China, the source
of so much of their culture. One recalls Kukai's account of his first
meeting with his teacher Hui-kuo who recognized as soon as he saw
the Japanese priest the disciple he had long awaited, a vessel copious
enough to hold the whole of the esoteric teachings. After his death, Hui-
kuo appeared in Kukai's dream and informed him that if he was reborn
in Japan, this time he would be Kukai's disciple." In a similar manner,
people at the Chinese court immediately recognize Chunagon's re-
markable qualities, even before he has had the opportunity to display
them, and we are informed at the end that his father's reincarnation
will ascend the Chinese throne.
Although the tone is by no means boastful, the implication is clear
that, despite its indebtedness to China, Japan is now in no way inferior.
The author seems also to have believed that, for all the attractions of
Chinese civilization, the best place for Japanese is Japan. At one point
in the narration a Chinese prince, supposing that Chunagon must be
tempted to remain in China, warns him that it is improper for a Japanese
to spend his whole life in China. This view was shared by the Japanese
priests who actually studied in China; much as they revered the learning
of their teachers and the splendor of the Chinese temples, their desire
to return to Japan remained constant. When seen against this historical
background Hamamatsu, for all its imperfections as a work of literature,
is not without interest as a cultural document.
54° Early and Heian Literature

IF I COULD ONLY CHANGE THEM 66

Torikaebaya Monogatari (If I Could Only Change Them) is difficult to

date, and there are no clues to the author. It is clear from the discussion
of the work in Story Without a Name that it existed in two versions, of
which only the second survives. Various dates have been suggested for
the completion of the two versions; the most plausible are late in the
eleventh century for the earlier, and between 1161 and 1183 for the later
one." It has been conjectured that the author of the earlier version was
a man, and of the later version a woman."
The title of the monogatari comes from the exclamation uttered by
the minister of the Left, the father of two children, as he observes their
most peculiar behavior." The boy is so shy that he is happy only behind
the curtains of the women's quarter, where he delights in playing with
dolls; the girl, on the other hand, enjoys nothing more than participating
in such masculine activities as playing kemari and composing poetry in
Chinese. The father understandably wishes that he could change the
personalities of the children and have the boy behave like a boy and
the girl like a girl. The minister deplores this reversal of roles, but he
is powerless to change the predilections of his children, and when the
time comes for their coming-of-age ceremonies he arranges for each to
undergo the ritual prescribed for the apparent rather than the real sex.
Eventually the children return to their original sex, and only then does
the father learn why they grew up with deviant tastes: in a dream a
holy priest informs him that it was the work of a tengu (a kind of goblin);
but, he says, now that the tengu's power to do malice has been exhausted
the children will never again be afflicted by a confusion of their gender
roles."
The story might have been more interesting if the sexual preferences
of the brother and sister had also been inverted, but the girl, who rises
to the position of chiinagon (middle counselor)-for which she is
named-and the boy, who is a lady-in-waiting, show no signs of any
sexual preference. Chiinagon marries Shi no Kimi, the daughter of the
minister of the Right, but she/he never goes beyond holding hands.
Regardless of appearances, Chiinagon is physiologically a woman, and
for this reason goes off somewhere for a few days every month during
her menstrual period. Even if we can accept the possibility of brother
and sister carrying on a masquerade for years without anyone's discov-
ering their true sex, or without they themselves feeling any sexual urges,
once the discovery has been made (about a quarter of the way through
Co u rt Iy Fie t ion Afte r The T a leo f G e n j i

the book) that Chunagon is really a woman, the work contains little to
interest us.
One regrets that If J Could Only Change Them is not a psychological
study of the decadence of the Heian court. A neuterization of men of
the aristocracy became conspicuous from the middle of the Heian period,
and by the reign of the Emperor Toba (11°7-1123) men powdered their
faces, blackened their teeth, used rouge, and painted false eyebrows on
their foreheads. On occasion nobles paraded naked through the streets
or wearing only red loincloths. In the summer of 1096 many high-
ranking nobles roamed the capital on stilts, wearing gaudy clothes that
included hats decorated with pheasant feathers." It may be that this
atmosphere of decadence engendered If J Could Only Change Them, but
the work itself does not portray these developments. When Saisho, a
typically promiscuous Heian lover (who has already seduced Chunagon's
wife), is stirred by Chiinagon's flawless beauty into making overtures,
the latter, far from welcoming such attentions, is outraged; she/he does
not wish to have sexual relations with anyone. Neither here nor elsewhere
in the book are homosexual relations treated.
If J Could Only Change Them was nevertheless given very cold treat-
ment until recent times, not because of stylistic failings but because of
its supposed immorality. The distinguished historian of Japanese liter-
ature Fujioka Sakutaro (187°-1910) was so appalled by the work that
he wrote a denunciation which concluded, "It makes me want to
vomit.':" The ladies of Story Without a Name, broader minded perhaps
than Fujioka, praised the version we now have, contrasting it with the
earlier version, which they found shocking. It is difficult to be sure what
this lost version was like, but it may have contained more vivid, or
perhaps more immoral, scenes than the present tame, rather tedious
text."

THE RIVERSIDE COUNSELOR'S STORIES 74

A single collection of ten short stories in the Heian court tradition

survives of what may have been a very large body of works. We know
the circumstances of composition of one of the ten stories. In the fifth
month of 1055 a story-matching contest was held in the palace under
the sponsorship of Princess Baishi, the lady whom the author of The
Tale of Sagoromo served. Stories were submitted by left and right teams
on each of nine topics that had been assigned, and a referee chose the
 Early and Heian Literature
better of the two. The contest was between rival stories, but the topics
related to poems contained in the stories, which were supposed to en-
capsulate the key events." The story "Osaka koenu Gon Chunagon"
(The Provisional Middle Counselor Who Failed to Cross the Divide)
was written by a woman named Koshikibu, about whom virtually noth-
ing else is known except that she served Baishi. The authors and dates
of the other stories in the collection are unknown, though many guesses,
based on enormous research, have been made. Probably all but the last
story, a fourteenth-century addition to the collection, were written in
the eleventh or early twelfth century. The title, Tsutsumi Chunagon
Monogatari, has long been a mystery; the most plausible suggestion is
that it is the name of the compiler, rather than that of the author of
one or more of the stories.
The stories in the collection are on the whole disappointing. The
endings especially are unsatisfactory, often leading the reader to believe
that the author simply did not know how to conclude a tantalizing little
vignette of court life. Some stories were probably of great interest to
people at the court who recognized the models for the characters or
who detected under surface disguise an incident with which they were
familiar. For modern readers, however, the lack of the introspective
qualities that make the great Heian works so memorable and so intel-
ligible deprives these stories of anything more than mildly amusing
interest.
One story stands out from the others. "Mushi mezuru Hime" (first
translated by Arthur Waley in 1929 under the title "The Lady Who
Loved Insects?") is the account of a young woman who dislikes artifice
and insists on being natural. She refuses to pluck her eyebrows, does
not blacken her teeth (giving rise to ghastly white smiles), and leaves
her hair untrimmed. She gives the boys who work for her such names
as Mole Cricket, Grasshopper, and Millipede." When her parents tax
her for collecting insects that most people would avoid, she replies, "The
clothes that people wear by the name of 'silk' are produced by worms
before they grow wings, and when they become butterflies, why then
they are completely ignored and worthless!"78 She is clearly no fool, and
we may indeed be attracted to a Heian lady who is more than an
exquisite, dimly visible object in a curtained chamber. The intent of the
author was probably to satirize people who had outlandish tastes, but
in the process of describing the eccentric lady he made her so attractive
that when, at the end of the tale, some gentlemen come to see the strange
spectacle, we cannot help but hope that one of them will recognize the
Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Genji 543
worth of a woman who is so sincere, so little concerned with artifice.
The story "Haizumi" (Lampblack), with prototypes in Tales of Ise
and Tales of Yamato." also stands out. It is the familiar story of a man
who decides to abandon his wife in favor of a younger woman. As we
hope, he is in the end moved to pity and love for his old wife, and he
gives up his plan to acquire a new one. The ending is farcical: the
younger woman, hearing that her lover has arrived, hurriedly powders
her face, but (because the room is badly lit) she mistakes the pot of
eyebrow blacking for powder, and smears her face with black paint.
Few modern readers are likely to laugh at this denouement, but our
sympathy for the first wife is real.
The other stories in the collection, if read carefully enough, yield
passages of interest, but the writing is on the whole jejune, the work
of people at the court who have time on their hands. One senses in this
and other twelfth-century works that the tradition of courtly fiction is
coming to an end, though this may be hindsight. Each of the post-Genii
monogatari contains something to intrigue and even move us, but only
one-Wakefulness at Night-is of the quality of The Tale of Genii. The
courtly tradition would linger on to the Muromachi period, but its glory,
intimately associated with the fortunes of the court, had sadly waned.
Quite different kinds of stories, describing the lives of commoners
(who rarely figure in the court tales) and written in a language much
closer to the colloquial of the time than the faded echoes of The Tale
of Genii, were already being composed and collected in the late Heian
period. These would in time develop into the mainstream of fiction
during the medieval era.

Notes
I. An extreme expression of this attitude is found in Kataoka Toshihiro's
essay "Heian Makki no Monogatari," pp. 116-17, where he states, "The
special features of the monogatari of the late Heian period are almost the
same as the special features of The Tale of Genji, and it might well be said
that with the exception of one respect there is no reason to distinguish the
monogatari of the late Heian period from The Tale of Genji. That one
respect is none other than the fact that the monogatari of the late Heian
period were strongly influenced by The Tale of Genji."
For a summary of views by various distinguished scholars on the in-
debtedness oflate Heian fiction to The Tale ofGenji, see Suzuki Hiromichi,
Heian Makki Monogatari Kenkyu, pp. 227-46. Suzuki also gives some ex-
amples of differences.
544 Early and Heian Literature
2. The title is freely rendered as The Changelings by Rosette F. Willig in her
complete translation of the work.
3. Two works are of special importance in dating fiction before the late
thirteenth century: Mumyo Zoshi (Story Without a Name), a book ofliterary
criticism written about 1200, and the Fuyoshu (Wind and Leaves Collection),
an anthology compiled in 1271 of waka that had originally appeared in
works of court fiction. These two works are especially helpful in dating
tales of the very late Heian and Kamakura periods, and they are therefore
discussed below, in Chapter 19.
4. See above, note 3. "Mumyozoshi" by Michele Marra is a complete trans-
lation of this work.
5. Kuwabara Hiroshi, Mumyo Zoshi, p. 23. See also the translation by Marra,
"Mumyozoshi," p. 137. The Tale of Sumiyoshi mentioned is not the same
as the work of that title which is preserved today.
6. These words, the first of The Tale of Sagoromo, were derived from the
Japanese versions of lines by Po Chu-i, quoted in such collections as Wakan
Roei Shu. See Kawaguchi Hisao, Wakan Roei Shu Zen'yakuchu, pp. 37-38.
7. The words imijiku jozu mekashiku nado aredo were interpreted by Kuwabara
in his edition of Mumyo Zoshi (p. 59) as meaning something like "it affects
a terribly aristocratic manner." I have followed Tomikura Tokujiro
(Mumyo Zosh, Hyoshaku, p. 142). The question is whether or not the lady
is praising the diction of The Tale of Sagoromo. Tomikura's interpretation
fits in more smoothly with what follows, although imijiku more often had
a pejorative meaning.
8. Kuwabara, Mumyo Zoshi, pp. 58-59. See also the translation by Marra,
"Mumyozoshi," p. 292.
9. The name is also read Seji.
10. So estimated by Suzuki Kazuo in Sagoromo Monogatari, I, p. 280. Imai
Takuji in Monogatari Bungaleu Shi no KenkYu, p. 7, estimated that she was
at least sixty-five.
11. The lost Tamamo ni asobu Gon-dainagon. Imai (Monogatari, p. 7) believed
that this work was written in lOSS or earlier. Senji was identified in an
uta-awase held in that year as the author of the work. However, the name
Senji (or Seji) was in fact a common noun, used of a class of high-ranking
court ladies, and the Senji who wrote Tamamo may have been another
woman with the same rank.
12. This distinction will be questioned by admirers of The Tale of Ochikubo,
also a single, unified story; but it is far less complex than The Tale of
Sagoromo and also much shorter.
13. Although the name is the same as that of the hero of The Tale of Genji,
and for this reason somewhat confusing, there is no connection between
the two characters.
14. Suzuki Kazuo, Sagoromo, I, p. 41. The word sagoromo, though written
with characters that mean "narrow robe," means no more than "robe,"
Co U rt I y Fie t ion Afte r The Tal e 0 f G en j i 545
with sa as a meaningless prefix. Omoisometeshi contains a kakekotoba: with
what precedes it means "I began to love," but with what follows someteshi
means "I dyed," modifying sagoromo.
15. Suzuki Kazuo, Sagoromo, pp. 30-35.
16. Ibid., p. 37.
17· Ibid., p. 39.
18. Ibid., pp. 51-52.
19. Presumably he makes this deduction because he can see the ends of her
trailing robes or her sleeves protruding from the carriage, in the usual
manner.
20. Suzuki Kazuo, Sagoromo, I, p. 64.
21. The word menoto occurs very often in Heian literature, used not only for

wet nurses but for women charged with the education of children of the
aristocracy. It was even used of the husbands of these women, especially
if they were involved in the education of young aristocrats.
22. Suzuki Kazuo, Sagoromo, I, p. 68. The province of Michinoku (here called
Michinokuni but elsewhere Oku) was at the extreme north of the island
of Honshu. For people in the capital Michinoku was the end of the world,
but the menoto makes the place seem even more unattractive by specifying
that it is to be not merely in Michinoku but in the depths of Michinoku.
The potential bridegroom is a sakan, a fourth-rank officer of the frontier
guard unit.
23. It is true that Genji, as a child, was able to see Fujitsubo freely, but Murasaki
Shikibu does not show us Fujitsubo with this clarity.
24. Mizukoidori, also known as akashObin, or the Japanese ruddy kingfisher;
used here because it was known for its apparent craving for water. Sa-
goromo's burning thoughts also seem to crave water.
25. The text calls the work usually known as Ise Monogatari by an alternative
name, Zaigo ChUja no Nikki, zaigo chujo (The Middle Captain of the Fifth
Rank) having been an appellation of Ariwara no Narihira.
26. Sagoromo and Princess Genji have been reared as brother and sister (though
they are actually cousins), and their love is therefore forbidden. This is
why Princess Genji is so horrified to learn of his feelings. Sagoromo seems
to have found in Tales of Ise scenes that recall his own emotions.
27. Text in Suzuki Kazuo,Sagoromo, I, pp. 43-45. Muro no Yashima is men-
tioned because a goddess, suspected by her husband of having conceived
a child by another man, set fire to a muro, a doorless room, declaring that
if the baby survived the smoke, it would prove she was innocent. The child
was safely born. Smoke is always mentioned in the many poems about
Muro no Yashima, which also appears in Basho's Narrow Road of 0ku.
Sagoromo is saying that his word is also true.
28. Ibid., p. 47.
29. He is a son of Sagoromo's menoto. See ibid., p. 92.
30. Ibid., p. 93. His words are so unusual as to merit quotation in the original:
 Early and Heian Literature
"Sayo no hosohindachi ni kageme nite owasen yori uia, tada kokoromi tamae."
The menoto has already referred to Sagoromo as namakindachi , a term of
contempt with more or less the same meaning as hosokindachi.
31. Ibid., pp. I02-3·
32. Tayu does not suspect that Sagoromo is Asukai's lover.
33. Suzuki, Sagoromo, I, p. 116.
34. Ibid., p. 120.
35. Ibid., p. 122.
36. A typical such evaluation is given in the article on The Tale of Sagoromo
in Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten (III, pp. 56-58) by Nakada Takanao, an
authority on the work. He writes, in part, "The author, using the techniques
of the story of Yugao in Genji, presents the character Asukai, who is a
combination of Yugao and Ukifune, and, just as Yugao's child Tamakazura
becomes Genii's adopted daughter, Shinobigusa, the child born ofSagoromo
and Asukai, is for a time reared by the Princess Ippon, who resembles Aoi
no Ue in Genji, and this becomes the connection that brings Sagoromo
together with Ippon. The author otherwise reveals a fineness of touch in
presenting the character Princess Imahime, a combination of the Lady of
Omi and Suetsumuhana, as an intermediary when Sagoromo is searching
for Shinobigusa. But just as Genii again and again shows himself incapable
of giving up his love for Fujitsubo, Sagoromo's plans to approach Princess
Genii even after she has entered the sacred precincts of the Great Shrine
and the Second Princess after she has taken Buddhist orders indicate that
both women have been given characteristics similar to those of Fujitsubo."
37. Suzuki, Sagoromo, I, p. 185.
38. See Imai, Monogatari, p. 31.
39. Suzuki, Sagoromo, I, p. 266.
40. The work is often referred to as Nezame Monogatari, but the text I have
used (in the Kan'yaku Nihon no Koten series) calls it by the more distinctive
title Yoru no Nezame. Other texts bear the title of Yowa no Nezame, meaning
about the same.
41. Translation by Carol Hochstedler in The Tale of Nezame, p. 4. Text in
Suzuki Kazuo and Ishino Keiko, Yoru no Nezame, I, p. I I.
42. See above, pp. 383-9°. The translation by Ivan Morris is called As I Crossed
a Bridge of Dreams.
43. Some scholars now accept with enthusiasm the attribition of the authorship
to the daughter of Takasue. See Inaga Keiji, "Heian Koki Monogatari no
Atarashisa wa doko ni am ka," p. 103. Inaga believed that the author
probably wrote The Sarashina Diary while in mourning after the death of
her husband, and followed this (while her memories of life at the court
were still fresh) with Wakefulness at Night.
44. An attempt was made by Sakakura Atsuyoshi in his study of the vocabulary,
especially of the use of the verb saburau, to prove that the work was
composed after the death of the daughter of Takasue. See his "Yoru no
Courtly Fiction After The Tale of Gen j i 547
Nezame no Bunsho." This theory does not seem to have changed the minds
of those who believe that Wakefulness at Night was written by the daughter
of Takasue.
45. Suzuki and Ishino, Yoru, I, p. 337, quote Ishikawa Toru, a supporter of
the theory that the same woman wrote The Sarashina Diary and Wakefulness
at Night.
46. Some, basing their conclusion on the date of the death of the historical
woman who they believe was the model for the character Nezame, believe
that the work could not have been written before 1102. See Suzuki Hi-
romichi, Heian Makki Monogatari KenkYu, pp. 63-64.
47. Another line of manuscripts divides the surviving two books into five kan,
not leaving space for the lost second part. The Nakamura text, a consid-
erably revised version of the original made in the fourteenth century, stays
close to the original in the first part, and there is reason to think that its
retelling of the missing second part is in general faithful. However, the
Nakamura version of the third part is much abbreviated (as we can tell
by comparing it to the surviving original text), and the treatment of the
fourth part evidently departed considerably from the original.
48. Kuwabara, Mumyo Zoshi, p. 63. See also the translation by Marra, "Mu-
myozoshi," p. 295.
49. The secret instructions in music given to Nezame by a celestial being also
recalls The Tale of the Hollow Tree and The Hamamatsu Middle Counselor.
50. For a good summary of the plot see Hochstedler, The Tale of Nezame, pp.
4-12. Summaries in Japanese are given in many works, notably by Suzuki
and Ishino, I, pp. 310-34.
51. I am aware that when Arthur Waley's translation of The Tale of Genji first
appeared it was compared to Le Morte d'Arthur, the writings of Boccaccio,
and even to Tom Jones, but none of these comparisons is taken seriously
today. For that matter, I no longer feel much confidence in the comparison
I drew in 1953 between The Tale of Genji and Proust's A la recherche du
temps perdu.
52. Translation in Hochstedler, The Tale of Nezame, p. 212.
53. Ibid., p. 196.
54. Ibid., p. 189.
55. Ibid., p. 101.
56. Ibid., p. 80: Suzuki and Ishino, Yoru, II, p. 80.
57. Hochstedler, p. 215.
58. Ibid., p. 133·
59. There is a complete translation of this work by Thomas H. Rohlich, A
Tale of Eleventh-Century Japan: Hamamatsu Chiinagon Monogatari.
60. I shall henceforth refer to this work simply as Hamamatsu.
61. Endo Yoshimoto and Matsuo Satoshi, Takamura Monogatari, Heichu Chu-
nagon Monogatari, p. 168. Mitsu, originally meaning "anchorage," was the
port section of Naniwa, the modern Osaka.
548 Early and Heian Literature
62. The meaning of the poem is that Chunagon, now in China, has had a
dream in which he saw his beloved in Japan. He supposes that he has
dreamed of her because she misses him. According to the commentary of
Endo and Matsuo (p. 446), the "pine on the beach" (hamamatsu) is used
for the Taisho no Okimi, the lady Chunagon left in Japan.
63. See Suzuki Hiromichi, Heian Makki, pp. 41-64, for a discussion of the
authorship of the two works. Suzuki himself believed that the Daughter
of Takasue wrote Hamamatsu but not Wakefulness at Night (p. 64).
64· Suzuki Hiromichi, Heian Makki, pp. 54-55, states that if both monogatari
were written by the daughter of Takasue, (I) Wakefulness at Night was
written before Hamamatsu; (2) Hamamatsu was written after 1064, when
she was in her fifty-seventh year: and (3) Wakefulness at Night was written
after 1045, when she was in her thirty-eighth year.
65. See Tsunoda, de Bary, and Keene, Sources of Japanese Tradition, pp.
144-4 6.
66. See above, note 2.
67. This is the suggestion put forth by Tanaka Shin'ichi, Tanaka Kimiharu,
and Morishita Sumiaki in Shinshahu Torihacbaya, pp. 640-4I. Imai Gen'e
suggested that the earlier version was written between 1080 and 1I05, and
the later version between 1I05 and 1170. See Imai Gen'e in Mitani Eiichi
and Imai Gen'e, Tsutsumi Chiinagon Monogatari, Torikacbaya Monogatari,
P· 204·
68. See Mitani and Imai, Tsutsumi, P: 204; also Tanaka et al., Shinshaliu, p.
64I. Tanaka mentions the theory that Oe no Masafusa was the author of
the old text, and another theory that Fujiwara no Tametsune was the
author of the new one, but he does not agree with either.
69. See Kuwabara Hiroshi, Torikaebaya Monogatari, I, p. 29; III, p. 237. Also
Willig, The Changelings, pp. 16, 164.
70. See Kuwabara, Torihaebaya , III, p. I8I.
7I. See Imai Cen'e, "Sosetsu" in Mitani and Imai, Tsutsumi, p. 199.
72. Quoted by Suzuki Hiromichi in "Torikaebaya Monogatari no Sekai," in
Mitani and Imai, Tsutsumi, p. 403.
73. We know something of the original text of If I Could Only Change Them
from the account in Story Without a Name. For example, the middle coun-
selor in the earlier version gave birth to a child while still dressed in "his"
official court costume, and his formally arranged, masculine hair-style be-
came disarrayed under the strain of labor. The same work characterized
the descriptions of "his" monthly periods as "extremely dirty." See Ku-
wabara, Mumyo Zssh), p. 81; also Marra, "Mumyozoshi," part 3, p. 410.
74. lowe this rendering of Tsutsumi Chunagon Monogatari to Robert L. Backus,
whose complete translation, together with enlightening introductions to
each story, makes the collection as a whole available for the first time in
graceful English. The title is more ordinarily translated as "The Tales of
Co u rt Iy Fie t ion After The Tal e 0 f G en ji 549
the Tsutsumi Middle Counselor," tsutsumi being either a place-name or a
word meaning "river embankment."
75. See Backus, Riverside, pp. 89-95, for a discussion of the story-matching
contest and of Koshikibu.
76. Two translations of the same story have appeared since then. The first,
included in Edwin O. Reischauer and Joseph K. Yamagiwa, Translations
from Early Japanese Literature, calls the work "The Lady Who Loved
Worms," and the translation by Robert L. Backus calls it "The Lady Who
Admired Vermin." The objection to translating mushi as "insects" is that
butterflies are also insects, and it was quite normal to collect them, but the
fondness of the lady of the story for caterpillars and suchlike vermin
distinguished her from other people. This is no doubt correct, but the
Waley title is obviously more pleasing as English.
77· Backus, Riverside, p. 59·
78. Ibid., p. 55.
79. Ibid., p. 185.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Backus, Robert L. The Riverside Counselor's Stories. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford

University Press, 1985.
Endo Yoshimoto and Matsuo Satoshi. Takamura Monogatari, Heichii Mono-
gatari, Hamamatsu Chiinagon Monogatari, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei
series. Iwanami Shoten, 1964.
Hochstedler, Carol. The Tale ofNezame: Part Three of Yowa no Nezame. Ithaca,
N.Y.: Cornell University East Asian Papers, 1979.
Ii Haruki. Monogatari Bungaleu no Keifu. Kyoto: Sekai Shiso Sha, 1986.
Imai Takuji. Monogatari Bungaku Shi no Kenky«. Waseda Daigaku Shuppanbu,
1977-
Inaga Keiji. Genji Monogatari Zengo. Osaka: Izumi Shoin, 1980.
- - - . "Heian Koki Monogatari no Atarashisa wa doko ni aru ka," Koku-
bungaleu, 39:4, 1984.
Kataoka Toshihiro. "Heian Makki no Monogatari," in Ii Haruki, Monogatari
Bungaleu no Keifu.
Kawaguchi Hisao. Wakan Roci Shu Zen'valeuchu, in Kodansha Gakujutsu
Bunko series. Kodansha, 1982.
Kawai Hayao. Torihaebava, Otoko to Onna. Shinchosha, 1991.
Kuge Haruyasu. Heian Ki5ki Monogatari no KenkYu. Shintensha, 1984.
55 0 Early and Heian Literature
Kuwabara Hiroshi. Mumyo Zoshi, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shin-
chosha, 1976.
- - - . Torikaebaya Monogatari, 4 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko. Ke-
dansha, 1978-79.
Marra, Michele. "Mumyozoshi," Monumenta Nipponica, 39:2-4, 1984.
Mitani Eiichi and Imai Gen'e. Tsutsumi Chunagon Monogatari, Torikacbaya
Monogatari, in Kansho Koten Bungaku Zenshu series. Kadokawa Shoten,
1974·
Mitani Eiichi and Inaga Keiji. Ochikubo Monogatari, Tsutsumi Chiaiagon Mono-
gatari, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series. Shogakukan, 1972.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Reischauer, Edwin 0., and Joseph K. Yamagiwa. Translations from Early Jap-
anese Literature. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1951.
Rohlich, Thomas H. A Tale of Eleventh-Century Japan: Hamamatsu Chunagon
Monogatari. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1983.
Sakakura Atsuyoshi. "Yoru no Nezame no Bunsho," Kokugo to Kokubungaku,
October 1964.
Suzuki Hiromichi. Heian Makki Monogatari KenkYu. Kyoto: Daigakudo Shoten,
1979·
Suzuki Kazuo. Sagoromo Monogatari, 2 vols., in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei
series. Shinchosha, 1985-86.
Suzuki Kazuo and Ishino Keiko. Yoru no Nezame, 2 vol., in Kan'yaku Nihon
no Koten series. Shogakukan, 1984-85.
Tanaka Shin'ichi, Tanaka Kimiharu, and Morishita Sumiaki, Shinshaleu To-
rikaebaya. Kazama Shobe, 1988.
Tomikura Tokujiro. Mumyo Zosh: Hyoshaku. Yuseido, 1954.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, Wm, Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene. Sources of
Japanese Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958.
Willig, Rosette F. The Changelings. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press,
1983.
 14.
MIRRORS OF HISTORY

A s early as the tenth century the Japanese were wntmg works of

literature that owed more to actual events than to the artifice of story-
tellers. The distinction between such works and true histories is not easy
to make. Almost any history that is written with care for expression
and with a sense of dramatic form can be read as literature. The Kojiki
and even the Nihon Shok), though normally treated as works of history,
have often been included in collections of Japanese literature because
they contain not only purportedly historical information but myths and
poems that evoke the deeds of the gods and ancient monarchs. Even if
events in these histories can be demonstrated to be fabrications, or if
speeches attributed to a Japanese hero prove to have been copied word
for word from some Chinese history, this does not lessen their claim to
be considered as literature; indeed, a deliberate alteration of historical
fact or a borrowing from Chinese sources may indicate that literary
rather than historical concerns were uppermost in the author's mind.
Many gradations exist between works of solely historical interest,
such as the diaries kept in kambun by statesmen, and those of purely
literary significance, such as the No plays based on events of the war
between the Taira and the Minarnoto.' This chapter treats historical
works that describe in artistic Japanese prose the Heian court before the
wars of the twelfth century ushered in an age of military domination.

A TALE OF FLOWERING FORTUNES

The earliest example of the rekishi monogatari (historical tale), Eiga

Monogatari (A Tale of Flowering Fortunes),' is a chronicle dealing with
the period from the middle of the tenth century to the death of Fujiwara
no Michinaga in I028. This extensive work, in the manner followed
552 Early and Heian Literature

even by historians without literary pretensions when they wrote in their

native language, presents not only the bare bones of history-births and
deaths, promotions and demotions, and the like-but the poetry written
on various occasions. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes has traditionally been
considered to be a work of literature, and some passages are deservedly
famous, though a translator described the work as being so prolix that
"we are in danger of drowning in a sea of trivia.'"
It is conjectured that the author was a woman, Akazome Emon, the
court lady who married Oe no Masahira and entered holy orders as a
Buddhist nun after his death. Even if she was the principal author, she
certainly could not have written all of the work unless she lived to be
over 120; we know from her poems that she was alive in 976, and the
last recorded event in A Tale of Flowering Fortunes occurred in 1°92.
The final ten chapters of the work, conspicuously inferior to the first
thirty, have been consigned to "deserved oblivion,"? suggesting that
another person, not as good a writer as Akazome Emon, continued her
chronicle, carrying it down to 1°92. Akazome Emon enjoyed a high
reputation as a poet, but A Tale of Flowering Fortunes is not of literary
distinction. The narration, far from being poetic, does not rise much
above the bare format of a chronology, as the following passage, relating
events at the end of 986, may suggest:

So time passed. The Crown Prince's Coming-of-Age ceremony was

performed around the First of the Twelfth Month, and the Principal
Handmaid Suishi at once came to wait upon him, taking up residence
in the Reikeiden. The Prince was very young, but Suishi was already
fifteen. Since she was Kaneic's daughter, she quickly received per-
mission to ride in a hand-drawn carriage, and people treated her
with as much respect and solicitude as though she were a Junior
Consort. Her mother, the Lady in the Wing Chamber, was fortunate
indeed.'

The palace ceremonies described in this passage occurred every year,

and there was nothing special about those of 986. In a work of fiction
such ceremonies probably would not be mentioned unless it was intended
to establish, say, a contrast between the present year, when they were
performed brilliantly, and some past or future year when they were
badly performed. The brief scene of the coming-of-age ceremony of the
crown prince and his acquisition of a "handmaid" brings us to the
border of literature; it may remind us of Genji's marriage to Aoi, about
whom we are told in The Tale of Genji, "The bride was older, and
Mirrors of History 553
somewhat ill at ease with such a young husband.?" But instead of alluding
to the awkwardness created between the crown prince and Suishi by
the difference in their ages, or even of telling us something about the
relations between Kaneie (whom we know otherwise from The Gossamer
Years) and his daughter Suishi, A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, in the
manner typical of palace chronicles, enumerates the privileges that Suishi
came to enjoy at court. This certainly lessens the appeal of the work,
but it also imparts authenticity as a "reflection of the rhythm and tone
of the life she witnessed."? A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, even more than
The Tale of Genji, tells us what it was like to live at the Heian court
during a particularly brilliant period.
Most of the events related leave little impression because of the mass
of indigestible details, but every so often an incident is literary in its
effect. For example, there is the story of Akinobu, a son of Michinaga's
who, without telling his family, ran away to become a monk on Mount
Hiei. His father sent out search parties in all directions and before long
his whereabouts were discovered. Michinaga himself hurried to the
mountain and was shocked to see that his son's head was already shaved:

"What made you decide to do it?" Michinaga asked through his

tears. "Were you worried about anything? Did some act of mine
seem harsh? Were you impatient for a promotion? Was there a girl
you were in love with? As long as my influence lasted, I was ready
to get you anything you wanted. I feel utterly miserable. How could
you have done such a thing with no consideration for your mother
or me?"
Overcome with emotion, Akinobu burst into tears. "I wanted
nothing at all," he said. "It is just that always, even as a child, I
have had my heart set on being a monk. I was ashamed to tell you,
since that was not what you had in mind for me, and while I hesitated
you raised me so high that I became involved in Court life against
my will. But I am quite, quite sure that I will be most useful to
everybody as I am now."!

This touching exchange between the most powerful man in the

country and his son, each revealing his character in a few words, is a
rare testimony to Akazome Emon's literary gifts, made all the more so
because no such meeting between Michinaga and Akinobu took place
at this time. The conversation was unquestionably invented for dramatic
purposes, and succeeded so well we wish she had invented more.
Occasionally Akazome Emon goes beyond her role as the mere
554 Early and Heian Literature
narrator of events she has witnessed and describes her pleasure over
some sight or experience:

The grounds of the mansion were spacious and elegant. The hills
in the garden blazed with autumn foliage, and the leaves of the ivy
vines on the islands shone with the brilliance of brocade, trailing
from the pines in varying hues of crimson, dark red, green, and
yellow. The same autumnal colors shimmered on the sparkling
waters of the lake, and from the midst of the brocade the boats
emerged, their music resounding with a chill beauty."

Akazome's chief purpose in writing A Tale of Flowering Fortunes

seems to have been to describe the career of the statesman Fujiwara no
Michinaga, the father-in-law of three emperors. She was convinced that
Michinaga was the most glorious courtier Japan had ever known, "and
it was clearly her intention to include in her chronicle nothing that
would contradict this view."IO From the moment when he is first in-
troduced to the reader, along with the other sons of Kaneie, he is
idealized. The author mentions his older brothers only to comment,

One wonders what he must have thought of his older brothers. He

was entirely different from them in appearance and character-
tactful, manly, pious, and considerate and protective in matters af-
fecting his friends. Indeed, his character was extraordinary and ideal
in every respectl!'

Members of the court whom we know from other works of literature

occasionally appear, but the author generally did not lavish on them the
passion for details found in the portrait of Michinaga. Several poems
by Murasaki Shikibu are quoted in the context of the occasions when
they were composed, but little else is said about her; and Izumi Shikibu's
affairs with Prince Tametaka and his brother Atsumichi are only briefly
described. One passage, however, leads us up to the opening pages of
The Izumi Shikib« Diary:

Meanwhile, Prince Tametaka, the President of the Board of Censors,

had fallen into the dangerous habit of roaming about at night to
visit women's houses. It made people uneasy, and there was a good
deal of disapproving gossip. As it happened, a pestilence was raging
that year with such virulence that no one's life was safe. The streets
Mirrors of History 555
and avenues were clogged with stinking corpses, yet the Prince went
blithely ahead night after night, without paying the slightest atten-
tion. Perhaps that is why he finally fell ill and died. His recent
notorious infatuations with Shinchiinagon and Izumi Shikibu had
been unpleasant for his wife, but she took his death very hard, and
on the Forty-ninth Day she became a nun."

The death of Tametaka, as readers of the diary will recall, is alluded

to in the first sentence of The Izumi Shikibu Diarv," and serves as the
background to her love affair with Tametaka's brother, Atsumichi. If
there were more such passages as these A Tale of Flowering Fortunes
would be an invaluable companion to the reading of the masterpieces
of Heian literature.

THE GREAT MIRROR

Okagami (The Great Mirror}," was the first of the four "mirrors" that
reflected Japanese history from the ancient past to the fourteenth cen-
tury." These "mirrors," unlike the later war stories, reflect not all of
society but only the nobility. The use of the word "mirror" was in
keeping with the Chinese practice," and is explained by several poems
in The Great Mirror, including:

akirakeki Now that I have chanced upon

kagami ni aeba This clear mirror,
suginishi mo I can see the past,
ima yukusue no The present,
koto mo mickeri And what is to come."

The Great Mirror describes events that took place from 850 to 1025.
It opens as two exceedingly old men-Oyake no Yotsugi is 18o and
Natsuyama no Shigeki a mere 17o-begin their reminiscences about
the past. The device of having these ancient gentlemen tell what hap-
pened in the old days was intended to impart immediacy to events of
long ago by pretending that they lingered in the memories of men who
actually witnessed what they describe. In addition to the two old men,
three other people appear in the text: Shigeki's wife, a crone with little
to say, an attendant from a noble household who occasionally interrupts
Yotsugi's monologue to supply the version he has heard of some event,
 Early and Heian Literature

and the narrator, who addresses only the reader. The presence of these
figures gives shape and even dramatic interest to the story, and the style
is firmer and better suited to the materials than the more typical Heian
style of A Tale of Flowering Fortunes.
The chief subject of The Great Mirror, like that of A Tale ofFlowering
Fortunes, is the life and times of Fujiwara no Michinaga, the dominant
presence at the court from 995 until his death in 1027. Yotsugi, the elder
of the two venerable narrators, says at one point, "I have only one thing
of importance on my mind ... and that is to describe Lord Michinaga's
unprecedented successes to all of you here, clergy and laity of both
sexes.?" As a background to the achievements of the great Michinaga,
the reigns of fourteen emperors who ruled between 850 and 1025, from
Montoku (the fifty-fifth) to Ichijo (the sixty-eighth) are briefly sum-
marized, followed by more detailed biographies of twenty members of
the Fujiwara family who served the emperors as ministers of state.
The resemblances between the structure of The Great Mirror and
that of Ssu-ma Ch'ien's masterpiece Shih Chi (Records of the Historian)
are obvious; but even if the author of The Great Mirror was influenced
by Ssu-ma Ch'ien (145?-90? B.C.) to the extent of describing first the
reigns of emperors, followed by biographies of ministers, the final part
of The Great Mirror (a fifth of the whole) consists of anecdotes about
people of the distant past, the origins of festivals, strange happenings
and so on, and owes nothing to the structure of the Chinese history.
This part has only tenuous connections with Michinaga.
As a work of history, The Great Mirror suffers when compared to
Shih Chi. Its interest, like that of A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, lies in
its anecdotes and the glimpses it provides of the people and events of
the Heian court not found in more formal histories. The Great Mirror
does not dwell on the failings of the people who appear in its pages,
but neither does it attempt to conceal them:

Hoshi gave birth to a son known as the Eighth Prince-a handsome

lad, but excessively slow-witted, or so it was rumored.... It was
amazing that a son of the Emperor Murakami and grandson of
Mototada should have been such a simpleton."

The portrait drawn of another feeble-minded person, the Emperor

Kazan, is particularly affecting. Kazan ascended the throne at the age
of seventeen and left it to become a monk two years later. Michikane,
a son of Fujiwara no Kaneie and brother of Michinaga, was eager to
have Kazan abdicate. We are told:
Mirrors of History 557

A pathetic thing happened on the night of his abdication. As

he was about to leave through the Fujitsubo Apartment's side
door, he noticed the late moon flooding the surroundings with
light.
"It looks so bright," he said. "What shall I do?"
Michikane urged him forward. "There is no reason why you
should stop now. The Necklace and Sword have already been trans-
ferred," he said. He had personally delivered the Imperial Regalia
to the Crown Prince while the Emperor was still in the Palace, so
he knew it would never do for His Majesty to turn back.
While the Emperor hesitated, not wanting to venture into the
light, some drifting clouds dimmed the moon's radiance. "I shall be
able to take the vows after all," he thought. But as he stepped forward
he remembered a note from the Kokiden Consort, something he
had saved and read over and over.
"Wait a minute," he said, starting back to fetch it.
"You mustn't think about things like that any more," said Mi-
chi kane, pretending to weep. "Some obstacle is certain to come up
if you don't take advantage of this opportunity."20

Each time Kazan hesitates Michikane, with Machiavellian adroitness,

insists that he carry through his plan of becoming a monk, and as soon
as they reach the Hanayama Temple, Kazan cuts off his hair. At this
point Michikane (who had promised Kazan to join him in entering the
path of the Buddha) says, "I must leave you now. I want to let my
father see me as my old self one last time, and I also have to tell him
about my decision to become a monk. But I'll come back."
Kazan is not so dim-witted as to be incapable of seeing through
Michikane's wiles:

Tears filled the Emperor's eyes. "You have deceived me, haven't
you?" he said. It was a pitiful scene. As far as I can make out,
Michikane had been encouraging him for a long time by swearing
to serve as his faithful disciple. What a terrible way to act!"

This episode, told in a minimum of words, is as memorable as any

described by Herodotus, and the characters of the two men are perfectly
caught. Kazan achieved his wish of becoming a Buddhist monk, but
only after the act was irrevocable did he realize that another hand had
guided his every move. Michikane may have comforted himself with
the thought that he had done no more than help the incompetent Kazan
 Early and Heian Literature
to carry out his deeply desired wish; but when he took ill and suddenly
died, just a week after realizing his great ambition and becoming the
regent, he may in his final moments have remembered the trick he
played on the Emperor Kazan.
Such anecdotes, though of literary interest, are hard to take seriously
as history. The narrator, whose own reflections are presented at the end
of the excerpt, could not have seen or heard most of what he describes,
but perhaps rumors of what happened had become common gossip at
the court, a place where it was hard to keep secrets. The narrator tells
us, in his account of the career of minister of the Left Tokihira, "I heard
it whispered later that Tokihira had arranged the scene with the Em-
peror in order to make others obey the law."22 Whispers no doubt were
the source of many of the stories related in The Great Mirror.
Even in sections of the work that are devoted to other persons,
Michinaga's presence can generally be felt. He was, first of all, a "su-
premely lucky man.?" If other, senior courtiers had not perished in the
pestilence of 995 he would surely not have risen so high. He was lucky
also in his offspring: none of his twelve children had died and, we are
told, "There is not one who is at all inadequate or open to criticism in
disposition or character, or who lacks accomplishments and elegance."?'
Michinaga was named kampaku in his thirtieth year, and served the
court until he was fifty-four, when he took Buddhist vows.
Michinaga's first consort shared his amazing good fortune:

Nobody could possibly be better off than this consort of Michinaga's.

Although she is a subject, she is the grandmother of the Emperor
and the Crown Prince, and she enjoys the same status as the three
Empresses, with annual ranks and offices. She is perfectly free to go
about as she pleases in her Chinese carriage-much more so than
if she were an Empress. Whenever she wants to witness a public
spectacle or Buddhist ceremony, she watches it from her carriage or
viewing stand."

The portraits of Michinaga and the people around him make no

attempt to present the facts chronologically, let alone analytically. We
are therefore apt to remember him as he appears in various unrelated
bits of gossip, rather than as the most powerful man in the government.
It is hard to forget such moments as when Michinaga hears reports that
his sister Suishi is having an affair with Minamoto Yorisada and is
pregnant. He goes to find out if this is true:
Mirrors of History 559

Startled by his unexpected visit, Suishi drew her curtain-stand closer,

but Michinaga pushed it aside. She was looking even lovelier than
usual, her showy beauty enhanced by cosmetics. "When I went to
the Crown Prince's palace, he told me about some stories he had
heard," Michinaga said. "I have come to see for myself, because it
will be very sad for you if he believes false tales." He opened her
robes and pinched one of her breasts-and didn't he get a stream
of milk in the face? He left without a word."

This anecdote tells us little about Michinaga as a statesmen but it

certainly conveys much about his mode of action. The Great Mirror
concludes with comments by the anonymous narrator of all that has
preceded, including: "It is usually tedious and annoying to be forced to
listen while old crones and graybeards spin their yarns about the past,
but Yotsugi and Shigeki made me feel as though I had stepped back
into a bygone age. If only they would go on and on, I thought; if only
I might have a chance to bring up all my comments and questions.'?"
But the narrator loses sight of the two old men when they get caught
up in a crowd of worshipers, and he never hears the resolution of
Yotsugi's last tale. The ending confirms the essentially literary purpose
of the unknown author of The Great Mirror.

THE NEW MIRROR

Imakagami (The New Mirror) is a continuation of The Great Mirror,

describing events that occurred between 1025 and 1170. The work has
been dated with some precision: it was probably written between the
eighth month of 1174 and the seventh month of 1175.28 The author, a
matter of dispute, was most probably Fujiwara no Tametsune (III3?-
1180?).29 The period covered was one of great turbulence, marked toward
its close by the rise of the samurai class and two major revolts, but The
New Mirror rarely touches on political developments. Its attention is
devoted instead to nostalgic recollections of the court in happier days,
when poetry and music were the matters of chief concern, and cere-
monies were performed with the most careful observance of precedents.
The pattern of The Great Mirror is followed in that an extremely old
person relates events that occurred long ago, but in this case the old
person is a woman, the granddaughter of Yotsugi. It has been suggested
that the choice of a woman as the narrator was influenced by what the
560 Early and Heian Literature

author wished to describe-not affairs of state or military disturbances

but the elegance of a vanished age."
Some people on a pilgrimage to the various temples of the Yamato
region during the early summer of 1170 have stopped to refresh them-
selves in the shade of a tree. An old woman approaches, leaning on a
stick and accompanied by a girl who carries a basket of fern shoots.
They ask the old woman if she lives in the vicinity, and she replies that
she spent one hundred years in the capital and another fifty years in
the province of Yamashiro; only since then has she lived in Yamato.
The pilgrims are astonished to learn her great age, but she modestly
cites examples in Japan and China of people who have lived even longer,
including her grandfather, Yotsugi, who lived to be nearly two hundred.
Her name, she reveals, is Ayame (iris), bestowed on her because she
was born on the fifth day of the fifth month, the day of the Iris Festival.
In her youth she served Murasaki Shikibu, who (alluding to a poem by
Po Chil-i that describes the casting of a mirror on that day) gave her
the nickname of Imakagami, the New Mirror."
The rest of this long work consists of the old lady's recollections of
the past. The New Mirror contains 140 waka and innumerable references
to both Chinese and Japanese literature," but as a whole it lacks literary
quality. There is even less of an attempt than in The Great Mirror to
give the narrator individuality or even to keep the reader aware that
somebody in particular is telling a story. Only occasionally does the old
woman insert a personal comment, as in this passage:

Yotsugi when writing about the emperors took advantage of the

opportunity to describe their mothers. I, too, will take advantage of
the same opportunity to tell about this emperor's mother. She was
about twenty-one or twenty-two when she gave birth successively
to the Cloistered Emperor Goichijo and the Cloistered Emperor
Suzaku."

At other times the narrator declines to enter into details about some
event because, she says, it has already been fully described in furuki
monogatari (the old tale), a reference to The Great Mirror." Occasionally
she also mentions "the lady I served long ago," meaning Murasaki
Shikibu, and quotes one of her poems."
The chapters are arranged in more or less the same order as The
Great Mirror; the first third is devoted to the reigns of the successive
emperors, the next third to the Fujiwara family, and the final third
partly to the Minamoto family and partly to various unrelated anecdotes.
Mirrors of History

The New Mirror, unlike The Great Mirror, has no central unifying figure.
Michinaga appears only in the early sections, and the account of his
death is brief, like most of the other vital information.
Only when the author is especially interested in someone do the
descriptions blossom into literary prose, usually with the help of allusions
to Chinese poetry. For example, the death of the Empress (chugu) Genshi
in her twenty-third year, shortly after her second childbirth, is treated
in so much greater detail than the brief notice in A Tale of Flowering
Fortunes that it is conjectured some personal reason was involved." The
passage is heightened by the last sentence, a paraphrase of a line from
Po Chu-i's celebrated "Song of Unending Sorrow" describing the grief
of the Emperor Hsuan Tsung on being separated from his beloved Yang
Kuei-fei:

His Majesty commanded that monks from the Seven Temples of

Nara read the sutras for the repose of the late empress. The emperor
wore mourning and, now that court functions had been suspended,
he remained in the Pavilion of Pure Cool with the blinds drawn.
When offering His Majesty his meals, the heralds refrained from
their customary cries at the beginning and end. Sunken as he was
in an all-pervasive atmosphere of gloom, even the sight of fireflies
at dusk made him brood."

Yang Kuei-fei's name appears on the next page of The New Mirror,
making the source of the allusion perfectly clear.
The best-known part of The New Mirror occurs in the section of
miscellaneous anecdotes at the end. It is a discussion of the belief that
had sprung up by this time that Murasaki Shikibu had been doomed
to suffer in hell because of her sin in writing untruths. An unnamed
person asks the narrator,

I wonder if it's true, as everybody says, that the person of long ago
who wove together in her Tale of Genji exquisite and charming
incidents that had little basis in reality was punished after her death
by suffering the tortures of burning hell. If true, it provides an
invaluable lesson for us who seek salvation, but how sad she should
have come to such an end! I would like to pray for her."

The narrator says she also has heard such tales. She thinks it quite
proper that people who lead others astray with their writings should be
punished. But, she insists, the author of The Tale of Genji had no such
 Early and Heian Literature

sinister intention, and surely does not deserve to suffer in hell. Works
of literature can save as well as delude people: Po Chil-i, a very prolific
poet who wrote in a most beautiful style, was so successful in inducing
his readers to follow the teachings of the Buddha that he was believed
to be a reincarnation of Monju, the bodhisattva of wisdom. Moreover,
she continues,

Buddha himself in his parables invented things that did not exist,
and left these teachings for later generations. This, as the holy writ-
ings inform us, was because no deception was involved. The very
fact that Murasaki Shikibu, a woman, was able to write such a long
book, would seem to prove that she was no ordinary person. They
say Myoon, Kannon, and other holy beings transformed themselves
into women in order to preach the Law and guide humankind.

The girl with the basket of fern shoots who accompanies the old
woman does not seem convinced by this explanation. She contrasts the
actions of the bodhisattvas and other holy beings, who sought only to
lead people to the Buddha, with Murasaki Shikibu's intention of arousing
the passions of her readers with her vivid accounts of love affairs. "How
can this be said to be in keeping with the Holy Law?" she asks. To this
the old woman replies that the tale does indeed treat in detail many
love affairs, but it nevertheless has always been considered by members
of the nobility, from emperors and empresses down, as an incomparable
treasure; and although people commonly say it is a sin even to make a
manuscript copy of the work, it in fact serves to encourage people to
turn to the Buddha. She insists that The Tale of Genji is by no means
restricted to descriptions of the romantic attachments of men and
women, and gives examples of passages in the novel that are specifically
intended to guide people to enlightenment. The book accords perfectly
with the Way of the Buddha, and even those passages that have been
sullied by the impurities of this world promote a yearning for the
morning sunlight of the Buddhist teachings."
The New Mirror is less engrossing than its predecessor, The Great
Mirror, but some of the stories, partly because they recur in later writings,
resonate within the reader's memory. An anecdote describing the dec-
oration of roofs with irises on the fifth day of the fifth month may recall
Basho's The Narrow Road of 0ku, and mention in the same anecdote of
the flowering water-oat (hanagatsumi) may have inspired his fruitless
search for the same plant (which he also knew from poetry)." Life at
Mirrors of History

the court is almost always portrayed cheerfully except when relating

such things as the deaths of members of the imperial family. There are
some delightful passages, such as the account of the time when Ariwara
no Narihira wrestled in the palace with the future Emperor Uda. The
two men-or rather, the man Narihira (about fifty-two) and the boy
Uda (about ten)-knock against a chair and break the armrest. It was
left broken in commemoration of the wrestling match, but recently some
official, not knowing the history, decided to repair the armrest, a sign
of his stupidity!"
Generally, life at the court is described with no hint that this life
would soon come to an end. The Hogen and Heiji revolts are passed
over in a few words, as if such deplorable examples of taste should not
be allowed to besmirch the pages of a refined chronicle. One would like
to think that Fujiwara no Tametsune (if indeed he was the author) was
trying to preserve intact the memory of the glory of the imperial court
in the face of the forthcoming triumph of the barbarians, but more
probably he simply could not conceive that the society he admired so
much would soon be dramatically altered.

THE WATER MIRROR

One other "mirror" of history survives from approximately the same

period, Mizukagami (The Water Mirror), an account of the reigns of
fourteen emperors during the 1,522 years between the coronation of
Jimmu, the legendary first emperor, and A.D. 850, the reign of the
Emperor Coichijo. The work was obviously intended to complete the
history of Japan by narrating what had happened up to the point where
The Great Mirror begins. The time of compilation and the author have
not been firmly established, but it is generally agreed on the basis of
internal evidence that it was written at the very beginning of the Ka-
makura period, probably between 1185 and 1190. Nakayama no Ta-
dachika (1131-1195), a nobleman of some importance, is most frequently
suggested as the author." Regardless of who wrote The Water Mirror,
the literary achievement was small. It is a bare account of the reigns of
the successive emperors, and lacks the chapters on members of the noble
houses that in the other "mirrors" contain the most interesting anecdotes.
It has been demonstrated, moreover, that when writing The Water
Mirror, the author used only one source, Fusi) Ryakki (A Short History
of Japan), a work in Chinese compiled between 1094 and 1107. This
 Early and Heian Literature

history is often credited to the Buddhist monk Koen (d. 1169), but if
this is correct it means, in view of the date of composition, that Koen
as a small boy compiled in kambun a thirty-volume history of Japan.
Whoever actually wrote the work was undoubtedly a devout and learned
Buddhist, but that is about all one can say with confidence. The Water
Mirror is an incomplete translation of Fuso Ryakki, rendered into
smoothly flowing [apanese." This in itself was an achievement worthy
of a place in the history of translation, but apart from the very beginning
and end, where the old nun and the ascetic appear, almost nothing is
original with The Water Mirror; its obscurity is richly earned.
Four more "mirrors" would be written in the tradition of The Great
Mirror. Masultagami (The Clear Mirror) is in literary terms the most
distinguished and a major work of the Muromachi period." It treats
events that occurred between 1180, the year of the birth of the Emperor
Gotoba, and 1333, the year when the Emperor Godaigo returned from
exile. Akusushima Monogatari (A Tale of Akitsushima) is dated 1218,
but there is no clue to the author." This "mirror" goes back even farther
than The Water Mirror to the age of the gods, long before the Emperor
[immu came into the world, and most of the information it contains
originated in the Nihon Shoki. The two remaining mirrors were both
compiled during the Tokugawa period. Tsuki no Yukue (Where the
Moon Goes) was written in I n l in the incredibly brief period of eight
days by Arakida Reijo (1732-1806), a learned lady of Ise. The materials
were derived mainly from literary sources such as Kenreimon'in UkYo
no Daibu no Shu (The Poetic Memoirs of Lady Daibu), and the style
harkens back to the Heian period. It opens with the accession to the
throne of the Emperor Takakura in 1168 and continues until the death
of the Emperor Antoku and the destruction of the Taira family in 1185.
Arakida Reijo also wrote in I n l the last of the mirrors, Ike no Mokuzu
(Scraps of Waterweed in the Pond), which continues from 1333 to the
1600s the account of Japanese history presented in The Clear Mirror. For
this work Reijo used as her primary source such works as the Taiheiki
(1372?), though she chose the style of the Heian romances. These works
differ in many ways from the first mirrors of history, but they observe
the convention of being the narrations of witnesses of the events they
describe, and suggest how congenial later writers found the Heian mix-
ture of history and poetry.
Mirrors of History

Notes
I. Specialists have divided works that describe historical events, especially
warfare, into such categories as senki monogatari (battle tales), rekishi mono-
gatari (historical tales), and gunki monogatari (war tales). A more recent
trend is to consider all works relating to warfare as gunki, regardless of
their degree of literary content. See for example the article on gunki in
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiien, II, p. 317. The tradition has been to treat
as literature works composed in Japanese, but to discuss those in Chinese
as histories or works of primarily historical interest. In general, I have
followed this practice, though composition in Japanese is not always a
guarantee of literary value and some histories in Chinese contain literary
elements.
2. I have adopted the translation of the title given by William H. and Helen

Craig McCullough in their translation.

3. William H. and Helen Craig McCullough, A Tale of Flowering Fortunes,
I, p. 15.
4· Ibid., p. 42 .
5. Ibid., pp. 140-4I. Text in Matsumura Hiroji and Yamanaka Yutaka, Eiga
Monogatari, I, p. 108. For more on Suishi, see p. 559.
6. Translation by Edward G. Seiden sticker, The Tale of Genji, I, p. 18.
7. McCullough and McCullough, A Tale, I, p. 49.
8. Ibid., p. 344. Text in Matsumura and Yamanaka, Eiga, I, pp. 335-36.
9. McCullough and McCullough, A Tale, I, pp. 240-4I. Text in Matsumura
and Yamanaka, Eiga, I, p. 225.
10. McCullough and McCullough, A Tale, I, p. 23.
I I. Ibid., p. 138. Text in Matsumura and Yamanaka, Eiga, I, p. 106.

12. McCullough and McCullough,A Tale, I, p. 249. Matsumura and Yamanaka,

Eiga, I, p. 234-
13. See the translation by Edwin A. Cranston, The Izumi Shikibu Diary, p. 13I.
14. The excellent translation by Helen Craig McCullough is called Okagami:
The Great Mirror. Joseph K. Yamagiwa published a section of the work in
the volume of translations made by himself and Edwin O. Reischauer.
(Edwin O. Reischauer and Joseph K. Yamagiwa, Translations from Early
Japanese Literature.) Yamagiwa subsequently published a complete trans-
lation under the title The Okagami.
15. The order of composition of the four "mirrors" is not the same as the
periods of history they cover. The third, The Water Mirror, opens with the
most ancient events, those ascribed to the reign of the Emperor [immu.
16. See McCullough, Okagami, p. 3.
17. Ibid., p. 85. Text in Hosaka Hiroshi, Okagami Zenhvoshalru, I, p. 170.
18. McCullough, Okagami, p. 68. Hosaka, Okagami, I, p. 40.
19. McCullough, Okagami, p. 116. Hosaka, Okagami, I, p. 339.
 Early and Heian Literature
20. McCullough, Okagami, pp. 80-81. Hosaka, Okagami, I, pp. 134-35.
21. McCullough, Okagami, p. 81. Hosaka, Okagami, I, p. 135.
22; McCullough, Okagami, p. 103. Hosaka, Okagami, I, p. 265.
23. McCullough, Okagami, p. 185. Hosaka, Okagami, II, p. 180.
24. McCullough, Okagami, p. 190. Hosaka, Okagam i, II, p. 239.
25. McCullough, Okagami, p. 186-87' Hosaka, Okagami, II, p. 204.
26. McCullough, Okagami, pp. 164-65. Hosaka, Okagami, II, p. 29.
27. McCullough, Okagami, p. 240. Hosaka, Okagami, II, p. 605.
28. Takehana Isao, Imaeagami, III, p. 620.
29. Ibid., pp. 620-22. See also Matsumura Hiroji, Rekishi Monogatari, pp.
156-61.
30. Takehana, lmakagarni, I, p. 42.
31. Ibid., pp. 38-39.
32. See Matsumura, Rekishi, pp. 168-80, for an account of the allusions to
Chinese and Japanese literature.
33. Takehana, Imahagami, I, p. 130. The empress in question was Shoshi.
Goichij6 was born in 1008 and Suzaku in ro09.
34. Ibid., p. 59· At other times (see page 64) the author says the same of mukashi
no monogatari (stories of long ago), apparently a reference to A Tale of
Flowering Fortunes.
35. Takehana, Imakagami, I, p. 131.
36. Ibid., p. 112.
37. Ibid., p. ro8.
38. Ibid., III, p. 595. There is some uncertainty about the meaning of en ni
enaranu tsuma. Takehana takes en to be the familiar "connection" with the
Buddha, but other scholars interpret the en as "charm," meaning in context
that Murasaki Shikibu's writings have such charm as to create a rare
occasion for arousing indescibable feelings.
39. Ibid., pp. 591-605. On pp. 605-1 I Takehana considers other accounts of
Murasaki Shikibu's punishment in hell. The statement in the text that Po
Chu-i was a reincarnation of the bodhisattva Mafijusri has not been found
in any earlier texts.
40. Ibid., pp. 522-23.
41. Ibid., pp. 1°7-10.
42. Nothing in the work either confirms or contradicts this theory. A rival
candidate, Minamoto no Masayori (1129-1192), is backed by some scholars.
For an account of the conflicting claims, see Matsumura, Rekishi, pp.
237-39·
43. For a parallel passage in the two texts, see ibid., pp. 234-35.
44. See below, pp. 899-906. It is so far removed in time of composition and
literary style from the earlier mirrors that I have discussed it in a later
chapter.
45. See Matsumura, Rekishl, pp. 3 14- 15.
Mirrors of History

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Cranston, Edwin A. The Izumi Shileibu Diary. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard

University Press, 1969.
Hosaka Hiroshi. Okagami Zenhvoshahu, 2 vols. Gakutosha, 1979.
Matsumura Hiroji. Rekishi Monogatari. Hanawa Shobe, 1979.
Matsumura Hiroji and Yamanaka Yutaka. Eiga Monogatari, 2 vols., in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1964-65.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Okagami: The Great Mirror. Princeton, N.J.: Prince-
ton University Press, 1980.
McCullough, William H. and Helen Craig McCullough. A Tale of Flowering
Fortunes, 2 vols. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1980.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Reischauer, Edwin 0., and Joseph K. Yamagiwa. Translationsfrom Early Jap-
anese Literature. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1951.
Seidensticker, Edward G. The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 1976.
Takehana Isao. Imakagami, 3 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansha, 1984.
Yamagiwa, Joseph K. The Okagami. London: George Allen and Unwin, 1967.
 1 5.
TALE LITERATURE

~e compilation of extensive collections of stories, fables, and parables

known today as setsuwa bungaku (tale literature) was a notable devel-
opment of the late Heian period. Some of the stories were native folktales
that had been transmitted orally, others were derived from Buddhist or
Confucian writings of the continent. Although their backgrounds were
diverse, many tales were alike in possessing Buddhist or other "lessons"
at the close; the compiler generally managed to salvage from even the
most mundane or risque story an edifying moral, unconvincing though
it might seem. The stories are brief-usually not more than a few pages
in length-and they differ greatly in literary value; but twentieth-
century writers and critics have often contrasted the vigor and freshness
of these collections with the effete manner of works of courtly fiction
written at about the same time.
Tales similar to those contained in these collections may be found
as far back as the Kojiki, and they also appear in such works of court
literature as Tales ofYamato and The Great Mirror. The major collections
of setsuwa date from the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, but a
number of lesser collections were compiled during the three hundred
years between the ninth-century Account of Miracles in Japan, the oldest
collection of setsuwa, and the twelfth-century Konjaleu Monogatari (Tales
of Times Now Past), the principal repository of setsuwa. The word
setsuwa itself, originally a designation for orally transmitted tales,' is
now used mainly for written tales, and embraces a wide variety of works,
ranging from artless children's stories to intensely serious accounts of
awakening to the truths of Buddhism.'
The major setsuwa collections contain both religious and secular
tales. Some relate incidents from the lives of the successive buddhas;
others depict emperors, generals, and similar figures of Japanese history;
still others are devoted to humble people who could never have appeared
Tale Literature
in the aristocratic writings of the Heian period. Naturally, the accounts
of Buddhist miracles were clothed in suitably dignified language, but
elsewhere the compilers did not hesitate to include crude and even
indecent language. Some stories bear resemblances to folktales known
all over the world, but others seem to have been created specifically in
order to explain the origins of place-names, customs, and unusual fea-
tures of the Japanese landscape.'

ORALLY TRANSMITTED TALES

Many tales included in the setsuwa collections undoubtedly originated

as folktales or, to use the Japanese term, mukashibanashi, meaning "stories
about long ago." In the past, when literacy was largely confined to
members of the court and the priesthood, the narration of tales and
poetry possessed for the common people the importance of written texts
or visually presented entertainments today. The telling of "stories about
long ago" still goes on; collectors continue to discover treasure troves
of folktales, remembered by elderly people in villages scattered all over
Japan. Few, however, of the folktales currently being told can be shown
to be closely related to the tales found in the setsuwa collections; and
even in such cases, it is possible that at some time during the intervening
centuries these folktales were derived from written accounts.' Resem-
blances to folktales found elsewhere in the world have induced scholars
to classify them under rubrics first devised for European tales,' but the
dissimilarities are no less striking.
Probably the best known of all Japanese folktales is that of the
fisherman U rashima Taro. One day, after hours of unsuccessful fishing,
he caught a great tortoise. He did not kill it, and the grateful tortoise
took him on its back to the Dragon Palace under the sea, where he
spent three happy years with a beautiful princess (in some versions a
transformation of the tortoise). Eventually, however, he became home-
sick, and told the princess he wished to return to his family. She gave
him a jeweled casket with the injunction never to open it. When he
reached his native village he was astonished by the changes that had
occurred in only three years. He recognized no one, but finally en-
countered a villager who had heard the story of how, three hundred
years before, Urashima went out to sea and never returned. Distraught
to hear this revelation, Urashima opened the casket, and at once turned
into an extremely old man.
This tale was first recorded in the fudoki for the province of Tango
57° Early and Heian Literature

in 713,6 and appeared in many different versions over the centuries,

notably in Kojidan (Tales About Old Matters), a collection compiled
early in the thirteenth century.' In each version details differ, but the
general outlines remain much the same. Kawai Hayato, a Jungian an-
alyst, discussing the fudoki version, contrasted it with similar European
tales:

In an important process in Western ego development, the male figure

tries to separate from Mother (symbolically by killing her) and then
to gain a new woman. However, in the Fudoki version of "Urashima
Taro," there is no sign of an incident which might symbolize killing
the mother. Instead, suddenly, the turtle princess appears and pro-
poses to him. U rashima, not knowing anything about this woman,
follows after her. In short, rather than getting a woman after a heroic
battle, this hero was captured by her!"

The passivity of the Japanese hero often leads to endings to the tales
that seem incomplete to a Western reader; but even if nothing seems
to have happened in the tale, at least according to Western conceptions,
a poignant atmosphere at the conclusion is enough for Japanese readers,
for whom the silent grief of a woman makes as satisfying an ending as
the triumph of a hero."
Probably the manner of narration of the oral tales, as distinct from
written ones, added overtones to the meaning. Some orally transmitted
tales can be appreciated when committed to paper, but others are fully
intelligible only in the context of the culture that produced them. This
is the particular interest of the tales to the student of Iapanese literature-
not as sources of later fiction, nor even as depictions of how people of
the past lived, but as embodiments of cultural attitudes that antedate
the earliest examples of written literature yet continue to be felt in
modern Japan.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE THREE JEWELS

The beginnings of setsuwa literature (as opposed to orally transmitted

tales of uncertain antiquity) are traced back to Account of Miracles in
[apan:" The stories of this collection, as the title indicated, narrated the
miracles vouchsafed by various buddhas and bodhisattvas in response
to the prayers and virtuous actions of Japanese believers, and this was
true of other collections of Buddhist tales.
Tale Literature 571
The first monument of setsuwa literature of the Heian period was
also Buddhist in content. The title Sambii-e (Illustrations of the Three
Jewels)" refers to the three treasures (samba) of Buddhism-the Buddha,
the Buddhist Law (dharma), and the priesthood. The word illustrations
(e), at the end of the title, indicates that the work was originally a
combination of text and paintings, probably in the form of a horizontal
scroll, but these illustrations have been lost. The collection was compiled
in 984 by Minamoto no Tamenori (941-IOII) for the Princess Sonshi,
who had recently taken vows as a Buddhist nun, to guide her in the
Buddhist teachings. Probably Tamenori originally composed the work
in Chinese but later (perhaps for Princess Sonshi's benefit) translated it
into [apanese."
Illustrations ofthe Three Jewels contains sixty-two stories, divided into
three books, each of which is devoted to one of the "jewels." The tales
in the first book were derived from jiitaka stories told about the previous
lives of the Buddha; those in the second book are concerned with the
Buddhist Law, as practiced in Japan; and those in the third book describe
the origins of Buddhist rites performed by Japanese monks. Tamenori
borrowed all but one of the tales in the second book from Account of
Miracles in Japan, as he himself stated, and closely followed his source."
These stories, like many other examples of setsuwa literature, are no
more than moderately entertaining. No doubt they helped readers to
absorb the lessons taught in the Buddhist scriptures, but they are seldom
of literary interest, and generally trail off without reaching an aesthet-
ically satisfying conclusion. Some stories in the first book, especially
those in which animals are portrayed more sympathetically than human
beings, are pleasantly naive," but Tamenori's main concern in compiling
Illustrations of the Three Jewels was clearly to enlighten rather than to
amuse Princess Sonshi.

COLLECTION OF THINGS HEARD

Two collections of Buddhist tales compiled early in the twelfth century

are of special interest: Hyakuza Hiidan Kikigaki Sho" (Notes on One
Hundred Sessions of Sermons) and Uchigiki Shu (Collection of Things
Heard). The former work consists of notes on twenty of the sermons
delivered on different chapters of the Lotus Sutra during a period of a
hundred days in I I 10. 16 The notes refer mainly to the thirty-five tales
incorporated in the sermons, providing a rare glimpse of the language
and manner of contemporary preaching. Of the surviving thirty-five
572 Early and Heian Literature

tales, eighteen are set in India, sixteen in China, and only one in Japan;
the preponderance of tales set outside Japan contrasts especially with
Account of Miracles in [apan:"
Collection of Things Heard gives in outline form the main elements
of twenty-seven Buddhist tales set in India, China, and Japan. The brief
preface to the work states that it was copied in 1134 by a monk named
Eigen-probably a Tendai monk, judging by the attention given to the
Tendai sect in the collection. Most authorities believe that Eigen merely
copied another priest's manuscript, but it is at least possible that he
himself was the author." Only one volume of the original two or three
has been preserved, and the contents of all twenty-seven of the surviving
tales appear in other collections of setsuwa;" but Collection of Things
Heard is nonetheless important because of its distinctive treatment of
the materials. The outlines of the tales found in this work are sometimes
written in a mixture of Japanese and Chinese, sometimes in an ap-
proximation of Chinese, depending on whether the author was relating
the tale at length or merely stating the bare essentials. In the form in
which they are presented in Collection of Things Heard the tales lack
literary interest, but like those in Notes on One Hundred Sessions of
Sermons they reveal much about the nature of popular Buddhism in
their day." The author's purpose in compiling the book seems to have
been to provide himself or others with a ready store of Buddhist anec-
dotes with which to enliven sermons. The sources of the stories are
nowhere stated, but they were probably derived from a common pool
of tales, and may have appeared in the lost Vji Dainagon Monogatart
(Tales of the Uji Grand Minister) compiled about 1070 by Minamoto
no Takakuni (1004-1077), known as the Uji Grand Minister." Despite
the striking similarities in content between Collection of Things Heard
and other collections, it is clear from the differences among the texts
that the compiler did not borrow directly from any surviving work."

TALES OF TIMES Now PAST

These early setsuwa collections are not without interest, despite the
crudity of the narration and the inadequate characterization of the people
who appear in the tales. No apologies need be made, however, for
Konjaku Monogatari (Tales of Times Now Past), the most important
work of setsuwa literature. Neither the date of compilation nor the name
of the editor is known, but there is reason to believe that it was compiled
between 1130 and 1140. Traditionally, the compilation of Tales of Times
Tale Literature 573

Now Past was credited to Minamoto no Takakuni, an enthusiastic col-

lector of folktales, who is reported to have stopped people passing his
house to ask if they knew any interesting tales. This may have happened,
but no one now believes that Takakuni compiled Tales of Times Now
Past; not only does the collection contain stories describing events that
occurred long after his death, but the stories have been carefully inte-
grated into the whole, strong evidence that the compilation was made
by a later man."
Tales of Times Now Past contains over a thousand stories, but even
so the text is incomplete: three of the projected thirty-one books bear
numbers but no tales, and elsewhere only the titles of tales survive. Such
gaps in the manuscipt suggest not that sections of the manuscript were
lost, but that the compilation was broken off before the manuscript
could be completed.
The books of the collection are arranged in the order of India, China,
and Japan, suggesting the path taken by Buddhism as it spread across
Asia. The first five books, therefore, are devoted to Buddhist tales from
India. They are followed by five books (one of them missing) of tales
from China, mostly Buddhist but some Confucian. Finally, the original
plan apparently called for twenty-one books of tales from Japan, but
only nineteen were completed. The Japanese tales constitute the most
interesting segment of the collection, not only because they are far more
numerous, but also because many are devoted to the daily lives of
Japanese of the time, rather than to repetitious accounts of Buddhist
miracles. When contemporary editors make selections from the great
corpus of Tales of Times Now Past, they almost always choose from the
secular Japanese tales about nobles and commoners found in the last ten
books.
Within each book the tales are arranged in a manner especially
congenial to the Japanese: each tale links to the next by some common
theme or association. The style shows a similar pattern, ranging from
the somewhat stiff language of the translations from Chinese ver-
sions of the sacred texts of Buddhism or from the Confucian classics
to the much more relaxed style of the tales of the last ten books, those
that treat Japanese people. Except for titles of office and special Bud-
dhist terminology, very few words in the text are of Chinese origin,
but the appearance of any given page does not in the least resemble
one from any of the Heian classics of courtly literature; Chinese charac-
ters are so extensively used to represent the Japanese words and sounds
that at first glance one might even suppose that the texts were in
Chinese."
574 Early and Heian Literature
Each of the tales opens with the formula ima wa muhashi, rather
like the "once upon a time" of European fairy tales, but meaning some-
thing closer to "now it is long ago." There is also a concluding formula
for each tale, to nan kataritsutaetaru to ya-"thus it has been told and
transmitted." It is not clear whether these formulae were original or
borrowed from some existing tradition or why it was felt necessary to
include them in each instance. Part of the problem is that many of the
conjectured sources for Tales of Times Now Past have been lost, and we
cannot even be sure of how long the compilation took or when it was
finished. The earliest possible date for the completion of the work was
1120, the year when a Chinese book it quotes was first imported into
Japan. The latest possible date is more difficult to establish," but stylistic
features suggest that the later limit is about 1140.26
Many tales of India and China found in Tales of Times Now Past
have been traced back to two collections of Buddhist tales compiled by
Chinese monks: fifty-five came from San-pao kan-ying yao-lueh-lu (Out-
line Account of Responses of the Three Treasures)" by Fei Cho (d.
1063), not only the main source of stories but the model for the entire
collection with respect to the arrangement of the tales; and forty-eight
tales were drawn from Ming-pao chi (Account of Retribution in the
Afterworld) compiled about A.D. 650 by the monk Tang Lin. 28 The
editor of Tales of Times Now Past did not borrow directly from the
sutras or other sacred works of the Buddhist tradition for his religious
tales but from these and other secondary Chinese collections." The
Confucian tales were similarly borrowed from popular works, rather
than the canonical Four Books. The religious tales set in Japan borrowed
from Account ofMiracles in Japan, The Three Jewels, and other secondary
works. The secular tales came from a greater variety of sources: tales
that dealt with military matters were derived from such works as sse-
monk] (The Story of Masakado) and Mutsu Waki (Tales and Records of
Mutsu);" stories of court life from Tales of Ise, Tales of Yamato, and
various anthologies of poetry; and other tales from lost collections. It
was long assumed that many tales must have been based on orally
transmitted folktales, but most scholars now believe that the tales were
all derived from written sources."
The chief pleasure in reading Tales of Times Now Past comes from
the glimpses it provides of life during the Heian period. People of every
class, from every part of Japan, appear in its pages; even when the work
describes persons of the upper class, they are usually specimens we do
not encounter in works of the courtly tradition. Consider, for example,
the portrait of Goi 32 in the tale "Yam Soup":
Tale Literature 575

A few days later Toshihito appeared at Sir Goi's lodging and

invited him for a bath.
Sir Goi accepted. "I am a bit itchy this evening," he admitted.
"But I've no conveyance."
"Don't worry," said Toshihito. "I've brought you a nag to ride."
"Wonderful, wonderful!" Sir Goi rose to go. He had on a tattered
light-blue outfit with rents and gaps here and there, and not even
proper underwear under his trousers. The end of his sharp nose was
red, and the drop quivering there showed that he had not wiped it
for some time."

This description from Tales of Times Now Past is all one needs to
visualize the hapless Goi. Even when they are only a few lines long,
the portraits of characters high and low, but especially low, make many
episodes unforgettable. This is true of such varied figures as the ferocious
bandit who is intimidated by the nonchalant flute playing of the no-
bleman he intends to attack;" the female chief of a band of robbers who
sadistically whips her adoring underlings;" or the woman who turns
into a demon and tries to devour her own sons." Many tales are devoted
to Buddhist priests. Priests described in the religious tales are for the
most part admirable, but those in the secular tales are almost without
exception corrupt or licentious men, and some even commit murder."
The impression left by these contrasting accounts is not one of contra-
diction but of a richly varied world.
The interest that the stories in Tales of Times Now Past (after their
rediscovery in the fifteenth century) aroused in later readers can be
inferred from the number that were incorporated into works of fiction
and drama. No plays were based on tales included in the collection, as
were medieval stories. Occasionally a passage seems to anticipate the
seventeenth-century novelist Saikaku: "You know the saying, a governor
can't stumble without snatching a handful of dirt.':" Twentieth-century
writers have also been tempted into creating works of their own about
the people and situations found in Tales of Times Now Past, enhancing
them with psychological insights and the skill of professional writers.
For all their interest as documents of the past and their intermittent
charm, however, few of the original tales can be said to be well crafted.
Sometimes even the anonymous narrator seems to be dissatisfied with
the resolution of a tale:

Now think: there's nothing unusual in a fox taking human form;

it's happened often since ancient times. But what an impudent trick
 Early and Heian Literature
it was, to take him all the way to Toribeno! And then why was it
that on the second occasion the guardsman did not see the procession
or lose his way? Some have guessed that how a fox behaves depends
on the person's state of mind."

At other times a tale may provide unnecessary information, as in

the opening to one well-known episode:

Many years ago there were in the province of Mimasaka two gods,
Chuzan and Koya. Chuzan had the shape of a monkey, and Koya
of a snake. Every year, at the time of the festival, a living creature
was offered up to the gods. The victim was an un wedded girl of
this province.'?

Apart from these opening words, there is not a single reference in

the story to the snake god. He is mentioned not because he will figure
later in the account but because there was such a divinity; it seemed
more important to mention this truth than to worry about creating a
work of art. In other cases, the story is inadequately developed, as we
realize immediately when we read a modern version of the same tale.
Perhaps the most celebrated tale in the collection (though it is hardly a
page long) describes a robber who hides in the upper story of the
Rashornon, the great gate at the southern entrance to the capital. He
sees a dim light in the darkness of the windowless room and goes to
investigate. An old woman is pulling the hair from the corpse of a young
woman. The sight is so appalling that at first the robber wonders if the
old woman might not be a demon. He tries frightening her away with
a shout, only for the old woman to beg for mercy. He demands to know
what she is doing.

"I lost my mistress, sir," she said, "and as there was no one to bury
her, I brought her here. See what nice long hair she has. I'm plucking
it out to make a wig. Spare me!"
The thief stripped the corpse and the old woman of the clothes
they wore and stole the hair. He ran to the ground and made his
getaway."

The crone who pulls out the hair of her dead mistress leaves an
indelible, nightmarish impression on the reader, and the incident sym-
bolizes the capital at a time when pestilence and wanton crime had
rendered unrecognizable a city that a century earlier had been the
Tale Literature 577
loveliest in the world. But, for all its memorable qualities, the tale as
narrated here is no match for Akutagawa Ryunosuke's story based on
the same episode from Tales of Times Now Past. The man in the original
tale is a faceless thief, and his ultimate brutality, snatching the rags from
the old woman's back, is no more than one of a series of almost auto-
matically performed acts, all in keeping with his profession. In the
Akutagawa story, the man is portrayed as having hitherto resisted some-
how the temptation to turn to crime (like so many other desperate men);
but the sight of the crone's plucking hair from the head of the dead
woman shocks him into brutality. He seizes the dead woman's robe,
her hair, and, the final step into the abyss, the worthless rags the crone
is wearing. He rushes off into the night, a criminal.
Many similar instances of successful adaptation of tales from the
collection could be given, testimony at once to the richness of the material
and the inadequacy of the storytelling. When the same story appears
both in Tales of Times Now Past and in Vji Shui Monogatari (Later Tales
from Uji), the later version is almost always literarily superior. It may
be that Tales of Times Now Past was never intended to be read in
the manner in which it is read today, but it is impossible to know
what was in the compiler's mind: the book lacks the kind of preface
or afterword that often informs us of the intentions of Japanese
authors."

COLLECTION OF OLD SETSUWA TEXTS

In 1943 the announcement was made that a collection of setsuwa that

had never before been carefully examined (it had previously been as-
sumed it was no more than a variant text of Tales of Times Now Past)
was in fact an independent work. The sole surviving manuscript had
been labeled Konjaku Monogatari at some time in the past, but it was
decided, to avoid confusion, that the work be given a different title. It
was uninspiringly called Kohon Setsuwa Shu (Collection of Old Setsuwa
Texts). Neither the compiler nor the date of composition is known, but
it probably dates from the early twelfth century."
Collection of Old Setsuwa Texts consists of two volumes, the first
containing forty-six Japanese secular tales, the second twenty-four
Buddhist tales, all but three set in Japan. Forty of the tales relate anec-
dotes similar to ones in Tales of Times Now Past, many of them devoted
to the circumstances of the composition of waka by members of the
court." The resemblances go beyond the subject matter: they all open
 Early and Heian Literature

with the familiar ima wa mukashi (now it is long ago), and the style is
also very similar, though the stories lack the stereotyped phrases with
which each episode in Tales of Times Now Past concludes. There are,
however, important differences: even when the story treats what is in
general the same incident, the structure and the emphasis may be so
dissimilar as to obscure any resemblances. For example, tales 4 and 5
in Collection of Old Setsuwa Texts are devoted to De no Masahira and
his wife, Akazome Emon (the author of A Tale of Flowering Fortunes).
They parallel tales 51 and 52 in Book XXIV of Tales of Times Now Past
and even contain some of the same poems; but the Collection text em-
phasizes Akazome's dislike for her ugly husband, whereas the Tales of
Times Now Past version tells how she won back Masahira's affection
after he had had an affair with another woman."
Apart from their importance as sometimes strikingly different ver-
sions of tales familiar from earlier collections, some tales in Collections
of Old Setsuwa Texts are interesting in their own right. One, concerning
Murasaki Shikibu, opens intriguingly:

Many years ago, when Murasaki Shikibu, the celebrated poet, was
serving the Empress Shoshi," a note came from the grand high
priestess" one spring day saying, "I'm bored. Haven't you some story
I can read?"
Various books were brought out, and the empress picked her
way through them, finally asking, "I wonder which one I should
send her?"
Murasaki Shikibu said, "I'm sure she knows them all backward
and forward. I think you should have a new one written and send
that to her."
"Very well," said the empress, "You write it."
Since this was Her Majesty's command, she wrote Genji and the
empress sent it along to the grand high priestess."

It is hard to believe that the composition of The Tale of Genji

originated in so casual an impulse, but the dialogue in this and other
episodes is so lively as to suggest it was faithful to the speech of the
day." Although Collection ofOld Setsuwa Texts shares many resemblances
with other collections of setsuwa, the style is actually closer to that of
court romances and diaries, suggesting that the compiler's intended
audience was the readers of court fiction, rather than monks looking
for anecdotes with which to enliven their sermons. This impression is
confirmed by the appearance of a typical page: very few Chinese char-
Tale Literature 579

acters are used, and no attempt was made to induce the reader to believe
he held in his hands a work of Chinese learning.

TALES WRITTEN IN CHINESE

It will be remembered that the first collection of Buddhist tales, Account

of Miracles in Japan, was written in classical Chinese. It was not sur-
prising, in view of the purpose of the collection-to provide priests with
anecdotes for their sermons-that it should have been in the language
of the Buddhist texts used in Japan. The tradition of writing anecdotes
in Chinese continued long past the end of the Heian period, even when
they were not inspired by Buddhism.
Honcho Shinsen Den (Lives of Japanese Spirit Immortals, c. 1097)
consists of brief descriptions in Chinese of thirty-seven" Japanese "im-
mortals," as related by the Confucian scholar Oe no Masafusa. The use
of the word "spirit immortals" (shinsen) plainly indicates Taoist influ-
ence," and even though many of the figures treated were Buddhist
clerics (like Kobo Daishi or Jikaku Daishi), emphasis is placed not on
their knowledge of the sutras but on their success in achieving immor-
tality or on their ability to perform such feats as flying through the sky.
The biography of Yosho, a monk of the Tendai sect, typifies the col-
lection. It opens:

Yosho was a native of the province of Noto. His family name as a

layman was Ki. His mother, after having a dream in which she
swallowed sunlight, conceived and gave birth. In the third year of
Cangyo [879] he climbed Mount Hiei, where he lived at the Hodo
Temple. At the time he was in his eleventh year, and he took the
vinaya master Kunichi as his master. He was extremely quick and
intelligent, and once he had learned something he never asked about
it again. He was versant in the Lotus Sutra, the Yuga Sastra, and
the Great Concentration and Insight.? and never in all his life did
he show joy or anger, nor did he sleep. Although he accumulated
no worldly goods, he gave what clothes and food he possessed to
the hungry and cold.
Later, he climbed Metal Peak Mountain" and stayed at the Muta
Temple there. For three years he practiced austerities, and ate no
more than a single grain of millet each day. He walked so quickly
that, although he had no wings, he flew. Even in the dead of winter
he wore no cloak and used no bedding. In the autumn of the first
 Early and Heian Literature

year of the Engi era [901] he finally climbed the mountain and became
an immortal [hljiri]. In the eighteenth year of the same era a priest
of the Todai-ji visited the peak where the spirit immortal lived. He
had run out of food and water and was on the point of expiring
when he heard a voice chanting the Lotus Sutra. Astonished, he
struggled to his feet and searched for the source of the voice, and
that was how he happened to meet Yosho. Yosh6 directed spells at
the man's bowl and water jug, and soon the bowl was full of delicious
food, and the jug overflowed with nectar."

The magical feats of Y6sho belong more to the world of the Taoist
practitioners than to Buddhism, despite the references to Mount Hiei,
the center of Tendai Buddhism, and to the sacred texts of Tendai. Not
all the tales are on this elevated level, however. Here is the entire text
of Saouchi no Hijiri 'The Tale of the Immortal Beaten with Poles':

The Immortal Beaten with Poles was a native of the province of

Yamato. He had mastered the art of becoming an immortal, but his
worldly bones were still heavy, and even the medicines used by
immortals were powerless to alleviate this condition. He was able
to take off from the earth and fly, but he never got more than seven
or eight feet from the ground, and little children would all run after
him brandishing poles with which to hit him. That is how he ac-
quired his name. It is not known what happened to him afterward."

Oe no Masafusa is credited with various other collections of setsuwa

written in Chinese, including Zoku Nihon Gjo Gokuraku Ki (Sequel
Account of Japanese Reborn in Paradise), a continuation of the work
by Yoshishige no Yasutane, and Lives ofJapanese Spirit lmmortals.v But
his best-known work was the Godansho (Selection ofOe's Conversations),
a series of short essays taken down from Masafusa's conversations by
Fujiwara no Sanekane (1085- 1112). Most of the essays are devoted to
explanations of couplets in Chinese that appear in Wakan Roei ShU. 57
These explanations are occasionally of interest, but the appeal of the
collection lies chiefly in the relatively few stories in the setsuwa vein,
like the following account of the dream prophecy vouchsafed to Fujiwara
no Kaneie, known as the "Great Lay Priest":

When the Great Lay Priest was a major counselor he dreamt of

crossing the Osaka Barrier in the falling snow. The barrier was
completely white. He was greatly shocked by this dream, supposing
Tale Literature

that snow was an unlucky omen. He sent for a dream interpreter

and related the dream. The man said, "Your dream was a most
auspicious one. You have definitely nothing to worry about. Some-
body is certain to offer you a mottled ox." Thereupon a man did
indeed offer him a mottled ox, and Kaneie rewarded the dream
interpreter. When o- no Masahira came to call, Kaneie related what
had happened. Masahira was astonished. He urged Kaneie to take
back the reward from the dream interpreter, and gave his own
interpretation of the dream: "The Osaka Barrier contains the same
character kan as used in kampaku. The snow is white, written with
the character haleu. It means that you are without question going to
become the kampaku." Kaneie was overcome with emotion. In the
following year he was appointed as kampaku."

In this and many other passages Masafusa glorified his great-grand-

father, the scholar Oe no Masahira. He never hesitated to refer to the
achievements of other members of his family, beginning with Oe no
Otondo (811-877), the founder of the Oe family. When Otondo was
appointed chief of police (kebiishi betto} the prison was in such a bad
state of repair that criminals were constantly escaping. Otondo built a
new prison wall, which ended the escapes. Shortly before he died, Otondo
prophesized that because of this distinguished service to his country, his
descendants would rise to high positions in the government. Masafusa
had modeled himself on this ancestor and credited him with his own
successful career." Autobiographical touches of this kind contribute to
the interest of the book.
The text of Selection of Ge's Conversations is mainly in Chinese, but
it contains some Japanese, probably because the text originated as notes
on actual conversations. This is perhaps the most interesting of the
setsuwa collections written entirely or largely in Chinese. Such collec-
tions, because they were composed by members of the court and treat
only people and events that occurred at the court, lack the variety of
the setsuwa tales composed in Japanese. When, moreover, a Japanese
conversation was reported in Chinese, the pungency of expression in
the original tale tends to be diluted by being translated into what was,
after all, a foreign language. In some passages verb endings, particles,
and other typical elements of the Japanese language interrupt the Chinese
text of this and similar collections, suggesting that the translator at times
could not help but use Japanese, especially when a story was concerned
with waka composition or some other aspect of court life.
Two similar collections of setsuwa consist of the conversations, re-
 Early and Heian Literature

corded mainly in Chinese, of the statesman Fujiwara no Tadazane (1078-

1162). Tadazane's life was one of extreme changes of fortune. He rose
at one time to the position of kampaku, only to be dismissed after
offending the Priestly Sovereign Shirakawa. Reinstated by the Retired
Emperor Toba, he was implicated in the Hogen Rebellion, and confined
to the Chisoku-in, a temple whose name meant ironically "to know
satisfaction," where he spent the rest of his days. Even though he was
living in disgrace, he was nevertheless a repository of information about
precedents and court customs, and his reminiscences, both before and
after his incarceration, were preserved in Chugaisho, recorded by Na-
kahara no Moromoto between 1137 and 1154, and in Fuke Go, recorded
by Takashina no Nakayuki between 1151 and 1161.60 These two works
would exercise considerable influence over later collections of tales, es-
pecially those compiled in the Kamakura period."

TALES TRANSLATED FROM CHINESE

The setsuwa collections of the late Heian period include a few that are
devoted entirely to figures of Chinese history. Kara Monogatari (Tales
of Chinal/" the best known, consists of twenty-seven tales; its title sug-
gests it was intended as a Chinese equivalent to the tales of Japan in
Tales ofYamato. Recent research indicates that it was probably compiled
between 1165 and 1176 by Fujiwara no Shigenori (1135-1177), the son
of the priest Shinzei who perished in the Heiji Rebellion."
Tales of China, apparently intended for young Japanese readers
(though not all of the tales can be said to be edifying), presents in easy-
to-read Japanese the deeds of Chinese of the past. The translator freely
chose his materials for each of the stories, and transmuted the original
Chinese into effortless prose of the Heian variety, embellished with waka
at places where they would naturally appear if the tales had been written
from the start in Japanese. Each episode begins with the same formula
as in Tales of Times Now Past, and if the names of people and places
were not all Chinese, it would be hard to distinguish this from a purely
Japanese collection. However, Tales of China, unlike the Chinese stories
in Tales of Times Now Past, is usually treated as a translation rather than
as an original work. The sources of the tales have been traced to the
works of Po Chu-i; to Meng Ch'iu, the collection of rhymed epitomi-
zations of the lives of some six hundred famous people of the past by
the eighth-century official Li Han; to Shih Chi, the great history by Ssu-
rna Ch'ien; and to various other works of Chinese history and literature."
Tale Literature

In view of the great importance of translation in the development of

Japanese literature, especially from the late nineteenth century, Tales of
China occupies an honored place as the oldest surviving translation into
Japanese, but its worth as literature is modest."
Mogyu Waka (Meng Ch'iu Waka), compiled (according to the preface)
in 1204 by Minamoto no Mitsuyuki (1163-1244), consists of twenty-five
anecdotes translated from Meng Ch'iu, each anecdote ending with a
waka that epitomizes its essential points. The stories are arranged in
the traditional order of waka collections, beginning with poems on the
four seasons and continuing with love poems and other poems on the
usual topics. The translations are free, taking from the original only
what would go smoothly into Heian-period Japanese. Each tale concludes
with a waka that is intended as a crystallization of the story as a whole,
and is not (as in Tales of China) attributed to one of the characters of
the story. A comparison of the original Chinese text (in the translation
of Burton Watson) of one of the episodes together with the Japanese
version may suggest the differences. The story ofLi Kuang in the original
opens in this manner:

Li Kuang of the Former Han was a native of Ch'eng-chi in Lung-

hsi. The art of archery had been handed down in his family for
generations.
Li Kuang was out hunting one time when he spied a rock in
the grass which he mistook for a tiger. He shot an arrow at the rock
and hit it with such force that the tip of the arrow embedded itself
in the rock. Later he discovered that it was a rock, but another day
when he tried shooting at it again, he was unable to pierce it.66

The above is about one quarter of the anecdote. The Japanese trans-
lation is much shorter than the original and does not mention (as the
original Chinese text does) Li Kuang's subsequent career or his spec-
tacular suicide, but in the part of his life it describes it gives various
details that are not found in the source. Here is the full text from Mogyu
Waka (where it is classified as a spring story because of the reference to
peach blossoms):

Li Kuang was a native of Ch'eng-chi in Lung-hsi. He excelled in

the art of bows and arrows, and repeatedly won glory in battle. That
is how he became a general. The Grand Historian" said, "I myself
have seen General Li-a man so plain and unassuming that you
would take him for a peasant, and almost incapable of speaking a
 Early and Heian Literature

word. And yet the day he died all the people of the empire, whether
they had known him or not, were moved to the profoundest grief.
There is a proverb which says, 'Though the peach and damson trees
do not speak, the world wears a path beneath them.' "6~ General Li's
father was eaten by a tiger. When General Li went into the fields
he thought he saw a tiger in the grass, and shot an arrow through
it. They say the arrow penetrated as far as the feathers. When he
examined it close up, he saw that it was not a tiger but a big rock.
Later on, if ever he saw a rock and fired on it, the arrow would
never stand in the rock. It was because he was under the impression
he was firing on the tiger who had devoured his father that his
arrow pierced the rock.

mono uaanu Even blossoms that

hana mo hitome tao Say nothing have attracted
sasoikeri People's attention;
michi mo sariaenu One cannot avoid the path
mama no shitakage69 That leads beneath the peach trees.

The Japanese version of the story of General Li Kuang, though

ostensibly a translation of the account in Meng Ch'iu, incorporates ma-
terials from other sources, and the waka, needless to say, is not found
in the Chinese original. The explanation of why Li Kuang's arrow
penetrated the rock only the first time, not given either in Meng Ch'iu
or in Shih Chi, may have been inspired by the questions oflittle Japanese
boys who were obliged to memorize this edifying tale.
These Chinese tales, though the names of the people and places were
probably rather exotic to the first Japanese readers, soon became a part
of the Japanese heritage as we can tell from the repeated references to
Chinese heroes in the later Japanese literature, especially the war tales.
To the modern reader the many citations of Chinese parallels in The
Tale of the Heike and similar works are likely to seem tedious. The
unfamiliar Chinese names add nothing to the narration and serve mainly
to interrupt it; but for readers acquainted with Tales of China and other
stories derived from Meng Ch'iu, such references imparted an added
dimension to the Japanese deeds of valor, as parallels with the ancient
Greeks confirmed the importance of Roman prowess."
Tale Literature

SOME LATER COLLECTIONS OF TALES

During the latter part of the twelfth and early part of the thirteenth
centuries a number of setsuwa collections were compiled, but it is often
difficult to determine which of two collections came first or (another
way of saying the same thing) which collection influenced the other. An
identical or virtually identical tale may appear in several collections; and
even if we know the name of the compiler, it is by no means clear why
he thought it necessary to include in his own collection-even to the
point of copying word for word-stories that had already been an-
thologized. Perhaps, considering the scarcity of manuscripts, he thought
that the best way to preserve a story he liked was to include it in his
collection, regardless of how many other collections might have in-
cluded it.
Kojidan (Tales About Old Matters), compiled by Fujiwara no Aki-
kane (1160-1215), is almost entirely derived from earlier collections, and
the author hardly ever intrudes in the narration. His chief contribution
would seem to have been organizing the 462 tales into six books de-
voted to (I) members of the imperial family, (2) ministers, (3) priests,
(4) warriors, (5) Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples, and (6) buildings
and arts. These categories are by no means absolute, but Tales About
Old Matters is better organized than Selection of De's Conversations, also
in six books." It is believed that Akikane set about compiling Tales
About Old Matters soon after he gave up his successful career as an official
and became a Buddhist monk in 121 I, completing his task sometime
after 1213.72 The language used in narrating the tales ranges from more
or less normal Chinese, with no admixture of kana, to stories in Japanese
dotted with Chinese Buddhist and technical terms in the manner of
Tales of Times Now Past. If Akikane wrote the entire text, the changes
in style must reflect the different attitudes he assumed toward his
materials.
It might be expected that a collection of tales compiled toward the
end of his life by a man who had taken vows as a priest would be highly
moral and generally boring, but the very first story in Tales About Old
Matters will disabuse anyone of this notion. Here is how it opens:

The Empress Shotoku, dissatisfied with the size of Dokyo's penis,

large though it was, had a dildo fashioned from a mountain potato.
It broke off while she was using it, and got stuck inside her. The
area became infected and swelled, and her life was imperiled. At
this point the Nun of the Small Hands (a doctor from Paekche,
,86 Early and Heian Literature

whose hands were no bigger than an infant's}" examined her and

said, "Her Majesty's malady is curable." She greased her hands and
was about to extract the dildo when Momokawa," the middle con-
toller of the Right, shouting that she was a fox spirit, whipped out
his sword and slashed the nun's shoulder. As a consequence the
empress passed away, no cure being possible."

There is certainly no hint of worshipful reverence for the imperial

family in this account of the wayward empress whose love for the priest
Dokyo was behind her unsuccessful attempt to seat him on the throne.
It is hard to imagine, all the same, why Akikane should have placed
this particular anecdote at the head of his collection, unless he was simply
hoping that such a story would attract a maximum of attention. Several
other anecdotes about reigning sovereigns suggest that Akikane may
also have had a prurient interest in what went on behind the curtains
of the imperial bedchamber. Two extremely brief tales (translated in
full) confirm this impression.

On the day of the coronation of the Emperor Kazan, Uma no Naishi

was serving as noblewoman of the curtains;" he pulled her inside
the curtains and immediately began to copulate with her."

After Lord Takakuni became the chief secretary to His Majesty"

he used to help him on with his clothes. He first of all would grab
for His Majesty's penis. His Majesty would respond by knocking off
Takakuni's court cap. This did not seem to bother him in the least,
and he would continue serving, even though his topknot was ex-
posed." This happened every time."

Similar informal (to say the least) glimpses of life at the court occur
elsewhere in Tales About Old Matters, but they do not typify the collection
as a whole, which devotes most of its pages to anecdotes that are illus-
trative of court precedents. The following describes an unusual reaction
to precedent on the part of Emperor Shirakawa:

It was because the emperor's love for the Empress Kenshi sur-
passed his love for anyone else that she died in the palace." Although
his grief was extreme, he refused to allow her to be taken from him.
When she finally shut her eyes, he still clung to the corpse, and
would not get up and leave. Lord Toshiaki" came up to him and
said, "There is no precedent for a sovereign's being present when
Tale Literature

someone dies. You should leave at once, Your Majesty." The emperor
replied, "The precedent will begin from now. "83

Other anecdotes helped to create legends about celebrated figures of

the Heian period. One, describing Sei Shonagon in old age, when she
had gone down in the world and was living in a ramshackle hut, offers
evidence that, despite the ravages of time that had destroyed her beauty,
she had preserved her wit. When some young noblemen passed by her
hut, one of them commented on the wretched state to which she had
been reduced. Hearing this, she raised the blinds and, pointing to her
emaciated face, cried, "How about buying the bones of a fine horse? "84
Her reference to an incident described in the ancient Chinese historical
work Chan-hue Tse (Intrigues of the Warring States) demonstrated she
still retained her vaunted familiarity with the Chinese classics, and the
aptness of the comparison of her bony head to the bones of the prize
steed mentioned in the Chinese tale showed she still retained her high
opinion of herself-and her wit.
Not all the stcries were about members of the court, nor were they
restricted to the capital, though the court was the locus for most of Tales
About Old Matters. Some, like the following example, belong to the
tradition of strange tales found in earlier collections:

Along about the fourth month of 1026, a boat carrying a woman

over seven feet tall with a face over two feet long called at a bay in
the province of Tango. There was food and drink in her boat, but
everyone who came close and touched the food fell painfully ill. For
this reason the boat was not allowed to dock, and in the meantime
the woman died, they say."

Tales About Old Matters also contains some folktales, notably the
story of the fisherman U rashima Taro. There can hardly be a less
effective narration of this famous folktale, but literary excellence seems
not to have been a concern of the editor. Despite the often inept expres-
sion, however, the intrinsic interest of many anecdotes attracted the
attention of the compilers of later collections of tales, and a revival of
scholarly interest in the work after long neglect began in the 1960s.86
Zoku Kojidan (Sequel Tales About Old Matters) is arranged in a
similar manner to the original work, but the stories are of conspicuously
less interest. The compiler is unknown, but the large number of anec-
dotes about Sugawara no Michizane have suggested that the compiler
may have belonged to the Sugawara family." A postscript is dated 1219,
 Early and Heian Literature
but this may be the date of the sixth and concluding volume rather than
of the whole collection, which seems to have been compiled earlier.
The most literary of the collections of tales is undoubtedly Later
Tales from Vji. 88 The title indicated that the tales of this collection
supplemented those in The Tales of the Vji Grand Minister: the preface
to the collection, after relating how Minamoto no Takakuni had collected
the tales of the old days, states that the present work included stories
that were omitted from the earlier collection." Unfortunately, that work
does not survive, and it is therefore impossible to compare its contents
with those of Later Talesfrom Vji.
Considerable scholarship has been devoted to efforts to identify the
compiler of Later Talesfrom Vji, but no generally acceptable candidate
has emerged, and there is reason to think that more than one compiler
was involved." The time of compilation has also been much debated,
but it is now generally agreed that it was probably between 1210 and
1220, with some later additions. Regardless of the exact year of com-
pilation, the time was undoubtedly the beginning of the Kamakura
period.
One might expect that a collection of anecdotes devoted for the most
part to describing Japanese life during the century or so prior to the
time of compilation would include many stories about the heroic or
villainous deeds that had occurred during the revolts of the middle of
the twelfth century and the war between the Taira and the Minamoto,
but with one exception there is not a single reference to any of these
events. The exception occurs at the end of a tale describing how a
mackerel (or perhaps a great many mackerel), brought by an old man
to the consecration services of the great temple Todai-ji, magically turned
into the eighty volumes of the Avatamsaka Surra." The pole on which
the old man carried the mackerel, stuck into the ground by the Hall of
the Great Buddha, had developed into a tree, "but recently it was burned
down, when the Taira fired the temple.'?"
References to recent happenings are so rare that even this casual
mention of Taira wantonness has been a focal point of attempts to date
the collection. The question naturally arises as to why the compiler was
so careful not to include anecdotes relating to the turbulent years of
warfare. Perhaps he felt that the events were still too vividly remembered
for him to employ the traditional formula ima wa mubashi with which,
in the manner of Tales of Times Now Past, he began each tale." It is
also possible that, as a member of the nobility, he felt that war between
military adversaries was no concern of his. Certainly, any overt expres-
Tale Literature 5 89

sion of political opinion would have taken the collection outside the
framework of setsuwa literature.
The literary appeal of Later Tales from Vji does not stem primarily
from the freshness of the materials. Of the 197 tales, 143 may be found
in other collections of setsuwa literature, including Tales of Times Now
Past, Collection of Old Setsuwa Texts, and Tales About Old Matters." Later
Talesfrom Vji, however, omits details that are unnecessary from a literary
point of view, unlike Tales of Times Now Past, which insists on historical
truth even at the expense of literary interest; the aim of the compiler
was probably le vraisemblable rather than le vrai. This is the first setsuwa
collection that seems to have been intended to be read rather than
delivered aloud, and the style and narrative techniques owe much to
the old monogatari, though the tales are not introspective in the courtly
manner. Above all, the accomplished prose, a polished Japanese that is
considerably simpler and more direct than earlier prose, distinguishes
it from the ungracious expression of such collections as Tales About Old
Matters. Because it is literarily the finest of the setsuwa collections, it
continued to be read at the court during centuries to come."
One distinctive feature of the narration of Later Tales from Vji is
that the tales conclude with an artistically conceived ending, rather than
a moral or simply one more line in the same flat tone as what has
preceded. Again and again when reading Tales of Times Now Past we
are let down by a lame conclusion, or absence of any conclusion, but
Later Tales from Vji generally manages to impart literary point to its
stories by a suitable "coda." For example, the tale of the mackerel that
turned into eighty volumes of sutras ends this way in Tales of Times
Now Past:

The mackerel peddler's pole is still by the entrance to the hall. It

hasn't grown, or burst into bloom, or done anything in particular.
It's just there."

The version in Later Tales from Vji ends:

Until thirty or forty years ago this "mackerel-pole" tree was green
and flourishing. From that time it withered, though it remained
standing, but recently it was burned down, when the Taira fired
the temple. What a pity it is-so typical of this decadent age!"

The interest of the Tales of Times Now Past version of the tale is
exhausted with the account of the old mackerel peddler who, despite
 Early and Heian Literature
his protests, is taken for a great dignitary and ushered to a place of
honor; the rest of the tale, down to this tentative ending, is clumsily
narrated. The conclusion in the Later Talesfrom Vji text, on the other
hand, effectively confirms the claim made earlier in the tale that "as the
temple flourishes or declines, so this tree flourishes or withers."?' It may
even have been for the sake of this observation that the tale was included
in the collection.
Jikkinsho (A Miscellany of Ten Maxims) is a collection of tales com-
piled in 1252 by an unknown author." Most of the more than two
hundred tales are devoted to anecdotes concerning the aristocracy of the
Heian period. The compiler was evidently moved by nostalgia for the
glorious days of the Heian court, probably because he sensed they would
never return. The purpose of the collection was stated in the preface:

What I am going to do is make selections from the abundant ma-

terials of all kinds of ancient and modern tales, both oral and written,
to follow the trail of both the wise and the foolish through history,
promoting virtue and reproving vice. This is meant to be a help for
the formation of good character in young people who have not yet
had proper instruction of this type.
As a start, I have divided it into ten parts, and called it "A
Miscellany of Ten Maxims." ... I have written preferably in the
Japanese syllabary and not Chinese characters, without worrying
that the sentences will come out too long, so that it will be easy for
a person reading it by himself. Similarly, in order to make the
examples intelligible to a person having it read to him, I took them
mainly from Japanese literature and only secondly from Chinese
works, without scouring great numbers of books."?

Although the author's purpose was professedly educational, not all

the tales accord with conventional morality, and the examples given for
each of the ten virtues or vices discussed must have seemed very remote
to young people of the mid-thirteenth century, living in a world quite
unlike that of the Heian court. Each of the ten sections of the work is
introduced by a generally Confucian statement of its intent. The third
"maxim" (the word has also been translated as "moral principles"), a
warning against despising people, will illustrate the manner. The in-
troduction opens:

Someone said that a display of haughtiness toward others, what-

ever form it takes, is an inevitable part of life. Some people look
Tale Literature 59 I

down on the poor and humble, others show their contempt for the
unwary, and still others, sneering at those less fortunate than them-
selves, think in response to what these people do or say, "One can't
expect any better from them." This is the behavior of ignoramuses.'?'

The tale that immediately follows, though literarily more interesting

than most in A Miscellany of Ten Maxims, is not a particularly good
illustration of the theme "one must not be contemptuous of people,"
but it typifies the aristocratic orientation of the collection:

While Izumi Shikibu, the wife of Yasumasa.!" was off in Tango 103
a poem competition was held in the capital. Koshikibu Naishi'?' was
chosen to participate. The Middle Counselor Sadayori'" went to her
room and teasingly called in to her, "Has the messenger you sent
to Tango returned? I can imagine how nervous you must be." As
he was passing before the room, she leaned halfway out from behind
her screen-of-state and held for a moment the sleeve of his robe,
reciting:

Oeyama The road that goes to

Ikuno no michi no Mount Oe and Ikuno
tokereba Is so far away
mada fumi mo mizu I have yet to tread upon
Ama no Hashidate The Heavenly Bridge of Tango.t'"

Sadayori, taken aback by this unexpected display of wit, could only

say, "How did that happen? I never expected anything like that!"
Unable even to compose a return poem, he pulled his sleeve free
and made his escape. From this time on Koshikibu's reputation as
a poet was recognized. It was quite reasonable for Sadayori to have
thought as he did, but couldn't he have known in his heart that she
was capable of producing on the spot a poem of this quality? 107

This example of sorneone's looking down on another person is indeed

in accord with the theme; but surely there was little malice behind
Sadayori's imputation that Koshikibu could not compose a poem without
her mother's help. Unlike the examples of people who despise others,
given in the introduction to this section of Ten Maxims, Sadayori was
merely teasing Koshikibu. For that matter, Koshikibu's poem, in which
she denied, under the surface meaning of expressing unfamiliarity with
the distant landscapes of Tango, that she had received any help from
592 Early and Heian Literature

her mother, is hardly one of bitter resentment at the slur on her rep-
utation as a poet. The poem and the tale itself are a part of the aristocratic
tradition that the compiler of Ten Maxims nostalgically evoked through-
out the work.
Many of the tales given in Ten Maxims had already appeared in
earlier collections, sometimes in exactly the same language, sometimes
with variants, and it would in turn influence later collections, but it is
hard to think of anything really distinctive about these tales unless it is
the exclusive attention given to life at the court at a time when tales
about the military or the common people had come to occupy a prom-
inent place in other setsuwa collections. lOB
Kokon Chomonjii (Collection of Tales Heard, Present and Past, 1254)
was the last setsuwa collection in the aristocratic tradition. The compiler
was Tachibana no Narisue, a nobleman of the fifth rank about whom
little else is known, though it is conjectured that he was about fifty
when he completed the collection in 1254. Tales Heard contains 726 tales
in twenty books, ranking second only to Tales of Times Now Past in
size. The stories are carefully arranged in chronological order under
thirty topics such as "Buddhist Teachings," "Loyal Ministers," "Waka
Poetry," "Music and Dance," "Love," "Brave Warriors," "Gambling,"
"Bandits," "Clever Repartee," "Prodigies," and "Fish, Insects, Birds, and
Beasts."
About two thirds of the tales are set in the Heian period, and the
tone throughout is one of nostalgic remembrance of a glorious past.
Again and again a note of regret is sounded over the disappearance of
some old custom, as at the conclusion of the lovingly evoked description
of a pleasure excursion of the court in 1092: "In the old days this
happened all the time, but the practice died out in middle antiquity.
What a lamentable world it is!"109 This comment by the compiler was
not simply an expression of nostalgia, a common theme in Japanese
literature, nor was it conventional regret over the devastation wrought
by the passage of time, in the all too familiar mood of waka poetry; it
was the recognition by a nobleman that he lived in an age when the
refined pleasures of the past had been supplanted by the uncouth man-
ners of the military.
We are likely to read Tales Heard for the stories set in roughly the
same period as that of the compiler, for the contemporary gossip and
tales of prodigies that reached Narisue's ears. It is intriguing, for example,
that a section each should have been devoted to gambling and bandits;
the stories arranged under these and similarly unconventional topics are
not only of greater literary interest than those about Buddhist priests or
Tale Literature 593

loyal ministers but constitute the principal attraction of the collection

for readers today. It is clear, nevertheless, that Narisue's chief concern
was his own class, and even the cruder tales of the collection usually
represent the nobility in an unbuttoned, "daily" mood, and not the
common people.
The division of the work into twenty books recalls the standard
number of books in an imperially sponsored collection of waka poetry.
This impression is strengthened by the preface and afterword, one in
classical Chinese and the other in Japanese (following the precedent of
the Koliinshu]. These two essays provide invaluable background infor-
mation on Narisue's purpose in compiling the collection. Narisue opened
the preface with an acknowledgment of his indebtedness to the setsuwa
collections compiled by the Uji Major Counselor (Minamoto no Taka-
kuni) and Oe no Masafusa. The extent of the influence of the former
(The Tales ofthe Vji Grand Minister) on Tales Heard cannot be measured
because the text has been lost, but Selection of Oe's Conversations is the
one earlier collection from which direct borrowing definitely occurred.
Perhaps this influence, from a collection composed largely in Chinese,
explains the noticeable increase in the use of words of Chinese origin
in an otherwise Japanese text.!"
The main sources of the stories are factual, rather than literary-
the diaries and similar records kept in Chinese by noblemen. Indeed,
Narisue's stated purpose was not to entertain but to transmit reliable
information about people and events of the past. On occasion, when he
had no documentary evidence to support a tale, he felt obliged to explain
why he nevertheless included it: "I do not know whether or not this
matter has been described in any diary, but it is widely reported.?'!'
Narisue seems to have thought of Tales Heard much as the Heian
courtiers thought of their diaries-as a repository of important infor-
mation about the past that would be useful to future generations of their
families. In his afterword Narisue warned,

With respect to this collection, showing it to outsiders is not per-

mitted. If any son or grandson of mine violates this prohibition, and
takes the manuscript outside our walls, he is no longer a son or
grandson of mine. The gods of our clan will surely punish him with
their divine wrath. However, the granting or refusal of permission
to examine the text will depend on who wishes to see it, and the
decision should depend on the circumstances. If the person in question
enjoys the closest intimacy with our family, someone with
whom caution is unnecessary, permission may occasionally be granted.!"
594 Early and Heian Literature
Whatever purpose Narisue may have had in mind when he compiled
this enormous grab bag of anecdotes, it serves as a last memento of the
nostalgia for the Heian court on the part of aristocrats whose glory had
much faded. But even these evocations of the past were couched in a
Japanese that was distinctly unlike that of The Tale of Genji, and the
present-the rise of the military, the loss of prestige of the court, the
spread of culture to a much wider segment of the population than
before-frequently intruded in the narration, apparently without the
author's realizing it. The later tale literature would have a quite different
emphasis.

Notes
I. Sugimoto Keizaburo, "Uchigikishu ni okeru setsuwa to setsuwa bun-
gaku," p. 45. The word setsuwa is found in Japanese dictionaries going
back to the early eighteenth century, but its modern usage dates back to
the middle of the nineteenth century, where it occurs in translations (such
as Nakamura Keiu's version of Self-Help by Samuel Smiles), usually with
the meaning of a discourse pronounced for some moral or instructional
purpose.
2. The setsuwa collections treated in this chapter are mainly those of the
late Heian period. Kamakura period collections, especially those with
strong Buddhist coloration, are discussed in chapter 19.
3. Usuda [ingoro, "Setsuwa no Hassei," p. 29, in Usuda [ingoro and Nishio
Koichi, Nihon no Setsuwa, I.
4. For example, the tale called "The Sparrow with a Broken Back," collected
in Oita Prefecture and translated by Fanny Hagin Mayer in Ancient Tales
in Modern Japan (pp. 144-45), is extremely close to tale 48 in Later Tales
from Vji. (Translation by Douglas Mills in A Collection of Tales from Vji,
pp. 209-14. Another translation, by Robert H. Brower, is given in my
Anthology of Japanese Literature.) Elsewhere, Yanagita Kunio said of an
abbreviated version of the same tale that "It is distributed widely in Japan
and cannot be considered the result of modern books." See Fanny Hagin
Mayer, The Yanagita Kunia Guide to the Japanese Folk Tale, p. 13I. It
would seem that the extent of influence from written sources on this and
other tales still being recounted has yet to be determined.
Yanagita Kunio (1875-1962) was recognized in his day as the out-
standing authority on Japanese folklore. He collected tales in many parts
of Japan, and some of them, notably his earliest collection, Tono Monogatari
(The Legends of Tono, 1910), have been admired not simply as faithful
transcriptions of orally transmitted tales but as works of modern Japanese
Tale Literature 595
literature. There IS an English translation by Ronald A. Morse of The
Legends of Tono.
5· See Richard M. Dorson, Studies in Japanese Folklore, p. 13.
6. Most of the Tango Fudolii has been lost; the Urashima Taro story is given
in one of the surviving fragments. The text of Urashimako (as it is called)
together with a kundoku (Chinese text punctuated for reading in Japanese)
version and notes is given in Shigematsu Akihisa, Urashimako Den, pp.
8-22. The same work also gives the texts of the accounts of Urashima
Taro in the Kojiki, the Man'voshu, and many later works.
7. See Kobayashi Yasuharu, Kojidan, I, pp. 24-28.
8. Kawai Hayao, The Japanese Psyche, pp. 95-96.
9. Ibid., pp. 13-22.
ro. See above, pp. 206-9.
I I. There is a complete translation with an introduction by Edward Kamens

in The Three Jewels. I have followed his translation of the title, though
the term samba is more commonly rendered as the "three treasures."
12. The question is discussed by Kamens in The Three Jewels, pp. 26-30; and
on p. 28 he gives samples of three different systems of recording the texts
that are found in manuscripts.
13· Ibid., p. 65.
14- I am thinking especially of stories 8 C'The Lion Who Held Firmly to
His Vows"), 9 ("The Deer King"), and II ("Prince Mahasattva"), See
ibid., pp. 132-46.
IS. The title is variously given. Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten gives it as
Hokke Shuho Ippyakuza Kikigaki Shoo
16. These sermons were delivered at the request of a certain prince, who had
made a vow that required such observances. Although it was originally
intended to conclude the sermons after the hundred days devoted to the
Lotus Sutra, the sermons were prolonged to three hundred days and
treated the Amida-hyo and the Hannvashin-kyo as well.
17. A discussion in English of Notes on One Hundred Sessions of Sermons,
together with a comparison of one of its tales with the same one as given
in Tales of Times Now Past, is found in W. Michael Kelsey, Konjaleu
Monogatari-shii, pp. 37-39.
18. Yoneda Chizuko in "Uchigakishu ni okeru Hensha no Shisei," pp. 62-
65, cites but rejects earlier authorities who declared there was absolutely
no intrusion of the compiler's personality in the text. She believed that
she could hear the "faint voice" of the compiler. Kishi Seize, in "Uchi-
gakishu ni okeru ateji no irni," believed that Eigen had given himself
away by his use of mistaken characters (ateji), and also mentions (p. 195)
without elaborating an erasure in the text that satisfies him that Eigen
himself was the compiler.
19. Twenty-one are found in Tales of Times Now Past, another five in Later
Tales from Vji, and the remaining one in Account of Miracles in Japan. See
596 Early and Heian Literature
Nakajima Etsuji, Vji Shui Monogatari, Vchigiki Sha! Zenchiishaku, pp.
589-93.
20. Kunisaki Fumimaro, "Uchigikishu," p. 3.
21. See Mori Masato, Konjaku Monogatari Shu no Seisei, pp. 11-12. Takakuni
was known as the Uji Grand Minister because of his habit of spending
his summers at Uji, away from the sweltering capital.
22. See, for example, Miyata Sho, "Konjaku Monogatari Shu kan-roku Buppo
to Shin tan Dan," p. 66, in Vchigikishu.
23. Kunisaki Fumimaro, a lifelong scholar of Tales ofTimes Now Past, reached
the tentative conclusion that it was compiled by Minamoto no Toshiyori.
In his Konjaln« Monogatari Shu Sakusha Ko he described (p, 9) the faint
clues that had led him to this conclusion. He compared Tales of Times
Now Past and Toshiyori Zuino, a collection of anecdotes compiled by
Toshiyori (pp. 28-51). Kunisaki believed that the anecdotes Toshiyori
wrote in Japanese before setting to work on Tales of Times Now Past were
revised both in style and transcription before being absorbed into that
work, but that some stories were left over; these were edited by a later
person to create the collection now known as Collection of Old Setsuwa
Texts (pp. 392-93). Another group of "leftover" stories was combined with
Tales About Old Matters to create Later Tales from Vji (p. 393). Kunisaki,
who had published quite different views earlier in his career, now felt
sure that the source of the stories in Tales of Times Now Past and other
collections of setsuwa was not any body of orally transmitted tales but
the writings of Toshiyori in Japanese.
These opinions, though they deserve respectful attention considering
their source, do not seem to have changed the conviction of other au-
thorities.
24. Verb endings and case particles are given in katakana, but very much
smaller than the Chinese characters, suggesting a text in kambun that has
been punctuated for Japanese reading.
25. The earliest reference to the collection occurs in a work of 1449, three
centuries after completion.
26. Osone Shosuke et al., KenkYu Shiryo Nihon Koten Bungaku, III, p. 58.
27. This work was introduced to Japan late in the eleventh century, and was
widely used in later times in spreading the Buddhist teaching. See Nihon
Katen Bungaku Daijiten, III, p. 138.
28. See Nihon Katen Bungaeu Daijiten, V, pp. 698-99, for an account of this
work and its importance.
29. See Osone et al., KenkYu, p. 53.
30. See below, pp. 614-15.
31. See, for example, Osone et al., KenkYu, p. 55. For an exhaustive study of
sources of Tales of Times Now Past, see Katayose Masayoshi, Konjaleu
Monogatari Shu no KenkYu, 2 vols.
32. Goi meant "fifth rank," rather too exalted a position, we may feel, for
Tale Literature 597
the scruffy character portrayed in the story. The man is known not by
his name but his rank.
33. Translated by Royall Tyler in Japanese Tales, p. 118. Tyler's note indicates
his translation was made from Later Tales from Vji, but the Tales of Times
Now Past text in this instance is the same, and I could not resist quoting
this delightful rendering.
34. The story of the notorious bandit Hakamadare and the imperturbable
nobleman Yasumasa is number 27 in Book V. See Sakakura Atsuyoshi
et aI., Konjaku Monogatari Shit, II, p. 54.
35. This is story 3 in Book XXIX. For text, see Sakakura et aI., Konjaleu, IV,
pp.22-32.
36. This is story 22 in Book XXVII, translated by Marian Dry in Tales of
Times Now Past, pp. 161-63. Original in Sakakura et aI., Konjaliu, III,
PP·7 2-75·
37. Hiroko Kobayashi in The Human Comedy ofHeian Japan (p. 77) remarks,
"To sum up, there are no tales in the Konjaku secular section in which
priests are treated with reverence.... For the most part the priests drawn
are wicked, covetous, or rather disreputable."
38. Dry, Tales, p. 182. This is from tale 38 in Book XXVIII. I am thinking
of Saikaku's hero Fujiichi (in Nippon Eitagura) about whom he wrote,
"Even if he stumbled he used the opportunity to pick up stones for fire-
lighters, and tucked them in his sleeve." (See G. W. Sargent, The Japanese
Family Storehouse, p. 36.)
39. Dry, Tales, pp. 170-71. This is story 41 in Book XXVII of Tales of Times
Now Past. For text, see Sakakura et aI., Konjahu, III, p. 132.
40. Sakakura et aI., Konjaleu, II, p. 130. This is tale 7 in Book XXVI. A
translation of the tale is given in S. W. Jones, Ages Ago, pp. 83-87.
41. Translation by Dry in Tales, p. 183. For the original text, see Sakakura
et aI., Konjahu, IV, pp. 84-86.
42. Kunisaki Fumimaro in "Konjaltu Monogatari no Dokusha" attempted to
discover what level of reader was anticipated by the compiler of Tales of
Times Now Past, restricting himself to the last six books, those devoted
to secular tales of Japan. His conclusion (p. 120) was that members of the
zuryo class of the fifth rank or thereabouts, the people most frequently
described in these tales, were the intended readers, and contrasted this
with other works of Heian literature, aimed at higher classes.
43. See above, note 23·
44. See Kawaguchi Hisao, Kohon Setsuwa Shit, pp. 9-10.
45. See ibid., pp. 94-98, and Sakakura et aI., Konjaku, I, pp. 253-58.
46. The text calls her [ctomon'in, her name after taking Buddhist vows. She
is also known as Akiko.
47. This is Senshi (964-1035), the tenth daughter of the Emperor Murakami,
who became the high priestess (saiin) of the Kamo Shrine in 975. Normally,
the resident priestess was replaced when the emperor who appointed her
598 Early and Heian Literature
died or retired, but Senshi remained high priestess for five reigns, fifty-
six years in all, until she was relieved of her office in I031. She was known
as daisaiin (grand high priestess) because of her extraordinarily long tenure
in the sacred office. Her "salon" was frequented by many talented poets.
Although she was a Shinto priestess, she is best known for her Buddhist
poetry. For an account of this poetry, see Edward Kamens, The Buddhist
Poetry of the Great Kamo Priestess.
48. Kawaguchi, Kohon, p. I05. The second part of this tale describes how
Murasaki Shikibu encourages a court lady named Ise no Taifu to compose
a poem on cherry blossoms that attracts favorable attention and leads to
a happy marriage.
49. This point is emphasized by Imai Takuji in Monogatari Bungaleu Shi no
KenkY u: Koki Monogatari, pp. 473-77-
50. No more than thirty or thirty-one biographies are still extant, even com-
bining what is preserved in all three surviving texts, but Kawaguchi Hisao
in his edition (contained in Kohon Setsuwa Shu) managed to piece together
the remaining biographies from related sources. See Kawaguchi, Kohon,
P·3 25·
51. The title is borrowed from Shen-hsien chuan (Lives of Spirit Immortals),
ascribed to Ko Hung of the fourth century A.D. For an account of Taoist
"immortals" and other alchemists, magicians, and so on, see Kenneth J.
DeWoskin, Doctors, Diviners, and Magicians of Ancient China, especially
PP·29-33·
52. These are three basic Buddhist texts, referred to here by shortened titles.
The Lotus Sutra (in Sanskrit, Saddharmapundarika Sutra) the chief text of
Tendai Buddhism, was first translated from Sanskrit into Chinese during
the third century A.D. Saicho, the founder of Tendai Buddhism in Japan,
introduced this sutra from China. The Yuga Sastra (in Sanskrit, Yoga-
caryabhumi-satra) was translated into Chinese by Hsuan-tsang in 646-47.
It is more closely associated with the pure idealism of the Hosso sect than
with Tendai. Great Concentration and Insight (in Chinese, Mo-ho chih-
kuan) was a manual of religious practice written by Chih-k.'ai (538-597),
a Chinese T'ien-t'ai (Tendai) master.
53. Kane no mitaec no yama, otherwise known as Kimpo-san, one of the
mountains of Yoshino, in the general area of Nara. The Muta Temple
was at the foot of this mountain.
54. Text in Kawaguchi, Kohon, pp. 363-66.
55. Ibid., pp. 382-83.
56. The text of this work is found in Kawaguchi, Kohon.
57. See above, pp. 34 1-44.
58. Codansho Kenkyukai, Ruijabon-kei Godansho Chukai, pp. 37-38. Kaneie
is otherwise remembered as the husband of the author of The Gossamer
Years. He is referred to as Great Lay Priest (dainyudo) in The Great Mirror
and elsewhere.
Tale Literature 599
59. Ibid., pp. 57-59. Masafusa also had words of praise for his father, who
(though not a distinguished scholar) took meticulous care of the family
documents.
60. The titles of these two collections can be freely translated as "Selection
of Inner and Outer [Stories]" and "Conversations of Fuke." Fuke Go is
also known as Fuke Godan. Tadazane was known as Fuke-dono because
he had a villa at Fuke. For a discussion of Fuke Go, see Masuda Katsumi,
"Fuke Go no Kenkyii," in Joko Kan'ichi, Chiisei Bungaeu no Sekai, pp.
42-67; also Masuda Katsumi, Setsuwa Bungaleu to Emaki, pp. 210-12.
Masuda was able to demonstrate the direct influence of Fuke Go on Tales
About Old Matters.
61. For comparisons of Fuke Go and other setsuwa texts (notably Tales About
Old Matters and Later Tales from Vji), see Masuda, "Fuke," pp. 43-44,
51-52. Masuda gives the text of Fuke Go as an appendix to his article. It
is written in an unattractive mixture of Chinese and Japanese.
62. There is a complete translation, together with a study of the work by
Ward Geddes, Kara Monogatari: Tales of China.
63. See Hinotani Akihiko et al., Setsuwa Bungaku Hikkei, pp. 51-56. See also
Geddes, Kara, pp. 3-1 I, where he considers various theories of authorship.
64. See Geddes, Kara, pp. 45-68, for a discussion of the sources. He notes (p.
45) that the Chinese sources for all but two of the twenty-seven tales can
be easily found; but he also remarked that because the stories in Tales of
China are so freely rendered, it is impossible to be sure which of various
versions of each tale, both Chinese and Japanese, was the source for the
Tales of China text.
65. Probably the most intriguing tale is the last in the collection. It tells of
two women (a young lady of good family and the daughter of her nurse)
who have "left the world" and are living in separate hermitages deep in
the mountains. One day a lively dog appears at the hut of the nurse's
daughter, and in her boredom she fondles the dog and holds him to her
breast. "Gradually she found her feelings growing more and more involved
and difficult to control; all barriers were removed in their relationship."
(Geddes, Kara, p. 140.) When she finally summons up the courage to tell
her mistress about the dog, the mistress, far from disapproving, arranges
to meet the dog and finds him "heart-winning." The author comments,
"For a human to enter into vows of love with an animal is unexampled,
but those who do not know the heart of the matter should not assume
an attitude of scorn." (Ibid., p. 14I.)
66. Li Han, Meng Ch'iu, trans. by Burton Watson, p. 109. For Chinese text
with a Japanese translation, see Hayakawa Mitsusaburo, M6gyii, pp. 420-
21, in Shin'yaku Kambun Taikei series.
67. Ssu-ma Ch'ien, the author of Shih Chi, was known by this title; at this
point the Japanese author seems to be borrowing directly from the source
of the account in Meng Ch'iu.
600 Early and Heian Literature
68. Translation of the quotation (with a few minor changes made so as to fit
the Japanese text) by Burton Watson in Records of the Grand Historian of
China, II, p. 154. The proverb means that even if these fruit trees say
nothing, their blossoms and fruit will attract people so numerous that a
path will be worn in their shade.
69. Mogyu Waka, in Zoku Gunsho Ruiju series, p. 79.
70. See Ikeda Toshio, "Kara Monogatari, Mogyu Waka no Sekai," pp.
258-59.
71. See Kobayashi Yasuharu, "Kaisetsu," in Kobayashi, Kojidan, I, pp.
211-12.
72. Ibid., pp. 202-3.
73. The note is in the original text.
74. Fujiwara no Momokawa (732-79) was a leader of the faction opposed to
Dokyo. He became middle controller of the Right (uchuben) in 767. After
his daughter married the Emperor Kammu, he rose to be prime minister
(dajodaljin} and held the senior first rank.
75. Kobayashi, Kojidan, I, p. 21. The source of this tale is not known, but a
similar account is found in an entry dated the eighth month of 770 in
Nihon Kiryala«, a chronology compiled at some time after I036 that covers
the period from the Age of the Gods to the reign of the Emperor Goichijo.
See ibid., p. 23.
76. In the original kencho no myobu, a noblewoman who lowered or raised
the curtains around the emperor's seat in the palace during the coronation
ceremony.
77- Kobayashi, Kojidan, I, p. 43·
78. Minamoto no Takakuni succeeded to this office in I029. The emperor at
the time was Coichijo. Late in life he lived in retirement in Uji and was
known as Uji Dainagon. He was formerly credited with the compilation
of Tales of Times Now Past. See above, p. 573.
79. Courtiers considered it to be shaming if their hair, not shielded by some
kind of hat, was exposed to public view.
80. Kobayashi, Kojidan, I, p. 76.
81. A death was considered to pollute the place where it occurred, and anyone
who was present when a person died was compelled to remain in seclusion.
Shirakawa's insistence that his consort die in the palace bespeaks unusual
love.
82. Minamoto no Toshiaki (1°44-1 I 14), the son of Minamoto no Takakuni,
was at this time the master of the empress's household (chugu daibu) as
well as the commander of the Right Palace Guard (uemon no kami). He
enjoyed the confidence of the Emperor Shirakawa.
83. Kobayashi, Kojidan, I, pp. 167-68. A similar story is found in A Tale of
Flowering Fortunes.
84. Ibid., pp. 169-7°.
85. Ibid., p. 62. This is the full text of episode 40, and the commentary does
Tale Literature 601

not explain, for example, why people should have eaten the food aboard
the strange boat. It has been suggested, however, that this story may refer
to the arrival in 1004 of a ship from the island called Uruma by the
Japanese. References to this island (which was situated off the southeast
coast of the Korean peninsula) in the old literature generally emphasize
the unintelligibility of the speech of its inhabitants.
86. The eleven-part "Kojidan Kansho" by Masuda Katsumi, serialized in the
magazine Kokubungaku Kaishaeu to Kansho from May 1965, marked a
new level of scholarly consideration of the work.
87. Shimura Kunihiro, Setsuwa Bungaku no Koso to Densho, pp. 153-54.
88. The complete translation by D. E. Mills has the title A Collection of Tales
from Vji, but in order to bring out the meaning of shai ("gleanings" or,
more literally, "picking up what was left out") I have used this revised
title here.
89. See the translation of the preface in Mills, A Collection, p. 83. Fragments
of the preface are found in older editions of Later Tales from Vji.
90. See Mills, A Collection, pp. 129-3°. Miki Sumito in "Uji Shih Monogatari
no Uchi to SOlO," pp. 552-53, suggested that the priest [ien (the author
of GukanshO) might have been the compiler, but admitted that the matter
was far from settled.
91. Known in Japanese as the Kegon-kyo. It contains the teachings delivered
by Shakyamuni Buddha immediately after attaining enlightenment. There
are various texts in sixty, eighty, or forty volumes.
92. This tale is number 103. The burning of the Todai-ji by Taira forces
under Shigemori's command occurred in the twelfth month of lI80.
Translation by Mills, A Collection, p. 296.
93. There are slight variations in the opening formula, including kore mo ima
u/a mukashi, and mukashi as well as some tales that open without any such
phrase. See Mills, A Collection, p. 135, for a discussion of the translation
of the formula.
94. For years it has been a matter of debate whether influence went from
Tales About Old Matters to Later Tales from Vji or vice-versa, but it is now
generally accepted that Tales About Old Matters came first. See Mills, A
Collection, pp. 90-91. The researches of Masuda Katsumi have been par-
ticularly important in this area.
95. Diaries kept by courtiers (Kammon Gyoki and Sanetaka-ko Ki) mention
that Later Tales from Vji was read at the palace in 1438 and 1475. It is
also possible that some Kamakura period references to the reading at the
palace of Tales of the Vji Grand Minister may actually refer to Later Tales
from Vji. See Mills, A Collection, p. 94.
96. Translation by Tyler in Japanese Tales, p. 35. This is tale 7 in Book XII
of Tales of Times Now Past.
97. Translation by Mills in A Collection, p. 296. The text that Mills used gives
not "thirty or forty" but "thirty-four." This seems excessively precise, in
602 Early and Heian Literature
the light of the temporal vagueness typical of the collection, so I have
chosen the variant from another text and changed the translation. See
Miki Sumito et al., Vji Shui Monogatari, Kohon Setsuwa Shu, pp. 209-IO.
98. Mills, A Collection, p. 296.
99. One manuscript bears the name "Rokuhara [irozaernon Nyuda," but the
identity of this lay priest has not been established. Various scholars favor
Tachibana Narisue (the compiler of Koeon Chomonjii [Collection of Tales
Heard, Present and Pastj), Sugawara Tamenaga, or Yuasa Munenari. See
John Brownlee, "Jikkinsho, a Miscellany of Ten Maxims," p. 127, and
Hinotani Akihiko et al., Setsuwa Bungaku Hikkei, p. 178. Nagazumi Ya-
suaki in Chiisci Bungaku no Kanosei declared (p, 203) his conviction that
the editorial policies displayed in A Miscellany of Ten Maxims and Tales
Heard were so dissimilar they could not possibly both have been compiled
by Tachibana Narisue. The candidacy of Sugawara Tamenaga, first sug-
gested in Shotets« Monogatari (Tales of Shotetsu, c. 1448), was recently
backed by Shimura in Setsuwa, pp. 167-79 and 194-98, but he does not
squarely face the problem of how Tamenaga, who died in 1246, could
have compiled the work in 1252. Nagazumi (pp. 205-6) was more fa-
vorably impressed than most scholars with the theory, first advanced in
1952 by Nagai Yoshinori, that Yuasa Munenari, a powerful landholder
(gozoku) from the province of Kii, was the compiler. But no theory has
gained full acceptance.
IOO. Translation by Brownlee in "jikkinsho," P: 133.
ror, I have followed the text given in Okada Minoru, Jikkinsho Shinshaleu, p.
134. It is somewhat different from that found in Ishibashi Shaha,jikkinshO
Shokai, p. 13 r ,
I02. Fujiwara no Yasumasa (958-I036).
I03. Tango was a remote province on the Japan Sea coast. Oeyama (Mount
be) and Ikuno, mentioned in the poem by Koshikibu, were in the depths
of Tango.
I04. The daughter of Izumi Shikibu by a previous husband, Tachibana no
Michisada. Naishi was the name of an office, and has been rendered as
palace attendant. Koshikibu died in childbirth in I025 while still in her
early twenties.
lOS. Fujiwara no Sadayori, the son of the distinguished poet and anthologist
Fujiwara no Kinta.
I06. The translation gives the less interesting of the two possible interpretations
of the poem. The fourth line contains the key to the two meanings:fumi
mo mizu means (as in the translation) "I have not yet tried to tread on,"
but by puns it can also mean "I have not yet seen a letter," meaning that
she has not yet heard from her mother. The poem at once denies Sadayori's
assertion that she is receiving help from her celebrated mother and dem-
onstrates that she herself is capable of a clever rejoinder.
Tale Literature
I07· Okada, JikkinshO, pp. 135-36. See also Ishibashi, Jikkinsho, pp. 131-32.
For another translation see Brownlee, "jikkinsho," p. 140.
108. Almost every scholar who has commented on Ten Maxims has given as
an example of the best in its content the story of the artist Ryoshu who
calmly (or even joyfully) watches as his house is enveloped in flames
because the sight will enable him to paint the halo of flames around Fudo
more accurately. This tale (VI, 35) is interesting in itself and is said to
have been the source of [igoltu-hen, the celebrated story by Akutagawa
Ryunosuke, but the tale had already appeared, in exactly the same lan-
guage, in Later Tales from Vji.
109. Nagazumi Yasuaki and Shimada Isao, Kokon Chomonju, p. 377.
I IO. At some point after Tales Heard was completed, a number of stories were

appended to the collection. Most of these are from Ten Maxims, completed
two years earlier. See Nagazumi and Shimada, Kolton, p. 29.
I I I. Ibid., p. 239. This is the conclusion of tale number 295.

112. Nishio Koichi and Kishi Shozo (eds.), Chusei Setsuwa Shu, p. 121.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Brownlee, John. "Jikkinsho, a Miscellany of Ten Maxims," Monumenta Nip-

ponica 29: 2, 1974.
DeWoskin, Kenneth J. Doctors, Diviners, and Magicians of Ancient China. New
York: Columbia University Press, 1983.
Dorson, Richard M. Studies in Japanese Folklore. Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana
University Press, 1963.
Frank, Bernard. Histoires qui sont maintenant du passe. Paris: Gallimard, 1968.
Geddes, Ward. "The Courtly Tradition: Chornei and Kiyomori in Jikkinsho,"
Monumenta Nipponica 42:2, 1987.
- - - . Kara Monogatari: Tales of China. Tempe, Ariz.: Center for Asian
Studies, Arizona State University, 1984.
Godansho Kenkyukai. RUljubon-kei Godansho Chukai. Musashino Shoin, 1983.
Hayakawa Mitsusaburo. Mogyu, in Shin'yaku Kambun Taikei series, vol, 58.
Meiji Shoin, 1973.
Hinotani Akihiko, Kobayashi Yasuharu, and Takahashi Mitsugu (eds.). Setsuwa
Bungaku Hikkei. Tokyo Bijutsu, 1976.
Ikeda Toshio. "Kara Monogatari, Mogyu Waka no Sekai," in Ichiko Teiji and
Oshima Tatehiko, Nihon no Setsuwa, vol. II, in Nihon no Setsuwa series.
Tokyo Bijutsu, 1974.
Ikegami [un'ichi. Konjaeu Monogatari Shu no Seleai. Chikuma Shobe, 1983.
 Early and Heian Literature
Imai Takuji. Monogatari Bungaeu Shi no Kenkyu: Koki Mon ogatari. Waseda
Daigaku Shuppanbu, 1977.
Ishibashi Shoho, Jikkinsho ShOkai, rev. ed. Meiji Shoin, 1927.
Joko Kan'ichi (ed.). Chusei Bungaku no Seeai. Iwanami Shoten, 1960.
Jones, S. W. Ages Ago. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1959.
Kamens, Edward. The Buddhist Poetry of the Great Kamo Priestess. Ann Arbor,
Mich.: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 1990.
- - - . The Three Jewels. Ann Arbor, Mich.: Center for Japanese Studies, The
University of Michigan, 1988.
Katayose Masayoshi. Konjala: Monogatari Shu no Kenkyu, 2 vols. Geirinsha,
1974·
Kawaguchi Hisao. Kohon Setsuwa Shu, in Koten Bungaku Zensho series. Asahi
Shimbun, 1967.
Kawaguchi Hisao and Nara Shoichi, Godansho Shoch«. Benseisha, 1984.
Kawai, Hayao. The Japanese Psyche. Dallas: Spring Publications, 1988.
Kelsey, W. Michael. Konjalea Monogatari-shu, Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1982.
Kishi Seize. "Uchigikisiu; ni okeru ateji no imi," in Vchigikishu.
Kobayashi, Hiroko. The Human Comedy of Heian Japan. Tokyo: The Centre
for East Asian Cultural Studies, 1979.
Kobayashi Yasuharu (ed.), Kojidan, 2 vols. Gendai Shicho Sha, 1981.
Kunisaki Fumimaro. "Konjaku Monogatari no Dokusha," in Mitani Eiichi,
Kunisaki Fumimaro, and Kubota [un (eds.), Ronson Setsuwa to Setsuwa
Bungaku, Kasama Shoin, 1979.
- - - . Konjahu Monogatari Shu Sakusha Ko. Musashino Shoin, 1985.
- - - . "Uchigikishic" in Vchigikishu wo yomu Kai (ed.) Vchigikishu, Kenkyu
to Hombun.
Li Han. Meng ch'iu, translated by Burton Watson. Tokyo: Kodansha Inter-
national, 1979.
Masuda Katsumi. Setsuwa Bungaleu to Emak], Sari'ichi Shobe, 1980.
Mayer, Fanny Hagin. Ancient Tales in Modern Japan. Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana
University Press, 1984.
- - - . The Yanagita Kunio Guide to the Japanese Folk Tale. Bloomington,
Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1986. [This is a translation of Nihon Mu-
kashibanashi Meii, compiled under the supervision of Yanagita Kunio and
published in Tokyo in 1948.]
Miki Sumito. "Vji Shui Monogatari no Uchi to Soto," in Miki, Vji Shai
Monogatari.
Miki Sumito, Asami Kazuhiko, Nakamura Yoshio, and Kouchi Kazuaki. Vji
Shui Monogatari, Kohon Setsuwa Shu, in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei
series. Iwanami Shoten, 1990.
Mills, D. E. A Collection of Tales from Vji. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1970.
Miyata Shoo "Konjaku Monogatari Shu kan-roku Buppo to Shintan Dan," in
Vchigikishu wo yomu Kai (ed.), Uchigikishi; Kenkyu to Hombun.
Tale Literature 605

Mogyu Waka, vol. 405 In Zoku Gunsho Ruiju senes. Zoku Gunsho Ruiju
Kanseikai, 1910.
Mori Masato. Konjaleu Monogatari Sho no Seisei. Osaka: Izumi Shoin, 1986.
Nagano [oichi. Setsuwa Bungaeu no Scltai. Meiji Shoin, 1980.
Nagazumi Yasuaki. Chusci Bungaku no Kanosei. Iwanami Shoten, 1977.
Nagazumi Yasuaki and Shimada Isao. Kokon Chomonju, in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1966.
Nakajima Etsuji. Vji ssa; Monogatari, Vchigiki Shu Zenchushah«, Yuseido, 1970.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Nishio Koichi and Kishi Shozo (eds.). Chusei Setsuwa Shu, in Kansho Nihon
Koten Bungaku series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1977.
Okada Minoru. Jikkinsho Shinshaku. Daidokan Shoten, 1927.
Osone Shosuke et al. KenkYu Shiryo Nihon Koten Bungaku, III. Meiji Shoin,
1984.
Sakakura Atsuyoshi, Honda Giken, and Kawabata Yoshiaki. Konjalia Mono-
gatari Shu, 4 vols., in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1979.
Sargent, G. W. (trans.). The Japanese Family Storehouse. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1959.
Shigematsu Akihisa. Urashimako Den. Gendai Shicho Sha, 1981.
Shimura Kunihiro. Kojidan. Kyoikusha, 1980.
- - - . Setsuwa Bungaku no Koso to Densho, Meiji Shoin, 1982.
Sugimoto Keizaburo, "Uchigikishu ni okeru setsuwa to setsuwa bungaku," in
Uchigikishi; wo yomu kai (ed.), Uchigikishii,
Tyler, Royall. Japanese Tales. New York: Pantheon Books, 1987.
Vchigikishu wo yomu kai (ed.). Vchigikishu. Kasama Shoin, 1971.
Ury, Marian. Tales of Times Now Past. Berkeley: University of California Press,
1979·
Usuda [ingoro and Nishio Koichi. Nihon no Setsuwa, vol. I. Tokyo Bijutsu,
1974·
Watson, Burton. Records of the Grand Historian of China, 2 vols. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1961.
Yanagita Kunio. The Legends of Tono, translated by Ronald H. Morse. Tokyo:
Japan Foundation, 1975.
Yoneda Chizuko. "Uchigikishi; ni okeru hensha no shisei," in Uchigikishi; wo
yomu Kai (ed.), Uchigilashu.
 The

Middle

Ages
 INTRODUCTION

Ae term chiisei, or middle ages, is often used of the period in Japanese

history from 1185, the year when the Minamoto destroyed the Taira,
to 1600, the year of the Tokugawa victory at the Battle of Sekigahara.
These dates are not accepted by all scholars (whether of literature or of
history) but almost everyone agrees that Japan had a "middle age," a
period whose characteristics differed from those of both earlier and later
times. The period is further divided along political lines into the Ka-
makura, Muromachi, and Azuchi-Momoyama periods, each with dis-
tinct features.
It goes without saying that Heian civilization did not break down
as soon as the shogun's government was established in Kamakura. Mem-
bers of the emperor's court led much the same lives as before, as we
know from surviving diaries. The court poets continued to produce
great quantities of waka evoking the changes of the seasons and their
bittersweet memories of love. Monogatari, in the style and language of
The Tale of Genji, were written for the pleasure of ladies of the aris-
tocracy. Men (not only at the court but in monasteries) pursued the
study of classical Chinese with unabated devotion, and left behind many
examples of Chinese poetry and prose. If one confined one's attention
to the literature created in Kyoto, one would probably get the impression
that the literature of the Kamakura period was essentially the same in
nature as that of the Heian period, though the literary quality of the
prose had noticeably deteriorated.
The interest of medieval Japanese literature lies elsewhere-in the
newly created genres, notably the war tales, renga, and the No dramas.
All three of these genres originated as entertainments performed by and
for people who lived far from the court. The war tales, recited by
professional entertainers, familiarized people even in remote villages
with the deeds of heroes of the twelfth-century warfare; and in time
6IO The Middle Ages
largely extemporaneous recitations solidified into texts that were read
as literature. Renga began as a kind of game in which one man composed
three of the five lines of a waka and challenged others to complete the
poem. In its early stages of development (and even much later) it was
popular not only with amateur poets but with gamblers who bet on the
winning "solutions" to the problems of the first three lines; but by the
fifteenth century this game was elevated into an art based on the phil-
osophical ideal of a communal creation of a work of poetic beauty, and
was provided with innumerable rules. Finally, the No dramas, the ear-
liest Japanese theater of literary importance, probably began as playlets
that enlightened worshipers (many of them illiterate) on the miracles of
the deities of the temples and shrines where the plays were performed.
The patronage of the Ashikaga shoguns made possible the development
of No as a highly artistic and literary theater whose texts could be fully
comprehended only by connoisseurs; but simpler forms of No continued
to be performed on crudely fashioned stages throughout the country for
the pleasure of people of the vicinity.
Medieval literature reflected the increased importance of places out-
side the capital. Most of the action of a typical Heian monogatari gen-
erally took place in the capital, and descriptions of other places were
rare; but a medieval tale was not confined by such restrictions. The
battles between the Taira and the Minamoto were fought in various
parts of Japan, and the subsequent flight to the north of the hero Mina-
moto Yoshitsune provided storytellers with still other opportunities to
extend the geographical scope of their narrations. No doubt the audiences
for recitations wanted most of all to hear about great events that had
occurred close to where they lived.
The decision of Minamoto Yoritomo to establish his government-
the shogunate-at Kamakura in the east of Japan, a section of the
country that inhabitants of the capital had always considered to be
uncivilized, led to the building of an imposing second capital whose
temples and halls of state rivaled those in Kyoto. The existence of two
capitals obliged some people to travel from one to the other on official
business, or as litigants at the shogunate courts, or merely as sightseers.
The sights of the journey, often recorded in diaries, also became a feature
of the new literature.
The diffusion of the culture of the old capital to the hinterland was
further accelerated by the warfare of the fourteenth and fifteenth cen-
turies. Kyoto was burned again and again, and the senseless Onin War
of the 1460s destroyed almost every building. During the Heian period,
Introduction 6II

governors sent from the capital had tried to spend as little time as possible
in their provinces; and even those who lived in remote areas did not
associate with the local people. The father of the author of The Sarashina
Diary warned her, "The provinces are terrible places," meaning that the
inhabitants were barbarous, and any girl brought up there could never
hope to acquire the refined culture of the capital. But once the country
was torn by warfare, the castles of provincial warlords became havens
to courtiers, learned priests, and other refugees from the capital. In
return for the hospitality they gladly instructed their hosts in poetry,
painting, and similar pursuits.
It is noteworthy that the warlords, however ferocious they might
have been on the battlefield, wanted to acquire the culture of the ar-
istocracy. That is why they welcomed (among others) renga poets and
treated them generously for long periods while they attempted to learn
the rules governing the art. We may assume that the poets were slow
to criticize and quick to praise the literary efforts of their hosts; no
doubt many a warrior was delighted to be informed that he, like M.
Jourdain, was speaking prose. Kyogen farces reveal the contempt felt
for provincial lords who were persuaded that they possessed the elegance
of the courtier.
The seemingly endless warfare gave new meaning to the uncertainty
of life, a frequent theme in the writings of the Heian courtiers, who
saw death in the fall of blossoms or in a moment of parting. The court
lady who brooded over a lover's neglect also had many occasions to
consider the fragility of happiness; but the loss of a lover was even more
terrible when it was caused by his death in battle. In some of the diaries
women tell of their emotions on seeing their lover's head on a pike
being paraded through the streets.
The literature also describes natural disasters-earthquakes, ty-
phoons, failures of crops. The capital, where roof had vied with proud
roof in splendor, seemingly impervious to calamity, proved to be un-
expectedly vulnerable, and aristocrats and commoners alike turned in-
creasingly to religion for support and comfort. New sects of Buddhism
arose to meet the needs of people, especially those who could not un-
derstand the sacred texts or the symbolism of the older religious art.
The most popular of the new sects taught that one's only hope for
salvation was to throw oneself on the mercy of Amida Buddha, who
had vowed to save everyone who asked his intercession. A believer
needed only call Arnida's name once in his lifetime, in this way admitting
that he was incapable of saving himself. The religious fervor of the
612 The Middle Ages
middle ages, unlike the learned, prevailingly aristocratic religious prac-
tices of earlier periods, affected every segment of the population in every
region of the country.
Religious belief in the middle ages tended to be a centrifugal force,
sending men from the capital to lonely hermitages in the mountains or
to holy sites in distant places. A whole body of medieval literature
describes their pilgrimages. On these journeys men from the capital
heard the legends associated with the places they passed, and some of
them would be developed into works of literature-for example, into
No plays. The warfare destroyed much of what had survived from the
past, masterpieces of architecture as well as unique manuscripts. We
know the titles of many works of literature that perished forever in the
flames of medieval wars. The only compensation for this loss was the
creation of a new culture shared by the entire Japanese people.
The middle ages came to an end with the unification of the country
by three celebrated generals-ada Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and
Tokugawa Ieyasu-during the sixteenth century. These men had to
contend not only with the various warlords who fought to maintain
possession of their lands, but with the arrival of the first Europeans in
the middle of the century. European inventions (notably, the gun) were
quickly accepted, and many Japanese were converted to Christianity.
The middle ages concluded with a rare period of cosmopolitanism, when
Japanese eagerly adopted (or at least tolerated) foreign ways. Not long
afterward, Japan was closed to outsiders, and the cosmopolitanism ended
in a massacre of surviving Christians; but the wars were over and the
country was unified. The culture, including literature, had left the hands
of the aristocracy forever.
 1 6.
T ALES OF W ARF ARE

~e Heian period was brought to a close by the warfare of 1180-1185.

The protagonists of this warfare were two clans, the Taira and the
Minamoto, also known respectively as the Heike and the Genji. l Both
clans claimed descent from the imperial family, but over the course of
time these connections had become of less significance than their estates
in various parts of the country and their military forces. The Taira had
their main base in the area of the Inland Sea, and their naval power
had accordingly developed. The strength of the Minamoto-or at any
rate, the branch of the Minamoto clan that engaged in the fighting of
the twelfth century-was centered in the east, especially in Izu and
Sagami provinces. The Fujiwara, the other major clan, concerned them-
selves with political activities in the capital. By the middle of the twelfth
century the Fujiwara had lost much of their authority, and even if they
possessed such imposing titles as regent (sessho) , they were often inef-
fectual or even grossly incompetent men.'
The tales that narrated the fighting of the twelfth century, first
committed to paper in the following century, were not the earliest
compositions devoted to accounts of warfare. Various uprisings of the
early Heian period had previously been described in battle records (senki),
beginning with Shomonki (The Story of Masakado), the first work of
the genre. These precursors of the war tales of the thirteenth century
lack their literary interest, and differ also from the later tales in having
been composed in Chinese rather than Japanese; but they stand out from
other Heian historical works in that they treat events that occurred in
the provinces, far from the traditional center of Japanese literature, the
court. In this sense, too, they anticipated the great war tales.
 The Middle Ages
BATTLE TALES

The Story of Masakado

Shomonki (The Story of Masakado) relates how Taira no Masakado

(903?-940), a warrior from the eastern provinces, after having defeated
many local warlords received in 939 an oracular message from the god
Hachiman conferring on him the title of emperor of Japan. He accepted
this honor without hesitation, taking for himself the title of shinko (new
emperor). The emperor and the nobles in Kyoto, terrified by this de-
velopment, frantically prayed to the gods and buddhas for deliverance.
Their prayers and offerings were answered: Masakado's luck turned,
and he was defeated by his archenemy, Taira no Sadamori. "Never in
this world had a general actually joined in battle and died at the front
like Masakado,":' we are told, seemingly without cynicism. His severed
head was sent to Kyoto. A message was later received from Masakado's
spirit, repenting of his crimes on earth and relating his suffering in the
world of the dead. The final words from Masakado's spirit were in the
form of a Buddhist injunction: "No matter how good something may
taste, you must refrain from eating the flesh ofliving things, and although
you may begrudge it, give alms to the priesthood.?'
In contrast to Chinese history or to the histories of the various
countries of Europe, no hero of Japanese history, with the single excep-
tion of Masakado, ever sought to establish himself on the throne. Taira
no Kiyomori, Minamoto no Yoritomo, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, or To-
kugawa Ieyasu, to name the most celebrated military men, surely could
have killed the reigning emperor or forced him to abdicate and seized
the imperial regalia, but this did not happen; even the most powerful
tyrant appeared afraid to violate the sanctity of the throne and paid at
least lip service to the emperor, though usually he was stripped of political
power.
Masakado based his claim to the throne not only on his military
triumphs but on his descent from the Emperor Kammu. Probably he
never sought to rule more than the eastern half of the country; even
after he became the "new emperor" he continued to write deferentially
to Fujiwara no Tadahira, a noble he had formerly served, and he never
commanded the emperor in Kyoto to vacate his throne. The scale of
Masakado's battles was very small by modern standards, and if he had
not taken the title of "new emperor" he might well have been forgotten
along with other warriors of his time. This act made him a unique
figure in Japanese history, and the reader is likely to turn to The Story
Tales of Warfare
of Masakado with high expectations of absorbing literary interest. Such
expectations are bound to be disappointed.
The Story of Masakado was written mainly in a documentary kambun
that is of interest chiefly because of the occasional intrusions of Japanese
honorifics and syntactical forms.' There are moments of excitement, it
is true, but there are no memorable personalities, and the innumerable
references to Chinese history and the moralization make dull reading
though, ironically, such passages were no doubt intended to impart
literary interest."
We cannot be sure exactly when The Story of Masakado was com-
posed, but it was probably soon after the death of Masakado in 940.
The unknown author was on the whole sympathetic to Masakado, at
least up until the time when he assumed the title of "new emperor."
The word "enemy," used of Masakado's foes in the earlier part of the
text, is used of Masakado himself toward the close,' a shift in attitude
that has made some critics suggest that the latter part was by a different
author. More likely, however, it represented a changed response of the
same author to Masakado's transformation from a brave soldier to a
usurper. For all its inadequacy, however, The Story of Masakado was the
first literary work to be based on recent historical events, and occasionally
even anticipates the major war tales of later years.
By contrast, Sumitomo Tsuito Ki (Record of the Punitive Expedition
against Sumitomo), describing the suppression of the rebellion led by
Fujiwara no Sumitomo (d. 941), is no more than a bare chronicle without
literary interest. Mutsu Waki (Tales and Records of Mutsu)," more in
the tradition of The Story of Masakado and by an anonymous author,
describes in a documentary kambun the successful campaign of Mina-
moto no Yoriyoshi (988-1°75) against rebels in the north of japan during
the Earlier Nine Years' War (1051-1062). The only literary interest of
the work is found in the various anecdotes (originally transmitted orally)
about the events of the campaign, as related by the unknown author."
Other chronicles written in classical Chinese (some with admixtures of
Japanese syntax) are even more like official records, and will not be
considered here.
These battle records are not in themselves of much literary interest,
but they were the predecessors of the war tales, works of exceptional
literary importance that described the next period of major warfare, the
latter part of the twelfth century.
 The Middle Ages

WAR TALES

Tale of the Disturbance in Hogen

The earliest of the gunki monogatari is Hogen Monogatari (Tale of the

Disturbance in Hogen)," an account of the rebellion staged in I 156, the
first year of the Hogen era. It began as a conflict between the reigning
emperor, Goshirakawa, and his half-brother Sutoku, the retired em-
peror, over possession of the throne. Sutoku had been forced by his
father, the Emperor Toba, to abdicate in 1142 so that Toba's son by
another consort might ascend the throne. When this son (the Emperor
Konoe) died in 1155 Sutoku thought his chance had come to obtain the
throne for his own son, if not for himself, only to be frustrated in his
hopes by the accession of his brother, Goshirakawa. Furious at this new
development, Sutoku joined with the minister of the Left, Fujiwara no
Yorinaga, and various members of the Minamoto family, in a conspiracy
to capture the throne by force.
The bitterness of the dispute between the two sons of Toba was
paralleled by the divisions within the various noble families. The Fu-
jiwara family had long dominated the government, but they were by
no means united: Fujiwara no Tadamichi supported Goshirakawa, but
his brother Yorinaga was the leader of Sutoku's faction. Similarly, Mina-
moto no Tameyoshi backed Sutoku, but his son Yoshitomo supported
Goshirakawa; Taira no Kiyomori, who would emerge as the most pow-
erful man in Japan, served Goshirakawa, but his uncle Tadamasa was
on the side of Sutoku. During the brief conflict that ensued (it was over
in a single day), Sutoku's forces were defeated and many of his adherents
killed, including the hero Tametomo. Sutoku himself was exiled to the
island of Shikoku, where he died. At the very end of the work!' there
is a description of the visit to Sutoku's grave by the traveler-poet Saigyo."
The historical significance of the Hogen disturbance was not confined
to the dispute over the succession. The Buddhist priest and poet [ien
(II55-I225), whose Gultansho" is considered to be the first work of
history to deal critically and interpretatively with the Japanese past,
wrote, "After the death of the Cloistered Emperor Toba on the second
day of the seventh month of the first year of Hogen [II 56] a rebellion
broke out in the land of Japan, and it was from this time that the age
of the military began."!' The losers in the one-day war of I 156 were
not so much Sutoku's followers as the whole of the nobility; for over
seven hundred years afterward the military and not the emperor or the
Tales of Warfare

Fujiwara regents would rule Japan, though the imperial court and even
the old aristocracy continued to maintain a precarious existence.
With Tale of the Disturbance in Hogen a new genre of literature
came into being. The war tales, though they treated materials much
resembling those of the battle records and the various "mirrors,"!" dif-
fered from them in that they were not written at a particular time by
a particular individual. Undoubtedly someone first set down the facts
recorded in the war stories, perhaps in the form of the diaries tradi-
tionally kept in kambun by members of the nobility, but the bare facts
found in such diaries grew into works of literary interest as the events
of the wars were embellished by professional storytellers with anecdotes
and interpretative comments, and recited to musical accompaniment
before audiences all over the country. The narrators of these tales came
to be known as biwa hoshi, the biwa being an instrument resembling
the mandolin, and hoshi meaning a priest, or someone who resembled
a priest in his costume and shaved head. The war stories continued to
grow, perhaps until printing of the texts became common in the sev-
enteenth century, in response to the demand of successive audiences for
further details about favorite characters or as the result of the narrator's
desire to point out moral truths, whether Buddhist or Confucian.
It is difficult to know at which point in the history of Japanese
literature these works should be situated. Probably Tale ofthe Disturbance
in Hogen existed in some form by the beginning of the thirteenth century
or even before, but the earliest surviving manuscript dates from 1318.16
Differences among these and other texts are not restricted to minor
variants of language, but extend to whole scenes included or omitted
by the different text "families." Under these circumstances, it does not
make much sense to search for a single author, and the dating of the
work is approximate.
Tale of the Disturbance in Hogen not only marks the emergence of
a new political and social system, based on the central importance of
the military, but the emergence of a new literary style of written [ap-
anese." The Heian historical tales were composed in much the same
language as the fiction of that era, in part perhaps because they were
supposed to be narrations by extremely old men or women for whom
it was natural to use the language of the past. The most striking dif-
ference in language between the Heian historical tales and the war tales
was the great increase in the number of words borrowed from Chinese.
Although the spoken Japanese language had been steadily admitting
more and more such words, the written language was conservative,
 The Middle Ages

generally avoiding words of foreign origin except for terms for which
no Japanese equivalents existed, such as the special vocabulary of Bud-
dhism or the names of political offices. The sentences in the various
"mirrors" often conclude with a form of the polite verb tamau, used by
the narrator in referring to the actions of a person of superior social
class, but the sentences in the war tales are more likely to conclude (as
in the modern Japanese written language) with a neutral verb ending.
The copula verb soro,18 associated with the military class, also makes its
first appearances in the war tales.
The feature of the war tales that most clearly distinguishes them
from earlier historical tales is their literary importance. In reading these
tales we are likely to be struck especially by the memorable characters.
Unlike the account of Michinaga in The Great Mirror, for example,
which resembles a panegyric more than a portrait, the characters in Tale
of the Disturbance in Hogen capture the imagination of the reader, es-
pecially the larger-than-life Minamoto no Tametomo (1139-1177) and
the wrathful Emperor Sutoku.
Tametomo is perhaps as close as the Japanese ever came to creating
a hero in the manner of European epic poetry. He is a man of great
stature and overpowering strength who can bend a bow that no other
man can bend, and whose arrows easily pass through the stoutest armor.
Toward the end of the book he is captured by enemies when stark
naked in the bath. The sinews of his right arm are severed to keep him
from ever drawing a bow again, and he is exiled to the island of Oshima.
Before long, however, his arm mends, and he proceeds to conquer not
only Oshima but the other islands of the Izu chain. Probably this is
where the account of Tametomo originally ended, but the audiences
who listened to recitations of the work no doubt clamored for more. A
chapter was accordingly added describing Tarnetomo's conquest of the
Island of Devils," inhabited by descendants of the eponymous demons.
Although they are more than ten feet tall and their bodies are covered
with hair, they are a sorry lot, totally lacking in diabolic magic, and
soon surrender abjectly to the great Tametomo.
When Goshirakawa hears of Tametorno's success, he decides to send
an army to subdue him. Soon a flotilla of warships is seen off Oshima,
and Tametomo decides the time has come for him to die. He describes
his achievements in battle, insisting that he never harmed anyone except
enemy soldiers. All the same, he says, killing people (the inevitable task
of the warrior) is a sin, and he surely will be punished in the future
life. Then, as a last token of his mighty prowess, he fires an arrow at
a warship. It passes first through one hull and then the other, and the
Tales of Warfare 619

ship, taking water, keels over and sinks. Tametomo, satisfied, goes into
his house and, leaning against a pillar, commits seppuku. His body
remains erect (because of the pillar), and the enemy soldiers at first do
not realize he is dead. At length one exceptionally brave man approaches
the fearsome Tametomo and, recognizing at last that he is dead, cuts
off his head."
The death of Tametomo makes an appropriate end for a martial
tale. Other versions, however, have a quite different but equally appro-
priate ending, the death of the Emperor Sutoku at his place of exile.
Sutoku, it will be recalled, precipitated the Hogen disturbance because
of his anger over the succession to the throne. After his forces were
defeated, he was taken prisoner and sent into exile; his journey is de-
scribed in a michiyuki (travel account) of considerable pathos, each place
passed on the way recalling events or poetry of the past."
Sutoku's destination was a small island off the Sanuki coast, and his
dwelling there, unspeakably gloomy, was like a prison cell. He passed
his time copying in his own blood the texts of five sutras, which he sent
to the abbot of the Ninna-ji, the great Shingon temple in Kyoto where
he himself had once taken refuge, with the request that if permission
was granted they should be placed before the grave of his father, the
Emperor Toba." The abbot wept at these words of a once proud man.
He tried to induce the kampaku, Fujiwara no Michinori, better known
by his Buddhist name, Shinzei (1106-1160), to grant Sutoku's request,
but the latter replied, "He is at present detained at a place of exile. It
would bode ill for us if His Majesty allowed the writings but not the
man to return to the capital. If this request is granted, there is no telling
what he may ask for next.'?' The Emperor Goshirakawa, persuaded by
Shinzei's argument, refused permission.
When Sutoku learned this, he exclaimed,

What a heartless thing to say! ... There have been many instances,
past and present, of brothers who fought each other or of uncles
who waged wars against nephews; but with the passage of time,
their crimes were forgiven and their punishment lightened. This is
the mercy befitting the ruler, his boundless compassion. Needless to
say, moreover, anyone who has become a Buddhist priest and wished
to study the sutras so as to achieve enlightenment has always been
given permission; but now I am begrudged even a place to put the
Mahayana sutras I have copied out for the sake of future generations.
He is my enemy for all time! If that is how things are to be, living
longer will do me no good."
620 The Middle Ages

Sutoku, we are told, from this time onward neither combed his hair
nor trimmed his nails; even while still alive he looked like a goblin.
Enraged that the efforts he had devoted during the past three years to
copying the sutras had been in vain, he decided to offer them not to
the Buddha but to the demons of the Three Evil Realms," and with
the power this gave him he would turn into "the great evil demon of
the land of Japan, make the emperor a subject, and make a subject the
emperor.'?" He bit off the tip of his tongue, and inscribed in his blood
at the end of the sutras a prayer to the gods of the supernal and infernal
worlds asking them to join their strength to his vow of becoming a
demon. He then threw the sutras into the sea.
Sutoku did not die for another nine years. At the time of his death
in 1164 he was only forty-five years old, but he is usually pictured in
later works as a fearsome old man. He was cremated at Shiramine in
the province of Sanuki. The smoke rising from his funeral pyre drifted
in the direction of the capital, a sign of his unabating attachment to the
throne. In the winter of 1168 the great poet Saigyo visited Shiramine
and, making his way to the desolate, overgrown grave, offered a poem
to the late emperor. As he soliloquized on the tragic fate of an emperor
who had once ruled wisely only to suffer disaster as the result of an ill-
judged rebellion, he heard a voice from the grave recite a poem bewailing
the empty resolution of his exile. Saigyo, uncertain whether he really
heard this voice or if it might be a dream, replied with a poem urging
Sutoku to abandon his futile indignation."
In 1177 the court, fearing Sutoku's vengeful spirit, sought to mollify
him by granting him a posthumous name, but his wrath was not ap-
peased: the misfortunes that soon afterward afflicted Kiyomori and the
others of the Taira clan were attributed to the curse Sutoku had placed
on those who had fought him during the Hogen disturbance.
Tale of the Disturbance in Hogen can be interpreted as an account of
how Sutoku was punished for the crime of plotting against the reigning
monarch. One feels sympathy for him when one reads how he was
forced to abdicate, but Sutoku was a headstrong and even violent man.
He seems fated to be tortured in the realm of angry spirits just as surely
as Tametomo, his loyal supporter to the end, will reach paradise. Ta-
metomo fought his heroic battles for an unworthy cause, but perhaps
its unworthiness served to make his loyalty all the more absolute. The
presence in the narration of these two strongly contrasted men gives
dramatic intensity to the Tale of the Disturbance in Hogen.
The events directly relating to Sutoku and Tametomo are not, how-
ever, the only ones of literary interest. There is a harrowing account of
Tales of Warfare 621

how Tarnetomo's elder brother Yoshitomo who, though loyal to Go-

shirakawa, was sadistically commanded by the latter to cut off the head
of his own father, Tameyoshi. He begged the emperor to spare him
from commiting the ultimate act of unfilial behavior, but Goshirakawa
was adamant. Yoshitomo asked his trusted retainer Kamada Masakiyo
which was worse, to kill one's father or to disobey the command of the
emperor. Masakiyo advised him to kill Tameyoshi, citing instances in
the Buddhist texts of men who for causes of overriding importance had
no choice but to kill their fathers. T ameyoshi was doomed in any case
as an enemy of the crown and, rather than have some stranger cut off
his head, it would be best for his son to do it.
Yoshitomo decides to follow Masakiyo's advice. He first reassures
Tameyoshi by telling of the many times he has refused to comply with
the command to cut off his father's head. His meritorious achievements
during the fighting had earned him special consideration, and he had
built for his father a hermitage in the eastern hills where he could live
and devote himself to prayer.
Tameyoshi is moved to tears of joy. He says, "Ah, they say no treasure
is as great as one's children. Who but my own son would help me at
the risk of his own life? I shall not forget this for the rest of my lives
in this world and those to come," and he joins his hands in prayer before
his son. Yoshitomo, by this time feeling wretched, brushes away the
tears and manages to look composed. He calls to Masakiyo and asks for
a vehicle to take his father to the eastern hills, but the cart with Ta-
meyoshi aboard heads westward instead.
Masakiyo is waiting, sword in hand, at Suzaku-dori where Tame-
yoshi is to transfer from the cart to a palanquin. This is the place where
he is to die. Hadano Yoshimichi, another of Yoshitorno's retainers, who
has accompanied Tameyoshi this far, remonstrates with Masakiyo, point-
ing out how much he owes Tameyoshi, who raised him as an adopted
child. If his life cannot be spared, he should at least be told what is in
store for him and given the time to say his prayers. Masakiyo agrees,
but asks Yoshimichi to inform Tameyoshi. Yoshimichi says to Tame-
yoshi, "Are you still not aware, sir, what is happening? His Excellency
[Yoshitomo] received an imperial command, and Masakiyo is to kill you
here, between the cart and the palanquin."
Tameyoshi, needless to say, is astonished. He is chagrined that Yo-
shitomo deceived him, and wishes now that he had heeded Tametorno's
advice to flee to the north. "If I and my six sons had fired every last
one of our arrows, and had then been killed in the fighting, I would
have left a name for future ages. Am I to die like a dog instead?" He
622 The Middle Ages
declares that he would have given up his life to save Yoshitomo's, but
remembers the saying "The host of buddhas think of humankind, but
humankind does not think of the buddhas; parents always worry about
their children, but children never think of their parents." He urges the
men to be quick in their execution. It is still dark, but when day breaks
people, high and low alike, will gather around to gape while he is killed.
He invokes the name of Amida Buddha again and again in a loud voice
as he waits for the executioner's sword; but Masakiyo, appalled to think
of killing the master of a family that his ancestors have served generation
after generation, asks Yoshimichi to kill T ameyoshi instead. Yoshimichi
refuses. A retainer of Masakiyo unsheathes his sword and strikes, but
because it is too dark to see properly, he misses the neck, and the blade
hits bone instead. Tameyoshi turns and asks, "Why don't you do it,
Masakiyo?" He calls the name of Amida Buddha in an even louder
voice than before. At the next stroke of the sword his severed head
drops to the ground."
The last of the three books opens as Yoshitomo receives another
imperial command, this one to kill all of his younger brothers. Once
again, he has no choice but to obey. He directs Hadano Yoshimichi to
go to the house in the capital where his four youngest brothers live.
Yoshimichi is to take them on some pretext to Funaoka Mountain,
where he will cut off their heads. He is reluctant to carry out these
orders, but cannot disobey his master. The incident is given pathos by
the necessity imposed on him of killing small, defenseless children.
Tameyoshi with virtually his last words had commended the four boys
to Yoshitomo, predicting that each would some day be worth a hun-
dred men.
Yoshimichi tells the four boys that he has come to escort them to
their father. The three younger boys are delighted and can hardly wait
to get into the palanquin that is to take them to their death, but Otowaka,
the oldest boy (he is thirteen), is puzzled because Tameyoshi had not
mentioned going to Funaoka. He wants to wait for his mother, but his
brothers beg him to hurry."
When their palanquin is set down at a deserted place in the moun-
tains, Yoshimichi takes the smallest boys on his knees and tells them in
tears, stroking their hair, that they must die. He tells them that their
father was killed at dawn on the previous day. The children cling to
him, but Otowaka stands apart. Finally he pulls his brothers away from
Yoshimichi, and tells them not to weep. He says that it makes no
difference whether they die as children or as adults. They have no reason
to go on living, now that their father and brothers have been killed.
Tales of Warfare

Rather than become beggars and have people point at them, they should
pray that their father will welcome them to paradise. Otowaka cuts off
his brothers' forelocks and his own, as last mementoes for their mother.
The three younger boys and then Otowaka are beheaded. When Yoshi-
michi reports to the palace what has happened, he is coldly informed
that it will not be necessary to carry out a head inspection in the usual
manner.
These incidents (and there are others almost equally affecting in
Tale ofthe Disturbance in Hogen) have no parallels in the earlier historical
tales. They are superbly told and made up of the genuine stuff of tragedy.
Although this work was not extensively used as a source for the dramas
of later times, the events described are so memorable as to cast shadows
over the medieval Japanese world. The "head inspection" (kubi jikken),
briefly mentioned above, would become a familiar feature of Kabuki
plays, and the deaths of children to save the lives of adults also figure
prominently in these plays. Above all, the samurai's reluctance to kill,
as his profession and his loyalty to his lord command, has many echoes
in the literature of later times. Although the court in Kyoto still main-
tained much of its former elegance and decorum, one senses while
reading this work that a world dominated by the military was the shape
of things to come. Up until this time no one had been put to death for
a crime since 810, the severest penalty being distant banishment, but
from now on death by the executioner's sword would be common, even
when the offender had taken the tonsure. A harsh world had come into
being in which warfare would destroy the treasures of the past and the
wishes of soldiers, rather than of courtiers, would prevail.

Tale of the Disturbance In Heiji

In 116o, three years" after the abortive coup of the Hogen era, a similar
clash, known by the reign-name Heiji, again divided the court and the
military families. The events of the fighting are recorded in Heiji Mono-
gatari (Tale of the Disturbance in Heiji), a work that closely resembles
its predecessor in length and in its general structure-three books that
present respectively the origins, fighting, and resolution of the distur-
bance. Quite apart from the similarities in several incidents, the tales
belong to the same stylistic tradition, and may even have been originally
composed by the same person. Both are memorable creations of liter-
ature, quite apart from their value as historical sources.
The many surviving texts of Tale of the Disturbance in Heiji provide
 The Middle Ages
evidence that it, like its predecessor, grew over the centuries as successive
storytellers added to the basic historical facts. Five magnificent horizontal
scroll paintings (emakimono) dating from the late thirteenth century
illustrate some of the memorable scenes, further evidence of its popu-
larity. The inscriptions on the paintings constitute the oldest texts of the
work.
Both works open with a quarrel among members of the court that
soon spreads to the military. Unlike the warfare described in Tale of
the Disturbance in Hogen, however, during the Heiji disturbance no
clashes occurred between members of the same military family. For
three years after the suppression of the Hogen disturbance the hostility
between the Taira and the Minamoto had been growing, in part because
Taira no Kiyomori was so much more generously rewarded than Mi-
namoto no Yoshitomo for his role in the war, though (as we have
seen) Yoshitomo had been required to make inhuman sacrifices. The
disturbance of the Heiji era, when the two great military families
clashed, laid the groundwork for the war between the Taira and the
Minamoto.
Tale of the Disturbance in Heiji, after an introductory section in a
Confucian vein citing various instances from Chinese history to prove
that a worthy ruler must possess both literary and military virtues,
launches into descriptions of the two men who initiated the disturbance.
Unlike the disputants of the Hogen disturbance, an emperor and a
former emperor, the protagonists this time were members of the Fu-
jiwara family, though of relatively humble rank. Fujiwara no Nobuyori
(II33-II60) was the son of an unimportant provincial governor and,
the text informs us, "he had neither literary nor martial talent, neither
intellectual capability nor artistic skill."!' He had nevertheless managed,
by favor of Goshirakawa, to rise with phenomenal rapidity through the
hierarchy until at the age of twenty-seven he was a middle counselor
and could anticipate appointment as a major counselor, an unprece-
dented honor for someone of his background. He would ally himself
with the Minamoto in his struggle to achieve complete power at the
court.
Nobuyori's great enemy was Fujiwara no Michinori (Shinzei). Tale
of the Disturbance in Heiji describes Shinzei with unconditional admi-
ration: although his family background was modest in terms of rank
or office, it boasted a long tradition of Confucian scholarship, and Shinzei
himself was conversant with all branches of learning. His position at
court was only that of a minor counselor, but he benefited from his
wife's relationship to Goshirakawa as his former wet nurse, and he came
Tales of Warfare
to be entrusted with affairs of state great and small. He had revived
palace ceremonies that had fallen into desuetude, repaired or recon-
structed buildings that had been permitted to decay, and sought to return
the court to the simple ways of the past. The administration of justice
under Shinzei was so fair that no one could complain; and the com-
position of poetry and performance of music, the two hallmarks of
culture at the court, yielded in no way to the glories of the past. People
marveled that it had been possible for Shinzei in a remarkably short
period of time to revive the dignity and grandeur of the court. He would
side with the Taira.
The disturbance began when Nobuyori, seeking to take advantage
of the absence from the capital of Taira no Kiyomori, then on a pil-
grimage to Kumano, persuaded the embittered Yoshitomo to join forces
in a coup against Shinzei and the Taira family. On the night of the
ninth day of the twelfth month of I 159 Nobuyori, Yoshitomo, and several
hundred mounted warriors attacked the Sanjo Palace, the residence of
the Retired Emperor Goshirakawa, alleging that a plot against Nobu-
yori's life had been discovered. Goshirakawa was taken as a hostage and
moved to the Imperial Palace. The small band of Taira soldiers who
were guarding the place were slaughtered, and the severed heads of
their commanders were taken to the palace and displayed above one of
the gates. The Sanjo Palace was set afire and the fleeing inhabitants
were relentlessly pursued. Later that night Shinzei's residence was also
burned.
Yoshitomo's son, Akugenta Yoshihira, in Kamakura at the time,
learned of the disturbance and headed immediately for the capital. He
arrived just as Nobuyori, flushed with his victory, was making up a list
of promotions. Nobuyori was delighted to see Yoshihira, whose martial
prowess was already celebrated, and, asking his help in battles to come,
offered Yoshihira a promotion in rank and his choice of province. The
flattered Yoshihira replied,

Now I understand why, at the time of the Hogen disturbance, my

uncle Hachiro Tametomo refused, saying the promotion was too
precipitous, when the Uji Minister" named him a chamberlain on
the spot. What I need now is some soldiers. We should head for
Abeno and wait there for the Taira. This is on Kiyomori's way back
from the Kumano Shrine and he and his men will probably be
wearing nothing more than pilgrim's robes. If we surround them
and attack through the middle, he'll probably try to save his precious
life by making for the hills or the woods and hiding there. We'll
 The Middle Ages
pursue and capture him, and we'll hang his head over the scaffold
gate. Then we'll destroy Shinzei. Once the country's peaceful, I'll
be glad to accept a major province or a superior province and a
promotion, too. What sense would it make for me to accept a reward
before I've even had the chance to accomplish anything?"

Nobuyori, unconvinced by Yoshihira's strategy (which seemed to

him excessively crude), decided not to tire his horses by traveling all the
way to Abeno to intercept Kiyomori. He preferred to wait until Ki-
yomori entered the capital, where it would be easier to surround and
kill him. The others all agreed, but the narrator tells us, "This marked
the end of his good fortune."
Kiyomori would foil Nobuyori's plans, but not before Nobuyori had
killed his archenemy Shinzei. We are told that when Shinzei first
thought of becoming a Buddhist priest he groomed himself before going
to the palace to inform the emperor of his decision. As he dampened
his sidelocks he noticed to his astonishment that his head, as reflected
in the water, had a sword blade stuck in its throat. It was the face of
a man doomed to die by violence. He consulted a physiognomist who
confirmed that, for all his learning, Shinzei would probably die by the
sword. The only possibility of escaping this fate was to enter orders as
a priest, and Shinzei wasted no time in following this advice.
At noon on the day when the Sanjo Palace was to burn Shinzei saw
a white rainbow pierce the sun, a portent of calamity. He hurried to
the palace to report, but the emperor was listening to music and could
not be disturbed. Shinzei went into a nearby temple building to read
the sutras and pray, when a spark from burning incense flew onto the
page and burned two lines. The same spark then leaped to Shinzei's
sleeve and set it afire. He interpreted this prodigy as meaning, as an
old text stated, the strong would become weak and the weak strong.
This seemed a warning, and Shinzei returned home at once and in-
formed his wife that he was leaving for Nara. He did not explain his
actions, but the wife, suspecting some crisis had arisen, begged to be
taken along. Shinzei refused, and left for Nara with only four retainers.
Once in Nara, Shinzei observed the stars and planets, and saw signs
that a loyal minister would have to die to save the life of the emperor.
When word reached him of the burning of the Sanjo Palace and of his
own house, he knew that his interpretation of the celestial portents had
been correct. Soon men would be coming from the capital to capture
him. He had his retainers dig a hole deep in the ground as a hiding
place for himself with a bamboo tube inserted for breathing. The pur-
Tales of Warfare

suers arrived soon afterward and, finding one of Shinzei's men, tortured
him until the man revealed where Shinzei was hiding. The men dug
him up. He was still breathing, but they cut off his head and, after
parading it around the city, intended to expose it over the prison gate.
The people of the capital crowded along the Kamo River to gape at the
head as it went by. When Nobuyori and Yoshitomo stopped their car-
riages to have a look at the head, the sky suddenly clouded over, and
the head nodded, signifying to the crowd that the enemies of the court
would soon be destroyed.
This section of Tale of the Disturbance in Heiji is justly celebrated.
The oldest surviving text, however, makes no mention of the bamboo
tube through which Shinzei breathed, stating merely that he stabbed
himself in his hiding place in the ground." Obviously, the story improved
in the telling. Similar additions can be traced in other parts of the
narrative, elevating what may originally have been no more than a
straightforward account of warfare into a work of literature. Departures
from strict chronological order helped to impart a dramatic structure,
scenes of great intensity being presented in counterpoint to those of a
lighter nature. Some sections appear to be deliberately pictorial in their
incidents and composition, an impression confirmed by the scroll paint-
ings. One such scene is that when the youthful Emperor Nijo, exas-
perated by the ineptitude of Nobuyori, leaves the palace and goes to
Kiyomori's headquarters at Rokuhara. The carriage bearing the em-
peror, disguised as a woman, is stopped by Yoshitorno's men as it leaves
the palace gate. "Whose carriage is that?" they ask. "Ladies of the court
on their way to the Kitano Shrine. Nothing unusual," is the reply. But
the leader of the guards, still suspicious, lifts the carriage blinds with
the tip of his bow, and by torchlight examines the interior of the carriage.
He sees the emperor, dressed in woman's clothes and wearing a wig,
and his ladies, all in elaborate costumes, and this country samurai,
dazzled by the unfamiliar splendor, lets the carriage pass.
The characters are well drawn, especially the cowardly and corrupt
Nobuyori who, even as the emperor is making his escape, is drunkenly
amusing himself with court ladies, a scene of grotesque humor that
effectively contrasts with the tension of the preceding account of the
emperor's escape. During the fighting that ensues between the Taira
and the soldiers of Nobuyori and Yoshitomo, it seems at first as if the
Taira have been routed and are withdrawing to Rokuhara, but this is
only a feint to induce the enemy to come after them, leaving the palace
virtually undefended. Yoshitomo and the Minamoto are defeated, and
the terrified Nobuyori begs Yoshitomo to take him to safety in the east.
 The Middle Ages
Yoshitomo, enraged by Nobuyori's fecklessness, calls him the worst
blunderer in Japan, and lashes him with his whip. Nobuyori manages
to escape as far as the Ninna-ji, where he implores Goshirakawa to save
him, but to no avail. He is captured and executed by the Taira, a
miserable figure in death as in life.
Akugenta Yoshihira, a totally dissimilar figure, is a hero along the
lines of Tametomo who fights bravely but on the losing side. In another
memorable scene of the work he and Taira no Shigemori, Kiyomori's
son, fight within the palace grounds. Shigemori has five hundred men
against only seventeen of Yoshihira. The mounted warriors circle the
cherry tree and orange tree before the Hall of State ten times before
Shigemori realizes that he and his men are no match for Yoshihira and
leaves the field. After Yoshitomo, on his way back to the east, is betrayed
and killed, Yoshihira goes to Rokuhara alone in a last gesture of re-
sistance. When captured he taunts the Taira and urges them to kill him
as soon as possible; he vows to become a thunder god and wreak his
vengeance on them. A crowd gathers to watch the execution, only for
Yoshihira to order the commoners to stand aside so that he can direct
his prayers to Amida Buddha's paradise in the west. He rebukes the
Taira for making a public ceremony in broad daylight of his execution,
then commands the executioner to do his job well "or else I will bite
your face off." The executioner efficiently lops off Yoshil.ira's head; the
text informs us, "He was twenty years old." His head was hung on the
prison gate.
The last part of Tale of the Disturbance in Heiji is devoted mainly
to the account of Yoshitomo's mistress Tokiwa and her sons. Tokiwa
attempted to escape to safety in the east, but she and her sons were
captured by Kiyomori's men. At first Kiyomori was resolved to kill the
three boys, but his stepmother, Ike no Zenni, interceded for them, saying
that Yoritomo, the eldest, looked exactly like a son of hers who died
young." Kiyomori could not disregard her request. He still intended to
kill Yoshitomo's other sons, but his passions were aroused by Tokiwa,
described as the most beautiful woman in Japan, and he agreed to spare
these sons if Tokiwa became his mistress. Although women naturally
played a smaller part in warrior society than they did at the Heian court,
these two instances (and there are many others) provide evidence that
the role of women in affecting the results of military or political conflicts
during the medieval period was by no means insignificant.
As the result of his mother's self-sacrifice in yielding to Kiyomori,
Yoritomo was sent into exile in Izu. He promised he would become a
priest and pray for the salvation of his father. This is where the work
Tales of Warfare

ends. The conclusion is somewhat disappointing, but every reader knows

that the story has not ended: Yoritomo will avenge his father's death
and the humiliation of his clan, the Minamoto, the story told in The
Tale of the Heike.

The Tale of the Heike

The supreme example of the martial tale is unquestionably Heihe Mono-

gatari (The Tale of the Heike), an evocation of, successively, the origins
of the conflict between the Taira and the Minamoto clans, the various
defeats suffered by the Taira during the warfare that lasted from I 183
to 1185, and finally, the deaths of the last members of the once proud
Taira family.
The work was probably set down on paper for the first time early
in the thirteenth century. The priest Kenko in Essays in Idleness stated
that one Yukinaga, a scholar and official whose name appears in various
documents dated between 1I8I and 1213, wrote The Tale of the Heihc
and taught a blind man named Shobutsu to recite it. 3!> Kenko added,
"Shobutsu, a native of the Eastern Provinces, questioned soldiers from
his part of the country about military matters and feats of arms, then
got Yukinaga to write them down. Biwa entertainers today imitate what
was Shobutsu's natural voice."37 There seems to be some confusion in
this passage as to who taught whom; probably Shobutsu, after having
been taught to recite Yukinaga's text, was dissatisfied because it failed
to describe the fighting in the eastern provinces, and he himself, after
questioning men who had taken part in the warfare, supplied additional
materials which he "taught" to Yukinaga.
Although Kenko's account is not directly substantiated by other
evidence, it is now generally accepted." Even if Yukinaga was not the
author, Kenko's description of the manner in which The Tale of the
Heike was compiled rings true: a written text was probably used as the
basis of recitations by professional storytellers who embellished the orig-
inal narrative, perhaps in response to the demands of listeners who
craved to hear more about the heroic deeds of the war. This process
resulted in recited texts that were longer and more detailed than the
original written text. An epilogue, which movingly recounts the fates
of the last of the Heike, was added late in the thirteenth century. The
recited texts achieved definitive form by 1371, the year in which the
blind priest Kakuichi dictated to a disciple the version of the tale he
intoned." This text is generally considered to be the final version, and
63° The Middle Ages
is included by editors in collections of the Japanese classics, but the
storytellers' practice of adding to the text continued long after Kakuichi's
labors were completed." Probably no other work of Japanese literature
exists in so many different versions."
The central character of The Tale ofthe Heihe, though he dies about
halfway through the work, is Taira no Kiyomori (II 18-II81), and the
celebrated opening lines, a statement in Buddhist terms of the transitory
nature of worldly fame, seem to refer specifically to Kiyomori's extraor-
dinary career. Perhaps, as has been suggested," The Tale of the Heike
originally concluded with the death of Kiyomori, described in terms
resembling those of the opening:

Though his name had resounded to every corner of Japan, and the
power he wielded was immense, his flesh became no more than a
momentary wisp of smoke that rose into the sky above the capital.
His ashes lingered a while longer, tossed among the sands of the
shore, before they too turned to sterile earth.

The portrait of Kiyomori in The Tale of the Heike is by no means

favorable. He is a tyrant, merciless in his dealings with men who oppose
him or women whom he no longer loves, ready to flaunt his contempt
even for Buddha by wantonly destroying temples. So crudely does he
behave that it is hard to believe, despite the pedigree provided at the
opening of the work, that Kiyomori was a member of the aristocracy;
he seems totally lacking in refinement. Conceivably, some modern read-
ers may be attracted by Kiyomori's bold rejection of constricting tra-
ditions and precedents, whether expressed in his defiance of religion or
his arbitrary decision to remove the capital from Kyoto to his stronghold
at Fukuhara on the coast of the Inland Sea. But the author of The Tale
ofthe Heike clearly did not intend readers to admire Kiyomori; instead,
he emphasized the wanton brutality of this tyrant, and in asides fre-
quently deplored his behavior and contrasted him with more prudent,
pIOUS men.
We know from other sources that this was not an entirely faithful
portrait of Kiyomori. He was reared not as a soldier, though his recent
forebears had been samurai, but as a young prince, lending credence to
rumors that he was the illegitimate son of the Retired Emperor Shi-
rakawa." As a grown man, Kiyomori was at first exceptionally affable
and eager to please; he seemed to be the kind of man who never made
enemies." He and the Emperor Goshirakawa eventually became the
bitterest of enemies, but for years they were on cordial terms, united by
Tales of Warfare 6jI

similar temperaments and by a shared dislike of the rigid code that

governed behavior at the court. Of all this The Tale of the Heike says
nothing; from the first we see of Kiyomori he is a tyrant who employs
three hundred young men to spy on people and denounce anyone who
dares utter a word against his rule. The Taira were so powerful that
one of them boasted, "A man who's not a Taira is not a human being."
The sympathies of the author were clearly with the Minamoto.
The first half of the work is devoted to a description of the power
and overweening pride of the Taira, and recounts the various outrages
perpetrated by Kiyomori and others of his clan; the second half tells of
the disasters that humbled and finally destroyed the once mighty Taira
clan. Although the author was no doubt glad that the Minamoto warriors
were victorious, The Tale of the Heilte is not a celebration so much as
an elegy. Kiyomori is portrayed so harshly that it is impossible to feel
sympathy for him even when he suffers an excruciatingly painful death,
but the Taira clan in defeat claims our compassion. The fall of a great
dynasty is inevitably tragic: HEt pourtant c'est triste quand meurent les
empires."
The Taira were not all proud and violent men. Kiyornori's antithesis,
his son Shigemori, is presented as a model of sound judgment and
circumspection. He repeatedly admonishes the wayward actions of his
father, and his Confucian sermons on the nature ofloyalty to the throne
and similar subjects usually succeed in persuading Kiyomori to abandon
some precipitous course of action. The depiction in The Tale ofthe Heike
of Shigemori as a model of statesmanship owes as much to the storyteller
as does its counterpart, the diametrically opposed portrait of Kiyomori.
It even seems likely that some of the wicked deeds attributed by the
narrator to Kiyomori were in fact the work of his virtuous son." Shi-
gemori is described in nonliterary documents of the time mainly as a
bold and skillful warrior," but his martial activities are not mentioned
in The Tale of the Heihe, where the interest of the narrator lies in
establishing the contrast between Kiyomori and Shigemori, rather than
in depicting Shigemori as a hero.
The first incident in which the opposing natures of father and son
are brought to the fore is when the Major Counselor Narichika, bitter
that he has been passed over for promotion by Kiyomori, resolves to
overthrow the Taira. The author, far from applauding Narichika's cour-
age, expresses horror that he could have forgotten that when Narichika
was implicated in Nobuyori's plot during the Heiji disturbance, he was
saved from death only by Shigemori. Narichika seems unafraid of the
Taira, a foolhardy attitude, as others in the conspiracy are aware, and
6]2 The Middle Ages

compounds his folly with ingratitude, an offense that the Confucian

author of The Tale of the Heik« does not forgive.
Shigemori also interceded with his father on behalf of the Retired
Emperor Goshirakawa, an egregiously disagreeable man. Shinzei had
said of him that he was "one of the rare examples in the history of
China and Japan of a truly unenlightened ruler," and Minamoto no
Yoritomo later described Goshirakawa as "the biggest tengu in all
[apan.?" Little suggests that he had other aspects to his character, al-
though he was a generous patron of Buddhism, and students ofliterature
are grateful to him for having compiled the treasury of imayo (popular
songs) called Ryojin Hisho, In The Tale of the Heik« he is a scheming
figure ready to do anything that will satisfy his insatiable craving for
power. When a coup against the Taira was being hatched at the house
of the priest Shunkan in the eastern hills, Goshirakawa paid a visit to
the conspirators and smilingly expressed his approval when the Major
Counselor Narichika, as a sign to the others that the Taira clan (heishi)
would be overthrown, knocked over a sake bottle (heiji). But when
Kiyomori decided to punish Goshirakawa for his role in the abortive
coup, Shigemori was inspired to deliver his longest and most impassioned
lecture to his father on the absolute requirement of loyalty to the throne.
After Shigemori's death no one can control Kiyomori. Enraged at
the report that Goshirakawa was enjoying himself with music even as
Shigemori lay dying, Kiyomori orders that the former emperor be re-
moved from his own palace and taken to a ramshackle palace where
he is kept under guard. When Kiyomori's men arrive to escort him to
his new dwelling, Goshirakawa at first expects to be put to death; but
even Kiyomori is not audacious enough to kill a former emperor.
The downfall of the Taira is attributed by the author to their repeated
crimes, but the immediate cause is the uprising led by Minamoto no
Yoritomo against the Taira power. It will be recalled that Yoritomo's
life was spared at the entreaty of Kiyomori's stepmother. On his deathbed
Kiyomori asked for only one offering to be made at his tomb: the head
of Yoritomo. According to The Tale of the Hciltc, the priest Mongaku,
who like Yoritomo was exiled to Izu, urged Yoritomo to rally the anti-
Taira forces. At first Yoritomo was reluctant to break his vow of devoting
his life to prayers for the repose of his benefactress, but Mongaku
convinced him of the sincerity of his devotion to the Minamoto cause
by displaying the skull of Yoritorno's father, Yoshitomo, which he
claimed to have carried on his person for over ten years. Yoritomo
seemed rather dubious about the authenticity of the skull, but Mongaku's
Tales of Warfare
determination swept away his objections, and in the end he agreed to
lead a revolt against the Taira.
The best-known hero on the Minamoto side was not Yoritomo
himself, for all his resolute authority, but his younger half-brother Yoshi-
tsune, the victor at two of the chief battles of the war. Another hero,
Kiso no Yoshinaka, like Tametomo before him, was an incomparable
fighter but a poor leader of men. Yoshinaka, who grew up in the distant
mountains of Kiso, lacked all sense of discipline, let alone refinement,
and he allowed his men, after they had wrested the capital from the
Taira, to pillage the storehouses and rob the inhabitants. The people of
the capital began to complain that the Minamoto were even worse than
the Taira had been, and Goshirakawa himself decided that he must
destroy this sometime ally.
In the ensuing struggle with the forces of Goshirakawa, which in-
cluded many armed monks from the monasteries on Mount Hiei, Yoshi-
naka was at first victorious. His forces burned the palace of the former
emperor, and he himself demanded and received as his bride the daugh-
ter of a former kampaku. Yoritomo could not permit such actions even
on the part of a devoted retainer, and he commanded Yoshitsune to
destroy Yoshinaka. At the time, many of Yoshinaka's soldiers were in
the west of the country, fighting the Taira, and at the end he was left
with only a handful of retainers, including the woman warrior Tomoe.
He died alone, thrusting his sword into his mouth and leaping headfirst
from his horse. The new order established by Yoritomo had no place
for heroes suited to an earlier age.
The dramatic climax of The Tale of the Heike is the precipitant
abandonment of the capital by the Taira in face of Yoshinaka's attacks,
but three battles were even more crucial in the defeat of the Taira by
the Minamoto. The first, at Ichinotani, a site ideally situated for defensive
action that had been fortified by the Taira in anticipation of a decisive
battle, was won by the Minamoto thanks mainly to a daring attack by
Yoshitsune. The Taira neglected to protect their rear, a precipice so
steep that attack from that quarter seemed impossible, but Yoshitsune
led a night charge down the precipice that caught the unprepared Taira
by surprise. Soon the heads of numerous fallen Taira warriors were
being paraded through the capital, now occupied by the Minamoto. The
remnants of the Taira forces gathered at their stronghold of Yashima
on the island of Shikoku, fortified by the presence of the boy Emperor
Antoku, whom they had brought with them from the capital. For a
time they even managed to win minor skirmishes with the Minamoto,
 The Middle Ages
but they were defeated during the second major battle of the war at
Yashima, where Yoshitsune overcame a large Taira army as much by
his wiles as by his bravery.
The third and final battle was fought at Dannoura, near the point
where the islands of Honshu and Kyushu come closest together at the
straits of Shimonoseki. The Taira had always counted on their naval
supremacy, but in the battle that ensued they were utterly defeated. The
Emperor Antoku, in his grandmother's arms, was carried to the depths
of the sea.
Kenreimon'in, the mother of the emperor, also jumped into the sea,
but she was rescued by the Minamoto and brought back to the capital.
She was eventually permitted to go to the [akko-in, a small convent to
the north of the capital, where she spent the rest of her days. One of
the last episodes in The Tale of the Heike describes the visit of Goshi-
rakawa, who has survived the warfare unscathed, to the lonely [akko-
in. The first person he meets there is an old nun dressed in robes so
frayed that he cannot even guess from what material they were made.
In contrast to her humble appearance, she speaks in learned Buddhist
language, and he wonders who she might be. He asks, and she answers
in unforgettable words: "I am Awa no Naishi, daughter of the late
Shinzei. Once you loved me very deeply, and if now you have forgotten
me it must be because I have grown old and ugly." "Yes," the former
emperor replies, "it is you, Awa no Naishi. I had forgotten all about
you. Everything now seems like a dream." The nun, who had up until
this point expressed indifference to present hardships, attributing them
to causes from a previous existence, is still a woman, and cannot forget
that once she was beautiful and loved; and Goshirakawa's words convey
perfectly the callous nature of the man. When he finally meets Ken-
reimon'in, they exchange reminiscences on the events of the past few
years. He leaves as the bell of the [akko-in sounds the coming of evening,
the work ending as it began with the tolling of a temple bell.
The above is, in general, the plot of The Tale of the Heike. The fall
of the Taira is a worthy subject of an epic, but even more than the
accounts of battles or the speeches by Shigemori or other sections that
relate directly to the overarching theme, incidental episodes are apt to
stay in the reader's memory-moments in the lives of people, even those
on the periphery of the action, who suffer because of causes beyond
their control. The story of the priest Shunkan, which occurs early in
the narrative, is particularly moving. As one of the leaders of the con-
spiracy against Kiyomori, he was punished (like two of the others) by
being banished to a remote island populated by savages. The other two
Tales of Warfare
men were eventually allowed to return to the capital, but Shunkan, by
a caprice of Kiyomori's tyranny, was alone condemned to remain on
the island. Shunkan has not been portrayed as a worthy man, but we
cannot but be moved by his anguish over being left behind, clinging
desperately to the hope, voiced by one of his disingenuous companions,
that a pardon will be forthcoming. His futile, even childish attempts to
persuade the obdurate boatman to take him aboard are pitiful, and in
the end the ship disappears over the horizon leaving Shunkan alone on
the deserted shore. It is small wonder that this section of the work has
been adapted for the theater, and the image of Shunkan, wildly beck-
oning to a ship that ignores him, has been evoked again and again in
works of art.
The death of the Taira general Atsumori is another, wonderfully
dramatic episode. The Minamoto warrior Kumagai Naozane sees a Taira
horseman fleeing toward a ship in the offing and calls on him to turn
around and fight. The Taira warrior responds, and in the ensuing combat
Naozane knocks the other man off his horse. He lifts his sword, pre-
paring to deal the final blow, when he notices, tearing off the helmet,
that his enemy is a mere youth of sixteen, just about the same age as
his own son. Remembering his own shock when he learned earlier that
day that his son had been wounded, he can imagine how the parents
of this youth would grieve to hear of his death. N aozane decides he
will spare him. He addresses the youth politely, asking his name, only
to receive the snarled reply, "Take my head and show it to somebody.
They'll tell you who I am." At that moment other Minamoto horsemen
appear and Naozane realizes that if he does not kill the young general,
others will. He explains this, and promises to pray for the youth's
salvation, but the latter expresses no gratitude, merely repeating, "Cut
off my head!" N aozane steels himself to the act with the bitter reflection
that it was only because he was born into a family of warriors that he
must commit such cruel acts. When he strips the youth's armor he finds
a flute, and he reflects how unlikely it was that anyone on the Minamoto
side would have taken a flute to the battlefield. Naozane presents the
head to Yoshitsune and learns that this youth was Atsumori, the son of
a palace official, and that the flute, once owned by the Emperor Toba,
had been a gift to Atsumori's grandfather.
The dramatic contrasts in this episode are superb. N aozane, a griz-
zled old warrior, fights a young warrior; a rough soldier from the eastern
provinces confronts a nobleman from the capital. Naozane, his sword
poised over Atsumori's throat, speaks politely, even deferentially to the
youth, but Atsumori's replies are short and harsh, as if uttered in con-
 The Middle Ages

tempt of a man from the barbarous hinterland. The Taira themselves

had been fierce warriors, but they had adopted the aristocratic ways of
the capital, and now they seem to represent the old culture, symbolized
by the flute. Naozane, far from exulting over his victory, laments the
necessity of killing, and from this time on his heart is turned toward
the religious life. None of the various works for the theater based on
the story of Atsumori's death is as dramatically affecting as the original
episode from The Tale of the Heike.
Many other episodes and people live in the reader's memory, and
these are the stories that inspired numerous No plays-more than any
other work ofliterature. There are also dull sections, at least for modern
readers: the least affecting parts are the recitations of Chinese and Jap-
anese precedents for the events described. It is tedious when the action
is suspended for, say, a listing of twenty instances of traitors to the throne
over the course of Japanese history, followed by a similar description of
notable Chinese traitors." No doubt such a roll call resounded impres-
sively when delivered by the storytellers, and the parallels in Chinese
history rendered more important the Japanese examples.
The full effect of The Tale ofthe Heik« requires that it be read aloud,
with the intonation of the biwa hoshi who recited the work, accompanied
by the plangent notes of the biwa. In translation the musical effects are
inevitably lost, and even the most accurate version is likely to seem
inadequate to anyone familiar with the cadences of the original. Some
passages follow the standard poetic practice of alternating lines in five
and seven syllables, but even those in unmistakable prose are frequently
of exceptional aural beauty. For these reasons, The Tale of the Heih«
suffers far more in translation than, say, The Tale of Genji, which was
intended to be read rather than recited. The language is also more varied
than the pure (or nearly pure) Yamato vocabulary of the earlier work;
some of the most impressive effects of the recitation are achieved by the
greater richness of sound and sharpness of definition made possible by
the admixture of words of Chinese or Sanskrit origin. The opening
paragraph may suggest the characteristic combination of native and
foreign words:
"Gion shaja no kane no koe, shogya muja no hibiki ari. Shara soj«
no hana no iro, jasha hissui no kotowari wo arawasu. Ogoeru hito mo
hisashikarazu, tada haru no yo no yume no gotoshi. Takeki mono mo
tsui ni horobinu, hitoe ni kaze no mae no chiri ni onaji." (The sound
of the bell of the Gion Temple echoes the impermanence of all things.
The color of the blossoms of the twin-trunked sala trees" reveals the
truth that those who wax must wane. The proud man does not long
Tales of Warfare

endure; he is just like the dream of a spring night. The fearless person,
too, in the end will perish, exactly like dust before the wind.)
The italicized words (those of foreign origin) stand out when read
aloud because of the long vowels, the doubled consonants, such unfa-
miliar sounds as sha, and the final -n of the first word. Although the
last two sentences contain no foreign words, Chinese influence may
be inferred from the rhetorical device of parallelism: the sound of the
bell / the color of the flowers; proud man / fearless person; does not
long endure / in the end will perish; just like a dream of a spring
night / exactly the same as dust before the wind. The foreign words
also occur at the same positions in the first and second sentences, each
heading a main or subordinate clause. It has been argued that The Tale
ofthe Heike is the first and greatest masterpiece of the Japanese language,
as opposed to the Yamato language of the Heian period. Although the
Kakuichi text was written down six hundred years ago, much of it is
still immediately intelligible, an indiction of its importance in the for-
mation of the modern language.
Recitation of The Tale of the Heik« to biwa accompaniment has
lingered into the twentieth century, though it is no longer, of course, a
popular entertainment. More than any other single work of classical
Japanese literature, The Tale ofthe Heilt« is in the blood of the Japanese.
No one has to explain even to the badly educated who Kiyomori, Shi-
gemori, or Yoshitsune were, and there is much in later literature to
recall the unhappy women who figure so prominently in the pages of
the work-Gio, Kogo, Kenreirnon'in, and the rest. Innumerable works
not only of literature but of painting and other arts have been based on
the tale of the glory and the downfall of the Taira. Although it was not
composed in poetry, in theme and execution The Tale ofthe Heike merits
being considered as the Japanese epic.

Notes
I. The Taira were also known as the Heishi. Heike is the Sino-Japanese
reading of "Taira family" and Heishi of "Taira clan." The enemies of the
Taira, the Minamoto, are usually referred to as Genji, also a Sino-Japanese
reading. Except for mentions of the title The Tale of the Hcik«, I have used
the names Taira and Minamoto throughout for the two families, in order
to avoid confusion.
2. George Sansom in A History ofJapan to 1334 (p. 203) wrote of the Fujiwara
 The Middle Ages
officials of the mid-twelfth century, "The quality of the Fujiwara Regents
and ministers naturally began to diminish as their authority waned, until
in I 180 we find it recorded by a diarist that the then Regent was utterly
ignorant of the literature and history of Iapan and China. That was certainly
a grave complaint to bring against a statesman at the Heian court, where
learning had always been prized and encouraged."
3. Translation by Judith N. Rabinovich in Shomonki, p. 13I.
4· Ibid, pp. 138-39'
5. For a good discussion of the style, see ibid., pp. 53-62. Rabinovich gives
examples of the parallel prose ip'ien wen) with which the author attempted
to decorate the otherwise dreary text, and of Japanese words or constructions
that intruded into the Chinese prose.
6. Nagazumi Yasuaki (in Gunki Monogatari no Sekai, p. 195) insisted that The
Story of Masakado was a gunki monogatari and was indebted to such earlier
examples of monogatari as The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter and Tales of Ise.
It is difficult to concur in this attempt to find literary merit in the work.
7. Ibid., p. 20 4.
8. Translated by Helen Craig McCullough as "A Tale of Mutsu."
9. McCullough characterized the work (p. 186) as "a brief, plodding synopsis
of dull official documents, written moreover in Chinese, which can interest
the literary critic solely because of the anecdotes inserted as artlessly as
sticks disposed in a child's mud pie." A statement appears at the end of
the text of Tales and Records of Mutsu to the effect that both written and
oral accounts have been combined to form the present text. For a brief
discussion of the relations between Tales and Records ofMutsu and the great
collection of setsuwa, Tales of Times Now Past, see Ikegami [un'ichi, "Se-
tsuwa Bungaku kara Gunki Monogatari e," in Nagazumi Yasuaki, Hogen
Monogatari, Heiji Monogatari (Kadokawa), pp. 385-88.
10. A more literal translation of the title is the plain "Tale of Hogen."
I I. There are many variant texts of Tale of the Disturbance in Hogen, and the

ending differs according to the "family" of text.

12. Saigyc's visit to Sutoku's grave at Shiramine in the province of Sanuki is
the subject of the first story in Veda Akinari's collection Ugetsu Monogatari
(Tales of the Rain and Moon, 1776).
13. It has been translated by Delmer H. Brown and Ichiro Ishida in The Future
and the Past. The literal meaning of the title is something like "A Selection
of the Opinions of a Foo!."
14. Quoted in Nagazumi, Gunk], p. 10. See also the translation by Brown and

Ishida, The Future, p. 89.

15. See Chapter 14·
16. A conspicuously more literary account of the same events appears in the
Kotohira Shrine text; and a pirated edition of 1624 is the earliest known
example of the rufubon (vulgate) text, the most disseminated. For a concise
account of the different texts, see Nagazumi, Hogen, pp. 17-20. A fuller
Tales of Warfare
account is given in Nagazumi Yasuaki and Shimada Isao, Hogen Mono-
gatari, Heiji Monogatari, pp. 11-31.
17. A style similar to that of the gunki monogatari, approaching that of the
contemporary colloquial, is found in Tales of Times Now Past, the collection
compiled about II 20, but The Tale of the Disturbance in Hogen is far more
literary in expression than the tales of this collection.
18. The verb sora was a contracted form of saburau, meaning "to serve" (sa-
murai is derived from the same verb). It was an appropriate verb for a
society that placed the highest value on service to one's master.
19. This mythical island, known as Onigashima, figures in the story of Momo-
taro and other Japanese children's stories. It has been identified with Kikai
(Devils' Realm) Island, an island east of Amami Oshima, or with various
other islands to the south of Kyushu. Here, it probably does not designate
any geographically known island.
20. This is where most versions of the story end, but in later accounts (pre-
sumably, once again, in response to audience demand) Tametomo escapes
from Oshima and makes his way to Okinawa, which he conquers and rules
as its first king.
21. For a translation, see William R.Wilson, Hogen monogatari: Tale of the
Disorder in Hogen, p. 84.
22. I have followed here the rufubon text (translated by Wilson in Hogen, p.
97). According to the Kompira Shrine text, Sutoku asked that the man-
uscripts be kept somewhere near the Hachiman (shrine) at Toba. See
Nagazumi, Hogen, p. 152.
23. Nagazumi, Hogen, p. 152; also Nagazumi and Shimada, Hogen, p. 180.
This passage does not occur in the rufubon.
24. Nagazumi, Hogen, pp. 152-53; also Nagazumi and Shimada, Hogen, p.
180. For another version, see Wilson, Hogen, p. 98.
25. The realms were jigokudo, gakido, and chikushOdo. The first was a general
term for hell, the second the hell of hungry demons, and the third the hell
of beasts.
26. Nagazumi, Hogen, pp. ISS-56; also Nagazumi and Shimada, Hogen, p.
181. It is not clear what Sutoku meant by his threat of making "a subject
the emperor." Perhaps he still entertained hopes of putting on the throne
his son Shigehito, who was now a monk at the Ninna-ji,
27. Nagazumi and Shimada, Hogen, p, 183. Both the poem ascribed to Sutoku
and Saigyo's reply are included in the collected poems of Saigyo,
28. Ibid., pp. 142-47. I have also consulted the modern-language translation
in Nagazumi, Hogen, pp. II6-3I. The translation in Wilson, Hogen, pp.
65-68, is from a literarily less interesting text.
29. Nagazumi and Shimada, Hogen, pp. 150-51.
30. The fighting took place mainly in the twelfth month of the first year of
Heiji. The year as a whole was 1159 according to the European calendar, but
the twelfth lunar month corresponds to January 1160 in the solar calendar.
 The Middle Ages
31. Nagazumi and Shimada, Hogen, p. 190.
32. Fujiwara no Yorinaga was known as the Uji Minister of the Left. The
incident to which Yoshihira refers is described in Tale of the Disturbance
in Hogen. See Nagazumi and Shimada, Hogen, p. 98. The word "cham-
berlain" is used to translate the post of kurando (or kurOdo).
33· Ibid., p. 197·
34. See Nagazumi, Hogen, p. 247. The source is GukanshO, translated by Brown
and Ishida in The Present, p. 109. See also Edwin O. Reischauer and Joseph
K. Yamagiwa, Translationsfrom Early Japanese Literature, p. 417, for another
rendering of the description of Shinzei's death.
35. The son was called Umanosuke. Ike no Zenni was the second wife of Taira
no Tadamori. See Nagazumi and Shimada,Hogen, p. 277. There is a French
translation of this passage in Rene Sieffert, Le dit de Hogen; Le dit de Heiji,
p. 214·
36. All that is known about Yukinaga, the son of Nakayama Yukitaka, is
given by Gomi Fumihiko in Heike Monogatari, Shi to Setsuwa, pp. 36-55.
He was probably born about 1165. He served as governor of Shimotsuke
and later as governor of Shinano before taking vows as a priest. His
protector in the priesthood was the eminent Tendai priest Jien, the author
of Guliansh».
37. Donald Keene, Essays in Idleness, P: 186. Nothing else is known about
Shobutsu,
38. See, for example, Gomi, p. 33. Gomi believed that Kenko probably obtained
this information on the authorship of The Tale of the Heike from priests
of the Yokawa temples on Mount Hiei.
39. For a detailed examination of the formation of the text of The Tale of the
Heilie, see Kenneth Dean Butler, "The Textual Evolution of the Heike
Monogatari."
40. The role of the biwa hoshi in the transmission and augmentation of the
text of The Tale of the Heike is briefly described by Nagazumi in Gunki,
pp. 60-65. For a fuller description of the growth of the legends of the
Gempei War, see Takehisa Tsuyoshi, "Gunki Monogatari no Tassei," in
Kitagawa Tadahiko, Gunhimono no Keifu, pp. 61-105, or (even fuller)
Fukuda Akira, Gunki Monogatari to Minban Densho,
41. The longest of these versions, about four times the length of The Tale of
the Heik«, is known by a title of its own, Gempei Seisui Ki (also read as
Gempei [osui Ki) (A Record of the Rise and Fall of the Minamoto and
Taira). This and other variant texts sometimes provide valuable background
material for events only briefly mentioned in The Tale of the Heik« or by
rephrasing make clear the intended meaning of obscure passages. For
example, the passage in the second chapter yawara kono katana u/o nukiidashi,
bin ni hikiaterarekeru ga kori nando no yo ni zo miehcru is translated by
Helen Craig McCullough in The Tale of the Heih« (p. 24) as "he drew the
weapon with deliberation and held it alongside his head, its blade gleaming
Tales of Warfare
like ice." Neither she nor the original indicates why he should have held
the sword by his head. The Gempei Seisui Ki version is somewhat clearer:
tachi wo nuliiidashi, bin ni suwari suwari to bin ni hikiatekereba, hi no hikari
ni kagayakiaite kiramekikereba ... , which mdY be rendered as "He drew
his sword and touched it lightly to his sidelocks, where [the sword and
the sidelocks] mutually glittered in the firelight." See Mizuhara Hajime,
Shintei Gempei Seisui Ki, I, p. 99. However, I shall be concerned here only
with the Kakuichi version of the work.
42. See, for example, Uwayokote Masataka, Heike Monogatari no Kyoko to
Shinjitsu, I, p. 66. Butler, "The Textual Evolution," pp. 31-33, agrees that
it is likely that the earliest version was in six volumes, but they would have
treated the full range of materials found in present versions of the work.
43. This rumor was perpetrated, together with the reasons for believing it, at
the opening of the "Gion Nyogo" chapter of The Tale of the Hcihc.
44. Se Uwayokote, Heike, I, p. 42.
45. See Nagazumi, Gunki, p. 80, where he cites a text of Gempei Seisui Ki
which states that Shigemori, and not Kiyomori, was responsible for the attack
on the Regent Fujiwara no Motofusa, in revenge for an insult offered Suke-
mori, Shigernori's son. The Kakuichi text insists instead on Shigemori's anger
with his son, so great that he banished Sukemori to Ise for a time. See Me-
Cullough, The Tale of the Heik«; p. 44, or Hiroshi Kitagawa and Bruce T.
Tsuchida, The Tale of the Heike, p. 48, for a translation of this passage.
46. See Uwayokote, Hcilee , I, pp. 88-89. The source of this evaluation is Hya-
kurensho, a history written about 1260 based largely on diaries kept by
members of the court.
47. Uwayokote, Hcik«, I, p. 81. A tengu is a long-nosed hobgoblin. The remark
of Yoritomo's is found in Gyokuyo, the diary of Kujo Kanezane, kept
between 1164 and 1200.
48. The similarity of this device to a technique found in La Chanson de Roland
has been pointed out by Helen Craig McCullough in the essay "The 'Heike'
as Literature" appended to her translation of The Tale of the Heike, p. 466.
49. These trees bore yellow blossoms which, according to Buddhist texts, turned
white in mourning for the death of the Buddha.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Butler, Kenneth Dean. "The Textual Evolution of the Heike Monogatari,"

Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 26, 1966.
Fukuda Akira. Gunle: Monogatari to Minkan Densho, Iwasaki Bijutsu Sha, 1972.
Gomi Fumihiko. Hcilte Monogatari, Shi to Setsuwa. Heibonsha, 1987.
 The Middle Ages
Keene, Donald (trans.) Essays in Idleness. New York: Columbia University Press,
1967.
Kitagawa, Hiroshi, and Bruce T. Tsuchida. The Tale of the Hcilie, 2 vols.
Tokyo: Tokyo University Press, 1977.
Kitagawa Tadahiko. Gunkimono no Keifu. Kyoto: Sekai Shisosha, 1985.
Matsumura Hiroshi. Rekishi Monogatari. Hanawa Shobe, 1979.
McCullough, Helen Craig. The Tale of the Heiee. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford
University Press, 1988.
- - - . "A Tale of Mutsu," Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 25, 1964-65.
Mizuhara Hajime. Shintei Gempei Seisui Ki, 4 vols. Shin [imbutsu Orai Sha,
1988-90.
Nagazumi Yasuaki. Gunki Monogatari no Sekai. Asahi Shimbun Sha, 1978.
- - - . Hogen Monogatari, Heiji Monogatari, in Kansho Nihon Koten Bungaku
series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1976.
Nagazumi Yasuaki and Shimada Isao. Hogen Monogatari, Heiji Monogatari, in
Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Rabinovich, Judith N. Shomonki: The Story of Masakado's Rebellion. Tokyo:
Sophia University, 1986.
Reischauer, Edwin 0., and Joseph K. Yamagiwa. Translations from Early Jap-
anese Literature. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1951.
Sansom, George. A History ofJapan to 1334. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1958.
Seidensticker, Edward G. The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 1976.
Sieffert, Rene. Le dit de Hogen; Le dit de Heiji. Paris: Publications Orientalistes
de France, 1978.
- - - . Le dit des Hellec. Paris: Publications Orientalistes de France, 1978.
Takagi Ichinosuke, Ozawa Masao, Atsumi Kaoru, and Kindaiichi Haruhiko.
Heike Monogatari, 2 vols., in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami
Shoten, 1959-60.
Uwayokote Masataka, Hciee Monogatari no Kyoko to Shinjitsu, 2 vols. Hanawa
Shobe, 1985.
Wilson, William R. Hogen Monogatari: Tale of the Disorder in Hogen. Tokyo:
Sophia University, 1971.
 1 7.
THE AGE OF THE
SHIN KOKINSHU

~e three finest anthologies of classical Japanese poetry are, by general

consent, the Man'yoshu, the Kokinshu, and the Shin Kokinshu. Each of
the chohusenshi; between the first, the Kokinshu, and the eighth, the Shin
Kokinshu (New Collection of Poems Ancient and Modern), contains
poems of exceptional beauty, as we have seen, and they have often been
quoted and imitated; but these collections do not maintain a consistently
high level, and they are therefore seldom considered as whole works;
and the thirteen imperial collections that followed the Shin Kolemshic,
even more conspicuously neglected, are known only to specialists.' The
Shin Kokinshu represents not only the summit but the end of the glorious
tradition of court poetry, though innumerable poems, some of undeniable
merit, continued to be composed at the court during the following
centuries.
The Shin Kokinshu was compiled during the first decade of the
thirteenth century, at a time when the rise of the military had deprived
the court of most of its real power. This may have given added im-
portance to the functions the court retained, such as the composition of
poetry and the compilation of the chokusenshu, The Shin Kokinshu
stands out among such collections because of the cluster of extraordinary
poets whose works ornament its pages. Three-the priest Saigyo, the
Retired Emperor Gotoba, and Fujiwara Teika-c-rank among the su-
preme masters of the waka, and another half-dozen Shin Koltinshi; poets
are nearly as celebrated.' Each of these poets has a recognizably distinct
voice, but a general similarity in the tone and syntax of the characteristic
poems in the collection has induced commentators to speak of a "Shin
Kokinshi: style." For example, syntactic breaks after the first or third
lines of a waka are far more common in the Shin Kokinshi: than in the
Kokinshu.4 A reliance for poetic effect on nouns (especially at the very
end of a poem), rather than on the verbal inflections typical of the
 The Middle Ages

Kokinshu, is another feature of Shin Kokinshu style, shared by its poets

regardless of their subjects.'
Apart from such empirically verifiable stylistic features, no one can
read the Shin Kokinsiu; without sensing that it is conspicuously more
intense and moving that the Kokinshu. It is true that the poems by two
of the best Kokinshu poets, Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu, are
full of passion, but more typical of the collection are the many poems
that describe intellectual perceptions. Again and again we encounter
poetic conceits-for example, the poet's pretense that he cannot be sure
if he sees snow or blossoms on the branches of a plum tree; or else
logical deductions from natural phenomena-the poet, seeing crimson
leaves floating on a river, deduces that it must be colder at the upper
reaches of the river than where he stands. Poems in this manner are
not absent from the Shin Kokinshu, but the prevalent tone is darker and
the expression fragmented.

HONKA-DORI

Despite the differences between the two collections, the immense im-
portance of the Kokinshi; in the creation of the Shin Kokinshu can hardly
be doubted. Not only do the Shin Kokinshu poems possess a technical
finish bespeaking generations of composition in the waka form, but
many of the poems were openly derived from source poems in the
Konkinshu. In Europe the borrowing of lines of earlier poetry was rel-
atively uncommon, except when the intention was parody or when the
new poem was in a different language from the original; but many Shin
Kokinshu poets directly borrowed whole sections from poems in the
Kokinshu and other early collections, as well as from works of courtly
fiction. The intent was certainly not humorous. Implicit in such borrow-
ing was the conviction that the poems a poet had read, no less than his
perceptions of nature or his direct emotional experiences, can inspire
him to compose new poetry; and poems that borrowed elements from
the poetry of the past were believed to possess greater depth than poems
without allusions." There was also an assumption, quite the opposite of
the plagiarist's, that the likely reader of the poem (someone belonging
to the same court society) would recognize the source poem and be able
to appreciate how the original meaning had been altered to communicate
the emotions of a poet who lived hundreds of years later. The practice,
known as honka-dori (honka being "original poem," and -dori "borrow-
The Age of the Shin Kokinshii

ing"), did not originate in the Shin Kokinsha, as we have seen,' but it
was here most fully realized.
Two well-known poems will suggest how the process of borrowing
could lead to the creation of a distinctively personal new poem. The
first, by the priest Henjo, is in the Kokinshu:

wa ga yado wa The weeds grow so thick

michi mo naki made You cannot even see the path
arcnilteri That leads to my house:
tsurenaki hito wo It happened while I waited
matsu to seshi ma niH For my cold-hearted lover.

The poem by Princess Shokushi, though directly based on Henjo's, is

not only personal but typical of the Shin Kokinshu manner:

kiri no ha mo Paulownia leaves

fumiwakegataku Too thick to make one's way through
narinilteri Have covered the ground.
kanarazu hito wo It's not necessarily
matsu to nakcrcdo" That I expect anyone ...

Henjo's poem, written on a prescribed topic and in the persona of

a woman, could hardly have reflected his actual feelings, but it is none-
theless affecting; Shokushi's communicates the despair of a woman who
had forbidden herself even the hope that her lover will visit. Her mention
of paulownia leaves, more vivid than Henjo's untended garden, is given
additional resonance by another poetic source, the lines by Po Chu-i
quoted in Wakan Roei Shu: "In my unswept autumn garden, leaning
on a rattan stick, / I slowly walk over fallen paulownia leaves.t'"
In this instance of honka-dori the later poem was unusually close
to its sources. More frequently, the borrowing poet shifted the emphasis
of the poem from, say, the sights of the seasons to those of a journey.
Sometimes the new poem departed completely from the sense of the
original. The following anonymous poem is from the Kokinshu:

wa ga seko ga How pleasantly fresh

koromo no suso wo Is the first wind of autumn,
fukikaeshi That blows back the hems
uramczurashihi Of the robe my husband wears,
aki no hatsukazc" Showing the fancy lining.
 The Middle Ages

The poem has the grace typical of many Kokinshu poems, but surely
has no special depth; it seems to be little more than an expression of
pleasure that the summer heat has at last ended. The first three lines
of the original (the last three of the translation) are considered by most
commentators to be an "introduction" (jokotoba), not directly related by
meaning to the last two lines of the original.The two parts of the poem
are linked by ura, an intensifying prefix for mczurashiki, meaning "fresh"
or "unusual," but also the "lining" (ura) of the husband's robe. Mention
of the lining was probably intended to indicate that the husband had
changed this day, the first of autumn, from an unlined to a lined robe.
The poem is classified in the Kokinshu as a seasonal poem, but the
"borrowed" poem in the Shin Kokinshu by Fujiwara no Ariie (II55-
1216) is a love poem:

sarade dani Even without this,

uramin to omou I think I would resent her:
toagimoeo ga The autumn wind blows
koromo no suso ni In the hems of the garment
akikaze zo JUkU!2 The woman I love is wearing.

Despite the resemblances of vocabulary to the source poem, this

poem creates a quite dissimilar effect. The autumn (aki) wind here
suggests the melancholy atmosphere surrounding the end of a love affair,
and there are overtones of the homonym aki, "weariness" or "boredom."
Uramin means "I would resent," but ura min is "to see the inside (or
lining)," a metaphor for the inner thoughts of the beloved. The poem
can be expanded in translation: "Even if this had not happened [even
if the autumnal wind had not stirred the hems of my beloved's robe to
reveal the lining], I think I should still have detected her inner feelings
of apathy and resented them." Although imagery was borrowed from
the Kokinshu, the poem has been transformed out of recognition.
Such complexity, made possible because of the ease of punning in
Japanese, may arouse doubts about the sincerity of the poet's expression,
but when honka-dori was successfully employed, the new poem could
still be personal, regardless of the extent of the borrowing. The uncov-
ering of source poems has long been a favorite pastime of academics
involved with Japanese poetry. Sometimes new light is thrown on a
poem by revealing its inspiration, but there is a tendency to imply that
once the source poem has been discovered, everything necessary to an
understanding of the new poem stands revealed; the use of words and
their sounds, the basic concern of any poet, is often passed over without
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u
comment." But the fact that the themes of many Shin Koklnshi; poems
were borrowed from earlier collections should not suggest that its poets
composed in a claustrophobic atmosphere of rigid conformance with
old traditions. The resonance given to a poem by its echoes in the past
was more important to these poets than asserting their individuality,
but their new use of the old imagery imparted richness and complexity,
and that is what makes their poems distinctive.
Borrowings from prose, most often from Tales of Ise or The Tale of
Genji,14 were also made to enrich the poetic associations, but the sources
from which the Shin Kokinshi; poets most often borrowed were poems
that had been composed some three hundred years earlier in what was
perceived to have been the golden age of the Heian court. A nostalgic
looking back to an age when the court society was untroubled by fears
of disorder may account for the "neoclassicism" discernable in the Shin
Kokinshu poetry," even though the unhappiness overtly voiced in the
poems was almost always restricted to the poet's own life. It is difficult,
however, to imagine that there was no relation between the emergence
of honka-dori as a consciously practiced artistic discipline at the end of
the Heian period and the reduced circumstances of the lives of the
aristocrats that made many of them yearn for the happier times evoked
by the poetry of the past.
Composing allusive variations on the old poetry had long served
aspiring Japanese poets as a preparation for expressing themselves in
their own voices, but with Fujiwara Teika it became a basic part of
poetic praxis, and (as so often in Japan) this involved the creation of
rules governing the art. In various critical works he laid down such
prescriptions as (1) borrowing should be mainly from the first three
imperially commissioned collections, the Kokinshu, the Gosenshii, and
the Shuishu;16 but not more than one or two, or at the most two and a
half lines should be taken from the source poem; (2) the borrowed
elements should be in a different place within the poem from their
position within the source poem; and (3) the main theme of the original
poem should be so altered that, for example, a seasonal poem is turned
into a love or miscellaneous poem.'? It was strictly forbidden to borrow
from the poets of recent times, let alone contemporaries."
It might seem as if the adoption of honka-dori as an intrinsic part
of poetic discipline would have tended to impair the creative imagi-
nations of Japanese poets, but within the limits of the rules for honka-
dori laid down by Teika there was still room for entirely personal
expression, as the poets of the Shin Kohinshi; demonstrated again and
agam.
 The Middle Ages
UTA-AWASE

As early as the tenth century (as we have seen) members of the Japanese
court participated in uta-awase, or poem competitions. These compe-
titions gradually developed into serious literary occasions at which poems
on set themes by outstanding poets were matched and judged by experts,
but in the early days of uta-awase the literary aspects were overshadowed
by the elaborate presentations. Music was an indispensable part of these
courtly entertainments, and members of the two teams, left and right,
were dressed in elaborate, contrasting costumes." The competing poems
were not presented casually but arranged on poem slips set in miniature
landscape gardens that were embellished with precious stones. The great-
est care was devoted to the impression the competing teams made with
their stately entrances to the hall where the competition took place. The
poems themselves do not seem to have benefited by the same attention,
judging by surviving examples.
As would be true of other, later poetic forms such as renga or haiku,
literary importance was imparted to what had originated merely as a
game or a diversion by the creation of strict rules governing the art.
Fujiwara no Kiyosuke was one of the first to attempt to enhance the
dignity of uta-awase sessions by prescribing the manner of choosing the
themes, the participants, and the judges. Initially, the judges made only
the most perfunctory comments on why they chose as superior the poem
submitted by the left team or by the right team, or why they decided
to call it a tie, but when the competitions, no longer lavish displays of
artistic taste, developed into occasions for the creation of literature, the
opinions expressed by the judges became more substantial, and some
are still of interest.
The shift from the Heian to the "medieval" style of literary uta-
awase has been traced to a period of twenty years during the reigns of
the emperors Horikawa and Toba, from about 1100 to l 120. 20 It is not
clear precisely why the change occurred, but it has been plausibly linked
to the inability of the court to indulge in the extravagance that was
typical of the older uta-awase competitions. Certainly this was true of
the court during the late Heian and early Kamakura periods, the time
when the literary uta-awase flourished most memorably."
The lasting importance of the many sessions of literary uta-awase
conducted at the court during the period of greatest activity can be
measured in terms of the number of poems composed for such occasions
that were later included in the imperially sponsored anthologies: out of
The Age of the Shin Kokinsh ii
a total of 1,981 poems in the Shin Kokinshu, 373 originated in uta-awase
competitions."
Once the uta-awase had changed from being a court festivity at
which the composition of poetry was only one element of an evening's
entertainment to a serious contest between individual poets or rival
schools, the atmosphere became much less relaxed. Most participants
wanted more to win than to create beautiful poems, and this no doubt
accounted for the tendency to compose poems that were free of blemishes
rather than poems that communicated the poet's deepest feelings. (Of
course, it was by no means impossible to communicate deep feelings in
a poem without flaws.) A knowledge of the faults of poetry, most of
them arbitrarily decided by the compilers of "codes," became as essential
as thorough familiarity with the Kokinshu.
The judge (hanja) of an uta-awase was usually a poet of unquestioned
competence. The two best judges during the period when the literary
uta-awase first became prominent were Fujiwara no Michitoshi, and
Minamoto no Tsunenobu (1016-1097), his bitter rival for recognition as
the poet arbiter of the day. Michitoshi headed the conservative faction
among the poets of the day, Tsunenobu the faction of innovators. The
division between the Ancients and Moderns, which began about this
time, would continue to affect the composition of court poetry for cen-
turies to come, though the names of the schools standing on one side
or the other of the issue of tradition versus modernity changed from
time to time.
Probably the most distinguished judge of the fully developed uta-
awase was Fujiwara Shunzei, who served an unprecendented twenty-
one times. He owed this distinction both to his reputation as a poet and
to his extraordinary longevity. A passage in Mumyosho (Nameless Se-
lection, 12°9-1210), the book of poetic criticism by Kamo no Chomei,
quoted the poet-priest Kensho on the different impressions created by
Shunzei and his conservative rival Fujiwara Kiyosuke when they served.
as judges:

It is hard to decide who was better as a judge of modern waka,

Shunzei or Kiyosuke. Both of them had their prejudices, which
assumed different forms in their judgments. Shunzei's expression
seemed to say that he was aware that he himself on occasion made
mistakes, and he never pronounced a really devastating opinion. He
generally would say something like, "This is the usual way of ex-
pressing oneself, I'm sure, but would it be wrong to compose the
 The Middle Ages

poem in some other way?" Kiyosuke seemed, on the surface at least,

absolutely beyond reproach, and there was not the faintest suggestion
of unfairness in his expression, but if ever anyone looked unconvinced
by one of his pronouncements, his expression would invariably change,
and he would argue his points fiercely. Eventually people became
aware of this, and nobody ever dared voice a word of opposition."

The uta-awase sessions became the occasion for recriminations as

judges defended their own decisions or attacked those of other judges;"
but read today, long after most of the issues brought up by the judges
have ceased to be matters of real concern to poets, let alone readers, one
is unlikely-even if one plods through the judges' comments appended
to the many rounds of uta-awase-to find in them sentiments as per-
ceptive or as universally meaningful as those expressed in the poems
they analyze.
The most famous of all uta-awase gatherings took place in 1201 by
command of the Retired Emperor Gotoba. Thirty poets were invited
to submit one hundred poems each on prescribed subjects, for a total
of three thousand poems. These poems were subsequently divided into
two matching sets of fifteen hundred "rounds" and judged by a group
of ten eminent poets, headed by Shunzei. It was the biggest uta-awase
in the history of Japanese poetry."
Even on this famous occasion, the comments made by the judges
when revealing their choices of the winning or losing poems (or the
reasons for calling a tie) were seldom persuasive and occasionally, no
doubt because of the pressure of such a huge competition, the judges
seemed to misunderstand the poems." One example, round 221, may
suggest the manner in which the poems were judged. It is of special
interest because the judge, Shunzei, obliquely refers to his predicament
in judging his own son's composition.

LEFT
asahikage In morning sunlight,
ntoeru yama no Glowing along the mountains,
sakurabana The cherry blossoms-
tsurcnaku kienu I thought they might be snow that
yuki ka to zo miru Had stubbornly refused to melt.
ARlIE

RIG H T
salturabana The cherry blossoms
utsurou haru wo Have passed through so many springs,
The Age of the Shin Kokinshii

amata hete Blooming and fading,

mi saefurinuru And even I have grown old
asajiu no yado In my cogon-thatched cottage."
TEIKA

[Judge's comment] The left poem is given great charm by the place-
ment of "morning sunlight" at the head and by the elegance conjured
up by the words "had stubbornly refused to melt." As for the right
poem, perhaps parental affection has blinded me, or it may be that
commiseration induces me to favor "have passed through so many
springs" and "even I have grown old"; but all the same, when I
think how, if the "evening crane of long ago" were still alive, he
might feel about the "morning sunlight" of the left poem, I am at
a loss to decide which poem should win, and perhaps the best I can
do is to call it a tie."

A modern commentator, if asked to judge the comparative merits

of the two poems, might also have trouble deciding the winner, though
not for Shunzei's reasons. Ariie's poem, later incorporated in the Shin
Kokinshu, is the more polished, but the poet's momentary uncertainty
as to whether he saw cherry blossoms or snow is all too apt to make
the reader recall (without pleasure) a mannerism of the Kokinshu, and
the first two lines, especially admired by Shunzei, were borrowed vir-
tually unchanged from the Man'yoshu.29 The most memorable part of
Shunzei's judgment is his avowal that partiality for his son makes him
want to judge that Teika's poem is the winner; but, if Ariie's father,
the late Fujiwara no Shigeie," were still alive, he too would want his
son to win. The safest policy, then, was to declare the match a draw."
Shunzei's best-known comment made in his capacity as the judge
of an uta-awase was pronounced during the competition in six hundred
rounds of 1193. He awarded victory to this winter poem by Fujiwara
no Yoshitsune:

mishi aki wo In this grassy field,

nani ni nokosan What can bring back traces of
kusa no hara The autumn I saw?
hitotsu ni kawaru The landscape of the meadows
nobe no keshiki ni Has turned a single color.

Shunzei of course recognized the allusion to The Tale of Genji in

the words kusa no hara (fields of grass)," and declared that it lent
 The Middle Ages

Yoshitsune's poem special charm. He added, "Murasaki Shikibu was

even more extraordinary as a writer [of prose] than as a poet," and
among the chapters of her book 'The Flower Feast' has special charm.
It is shocking for anyone to write poetry without knowing Genji."34
Shunzei's comment is of interest because it reveals his great love for The
Tale afGenji, but it does not help us much to understand the merits of Yo-
shitsune's poem. The same might be said of most of the comments made
by judges of uta-awase, but they were of great importance to members
of the court whose lives were consecrated to the perfection of their poetry.

POETIC SEQUENCES

Another important source of poems for the Shin Kokinshi; was the series
of poetic sequences submitted in response to imperial commands. The
practice of individual poets' composing sets of poems, usually one
hundred poems (hyakushu) on prescribed topics, went back as far as the
tenth century, but it first acquired importance-indeed, became some-
thing of a craze-as the result of the extremely favorable impression
produced by the sets of hundred-poem sequences composed at the court
of the Emperor Horikawa early in the twelfth century." These sequences
were organized along the lines of the imperially sponsored anthologies:
seasonal poems were followed by poems on love and these in turn by
poems on various other subjects. The particular novelty of the sequences
associated with the Emperor Horikawa was the adoption of set topics
for each poem. The poems submitted all bore titles-not merely "Spring
Poem" but such topics associated with spring as "Young Shoots," "Re-
maining Snow," "Plum Blossoms," "Geese Returning Home," and so on."
The arrangement of poems within a given section of a poetic se-
quence followed the pattern Konishi [in'ichi called "association and
progression."? "Association" implied a smoothly flowing series of poems,
each independent but linked to the poem before and the poem after by
associations of imagery or language; "progression" refers to the temporal
progression of the seasons within a sequence, flowers appearing in the
order in which they bloom, and love poems being arranged to suggest
the course of a love affair, from the first awakening of interest to the
bitter realization that the affair is over. Another aspect of the arrange-
ment was the deliberate mixing of poems of greater and lesser degrees
of emotional or literary intensity in order to avoid monotony." The
principle of "association and progression" would be followed in the
arrangement of the poems in the Shin Kokinshi«.
The Age of the Shin Kokinshu

GOTOBA AND THE COMPILATION OF THE SHIN KOKINSHU

Sometime about the middle of the year 1200 the Retired Emperor Gotoba
invited some twenty poets to submit for his approbation hundred-poem
sequences. Gotoba was only twenty at the time. He was the fourth son
of the Emperor Takakura, and there had seemed to be little likelihood
that he would ever ascend the throne, but his oldest brother, the Emperor
Antoku, and his second brother were both carried off by the Taira when
they fled the capital in 1183. As we have seen, Antoku perished at
Dannoura; the second brother eventually became a Buddhist priest. A
passage in The Tale of the Hellt« relates how, just as Gotoba was being
taken from the capital to join his brothers in the western provinces, his
escort was stopped by an official who was aware that if the child re-
mained in the capital he might become the next ernperor." The official's
premonition proved to be correct, but there was another step before
Gotoba was chosen: when the Retired Emperor Goshirakawa was de-
bating whether to put on the throne the third or the fourth son of
Takakura, he called them to his side. The third son looked reluctant
and burst into tears. He was accordingly dismissed, but when the retired
emperor called Gotoba, he unhesitantly went to his grandfather and sat
on his lap." That (plus some divination) decided Goshirakawa in favor
of the fourth prince.
Gotoba was officially proclaimed emperor in 1183 even though his
brother Antoku was still alive, and even though for the first time in
"eighty-two generations" an accession ceremony was performed without
the Three Sacred Treasures of the imperial regalia." There is little to
report on the sixteen years of Gotoba's reign, partly because of his youth,
partly because power in Kyoto was exercised by Goshirakawa and
by Minamoto no Michichika (1149-1202), a poet and high-ranking
noble."
It is strange, considering Gotoba's later development as a poet of
exceptional ability, that not a single poem survives from his years on
the throne. He apparently spent his time mainly at kemari, rather than
at composing poetry, and he also enjoyed playing the flute, hunting,
cockfights, dog chasing (inu-oimono), wrestling, and the songs of women
entertainers." Early in 1198 Gotoba named his eldest son, the future
Emperor Tsuchimikado, as crown prince, and abdicated on the same
day. His abdication was not occasioned by any sudden realization of the
meaninglessness of worldly existence; on the contrary, he seems to have
found life as emperor disagreeably constricting, and he abdicated in
order to devote himself wholeheartedly to his pleasures." Once he was
 The Middle Ages

free of official duties he was like "a fish that has found water." Kemari
matches were held in his palace, and many other diversions brightened
his days. Gotoba's oldest surviving poem, describing a nostalgic visit to
the Imperial Palace when the cherry trees were in bloom, was written
in 1199, the year after his abdication." His interest in poetry, once ignited,
quickly became a consuming passion. This was the background for the
two sessions of solo composition of hundred-poem sequences at the
retired emperor's palace in 1200.
Gotoba's command to the outstanding poets of the day to submit
hundred-poem sequences was the occasion for a display of bitter rivalry
between the two main factions in the world of poetry, the Mikohidari
school (including Shunzei, Teika, and other "progressive" poets) and
their enemies, the Rokujo family of conservative poets. The latter con-
spired to keep Teika and other junior members of the Mikohidari faction
from participating by obtaining a command from Gotaba specifying that
only senior persons (rosha) would be asked to submit sequences. T eika
was outraged. He declared in his diary, "In all the history of Japanese
poetry, I have never heard of age being considered as a factor of com-
petence. This had all been arranged by Suetsune with his bribes in order
to get rid of me."46 Teika had good reason to suspect that Fujiwara
Suetsune (1131-1221) had bribed Michichika: a few months earlier Sue-
tsune had been enraged to hear that Teika had refused to participate in a
poem competition because "that fake poet" (ese utayomi) was to be the judge.
The only way to get Michichika's decision reversed was by a direct
appeal to Gotoba himself. Teika's aged father, Shunzei, accordingly
wrote a letter to Gotoba pointing out the lack of any precedent for
making age a factor in choosing poets for a gathering. He urged that
Teika be invited to participate: he was already close to forty (by Japanese
reckoning), and he had demonstrated his ability. Teika was attempting
to create a new style of poetry," but the self-styled poets who had
slandered him were incapable of going beyond the old, hackneyed tra-
ditions. Shunzei wrote, "Of late the people who call themselves poets
have all been mediocrities. The poems they compose are unpleasant to
hear, wordy and lacking in finesse."48 He denounced by name Teika's
enemy Suetsune, calling him an ignoramus, and urged Gotoba not to
be misled by his machinations. He asked that not only Teika but two
other poets, Fujiwara Takafusa and Fujiwara letaka, be added to the
list of poets invited to compose hundred-poem sequences. Shunzei's letter
concluded with the assurance that he did not make these recommen-
dations because of fatherly love but because he believed that appointing
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u
Teika would prove to be of benefit to the world and to Gotoba in
particular."
Gotoba was moved by Shunzei's appeal, both because of its intrinsic
merits and because Shunzei was old and respected; he agreed to ask
Teika (and the two others) to submit hundred-poem sequences." Need-
less to say, Teika was overjoyed to learn that he had been included
among the participants. He attributed this development not only to his
father's intercession but to the gods, and four days later went to worship
at the Kitano Shrine, sacred to Sugawara no Michizane, the god of
literature, and offered a scroll of his poems by way of thanks."
During the next ten days Teika worked frantically on his poetic
sequence. He took eighty of the assigned hundred poems to his father
and asked for his suggestions. Shunzei found nothing to correct, and
urged Teika to submit the poems as soon as possible. Two days later
he presented the hundred poems to Gotoba, who had been impatiently
waiting for them. On the following day T eika received a letter informing
him that Gotoba had permitted him to enter the imperial presence.
Teika wrote in his diary, "It is not surprising, after all, that I should
be admitted to the palace at this point, nor is it anything I had my heart
set upon. But that the privilege should be conferred on the basis of my
hundred-poem sequence-this is a great honor for the art of Poetry
and a beautiful and inspiring story to pass on to future generations. My
gratification is unbounded. This incident shows better than anything
else that a revival of poetry has taken place."52 The hundred-poem
sequences composed in 1200 would prove second only to the uta-awase
in 1,500 rounds as a source of poems for the Shin Kokinshu.53
Recognition by Gotoba was immensely gratifying to Teika, and the
latter's counsels fostered Gotoba's burgeoning poetic talent. Teika's
hundred-verse sequence reveals him at the height of his powers, although
the poems have not enjoyed the popularity of those included in other
collections.54 Teika was not asked to compose poems for the second set
of poetic sequences compiled that year, presumably because the number
of participants was much reduced. He and Gotoba remained on excellent
terms, and Gotoba showed himself to be an unusually apt pupil. He
began to attend uta-awase sessions, often those staged before a portrait
of Hitomaro, the most revered of the Japanese poets." On such occasions
Gotoba regularly concealed the authorship of his poems, signing them
with a pseudonym in order to permit free criticism.
In the seventh month of 1201 Gotoba, following the practice of the
Emperor Murakami who in 951 had established a Poetry Bureau (waka
 The Middle Ages

dokoro) by way of preparation for compiling the anthology Gosenshu,

created a Poetry Bureau in the Nijo Palace, the first step toward com-
piling the Shin Kokinshu.56 During the next few years fresh excitement
was imparted to the regular uta-awase sessions by the possibility that
poems composed on these occasions might be included in the new court
anthology. In 1202 alone there were a dozen or so major poetry com-
petitions held at Gotoba's palace. Gotoba's progress as a poet was little
short of astonishing: in 1202, a bare two years after taking up the
composition of poetry, he wrote this poem for a competition:

UgU1SUno The uguisu

nakedomo imada Has begun to sing but still
furu yuki ni In the falling snow
sugi no ha shiroki The cedar needles are white
Ausaka no varna" At Ausaka Mountain.

The contrast between the uguisu's song, heralding the spring, and
the snow falling on the green cedars is a graceful variation on a Kokinshu
poem, but superior in its imagery." Gotoba was qualified now not only
to command the compilation of a court anthology but to contribute to
its contents.

CONTENTS OF THE SHIN KOKINSHU

The 1,981 poems of the Shin Kokinshu are divided in the traditional
manner into twenty books of which six are devoted to the seasons; one
each to poems of congratulations, condolences, separation, and travel;
five to love; three to miscellaneous topics; and, finally, one each to Shinto
and Buddhism. Following the model of the Kolemshii, the collection has
two prefaces, one in Japanese by Fujiwara Yoshitsune, the other in
Chinese by the Confucian scholar Fujiwara Chikatsune (rr51-I2IO).
The poems included were not restricted to works composed during the
period of the compilation: poems that had already appeared in cho-
kusenshu were excluded, but some poems from the Man'yoshi; (not a
chokusenshu) were chosen, as were many works by poets of the Kokinshu
era. It is nonetheless customary to speak of a "Shin Kokinshi; style"
pervading the entire collection because the compilers chose poetry from
the past as well as from the present that best suited the tastes of their
generation.
When the Retired Emperor Gotoba toward the end of 1201 officially
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u

decided to sponsor a chokusenshu, he appointed an editorial committee

of six men: Minamoto Michitomo, Fujiwara Ariie, Fujiwara Teika,
Fujiwara Ietaka, Fujiwara Masatsune, and the Buddhist priest [akuren.
[akuren died in the following year but was not replaced. We know
quite a bit about the manner in which the committee went about its
task thanks to two diaries, Teika's Meigetsuki (Chronicle of the Bright
Moon) and the diary of Minamoto Ienaga." We know, for example,
that there was debate over the name of the new anthology; it was agreed
that the name should refer to the Kokinshii, the collection it emulated,
but not for several years did the compilers settle on Shin Kokinshii. In
the meantime, they had made good progress with the task of selecting
and arranging poems in the twenty books of the new anthology.
Both Chinese and Japanese prefaces to the Shin Kokinshii contain
much the same information: a traditional account of the history of the
waka, related with the utmost brevity; a statement of the policy followed
in selecting poems for inclusion; and an explanation of how it came
about that poems by Gotoba, who had commanded the compilation,
were included, although the compilers of the Kokinsht; had not included
poems by the emperor, who had issued a similar command. Both pre-
faces, in describing Gotoba's injunctions to the editors, state that he
urged them to choose superior poems without respect to the social status
of the poets. Naturally, this was not interpreted as meaning that the
editors should search for suitable poems composed by soldiers, artisans,
or peasants; in practice, it meant little more than that a small number
of anonymous poems (some borrowed from the Man'yoshii) and a few
more by priests not of the highest social station were included in a
collection that otherwise consisted almost entirely of poetry composed
by aristocrats of impeccable lineage. Perhaps the Shin Kokinshii suffers
when compared to the Man'yoshii because the backgrounds and expe-
riences of its poets were so similar, but it is the ultimate achievement
of Japanese court poetry, and the aesthetic that colors its expression
would become that of Japanese poets of future centuries, even those far
removed from the world evoked by its poets.
The Shin Kokinshii, as its name indicates, stands in the direct line
of the Kokinshii. Many poems derived their inspiration from honka in
the earlier collection, and some of the mannerisms-such as the dis-
proportionate attention given to snow, the moon, and cherry blossoms
among the sights of nature-were taken over without question by the
Shin Kokinshii poets.t" This meant that the images of many Shin Kokinshii
poems hardly differ from those in the Kokinshii. If the poets had been
satisfied with creating no more than an elegant pastiche of poems in
 The Middle Ages

the manner of the Kokinsh«, they no doubt could have done this so
skillfully that it would be difficult to tell the new from the old; but
although the Shin Kokinshi; poets invariably spoke with reverence of the
Kokinshu, they were aware that they lived in times quite dissimilar to
the golden age of the emperors Daigo and Murakami and knew that
their poetry would inevitably reflect the changes. The differences be-
tween their collection and the Kokinshi; would not be of imagery but
of mood, of outlook on the world; the Kokinshi; poets savored their
gentle melancholy, but the Shin Kokinshu poets expressed an intensity
of grief that sometimes approached despair.
The Shin Kokinshu poets might have looked back to the age of the
Kokinshu with envy, in the manner that Japanese poets often recalled
the past, but despite the sadly changed circumstances of their world,
they believed that they lived in an age of a great revival of the waka.
The Japanese preface concluded,

If one looks down on what one actually sees with one's eyes and
reveres excessively the reports that reach one's ears, one will feel
ashamed before the old writings; but we have followed the main-
stream of poetry back to its sources, and have striven to revive this
never-ending art. Frosts may succeed dews again and again, but this
collection will not disappear; no matter how many autumns follow
springs, it will remain bright and unclouded as the moon. We who
are fortunate enough to be alive for this occasion rejoice that the
work is completed. Will not future generations of people who honor
the way of poetry envy us today?"

This confidence was justified by the extraordinary quality of the

collection. The first poem in the Shin Kokinshi; is by the Regent and
Prime Minister Fujiwara Yoshitsune, and this is followed by poems by
the Retired Emperor Gotoba, Princess Shokushi, Kunaikyo, Shunzei,
and the priests Shun'e and Saigyo-a dazzling array. With the possible
exception of the Man'yoshu, no collection contains waka poetry of this
quality.
In 1205 a banquet was held to celebrate the completion of the Shin
Kokinshu. Such festivities were a departure from tradition-no banquet
was held for the Kokinshu or Gosenshu-but Gotoba was eager for a
celebration, and it was possible to cite as a precedent the banquet that
commemorated the completion of the Nihon Shoki some five hundred
years before.v Teika, annoyed that tradition had been violated, did not
attend, giving as his excuse that he was still in mourning for his father,
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u

Shunzei, who had died in the previous year. On this occasion Fujiwara
Ariie read aloud the Chinese preface for the Shin Kokinshu, written as
if by Gotoba himself, though it was in fact by Fujiwara Chikatsune."
An elaborate ceremony of poetry reading and music followed.
Teika, who learned what occurred from someone who had been
present, commented sourly in his diary, "What was the point of holding
such a ceremony? It was not in accordance with precedents. It was
suddenly arranged and everything was at cross purposes. The poets were
not even poets. The choice was most peculiar."64 Teika's remark that
the "poets were not even poets" refers to the circumstance that four of
the twenty poets who attended the banquet, members of the defeated
Rokujo faction, had not had a single poem included in the Shin Kokinshu.
The Japanese preface was unfortunately not ready in time for the eel-
ebration," but Gotoba composed a poem expressing satisfaction with his
achievement in having commissioned such a splendid anthology, likening
himself to the Emperor Daigo who "mindful of the past and desiring
to revive the ancient ways" had commanded the compilation of the
Koltinshu:"
Although the banquet ostensibly signified the completion of the Shin
Kokinshu, editorial work continued until late in 1210, and years later,
while Gotoba was an exile in the Oki islands, he completely revised the
text, eliminating nearly four hundred poems. But it is usual to say that
the Shin Kokinshu was completed in 1205, if only because that makes it
exactly three hundred years after the completion of the Kokinshu.

FUJIWARA TEIKA (1162-1241)

One great Shin Koltinshi; poet, Fujiwara Teika, was missing from the
opening cluster of poets, but his first poem, the thirty-eighth in the
collection, set the tone of the entire work and typifies the waka of its age:

ham no yo no When the floating bridge

yume no ukihashi Of dreams of a night in spring
todae shite Was interrupted,
mine ni toaltaruru In the sky a bank of clouds
yoleogumo no sora Was taking leave of the peak.

Teika's poe~ is found in a section of the first book of the Shin

Kokinshi; devoted to sights of early spring, but commentators agree that,
despite the imagery drawn from nature, the poem is not about the seasons
660 The Middle Ages

but about love. The poet awakes at dawn from a dream. Weare not
told the content of the dream, but the tone of the poem strongly suggests
that it was romantic. Awakening, he feels a poignant sense of separation
(perhaps from a woman he met in the dream), and when he looks
outside he sees in the dawn sky a bank of clouds separating from the
peak, an echo in nature of his own experience. The "floating bridge of
dreams" was the name of the last chapter in The Tale of Genji, in which
the lovers Kaoru and Ukifune are separated forever. The term appears
elsewhere in literature of the time, with overtones of an important
experience coming to an end, causing the writer to reflect on the tran-
sience of the world. It is twice used in this sense by Minamoto Michichika
in his diaries to describe his feelings, once when the Emperor Takakura
abdicated after a short reign, and later when he saw the emperor lying
on his deathbead."
The last two lines of Teika's poem borrowed from earlier poems.
The honlia is believed to be the poem by Mibu no Tadamine in the
Kokinshu:

kaze fukeba Like a white cloud that

mine ni u/alearuru Has been cut loose from the peak
shirahumo no By the blowing wind,
taete tsurenaki Has your heart, cut off from me,
kimi ga kokoro ka 68 Turned completely unfeeling?

The second line of this poem is identical with the fourth line of
Teika's, A poem by Fujiwara Ietaka on the theme of "a spring dawning"
(also included in the Shin Kokinshu) is even closer:

kasumi tatsu Swathed in the spring mist

Sue no Matsuyama Mount Pine-to-the-End is now
honobono to Faintly visible,
nami ni uiakaruru In the sky a bank of clouds
yokokumo no sora'" Is taking leave of the waves.

It seems probable that Teika derived the last line and a half of his
poem from the above poem by his friend Ietaka. Although his practice
of borrowing from the poetry of contemporaries violated his own pro-
hibition," this is not only Teika's most famous poem, but the best known
of all Shin Kokinshu poems." The two source poems are both of excep-
tional quality, but read in conjunction with Teika's it is at once apparent
why they never acquired its fame: for all their beauty, they lack the
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u 661

mysterious depth in Teika's waka that for centuries has intrigued readers
and induced scholars to supply explanations. The contemporary poet
Tsukamoto Kunio wrote about the poem,

The clouds of a spring night that lie on the peak are at once a
landscape and a bridge joining the worlds of the dream and of reality.
No harm is done by inferring that the poem hints at a lovers' parting
at dawn, but one should keep this at a barely perceptible level, the
last of the last.... With respect to the neologism "the floating bridge
of dreams," it is customary to cite the name of the last chapter of
The Tale of Genji, but more theories than one can count on the
fingers of both hands have been advanced concerning the term; in
this instance, too, it is quite sufficient if, with the utmost caution,
one bears this theory in mind. Of greater importance than the sources
is the question of how the words of the poem have been given life,
and how the image of the bridge has always been used to symbolize
the route connecting this shore to the far shore. The figure of speech
"the floating bridge," necessitated by "clouds," resonates mutually
with todae shite [was interrupted]."

Tsukamoto provided a necessary corrective to the tendency to "ex-

plain" Shin Kokinshu poems in terms of their sources or their hidden
meanings. As a poet, Tsukamoto was especially sensitive to the effects
created by the placement of words and their sounds, quite apart from
their ultimate sources. Even if Teika had borrowed every single word
in this poem, the combination of images and sounds was uniquely his
own; and the epiphany he experienced on seeing the bank of clouds in
the dawn sky, rather than any hidden reference to a lovers' parting,
gave immortality to his poem.
Another poem by Teika conveys, perhaps even better than his poem
on the "floating bridge of dreams," the lonely beauty evoked by the
word sabi." an aesthetic ideal that became prominent from this time:

miwataseba In this wide landscape

hana mo momiji mo There are no cherry blossoms
nakarikeri And no colored leaves;
ura no tomoya no Evening in autumn over
aki no yugure 74 A straw-thatched hut by the bay.

The source of Teika's poem is the "Akashi" chapter of The Tale of

Genji. Genji, staying at the house of the former governor of Akashi
662 The Middle Ages
after his lonely exile at Suma, is delighted by the landscape, which suits
his mood exactly.

In the wide, unbroken view over the seacoast, the exuberant foliage
under the trees seemed even more captivating than the full brilliance
of cherry blossoms in the spring or colored leaves in the autumn."

Although Teika probably had this passage in mind when he com-

posed his poem, the effect is diametrically dissimilar. Genji is enchanted
by a brilliance of color that seems to him (at least at this moment) even
more captivating than the conventionally admired sights of nature; but
Teika's attention is caught not by foliage that rivals in color the sights
of spring and autumn but by a monochrome landscape-a wretched
hut in the growing dark of an autumn day. The intent was certainly
not parody of The Tale of Genji, but there could not be a more striking
contrast between the charm of the original and the sabi of Teika's
poem."
Teika was one of the handful of undoubtedly great Japanese poets,
but he does not inspire the affection we feel toward Hitomaro, Saigyo,
or Basho, an affection that makes us want to know every detail of their
lives. He was unwaveringly aristocratic in his tastes and (especially in
later years) extremely conservative in his views on poetry." His famous
declaration (found in his diary, Chronicle of the Bright Moon) that "the
red banners and the expeditions against the traitors are no concern of
mine"78 has been interpreted as an expression of the poet's determination
to maintain his integrity in the face of sordid conflicts, but it is hard
not to catch overtones of aristocratic disdain for matters (like warfare)
that concern only the lower classes.
Although Teika's diary abounds in mentions of sickness, suggesting
that he suffered from a delicate constitution, he was unusually long-
lived, and evidently had a fierce temper." In 1185 he had a quarrel with
a junior official named Minamoto Masayuki whom he accused of having
insulted him. The quarrel is described in Gyokuyo (Jeweled Leaf), the
diary kept between 1164 and 1200 by Fujiwara Kanezane (1149-1207):
"It has been reported that on the night of the rehearsal of the Gosechi
dances in the presence of His Majesty," a quarrel took place between
the lesser general Masayuki and the chamberlain Teika. In the course
of making some sneering remarks, Masayuki became quite disorderly.
T eika, unable to control his indignation and disgust, struck Masayuki
with a lantern. Some people say he hit him in the face. Because of this
incident, Teika's name was removed from the palace register." Teika
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u

was restored to the ranks of those permitted to present themselves at

the palace the next year, after his father, Shunzei, had written a letter
pleading that Teika be forgiven because of his youth.
Among the earliest surviving poems by Teika are hundred-verse
sequences he contributed in I 189 to two poetry gatherings. He was also
selected to compose poems to ornament the screens presented to Ninshi,
the daughter of Fujiwara Kanezane, when she became the consort of
the Emperor Gotoba. Clearly, his talent as a poet had been recognized,
but he was slow in rising in the hierarchy. His disappointment when
he discovered in I 187 that, once again, he had been passed over for
promotion in the spring list is suggested by this poem:

toshi furedo Another year gone by

kokoro no haru a/a And still no spring warms my heart,
yoso nagara It's nothing to me
nagamenarenuru But now I am accustomed
akebono no sora" To stare at the sky at dawn.

This kind of poem was called jukkai, a poem complaining about

some personal grievance, a subject for poetry first admitted to poetry
competitions in the twelfth century. As this example suggests, the griev-
ance is not baldly stated. The "sky at dawn" probably refrs to the
statement at the opening of The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon that "in
spring it is the dawn that is most beautiful," but the coming of spring
brings Teika no joy. The cause of Teika's discontent is not mentioned,
but failure to gain promotion was a typical theme of jukkai poems.
In 1190 Teika was promoted for the first time in ten years. His joy
was short-lived: in the following month the great poet Saigyo, who had
always encouraged Teika, died on his travels. Teika wrote a poem of
mournmg:

mochizuhi no Just as he desired,

koro a/a tagawanu A full moon was in the sky
sora naredo When he passed away,
kieken kumo no But how sad to trace the cloud
yukue kanashi na" To the place where it vanished.

That autumn the regent and prime minister, Fujiwara Yoshitsune,

summoned poets to a gathering at which hundred-verse sequences were
to be presented. In a marked departure from tradition, there were only
 The Middle Ages

two topics of poetry for each sequence-fifty poems each on the moon
and on cherry blossoms-and the sequences were accordingly known
as Kagetsu Hvaeushu (One Hundred Poems on Blossoms and the Moon).
The choice of these topics indicated that the poems composed at this
gathering were dedicated to the memory of Saigyo, whose greatest joy
was cherry blossoms, and who never wearied of celebrating the beauty
of the moon. Some of the best of Teika's early poetry is found among
the poems composed on this occasion, including:"

hana no ka a/a Only the fragrance,

kaoru bakari u/o Still pervasive, indicates
yukue tote Where the blossoms went:
kaze yori tsurale: The dark of the evening sky
yuyami no sora Is harder to bear than the wind.

This poem presents problems at different levels." The first is that

cherry blossoms have no scent. Since the variety of blossoms is not
specified, some critics have assumed that Teika was describing plum
blossoms, whose scent is the subject of innumerable poems." This is
plausible, but if the flowers mentioned in only one poem of the sequence
of fifty were plum blossoms rather than cherry blossoms, it would dis-
trupt the harmony of the sequence and run counter to the underlying
theme of the poems. This poem must also be about cherry blossoms,
even though they have no scent; a poetic, rather than a botanical, logic
is involved. The importance of the scent to the poem is underlined by
the repetition (contrary to normal waka practice) of near synonyms, ka,
meaning "scent," and kaoru, meaning "to be fragrant," in successive
lines. The statement that the evening sky is "harder to bear than the
wind" is puzzling, especially since we have been told nothing about the
wind. The poem might be spelled out: "The cherry blossoms have all
been blown away by the wind, leaving only their scent to suggest the
direction in which they were carried off. The sky has grown dark,
making it even harder to see where the blossoms might have gone; this
darkness is harder to bear than the wind."
The poem is certainly beautiful, evoking through sight (the falling
blossoms in the twilight), touch (the wind), and smell (the fragrance of
the blossoms) a late-spring scene. But was that all Teika had in mind?
The poet Ando T suguo was the first to suggest that the flowers in the
poem referred to Saigyo;" in that case, it describes Teika's loneliness
after Saigyo "disappeared," blown off by the wind of death, leaving only
the fragrance of his poetry in the dark. Interpreted in these terms, the
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n sh u 665

poem becomes doubly interesting. But was that in fact Teika's intent?
We shall probably never know.
The difficulty of the poems Teika wrote as a young man earned
them the nickname of daruma-uta, or Zen poems, implying that they
were as arcane as the sayings of the Zen masters. Later in his career,
after Teika had become conspicuously more conservative, his poems
were much easier to understand, but the daruma-uta, long deplored by
critics, have a special appeal for poets today because they convey phil-
osophical ideas within the thirty-one syllables of a waka by means of
symbolist imagery."
Teika's experiments at this time included an enlargement of the
subject matter of the waka to include themes that hitherto had been
treated only in Chinese poetry: toward the end of 1191 Fujiwara Yoshi-
tsune convened a poetry gathering at which poets were asked to compose
one hundred poems on ten themes including "animals," "birds," and
"insects." These themes had hitherto been treated by Chinese poets, who
were not restricted in their subject matter, but rarely appear in the
waka;" so it was natural for Teika to have turned to Chinese poetry
for precedents when composing poetry about such unpoetic animals as
bears, monkeys, wild boars, and sheep. His poem on a tiger, the last of
the sequence of ten animal poems, had a double meaning:

takayama no The path taken by

mine fuminarasu The tiger cub as it climbs
tora no ko no With powerful tread
noboran michi no To the mountain peak stretches
sue zo harukeki90 Far out into the distance.

This is definitely not one of Teika's masterpieces, but it does suggest

an attempt to expand the horizons of the waka poet. It also has an
allegorical meaning: Teika is congratulating the tiger cub (his host,
Yoshitsune) on his success in climbing up the high mountain (the ranks
of the nobility) to his present position, and is further predicting that his
prospects are limitless."
Another of Teika's experiments inspired by Yoshitsune involved
expanding the vocabulary of the waka. In later years Teika would be
known as an uncompromising exponent of the traditional poetic dic-
tion-essentially, the vocabulary of the poetry in the Kokinshu-but
when a messenger came from Yoshitsune with the request that Teika
compose a set of poems each of which began with a different member
of the kana syllabary, he immediately rose to the challenge, though this
666 The Middle Ages

involved using words not sanctioned by earlier poetic practice. The main
problem was the need to begin poems with the ra, ri, ru, re, 1'0 of the
syllabary. No native Japanese word begins with these sounds, and Teika
therefore had to use words of Chinese origin, some of them technical
terms of Buddhism. These poems were hardly more than a display of
virtuosity, and the non-native elements of vocabulary did not figure in
Teika's later works, but he had demonstrated that a few words of foreign
origin did not destroy the lyric beauty of a waka." Teika's later op-
position to untraditional language would, however, be one of the causes
of the establishment of a poetic diction that was observed by most waka
poets until well into the nineteenth century.
Yoshitsune seems to have enjoyed testing Teika's powers of im-
provisation. In 1192, when Teika visited his house, Yoshitsune suddenly
asked him to compose thirty-three poems, each one beginning with a
syllable from a certain poem by the priest Sosei in the Kokinshu.93 Teika
not only complied without hesitation, but composed all thirty-three
poems about autumn, since that was the season, and many of these
poems are of exceptional pictorial beauty." In 1196 Yoshitsune asked
Teika to compose 128 poems, each of which concluded with one of the
128 characters used for rhymes in Chinese poetry. It goes without saying
that Teika responded brilliantly to the challenge."
Of greater lasting importance than these experiments was the uta-
awase held at Yoshitsune's house in 1193. Late in 1192 Yoshitsune asked
twelve poets each to compose a hundred-verse sequence. Teika's mother
died in the spring of the next year, and Teika attempted to withdraw,
but Yoshitsune insisted. The twelve hundred poems were all assembled
by the autumn of that year and were then paired off into the six hundred
rounds of a poem competition. The poets included the host, Yoshitsune,
his uncle [ien, Teika, [akuren, and various younger poets of the Mi-
kohidari school as well as poets of the rival Rokujo school. Shunzei was
the judge, and the standards set by the competition were unusually high."
Teika's success as a poet seemed assured when he and the others of
the Mikohidari school suffered a setback from a quite unexpected
quarter. Minamoto Yoritomo, the shogun, had a daughter called Ohime
whom he decided he would marry off to the finest man in Japan-that
is, the emperor himself. It occurred to him that the best way of ap-
proaching the youthful Emperor Gotoba (who was sixteen at the time)
was through the poet and courtier Minamoto Michichika, whose wife
had been Gotoba's wet nurse. Up until this time Yoritomo had been
friendly with Fujiwara Kanezane, the karnpaku," but he now seemed
to favor Michichika, Kanezane's bitter rival. This gave Michichika the
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u 667

chance to persuade Gotoba that Kanezane was incompetent and to

replace him in 1196 with a man of his own faction.The repercussions
of political change were extended to the world of poetry: the Mikohidari
school, associated with Kanezane's family, was displaced at the court by
the conservative Rokujo school, and the brilliant gatherings at Fujiwara
Yoshitsune's salon ended. Only two poems by Teika survive from 1197,
unmistakable evidence of the difficulty he experienced in composing in
the hostile atmosphere of the new regime.
At the end of 1197 Teika was summoned from this spiritual ban-
ishment by a request from the Cloistered Prince Shukaku, who was
resident at the Ninna-ji, a Shingon temple in the northwest of the capital.
Teika recorded in his diary,

Jakuren came. He had gone to see the prince at the Ninna-ji at the
latter's request on the first. The prince informed him that he would
like to have a session of fifty-poem sequences and asked him to
inform Teika and his father that he wished them to participate.
Although I felt very hesitant, considering the times, once I heard
this request I accepted without condition. A request from the prince
is not at all like a request from a stranger."

A manuscript of the poems in Teika's hand survives, together with

corrections in another hand, presumably Shunzei's. Most of the poems
were submitted more or less in their original form, but some were
replaced, suggesting that Teika had taken adverse criticism to heart.
The quality is remarkably good: six of his fifty poems would be incor-
porated in the Shin Kokinshu, including:

ozora wa The wide heavens are

ume no ntot ni Misted over with the scent
kasumitsutsu Of the plum blossoms:
kumori mo hatenu The moon of a night in spring
haru no yo no tsuki99 Not quite obscured by the clouds.

and

shimo mayou Spring rain is falling

sora ni shioreshi On the wings of the wild geese
karigane no As they return north,
kaeru tsubasa ni Wings that drooped when they struggled
harusame zo [urur" Through a sky laden with frost.
668 The Middle Ages

The poem on the "floating bridge of a spring night," discussed above,

was also included.
The poetry gathering at the Ninna-ji, like the hundred-poem se-
quences of 1200, was a direct predecessor of the Shin Kokinshu. In
between the two events an important political change occurred, Gotoba's
abdication in favor of his three-year-old son, Tsuchimikado. This should
have given even greater power to Michichika, who was related to the
new emperor on his mother's side (and who himself was often referred
to as Tsuchimikado Michichika); but Gotoba intended to rule as a retired
emperor, and showed himself increasingly independent of Michichika,
finally restoring Yoshitsune to power by appointing him as regent in
1202. In the meantime, as has been related, Gotoba had begun to manifest
an extraordinary interest in composing poetry. The celebrated uta-awase
in fifteen hundred rounds was held in 1201. Teika, whose poetic genius
had been recognized by Gotoba in 1200, the year of the hundred-poem
sequences, was now a constant companion to the retired emperor. Fun-
damentally, however, the two men were not alike in their tastes. Gotoba
still enjoyed an evening with prostitutes and shirabyoshi (women enter-
tainers), but on such occasions Teika apparently sat in a corner sulking.'?'
Shunzei died in 1204, ninety-one years old by Japanese reckoning.
Teika, who wrote many poems mourning the death of his mother, left
no poems about Shunzei's death.!" but remained absorbed with the task
of compiling the Shin Kokinshu. The sudden death of Yoshitsune in the
spring of 1206 seems to have affected Teika more; he composed a number
of poems of mourning, including:

tsukihi hete The months and days pass,

aki no konoha wo And in the wind that blows through
Juku kaze ni The leaves of autumn,
yaYOl no yume zo The dream of the third month slips
itodo Juriyuku 103 Farther and farther away.

From this time until about 1220 Teika was at the height of his
creative powers. His relations with the imperial court continued to be
excellent even though no poem competitions or similar gatherings were
held at the court of Tsuchimikado (reigned 1198-1210). Gotoba, who
had never much liked his eldest son, replaced him on the throne with
his second son, the Emperor [untoku (reigned 1210-1221). It was a time
of unusual poetic activity: although Gotoba himself seemed to have lost
interest in composing poetry, Juntoku was an enthusiast for the waka
and eagerly participated in poetry sessions held at the palace.'?' Teika
The Age of the Shin Kokinshii

and his friend Ietaka were the leading spirits of poetry of the day, and
Teika was especially heartened when (in 1207) Minamoto Sanetomo
(1192-1219), the youthful shogun, sent him thirty poems for correction.
Two years later, in response to Sanetorno's questions about poetry, Teika
composed for his benefit Kindai Shuka (Superior Poems of Our Time),
his first work of criticism. lOS Although Teika and Sanetomo wrote in
entirely different manners, Teika recognized the unusual ability of his
pupil, as we know from the large number of Sanetorno's poems included
by Teika in the court anthology he edited, Shin Chokusen Waka Shu
(known as the Shin Chokusenshu). The contacts that Teika made in this
way with the Kamakura shogunate would prove beneficial to his official
career in later years.!'"
Sanetomo's natural poetic bent led him back to the Man'yoshu, rather
than to the more courtly Kokinshi; or the Shin Kokinshu. Teika (perhaps
imitating his pupil) turned to the Man'voshu for honka in the poetry he
composed at this time, though he did not always seek to emulate the
simple strength that Sanetomo found in the old collection. A particularly
complex poem among the hundred he composed in 1215 on "famous
places" drew on the Man'yoshu:

Iltoma yama At Mount Ikoma

arashi mo aki no Even the storm winds blow
ira nifuku The color of autumn:
tezome no ito no How sad to twist together
yoru zo kanashikil07 Thread I have dyed with my hands.

The honka is this anonymous Man'yoshu poem:

Kiichime no The Kochi girl

tezome no ito wo Again and again twists the thread
kurikaeshi She herself has dyed;
kataito ni aredo Although the thread is single.!"
taen to omoeya 109 There is no fear it will break.

Teika's poem incorporates the imagery of the Man'yoshu poem, but

changes the mood and the implications. The "color of autumn" is the
crimson of autumn leaves, and this leads to the color of the thread spun
by the speaker; but aki is not only "autumn" but "satiety," suggesting
that the speaker fears her lover is weary of her. Again, yoru is at once
the verb "to twist together" and the noun "night," yielding for the last
line the additional meaning "the nights are sad (now that he is weary
 The Middle Ages

of me and I am alone)." Perhaps Teika, planning to write about Mount

Ikoma, famous for its autumn leaves, thought of Kochi (more commonly,
Kawachi), the general area of the mountain, a place where crafts were
early introduced from the continent, and then recalled the Man'yoshu,"?
A poem written in 1216 which also has a honka in the Man'yoshu 1ll
is of similar complexity:

kono hito wo Waiting for someone

Matsuho no ura no Who does not come, my heart burns
yunagi ni Like seaweed fires
yaku ya moshio no Smoldering in the calm of dusk
mi mo kogaretsutsull2 On the shore of Matsuho.

These poems are unusual in that Teika was describing women of

the peasant or fisherfolk class, unlike his usual aristocratic subjects. He
rarely left the surroundings of the Imperial Palace and probably knew
of such people mainly through the poetry of the Man'yoshii,
Teika continued to compose poetry at the palace and seems to have
been on unusually good terms with [untoku, but his relations with
Gotoba steadily deteriorated. On the thirteenth day of the second month
of 1220 there was an uta-awase at the palace. Teika was invited to
participate, but he declined because it was the anniversary of his mother's
death and he always spent that day in prayer. Gotoba insisted that he
attend, regardless of the circumstances, sending a messenger three times.
Teika finally yielded and went to the palace with two poems for the
competition. The first bore the title "Moon over the Spring Mountains":

sayalea ni mo The mountain should be

mirubeki yama wa Brilliantly clear, but tonight
kasumitsutsu It is mist-covered;
wa ga mi no holea mo The moon of a night in spring
haru no yo no tsuki'" Has no connection with me.

It is not difficult, in view of the background, to deduce what Teika

had in mind: the mountain, which should be clearly visible on this
moonlit night, is blurred because of his tears, and has nothing to do
with someone who at heart is in mourning. There is an allusion to a
poem by Nakatsukasa in the Shuishu in which she says that the moon,
which should be brilliantly clear that night, seems blurred because of
her tears, a poem very similar to Teika's, It may well be imagined that
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u

this poem did not please Gotoba, but Teika's second was even less to
his liking. It was called "Willows Beyond the Fields":

michinobe no Alongside the road,

nohara no yanagi The willows of the meadows
shita moenu Have sprouted below.
aware nageki no Alas, which of us will win
kemuri kurabe ni'" This test of burgeoning grief?

The poem compares the willow shoots rising from the ground to
the "smoke" (kemuri) rising from his breast because of his grief. The
poem contains allusions to two poems attributed to Sugawara no Michi-
zane, one included in the Shin Kokinshii and the other in The Great
Mirror. Michizane, it will be remembered, was sent into exile though
blameless, and the poems convey his grief. This is the first of the two
poems:

michinobe no The withered willow

kuchiki no yanagi Standing alongside the road
haru kureba When spring at last comes
aware mukashi to Surely must think with longing,
shinobare zo suru'" "Ah, how I long for the past!"

The second of Michizane's poems to which Teika alluded appears

in The Great Mirror with a prefatory note, "On an evening when every-
thing conspired to deepen his gloom, he noticed plumes of smoke here
and there in the distance."!"

yii sareba The day has ended,

. .
no ru mo yama nt mo And in the fields and mountains
tatsu keburi Plumes of smoke arise;
nageki yori koso Fires burn ever more intense
moemasarikcrc'" Because they feed on my griefs.

By quoting these two poems Teika was in effect comparing himself

to Sugawara no Michizane, who was exiled to Kyushu by a scheming
politician. It may easily be imagined how Gotoba reacted to Teika's
poems. The diary of the Emperor [untoku describes the wrath of the
retired emperor: at first, Gotoba asked only that Teika be forbidden to
appear for the time being at poetry sessions in the palace, but his anger
mounted, and he never forgave Teika. Quite different explanations of
 The Middle Ages

Gotoba's anger were given by the novelist Maruya Saiichi. First, he cited
the opinion of the Shin Kohinshi; authority Ishida Yoshisada that the
real cause of Gotoba's anger with Teika was the latter's friendly relations
with the Kamakura shogunate; the poems merely served to ignite his
hostility. Maruya, disagreeing, recalled an incident that appears in Tei-
ka's diary for 1213. Because the willows planted in the previous year at
Gotoba's Kaya-in Palace had withered, he requisitioned two willow
trees that were in Teika's Reizei garden. This angered Teika (as he
relates in the diary), and when asked seven years later to compose a
poem on willows he may have recalled the incident. The word kcb«:
rikurabe (literally, "a comparison of [the degree of] smoldering") could
well apply to the two willows, comparing their unhappiness over being
transplanted. This reference may have annoyed Gotoba, but Maruya,
after considering these possibilities, concluded that what Gotoba really
disliked was not so much any implied meanings to the poems but their
gloomy tone, so at variance with the auspicious nature of the occasion.!"
In 1221 the [okyu disturbance, a rebellion headed by Gotoba against
the Kamakura shogunate, broke out. The forces of the shogunate easily
defeated the imperial rebels in two months of fighting, and the emperors
involved (Gotoba, [untoku, and Tsuchimikado) were exiled to Oki, Sado,
and Tosa respectively-the more serious the crime, the more distant
the banishment. Teika, though a member of the Kyoto aristocracy, was
delighted by the results of the fighting: not only was his enemy Gotoba
defeated, but his wife's family, the Saionji, rose to the highest power in
Kyoto, and he himself prospered as never before.
Despite this worldly recognition, Teika's activity as a poet markedly
diminished; during the ten years following the [okyu Rebellion, Teika
composed a total of fewer than eighty poems. Early in 1232 he was at
last promoted to the position of middle counselor as he had long desired.
In the sixth month he was commanded by the emperor to compile
singlehandedly a new court anthology, Shin Chokusenshii, and subse-
quently resigned his post as middle counselor to devote himself entirely
to the selection of poems for the collection. His final flowering as a poet
is found in the hundred-poem sequence he composed in the same year
for presentation at the house of the chancellor and minister of the Left,
Kujo Norizane. In the poems of this sequence Teika wrote in a simpler
style than in his better-known works, as the following may suggest:

. .
niou yon As soon as it blooms
haru wa kureyuku The spring approaches its end:
yamabuki no The yamabuki
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h u

hana koso hana no Flowers are the most disliked

nalia ni tsurakerc"? By all the other flowers.

The poem says that the yamabuki (a yellow flower sometimes called a
kerria rose) is disliked by the other flowers because, being the last to
bloom, it presages the end of spring. The use of personification gives
the comparatively simple conception a certain piquance, but it would
be hard to pretend that this was one of Teika's masterpieces.
The editing of the Shin Chokusenshu was far from being completed
when, in the tenth month of 1232, Teika presented a list of the contents
to the Emperor Gohorikawa for his approval. Probably he was aware
that the emperor intended to abdicate two days later in favor of his son,
the Emperor Shijo, and wished to make the formal presentation while
Gohorikawa, who had ordered the collection, was still on the throne.
Work continued for another three years, and Teika was besieged by
people who wanted their poems included. The completed collection was
in any case a disappointment; despite the brilliance of the individual
poets, the Shin Chohusenshi; is in the rather bland manner of Teika's
late poetry and has never enjoyed wide popularity yo In the next year,
following the death in childbirth of the lady she served, Teika's daughter
entered orders as a nun. Teika seems to have been shocked by this de-
velopment; at any rate, he himself took vows as a priest the same year.
People flocked to express their grief that Teika had "left the world." Mina-
moto lenaga wrote a poem "on hearing of your retreat from the world":

sumtzome no Sleeves layered on sleeves

sode no kasanete All of them dyed inky black-
kanashiki u/a How sad that the world,
somuhu ni soete Deserted by one, is now
somuhu yo no nalta Deserted by another.

T eika replied,

ikeru yo ni I am delighted
somuleu no mi koso I could desert the world while
ureshikerc I was still alive.
asu to mo matanu A old man's life is so unsure
oi no inochi toa'" He cannot wait the morrow.

During his last years Teika seems to have composed little poetry,
but he was otherwise engaged in copying manuscripts, especially of the
674 The Middle Ages

major works of Heian literature. It is not much of an exaggeration to

say that what we know of the literature of Teika's day and earlier is
mainly what he thought was worthy of preservation.!"
One compilation made by Teika about this time (c. 1235) is of special
importance, Hvahunin Isshu. It was long a matter of debate among
scholars whether Teika in fact compiled the collection or whether it
was a forgery attributed to him because of his great fame; but it now
seems definite that Teika was the compiler, though perhaps one of his
sons (or some later person) modified his selection somewhat." These
poems constituted the basic knowledge of classical [apanese poetry for
most people from the early Tokugawa period until very recent times.
Innumerable editions have been published, and a knowledge of the
poems was essential in order to play the New Year's game of karuta
(poem cards}.':" This meant, in a real sense, that Teika was the arbiter
of the poetic tastes of most Japanese even as late as the twentieth century.
The poems themselves conform in manner and vocabulary to the pre-
scriptions laid down by Teika in Superior Poems of Our Time, and for
this reason have been subject to attacks by those who feel that the poems
insufficiently represent the vast majority of people who lived in Teika's
time or that the elegant language conceals a poverty of intellectual
content. It can hardly be pretended that all the poems deserve the
immortality Teika bestowed on them, but many are fine poems, and
his choices do no harm to his reputation as a critic." But, regardless of
the merits of the poems, T eika' s selection of one hundred poems influ-
enced the aesthetic preferences of Japanese for seven centuries after his
death.
Teika's reputation as a poet would not have been much different
even if all the poems of the last twenty years of his life had been lost.
Gotoba, on the contrary, seems to have attained full maturity as a poet
only after suffering the shock of exile. It will be remembered that during
the years after the compilation of the Shin Kokinshi; Gotoba lost interest
in poetry, but when he was sent into exile on one of the lonely Oki
islands, composing poetry became his greatest distraction and comfort.
In the postscript he added to the version of the Shin Koleinshi; he edited
in exile, he wrote that it was easier for him now, when he was a priest
and leading a quiet life, to devote himself to poetry than when he was
occupied by the business of the court. 121, The poems he wrote during
the twenty years of his exile are preserved mainly in such histori-
cal works as The Clear Mirror. On the way to exile he composed this
poem:
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s h ir 675

toyamaji Distant mountain road-

ikue mo kasumc Hide yourself in layers of mist!
sarazu tote Even if you don't,
ochiltatabito no It's not likely anyone
tou mo nakercba 127 Will visit me from afar.

The note of self-pity is sounded often, but it is not objectionable because

we feel that Gotoba really had reason to feel sorry for himself. When
he wrote that he wept, we can be sure that this was no mere figure of
speech:

shiohazc ni More and more distraught

kokoro mo itodo By the sound of the salt wind,
rnidare ashi no My sobs burst from me
ho ni idete nakedo Like ears on a reed stalk, but
tou hito mo nashi'> Nobody comes to ask why.

Most of all, he suffered by being deprived of suitable company, and it

made him bitter to think that, for all the professions of loyalty and
devotion in the past, nobody came to Oki to see him:

touiaruru mo Getting a letter

ureshihu mo nashi Does not bring any pleasure-
kono umi wo It's merely empty
uiataranu hito no Consolation from someone
nage no nasake wa 129 Who does not dare cross the sea.

Gotoba must have been aware how dangerous it would have been for
anyone to attempt to visit him, but this poem (striking in its lack of
imagery) seems an unpremeditated outcry of resentment.
While in exile Gotoba also composed a work of poetic criticism,
Gotoba-in Gokuden (Oral Instructions of the Cloistered Emperor Go-
toba), probably about 1225-27. The work was ostensibly intended for
beginners in waka, but its most interesting sections are not those con-
cerned with techniques but those that relate Gotoba's opinions of other
poets, both predecessors and contemporaries. About half of the second
part of the work is devoted to a criticism of Teika. Gotoba recognized
that Teika possessed unusual talent, but he dwelt particularly on the
serious faults that marred Teika's works. Gotoba's criticism is of interest
because of the light it sheds on his relations with Teika, but his accu-
sations are vaguely worded and the essay as a whole does not contribute
 The Middle Ages
much to our understanding of poetic practice at the time of the Shin
Kokinshu.

SAIGYO (I II8-I 190)

At least a half-dozen other Shin Kokinshu poets are remembered for

their mastery of the waka. The most affecting poems in the collection
were perhaps those of Fujiwara Shunzei, but his work has already been
discussed in connection with the Senzaishu, the imperial collection he
edited. The Prime Minister and Regent Fujiwara Yoshitsune (1169-
1206), the priest [ien, Princess Shokushi (d. 1201), and Fujiwara Ietaka"?
all composed memorable poems; but one more poet must be treated in
detail, Saigyo. Although Saigyo belonged to a somewhat earlier gen-
eration than most of the poets of the Shin Kokinshu, this is the imperial
collection in which he was most fully represented."!
Saigyo was born into a distinguished family of the military class,
and was known by his lay name, Sato Norikiyo, during the early part
of his career, when he served in the guard of the retired emperor. He
seems to have won a reputation for martial ability: when (in 1186), long
after Saigyo abandoned his lay career and entered orders as a priest in
1140, he met Minamoto Yoritomo, the shogun asked him not only about
the art of poetry but about "bows and horses,"!" evidence that Saigyo
was still considered to be an authority on martial matters, despite his
long years as a priest.
It is not known why Saigyo, at the early age of twenty-two, decided
to abandon a promising career as a soldier and take the vows of a
Buddhist priest. It often happens when scholars attempt to explain why
men of letters or artists have given up the careers for which they seemed
to be intended that they attribute these decisions to disappointed love,
most often love for a woman of a higher social station.t" This explanation
of Saigyo's renunciation of the world is found as early as Gempei Scisuiki,
an account of the warfare between the Taira and the Minamoto compiled
about 1250,134 and is still supported by some scholars.'> Other sources
state that the sudden death of a relative shocked Saigyo into an awareness
of the uncertainty of life;136 and still other evidence suggests that he may
have "left the world" out of disgust with the state of the country or
perhaps out of sympathy for the Retired Emperor Sutoku, who was
forced to abdicate in II42.137
Saigyo was by no means the only young man with a promising future
to turn his back on the world. A series of six poems written before he
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n sh u

entered the path of the Buddha indicates that his decision was made
not in the wake of anyone particular disappointment but after long
consideration. The first bears the preface, "Along about the time when
I made up my mind not to remain in the world, there was a gathering
of people at Higashiyama and poems were composed on the theme of
'relating one's griefs in terms of mist.' " Higashiyama referred to the
hills in the east of Kyoto where there were (and still are) many Buddhist
temples; "mist" was an image associated with spring, but it was some-
times used also with the melancholy overtones of the "mist" rising into
the sky after someone has been cremated.

sora nt naru My mind, uncertain,

kokoro wa haru no Rises like the mists of spring
kasumi nite Up into the sky;
yo ni araji to mo It seems it has decided
omoitatsu kana 138 Not to remain in this world.

The third poem of the sequence bears the preface, "A long time ago,
when I visited the retreat on Higashiyama of the holy man Arnida-bo,
I composed this poem, feeling moved somehow."

shiba no io to A hut of brushwood-

kiku wa kuyashiki The term is unappealing
na naredomo To hear, but in fact
yo ni konomoshiki I discovered a dwelling
sumai narilteri'!" That was truly to my taste.

It is likely that the life of a hermit, secluded from the world in a

lonely hut, attracted the young Saigyo (still known as Sato Norikiyo)
more than any religious teaching, and induced him to "leave the world."
From this time on, the writings of recluses (inja) form an important
genre, and in this sense Saigyo is closer to the literature of the medieval
era than any other Shin Kokinshu poet."? The particular qualities of his
poetry are known by a term that is often mentioned as being charac-
teristic of all Japanese literature and even of all Japanese artistic creation,
though it evolved as a touchstone of poetry about this time, and is less
typical of Heian civilization-muja, the awareness of the impermanence
of all things, a basic Buddhist doctrine. For people of Saigyo's and later
times mujo referred especially to the perishability of the works of man;
an awareness of this sad truth impelled people to flee human society
and take refuge in the mountains and forests where they lived in her-
678 The Middle Ages

mitages. Some, like Saigyo, refused even the comfort of a familiar hut,
and spent much of their lives traveling as mendicants to distant parts
of the country. Yet even the loneliness of such an existence afforded the
possibility of finding beauty, especially in nature. This beauty was often
called by another term, wabi.!" a word related to sabi-the discovery
of beauty within the old, the faded, the forlorn.'? The following poem
by Saigyo suggests the quality of wabi:

tou hito mo A mountain village

omoitaetaru Where there is not even hope
yamazato no Of a visitor-
sabishisa nakuba If not for the loneliness,
sumiuhararnashi'" How painful life here would be!

Saigyo was a Shingon priest and spent considerable time on Mount

Koya, but he was not attached to any temple; he appears to have lived
as a hermit even in such surroundings, rejecting the comfort of joining
with others in prayer or of studying together the sacred texts.!" Koya
seems to have attracted Saigyo especially because of its remoteness from
the cities. Each of the ten poems in a series he composed on Koya and
sent to his friend, the priest and poet [akuzen.!" opens with the words
yamafukami, "deep in the mountains." The second of the series is perhaps
the most memorable:

yama fukami The mountains are so deep

mahi no ha u/aleuru The moonlight as it pierces
tsukikage wa The black pine needles
hageshiki mono no Has a fierce intensity
sugoki narilteri'" So cold it sends chills through me.

Saigyo seems not to have been interested in the doctrinal differences

that separated Shingon from other varieties of Japanese Buddhism; but
it was perhaps because of an equation he made in his mind between
Dainichi, the central divinity of Shingon Buddhism, and Amaterasu,
the chief Shinto goddess, both sun deities, that he was attracted to Ise,
where he spent over five years. His first visit to Ise took place soon after
he entered the priesthood, and there are scattered references to conver-
sations with Shinto priests in his later poems. Saigyo lamented the sadly
deteriorated state of the shrine buildings and the failure of the court
for many years to send a princess to serve as the high priestess. His
identification with the two religions is most clearly conveyed in a poem
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s hu

that bears the preface, "Composed at the Great Shrine when I VIS-
ited Ise":

sakakiha ni By sakaki leaves

kokoro wo kaken I offer a heartfelt prayer
yu shidete With cotton streamers,
omoeba kami mo And the thought occurs to me,
hotok« nariheri'" The gods were also budd has.

In other poems Saigyo revealed even more openly his conviction that
the gods of Ise were manifestations in Japan of Dainichi, or Vairochana,
the cosmic Buddha. A poem included in the Senzaishii bears the preface,
"I had grown restless living on Mount Koya, and went to stay at the
Futami Bay in Ise. I was told that the mountain behind the Great Shrine
is known as Kamiji, the Path of the Gods. I composed this poem, bearing
in mind that the god here is the manifested trace of Dainichi."!"
Saigyo is known as a great traveler.':" His journeys seem to have
been inspired mainly by the desire to see utamakura, the places that
had been described in old poetry, rather than (as one might expect of
a priest) the celebrated temples of the country. One journey stands out
because it was inspired by a different reason. In 1168, as we have seen,
he traveled to the island of Shikoku, mainly to pay his respects at the
grave of the former emperor Sutoku. The opening story of Ueda Aki-
nari's celebrated collection Tales of the Rain and Moon recounts how
Saigyo made his way to the grave and attempted to mollify the ghost
of the emperor, still furious over the indignities to which he had been
subjected. This story was an invention, but it is true also that for Saigyo,
who was close to the exiled emperor, the rebellion marked the end of
the world of the Heian aristocrats and the beginning of the domination
by the military; when he spoke of the past imuleashi], he normally meant
the happy days before the rebellion.l'"
Saigyo is known especially for his many poems on cherry blossoms
and on the moon.!" and for his famous last wish (which was ultimately
granted) that he might die on a night of the full moon when the cherry
blossoms were in bloom. Although both cherry blossoms and the moon
were sometimes used allegorically in his poems, it can hardly be doubted
that Saigyo delighted in their beauty, and in this respect he may seem
disappointingly like the mass of court poets who praised cherry blossoms
and the moon as if there were no other attractive sights of nature.
However, some of Saigyo's finest poems describe the winter, a season
especially conducive to expressions of sabi because its beauty is not of
680 The Middle Ages

the conventionally admired kind. The following poem appears in the

Shin Kokinshu:

Tsu no kuni no Spring in Naniwa

Naniwa no haru uta In the province of Tsu-
yume nare ya Was it just a dream?
ashi no kareha ni The wind crosses over
kaze u/ataru nari'?' The withered stalks of rushes.

The desolate wintry scene made Saigyo wonder if this could be the same
landscape he had seen in spring sunlight. The scene is lonely, epitomized
by the withered stalks, not at all like the fresh green of the reeds for
which Naniwa was famous, but it is not devoid of a melancholy beauty.
What may be Saigyo's most famous poem describes a lonely scene in
autumn:

kokoro naki Even to someone

mt tu mo aware u/a Free of passions, this sadness
shirarekeri Would be apparent;
shigi tatsu sauia no Evening in autumn over
aki no yugure I 53 A marsh where a snipe rises.!"

The "someone free of passions" of the poem is probably Saigyo himself,

a man who has renounced worldly passions; and the moment when the
snipe rises from the marsh, though meaningless in itself, stirs within him
a profound emotion that is a response to the essential nature of the scene.
Saigyo himself believed that this was his finest poem, but it was not
recognized as such in his time. Fujiwara Shunzei refused to include it
in the imperial collection he edited, the Senzaishu, to Saigyo's great
disappointment. When Saigyo later asked Shunzei to judge a series of
thirty-six pairs of his poems, arranged in the form of a poem competition,
Shunzei decided that the "rival" poem was superior to this masterpiece.!"
Perhaps the expression of sabi was too far in advance of the tastes of
the time; it was not until the commentary on the Shin Kokinslu; by To
no Tsuneyori (1401 ?-1484?) that the deeply moving nature of the poem
was fully appreciated.!" but from that time on it was ranked at the top
of Saigyo's oeuvre.
Although his poetry may not have been fully understood in his
lifetime, Saigyo's reputation at the time of the compilation of the Shin
Kokinshi: is attested to by the inclusion of more poems by him than by
any other poet. Early in his career Teika was encouraged and influenced
The Age of the Shin Kokinshii 681

by Saigyo, and Gotoba praised him more than any other recent poet.
Saigyo was also blessed with friends, especially the priests Saiju and
Jakuzen. Poems on friendship, so common in China, were rare in Japan,
but Saigyo, though at times obsessively desirous of solitude, needed
friends, as we can infer from a well-known poem:

sabishisa ni I wish there were a man,

taetaru hito no Someone else who can endure
mata mo are na Loneliness, nearby-
iori naraben I would build my hut beside his:
fuyu no yamazato't" A mountain village in winter.

Saigyo kept acquiring new friends in the centuries that followed.

When Basho in Oi no Kobumi (Manuscript in My Knapsack) chose one
waka poet to represent the genius of the genre, it was Saigyo; and his
journey to the north of Japan in 1689, immortalized by his Narrow Road
0fOku, was inspired by the travels of Saigyo to that part of the counrry.!"
All during the journey, Saigyo was never far from Basho's mind, and
he did not overlook a sight mentioned in his poetry. Saigyo's reputation
has continued to grow, and many books have been devoted to an ap-
preciation of his poetry and, above all, of the man. The technical ex-
cellence of his poetry is generally passed over in silence, as if it were
too obvious to merit consideration or else irrelevant to the true impor-
tance of Saigyo.!" His poetry is not typical of the Shin Kokinshu as a
whole, and admirers of Teika sometimes express no more than con-
descending interest in Saigyo,160 but he unquestionably contributed to
making the Shin Kokinshu the finest of the imperially sponsored collec-
tions of poetry.

Notes
I. Kibune Shigeaki, in the afterword to his Shoku Gosen Waka Shu Zencha-
shaku, p. 458, stated that there were absolutely no commentated editions
of the chokusenshu between the Shin Kokinshi: and the thirteenth. His
edition marked a first step at remedying this deficiency. The second to
seventh chokusenshu were almost as badly neglected, but the Shin Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series has conspicuously changed this situation.
2. I shall refer from this point on to members of the aristocracy without
the particle no between the surname and the personal name. In the case
682 The Middle Ages
of Teika and his father, Shunzei, there is a further problem, the rendition
of the name in romanized form. Teika probably referred to himself as
Sadaie, and his father probably called himself Toshinari, but the Sino-
Japanese versions of their names were used by their contemporaries, and
this practice is still observed.
3. Kubota [un, in Shin Koltin Kajin no Kenkyu, pp. 4-5, related why he
decided to devote his lengthy book on the Shin Kokinshi; poets to six
men-Fujiwara Teika, his father Shunzei, Fujiwara Ietaka, the priests
Saigyo and [ien, and Fujiwara Yoshitsune, the regent and prime minister.
He recognized that the Retired Emperor Gotoba, the priest [akuren, the
daughter of Shunzei, and others should not be ignored, but believed that
the six poets he had chosen deserved prior treatment. Most other critics
who have treated the Shin Kokinshi; have included Gotoba among the
chief poets, but presumably Kubota was evaluating his importance only
as a Shin Kokinshu poet and not taking into consideration the poems he
wrote in exile, his best.
Princess Shokushi (or Shikishi), though certainly celebrated, figures
in surprisingly few of the lists of the "best poets" of the Shin Kokinsh«,
4- See Robert H. Brower and Earl Miner, Japanese Court Poetry, pp. 277-
85, for a discussion of rhetoric and syntax in the Shin Kokinshu. On p.
278 they give statistics: "only 19 poems in the Kokinshi; have full stops
at the end of the first line and 160 at the end of the third, whereas the
Shinkokinshu has 108 poems with full stops at the end of the first line and
476 at the end of the third." Even allowing for the fact that the Shin
Kokinshu contains 1,98 I poems as opposed to the I, I I I poems in the
Kokinshu, the tendency of the former to have breaks at the ends of the
first and third lines is unmistakable.
5· See ibid., p. 274·
6. This was true of Chinese poetry too. A poem that lacked the extra
dimension provided by allusions to the poetry of the past was likely to
be criticized for this reason.
7· See above, pp. 303-4·
8. Koltinshi; 770. Text in Okumura Tsuneya, Kokin Wakashu, p. 262; other
English translations by Laurel Rasplica Rodd, Kolemshii, p. 270, and by
Helen Craig McCullough, Kolein Wakashu, p. 169.
9. Shin Kokinshu 534· Kubota [un, Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, p. 185.
ro. Osone Shosuke and Horiuchi Hideaki, Wakan R6ei Shu, p. 119. In the
poem by Po Chu-i the leaves are identified not as tung (kiri in Japanese),
the paulownia, but as wu-tung (aogiri in Japanese), the Chinese parasol
tree. However, the association between kiri and aogiri would have been
clear to Japanese of the time.
11. Kokinshu 171. Okumura, Kokin, p. 80. Other translations of the poem
may be found in Rodd, Koltinshu, p. 47, and McCullough, Kohin Wakashu,
P·97·
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n s hu
12. Shin Kokinshi; 1305. Kubota, Shin Kokin Waka Shu, II, p. 108.

13· The poet Tsukamoto Kunio (in his Teilia Hyakushu, p. 93) noted that
although many commentaries had explained the honka-dori in one of
Teika's poems (Samushiro ya / matsu yo no aki no / kaze fukete / tsuki wo
katashiku / uji no hashihime), he had yet to come across a commentary that
took cognizance of the extraordinary inversions in language (such as yo
no aki instead of the usual aki no yo), and the ellipses that make this poem
memorable.
14. The term used to describe borrowing from works of prose (as opposed
to borrowing from earlier poetry) was honsetsu, meaning "original ver-
sion."
15. See, for example, Kubota, Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, pp. 376-7]-
16. Teika also stressed the importance to poets of his time of Tales of Ise,
Sanjurokkasen (Poems of the Thirty-six Immortals), and the first two
fascicules of The Collected Works of Po Chu-i. See his Eiga no Taigai
(Essentials of Poetic Composition, c. 1216), p. 115, in Hisamatsu Sen'ichi
and Nishio Minoru, Karon Shu, Nogaeuron Shu. See also Robert H. Brower
and Earl Miner, Fujiwara Teika's Superior Poems ofOur Time, p. 44, where
Teika says, "With regard to preferring the old, the practice of taking the
words of an ancient poem and incorporating them into one's own com-
position without changing them is known as 'using a foundation poem.'
However, I feel that if one uses, say, the second and third lines of such
a foundation poem, just as they are, in the first three lines of one's own
poem, and then goes on to use the last two lines of it in the same fashion,
it will prove impossible to make something that sounds like a new poem.
Depending on the style, it may be best to avoid using the first two lines
of the foundation poem."
17. Kubota, Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, pp. 376-77. Teika's original text is given
in Essentials of Poetic Composition; see Hisamatsu and Nishio, Karon, pp.
114-15. The relevant passage from Eiga no Taigai is translated by Brower
and Miner in Superior, p. 44, note 10.
18. Kubota, Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, p. 377. The original statement is found
in Teika's Superior Poems of Our Time, included in Hisamatsu and Nishio,
Karon, pp. 102-3. The manner in which these rules were interpreted by
later poets and theorists of poetry is the subject of an exceptionally in-
teresting article by Kubota [un, "Honka-dori no Imi to Kino." A similar
statement is found in Teika's Superior Poems; for a translation, see Brower
and Miner, Superior, pp. 45-46.
19. For a description in English of the early uta-awase, see Setsuko Ito, "The
Muse in Competition," pp. 204-6.
20. See Minegishi Yoshiaki, Uta-atoase no KenkYu, p. 15. Minegishi states that
the Heian-style uta-awase came to an end during the reign of Horikawa.
I have adopted his term chuseiteki ("medieval") to describe the literary
variety of uta-awase that developed in the twelfth century.
 The Middle Ages
21. Taniyama Shigeru, "Kaisetsu," in Hagitani Boku and Taniyama Shigeru,
Uta-au/ase Shu, pp. 286-87.
22. Minegishi, Uta-au/ase, p. 115. This is the total number of Shin Kokinshu
poems that were derived from uta-awase, However, only 233 of these
poems are specifically identified within the collection itself as having
originated in uta-awase.
23. Takahashi Kazuhiko, Mumyosho Zenkai, pp. 171-73.
24. An example is the book of poetic theory Kensho Chinjo ; in which Kensho
expressed his dissatisfaction with the judgments pronounced by Shunzei
at the Roppyakuban Uta-atoase (Poem Competition in Six Hundred
Rounds) of 1194. Most of the points of disagreement are trivial (at least
to a modern reader) and are involved with such matters as the correct
pronunciations for ancient words. See the article in Nihon Koten Bungaku
Daijiten, II, p. 446.
25. It is known in Japanese as Sengohyakuban Uta-atoase .
26. For example, the left poem of round 186 was criticized because the first
line, hana zo miru, was difficult to understand, but as Taniyama pointed
out, it was easily intelligible as an example of poetic inversion. The poem,
by Fujiwara Sueyoshi (1153-1211), was subsequently included in the Shin
Kokinshu (poem 97), despite the unfavorable criticism during the com-
petition. See Hagitani and Taniyama, Uta-au/ase Shu, p. 484; also Kubota,
Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, pp. 50-51.
27. I have translated asaji as "cogon," the name of a tropical grass used for
thatching.
28. Hagitani and Taniyama, Uta-au/asc Shu, P: 484. For Ariie's poem (Shin
Kokinshu 98), see Kubota, Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, p. 51. For Teika's
poem, see Kubota [un, Yakuchu Fujiwara Teilia Zenkashu, I, p. 156. Teika's
poem also appeared in the imperial anthology Shoku Kokinshu, compiled
in 1265.
29. The source poem (honka) is Man'voshu IV, 495: Asahikag« / nioeru yama
ni / teru tsuki no / ahazaru kimi wo / yamagoshi ni okite. It is one of four
poems composed by Tabe no Imiki Ichihiko when he was appointed to
a post at the Dazaifu in Kyushu. The four poems are written in two
voices: the first and fourth are a woman's and the second and third a
man's. Poem 495 is the fourth of the sequence. The first three lines
(including the two borrowed by Ariie) are usually considered to constitute
a more or less meaningless jo (preface) to the remainder of the poem, and
as such are often omitted from modern-language versions. The expanded
meaning of the poem is: "On the mountains the early morning sunlight
is bright, and the shining moon, though it would linger, must disappear
behind the mountain, even as I, who have never tired of you, must leave
you and go beyond the mountain." See the translation by Ian Hideo Levy
in Man'yoshi«, I, p. 248-49.
30. Shunzei did not call Shigeie by name or title. Instead, he referred to him
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n sh u
as "the evening crane of long ago," a reference to a line from a poem by
Po Chu-i: "The evening crane remembers the little crane chirping in the
nest." See Hagitani and Taniyama, Uta-au/ase Shu, p. 484.
31. In principle, the names of the authors of the poems submitted to an uta-
awase were concealed, but the judges generally knew who the poets were;
otherwise they might commit the grave lapse of giving bad marks to
compositions by members of the imperial family. See Kubota [un, Fujiwara
Teiha, p. 28. In this instance, Shunzei made no pretense of being ignorant
of the identity of the poets.
32. The allusion is to a poem of Oborozukiyo in the "Hana no En" chapter
of The Tale of Genji: Ukimi yo ni / yagate kienaba / tazunete mo / kusa no
hara woba / towaji to ya omou. (Text in Ishida Joji and Shimizu Yoshiko,
Genji Monogatari, II, p. 58.) The poem means something like: "If I, the
unfortunate woman, were to disappear, even if you searched for me, would
you look in these fields of grass?" The words kusa no hara, repeated in
Yoshitsune's poem, meant not only "fields of grass" but also a grave. The
poem is rendered in Edward Seidensticker's translation (The Tale ofGenji,
I, p. 153):
Were the lonely one to vanish quite away,
Would you go to the grassy moors to ask her name?

33. The meaning of this passage has been disputed. I have followed the
interpretation of Taniyama Shigeru, but he admitted that it was also
possible to construe the passage as meaning "Murasaki Shikibu was more
accomplished as a writer than any poet." See Hagitani and Taniyama,
Uta-au/ase Shu, p. 539.
34. Hagitani and Taniyama, Uta-au/asc Shu, p. 442. The poem was in the
thirteenth round of the first book of winter poems.
35. For an account of the background of the hundred-poem sequence of 1200,
the most important in terms of its contribution to the Shin Kokinshu, see
Robert H. Brower, Fujiwara Teika's Hundred-Poem Sequence of the ShOji
Era, 1200, pp. 3-8.
36. See Brower, Fujiwara, p. 4, for a complete list of the twenty spring topics
found in the Horikawa sequence.
37. Konishi's "Association and Progression: Principles of Integration in An-
thologies and Sequences of Japanese Court Poetry," translated by Robert
H. Brower and Earl Miner, pp. 67-127.
38. Konishi, "Association," p. I I I. In later poetic criticism, especially of renga,
a distinction was made betweenji no uta, or background poems of lesser
intensity, and mon no uta, or "design" poems of greater intensity.
39. See Helen Craig McCullough, The Tale of the Heik«, p. 258. The official
was Norimitsu, the governor of Kii. Gotoba was being taken from the
capital by the wife of Noen, who was the second brother of Kiyomori's
686 The Middle Ages
wife, Nii-dono. Noen's wife was Norimitsu's sister. Text in Takagi Ichi-
nosuke et al., Hcik« Monogatari, II, p. 122.
40. McCullough, The Tale of the Heike, p. 257.
41. Ibid., p. 354. The Three Sacred Treasures were the sacred mirror, the
magatama jewels, and the sacred sword. The sword was lost when the
Emperor Antoku drowned in the sea at Dannoura.
42. Michichika left two diaries, one describing the Emperor Takakura's visit
to Itsukushima (Takakura-in ltsuleushima Goko Ki), and the other relating
the death of the same emperor (Takakura-in Shoka Ki). His poetry is not
highly rated, but six of his poems were included in the Shin Kokinshu.
He is remembered chiefly because of his bad relations with Teika, but
also because he was the father of the great Zen monk Dagen. For Michi-
chika's diaries, see Keene, Travelers of a Hundred Ages, pp. 107-13.
43. See Higuchi Yoshimaro, Gotoba-in, p. 23, for a list of Gotoba's favorite
diversions. An entry for 1214 in Teika's Chronicle of the Bright Moon
mentions Gotoba's continued interest in kickball, horse racing, and cock-
fights. Teika reported that Gotoba went day and night, incognito, to places
where such entertainments were held.
44. Higuchi, Gotoba-in, p. 21, quotes [ien's Gukansho and also The Clear
Mirror, both of which state that this was why Gotoba yielded the throne.
45. There is some disagreement about the dating: the diary of Minamoto no
Ienaga dates Gotoba's visit to the imperial palace and his poem as 1200,
but Teika's Chronicle of the Bright Moon and other sources make 1199
seem more probable. See Higuchi, Gotoba-in, p. 28. However, Kubota [un
in his "Kaisetsu" (Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, p. 353) states that Cotoba's
earliest poems were three composed in 1200.
46. Imagawa Fumio, Kundoku Meigetsuki, I, p. 209.
47. The term used by Teika's enemies to describe his poems was shingi hisho
daruma uta. Shingi meant "new," in the sense of newfangled; hisho meant
"without sources," an offense in a society governed by precedents; daruma
was the Buddhist dharma or law, but was used in this instance to signify
something incomprehensible. See Kubota, Fujiwara Teilea, p. 126.
48. Ibid., p. 125.
49. Ibid., p. 127.
50. Fujiwara Takafusa (1148-12°9) was not an important poet, but forty-
three poems by Fujiwara Ietaka (1158-1237) were included in the Shin
Kokinshu.
Robert Brower wrote of Gotoba's change of heart: "The decision was
vital to the position and future status of Teika in particular, affording an
opportunity to establish contact and ingratiate himself with the powerful
ex-sovereign and to demonstrate his poetic prowess to the discomfiture
of his enemies. One hesitates to make such a sweeping statement as that
the course of Japanese classical poetry would have been forever altered
had Teika been shunted aside at this juncture to eke out the remainder
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n shu
of his days in wretched obscurity." (Brower, Fujiwara, p. 10.) Brower goes
on to indicate why "one may be excused for thinking his [Teika's] inclusion
in the Shoji sequences more than a mere ripple on the surface of literary
history."
51. Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 127. See also Brower, Fujiwara, p. 15.
52. Translation by Brower in Fujiwara, p. 16. The entry is from Meigetsuki,
Shoji 2 (1200) 8/26. For text, see Imagawa, Kundoeu Meigetsuki, I, p. 215.
53. Ninety poems came from Sengohyakuban Uta-auiase, and seventy-nine
from Shoji Ninen Shodo Hyahushu, See Kubota [un, "Shoji Ninen Shodo
Hyakushu ni tsuite," p. 235.
54. Brower's Fujiwara gives a complete translation of all one hundred poems,
together with translations of the honka on which many were based. His
translation of the sequence was based on "a completely bare, unannotated
text of the poems," an indication of the extent of his achievement but also
of the relative indifference of Iapanese scholars to this important sequence.
55. Such sessions were known as eigu uta-auiase. Eigu meant an offering placed
before the portrait of a god or of a deceased person; Hitomaro was honored
in this manner because of his reputation.
56. He also appointed fifteen poets as yoryiido, or contributing members,
including Fujiwara Yoshitsune, Minamoto Michichika, Jien, Shunzei,
Teika, and [akuren, Minamoto Ienaga was chosen to be the secretary of
the committee. Later, three poets (including Kamo no Chornei) were added
to the original members.
57. Shin Kokinshii 18. The topic of the poem is sekiji no uguisu, or "uguisu
on the barrier road," but instead of mentioning the barrier (seki) of Ausaka
(Osaka) in the usual manner, Gotoba spoke instead of the mountain (yama)
at the barrier. Maruya Saiichi, in an interesting analysis of the poem and
its relation to the honka in the Kokinshii, suggested that Gotoba concluded
the poem with the word yama because he wished to avoid having too
many words begin with the sound of s. If he had ended the poem with
seki, the key words sugi, shiroki, Ausaka, and seki would all have contained
the sound. (Maruya Saiichi, Gotoba-in, p. 29')
58. The poem is the anonymous fifth poem of the collection: Ume ga e ni /
kiiru uguisu / haru kakete / nakedomo imada / yuki wa furitsutsu. The second
line of Gotoba's poem is the same as the fourth line of the Kokinshii poem.
His mention of snow lying on the bare cedar boughs is more effective
than the more conventional snow on the bare branches of the plum trees.
59. Minamoto Ienaga (I 170?-1234) was a statesman who participated in var-
ious poetry gatherings associated with Gotoba, such as the second of the
two hundred-poem sequences of 1200. He was chosen to take charge of
the secretarial work connected with the compilation of the Shin Kokinshii,
and was therefore privy to the discussions. His diary, kept from 1197 to
1207, is an invaluable source of information about the activities of the
court at this time. The text of the diary is given, together with good notes,
688 The Middle Ages
by Ishida Yoshisada and Satsugawa Shuji in Minamoto Ienaga Nikki Zen-
ehukai. See also Keene, Travelers, pp. I03-6.
60. Comparative statistics on the number of poems in the Kokinshu, the Shin
Kohinshu, and other imperial collections in which the poet mistook cherry
blossoms for snowflakes or, alternatively, thought snowflakes were cherry
blossoms, are given by Kusuhashi Hiraku in "acho Waka to Yuki," p.
205. This essay is devoted to snow in the imperial collections; two other
essays in the same volume (Katagiri Yoichi, OeM Waka no Sekai) take up
the important roles played by the moon and cherry blossoms. No fewer
than 305 poems in the Shin Kokinshic describe the moon. See atori Ka-
zuma, "acho Waka to Tsuki," in Katagiri, Oeho, p. 218.
61. Text in Kubota, Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, pp. 19-20. I have, following
Kubota, pruned away the decorative language with which Fujiwara Yoshi-
tsune embellished his prose. Hardly a phrase is without a jo, a makuta-
kotoba, or at least an engo, but the overall meaning is more or less as
given in the translation. The contrast made between the eyes and the ears
at the beginning of the quotation is essentially that between contemporary
poetry, easily available to prospective readers, and poetry of the past,
known mainly by repute.
62. Higuchi, Gotoba-in, p. 109. When Gotoba took as a precedent the party
that celebrated the completion of the Nihon Shoki, he was in effect in-
dicating that he believed the compilation of the Shin Kohinsb« to be no
less important than that of a national history.
63. Gotoba's command for a preface in Chinese was issued to Chikatsune in
the seventh month of 1204. He completed the preface in the second month
of 1205. After reading the manuscript, Gotoba turned it over to Fujiwara
Yoshitsune, who made some emendations. See Kubota, Shin Kokin Waka
Shu, I, p. 13.
64. Imagawa, Kundobu, II, p. 170. See also Higuchi, Gotoba-m, pp. IIO-I1.
65. A rough draft of the kana preface was completed three days after the
banquet.
66. See Higuchi, Gotoba-in, p. III, for the poem. The quoted passage is from
the Japanese preface to the Kokinshu. I have given the translation by Rodd
in Kokinshu, p. 46.
67. Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 114. For the relevant passages in the diaries
of Minamoto Michichika, see Mizukawa Yoshio, Minamoto Miehiehika
Nikki Zenshahu, pp. 21I, 467. Michichika's diaries are also described in
Keene, Travelers, pp. I07- I 3.
68. Kokinshu 60 I.
69· Shin Kokinshu 37.
70. See Brower and Miner, Fujiwara Teilta': Superior, pp. 45-46, where Teika
says, "Next, with regard to poems by one's fellow poets, even if they are
no longer living, if they have been composed so recently that they might
be said to have been written yesterday or today, I think it essential to
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n sh u 689
avoid using any part of such a poem, even a single line, that is distinctive
enough to be recognized as the work of a particular poet."
71. Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, pp. 113, 115.
72. Tsukamoto, Teiea Hyakushu, p. 164.
73. The word sabi, related to the modern sabishii, meaning "lonely," and also
to its homonym sabi, meaning "rust," was used to suggest the unobtrusive,
unassertive beauty that was the ideal of Japanese poets, especially during
the turbulent decades of the Japanese middle ages. The "discovery" of
sabi as an aesthetic ideal has often been attributed to Saigyo. See below,
p. 678; also Ishida Yoshisada, Inja no Bungaku, p. 46. For a discussion of
sabi, together with the related aesthetic ideal of wabi, especially in con-
nection with the tea ceremony, see Paul Varley and Kumakura Isao, Tea
in Japan, pp. 239-41.
74. Shin Kokinshii 363. It was composed in 1186, when Teika was twenty-
four.
75. Ishida [oji and Shimizu Yoshiko, Genji, II, p. 276.
76. Tsukamoto (in Teilea Hyakushu, p. 78) called attention to the "slashing,
fierce" tone of the third line, which he contrasts with the gentle, pliant
tone of the passage in The Tale of Genji.
77. See the essay by Kubota [un, "Fujiwara Teika ni okeru Koten to Gendai,"
in his Chusei Bungaku no Sekai, p. 221, where he says of Teika, "He was
a conservative, and even among the nobles, whose ranks included many
conservatives, his way of thought was the most aristocratic."
78. For a consideration of this statement, see Keene, Travelers, pp. 95-96.
79. For an account of Teika's illnesses, see Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, pp. 18-
19. Kubota was aware of the possibility that Teika might have exaggerated
his illnesses, but that he was often ill seems to have been a fact.
80. A reference to the gosechi no kokoromi, dances staged on the second Day
of the Tiger of the eleventh month of each year in the presence of the
emperor. The term gosechi referred to the five seasonal ceremonies held
in the palace, the high points of which were dances; kokoromi were the
rehearsals performed before the emperor on the night before the official
viewing of the dances. For a brief acount of such an occasion, see William
H. and Helen Craig McCullough, A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, pp.
146-47.
81. Quoted by Kubota in Fujiwara Teiea, p. 53. The termjoseki, which I have
translated as "removed from the palace register," referred to the practice
of inscribing wooden tags with the names of nobles permitted to present
themselves at the palace (shoden). If, for some reason, a noble was punished
by not being allowed to present himself any longer, his tag was removed
from the Seiryoden, the private residence of the emperor.
82. Kubota, Yakuchii, I, p. 54. See also Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 68.
83· Kubota, Yakuchic, II, p. 446. See also Kubota, Fujiwara Teiha, p. 72. The
"cloud" in the poem is, of course, Saigyo. In a famous poem, Saigyo
690 The Middle Ages
had expressed the hope that he would die when there was a full moon
in the sky; hence, the reference to the full moon in the poem.
84. Seven of the one hundred poems by Teika discussed in Tsukamoto, Teilta
Hyahushu, were from Kagetsu Hyakushu,
85. However, Yoshida Hajime began his discussion of the poem with, "There
surely is no special need to attempt an explication of the poem. The
language presents no problems worth mentioning. It is the kind of poem
for which it is quite sufficient to savor quietly, slowly, after one's own
fashion." Yoshida Hajime, Fujiwara Teiha, p. 66.
86. Both Tsukamoto Kunio (in Teilea Hyakushu; p. 89), and Yoshida (in
Fujiwara Teiea, p. 66) state that Teika was writing about plum blossoms,
though Tsukamoto immediately afterward expressed a preference for a
general "fragrant thing" as an explanation of hana, rather than any par-
ticular blossom. Kubota (in Yaleuchii, I, p. 97) did not commit himself on
the identity of the blossoms, but perhaps he assumed that readers would
understand without his help that hana meant cherry blossoms, as so often
in Japanese poetry.
87. Ando Tsuguo, Fujiwara Tcika, p. 102.
88. This was the view of Tsukamoto, expressed in his Teika, pp. 28-29; but
Konishi [in'ichi, in "Teika wa Shocho Kajin ka," expressed doubts about
the appropriateness of referring to Teika as a symbolist poet.
89. Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 77·
90. Kubota, Yalruchu, I, p. 117.
91. Ibid. Yoshitsune was at the time sakon'e no daisho (general of the left
bodyguard), a position of considerable importance normally filled only by
nobles of the highest rank. Kubota pointed out in a note that in China
generals were sometimes likened to ryoko (dragon-tigers); hence, the
"tiger cub." Teika was correct in his prophecy: Yoshitsune was destined to
climb to the very top of the mountain-in other words, to become the
regent and prime minister, the highest position to which a noble could
attain.
92. Teika composed several sets of poems that began with each of the forty-
seven syllables of the iroha poem. The texts are given in Kubota, Yakuchii,
II, pp. 36-49. Teika not only observed the order of the iroha poem but
imposed a second kind of order, that of the chokusenshu, with seasonal
poems followed by love poems. It was a remarkable feat, but the poems
have only minor intrinsic importance.
93. Sosei's poem (Kokinshii 691) was irregular, consisting of thirty-three rather
than the standard thirty-one syllables.
94- The poems are given in Kubota, Yakuchii, II, pp. 56-60.
95. The 128 "rhyme poems" are given in Kubota, Yaleuchii, I, pp. 235-52.
They are arranged in order of the seasons, followed by jukkai poems,
poems on mountain dwellings, and poems on travel. The Chinese rhymes
are given in Japanese pronunciations; thus, the feng, k'ung, lung, meng,
The Age of the Shin Kokinshu
etc. of the Chinese rhymes turn in Teika's poems into haze, sora, komoreru,
and yume.
96. For further details, see Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 93; also Ando, Fujiwara
Teik a, pp. 130-44.
97. Fujiwara Kanezane (1149-12°7) was also known as Kujo Kanezane. His
brother, [ien, was not only a prominent Tendai abbot but an important
poet and the author of Gukansho . Fujiwara (or Kujo) Yoshitsune was his
son. Kanezane had been appointed kampaku in 1186 because his candidacy
was supported by Minamoto Yoritomo.
98. Quoted in Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 111. A somewhat different kundoku
(kambun punctuated for reading as Japanese) version of the kambun text
(the entry in Chronicle of the Bright Moon for the fifth day of the twelfth
month of 1197) is given in Imagawa, Kundohu, I, p. 72. There are only
two entries in the diary for the year 1197 (the eighth year of Kenkyu).
99. The poem is number 40 in the Shin Kokinshu. See Kubota, Shin Kohin
Waka Shu, I, p. 33. The honka by Oe no Chisato, a poet of the Kokinshu
era, is also found in the Shin Kokinshu (poem 55): Teri mo sezu / kumori
mo hatenu / haru no yo no / oborozukiyo ni / shiku mono zo nalii. (Nothing
can compare with a misty moon on a spring night when it is neither
shining nor completely clouded over.) Chisato's poem was in turn based
on lines by Po Chu-i: "A misty moon that is neither bright nor dark,/
A gentle wind that is neither warm nor cold." Kubota states, further, that
a similar description occurs in Teika's work of fiction, Matsuranomiya
Monogatari (The Tale of the Matsura Palace), and suggests (in Fujiwara
Teika, p. 112) that Teika had in mind a romantic passage in the "Hana
no En" chapter of The Tale of Genji where Oborozukiyo quotes part of
Chisato's poem. Teika probably expected that people would recognize the
antecedents of his poem but also his particular contribution, the expla-
nation of the mistiness of the moon in terms of the scent of plum blossoms,
a superb example of synesthesia.
100. Shin Kokinshu 63. Teika contrasts the wild geese's painful flight south
through the frosty sky of late autumn with their present appearance as
they head back north through the warm spring rain. Ando (Fujiwara
Teilea, p. 157) suggested that the poem may be a prayer for the revival of
the fortunes of Teika's family, now in sad decline.
IOI. Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 165.
102. Ibid., p. 175. Kubota, trying to guess why Teika failed to mention his
father's death in his poetry, suggested it might be because he thought of
Shunzei with awe, rather than affection.
103. Kubota, Yabuchic, I, p. 454. See also Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 182.
Although the poem does not specifically refer to Yoshitsune's death in
the third month, surely it must be the "dream" to which he alludes. The
poem was written in the third month of 1206. It bears the title "Nostalgic
Remembrances of the Past Addressed to the Moon." There is a pun in
 The Middle Ages
the last line between furu, "to fall" (as of leaves), and furu, "to grow old."
104. Later in his life, while in exile on the island of Sado, he compiled one of
the important works of medieval poetic criticism, Yakumo MishO.
105. The work was translated by Robert H. Brower and Earl Miner under
the title Fujiwara Teilea'sSuperior Poems ofOur Time: A Thirteenth-Century
Poetic Treatise and Sequence.
106. Two poems by Minamoto Yoritomo, the founder of the Kamakura sho-
gunate but not an important poet, were included in the Shin Kokinshu.
Further evidence of the good relations prevailing between the court in
Kyoto and the Kamakura shogunate may be found in Yoritomo's choice
of Gotoba as Sanetorno's godfather (nazuke no oya).
107. Kubota, Fujiwara Teika, p. 203.
108. It was usual to twist two threads together; only one (kataito) would have
been considered likely to break.
109. Man'yoshu 1316. See Aoki Takako et al., Man'yoshu, II, p. 251.
110. For a discussion of Teika's poem, see Ando, Fujiwara Teiea, pp. 220-21;
also Kubota, Fujiwara Tciha, pp. 203-4.
I I I. The poem, VI:935, is by Kasa no Kanamura. For an English translation,

see Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai, The Manyoshu, p. 102.

112. Kubota, Yakuchu, I, p. 404. See also Kubota, Fujiwara Teilea, pp. 208-9;
also Ando, Fujiwara Teika, pp. 232-33. There is a kakekotoba on matsu,
"to wait," and the place-name Matsuho. The burning of the seaweed (to
obtain salt) is at the same time the burning anguish the woman feels at
the thought her lover has deserted her.
I 13. Kubota, Yakuchu, I, p. 437. See also Kubota, Fujiwara Teik«, p. 214; also

Tsukamoto, Teika Hyakushu, pp. 219-21.

114. Kubota, Yakuchu, I, p. 438. See also Kubota, Fujiwara Tcika, pp. 214-16.
115. Shin Kokinshi: 1448. See Kubota, Shin Kokin Waka Shu, II, p. 152.
116. Translated by Helen Craig McCullough in Okagami, p. 97. She also gives
another version of Michizane's poem.
117. Quoted by Kutoba, Fujiwara Teika, p. 214.
118. Maruya, Gotoba-in, pp. 225-29.
119. Kubota, Yakuchu, I, p. 218. See also Ando, Fujiwara Teika, pp. 27°-71,
and Tsukamoto, Teika Hyahushu, pp. 145-47. Tsukamoto wrote (p. 146)
of this poem that it was vibrantly alive, quite unlike the other poems on
the yamabuki found in the Shin Kokinshu, "eight or nine out of ten of
which are empty poems intended to be inscribed on screens depicting the
celebrated Tama River of Ide, dead descriptions of nature in the manner
of picture postcards. The use of personification is not in the least offensive."
120. The major contributors included Ietaka (47 poems), Yoshitsune (36 poems),
Shunzei (35 poems), Saionji Kintsune (30 poems), [ien (27 poems), and
Sanetomo and Michiie (25 poems each). The conservative manner of the
collection appealed to the Nijo school of poets, who considered that it
(rather than the Shin Kokinshu) represented the finest flowering of Teika's
The Age of the Shin Kokinshii
genius as a compiler. The Shin Choeuscnshic, together with Shunzei's
Senzaishii and Sholeu Gosenshii (compiled by Teika's son Tameie) were
especially admired as the work of three generations of poets of conserva-
tive tendencies.
121. Both Ienaga's poem and Teika's response are given in Kubota, Yakuchu,

I, p. 474.
122. In this connection, there is special significance in the note Teika appended
to the manuscript of the Gosenshii he was copying in 1221, when the Jokyu
Rebellion broke out; he wrote that, despite the infirmities of old age, he
continued to copy manuscripts for the sake of future generations. (Maruya,
Gotoba-in, p. 230; Maruya was quoting Ishida Yoshisada, "Shin Kokin
Kadan to Kafu no Bunretsu.")
123. A scholarly account of the various theories relating to the compilation of
the Hyakunin Isshu (also known as the Ogura Hyakunin Isshu) is found in
Shimazu Tadao's "Kaisetsu" to his edition of Hyakunin Isshu in the Ka-
dokawa Bunko series. There is reason to think that the poems of Gotoba
and [untoku included in the hundred were added after Teika's death.
124. The word karuta is of Portuguese origin, and was introduced to Japan
along with Portuguese card games in the late sixteenth century, but the
New Year's game, though played with foreign-inspired cards, much re-
sembled the traditional game of kai-oi, or matching shells. A reader intones
the first part of one of the hundred poems, and the two players (sometimes
more), who have memorized all hundred poems, search on the board for
a card inscribed with the second part of the same poem, eager to sweep
the card off the board before the other player. An accomplished player
will recognize a poem from the first couple of syllables.
125. Arthur W aley, early in his career as a scholar of Japanese literature, said
of Hyahunin Isshu: "It is so selected as to display the least pleasing features
of Japanese poetry. Artificialities of every kind abound, and the choice
does little credit to the taste of Sadaiye [Teika] to whom the compilation
is attributed. These poems have gained an unmerited circulation in Japan,
owing to the fact that they are used in a kind of 'Happy Families' card-
game." (Arthur Waley, Japanese Poetry, p. 7,)
126. See Kubota, "Kaisetsu," in his Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, p. 367, for the
original text (in extremely convoluted language) and for a modern-lan-
guage paraphrase.
127. Higuchi, Gotoba-in, p. 191.
128. Ibid., p. 197. The expression ho ni idete means something like "revealing
on one's face," but ho means literally an ear (of rice or other grain), and
ashi a reed. There is thus a double set of meanings, one describing the
speaker's grief, the other a desolate scene by the shore.
129. Ibid., p. 199.
130. A generous selection of poems by Ietaka is found in Steven D. Carter,
Waiting for the Wind, pp. 32-42.
 The Middle Ages
131. The Shin Kokinshu contains 94 poems by Saigyo, 92 by [ien, 79 by Yoshi-
tsune, 72 by Shunzei, 49 by Princess Shokushi, 46 by Teika, 43 by Ietaka,
35 by Jakuren, and 34 by Gotoba.
132. The original description of this encounter is found in Azuma Kagami
(Mirror of the East). (See Ozawa Akira, Shinshalru Azuma Kagami, II, pp.
59-62, for a modern-language version of the account in Mirror ofthe East.)
Saigyo's answers to Yoritomo's questions were curt to the point of rude-
ness, and Mirror ofthe East relates that he gave the present he had received
from Yoritomo, a cat made of silver, to some children he saw playing by
a bridge. See Takagi Kiyoko, Saigyo no ShukYoteki Seleai, p. 107; Yasuda
Ayao, Saigyo, p. IS; also Burton Watson, Saigyo, p. 6.
133. I am thinking, for example, of the popular explanations for the decision
of Kenko to become a priest, or of Basho to leave the domain of the Todo
family for Edo.
134. The relevant passage is quoted by Kubota [un in Sankashu, pp. 72-73. It
opens quite unambiguously: "If one looks into the reasons why Saigyo
had an awakening of faith, one will discover that it originated in love."
See also Yasuda, Saigyo, pp. 21-22.
135. Kubota (in Sankashu, p. 72) indicates that he is unwilling to discard this
theory out of hand, and in fact produces evidence that suggests that the
theory is tenable. Yasuda (Saigyo, p. 27) seems to believe that the person
(Yukari no hito) to whom Saigyo sent a poem just before entering orders
may have been a woman he loved.
136. Yasuda, Saigyo, p. 22. The story is related in Saigyo Monogatari, a fiction-
alized account of Saigyo's life written in the late Kamakura period.
137. Kubota, in Sankashu, pp. 78-79, gives evidence from Saigyo's poetry of
his disenchantment with the world. See Yasuda, Saigyo, p. 23, for the
opinion that he sympathized with Sutoku, (Sutoku abdicated two years
after Saigyo took Buddhist vows.) It is clear that Saigyo was eager to free
himself from the dust of the world, but he himself does not indicate
whether this was because he was upset over some specific matter or if he
was moved by the usual Buddhist rejection of the world.
138. Sanhash« 723. I have in general followed the interpretation of the poem
given by Kubota in Sankashu, pp. 90-91. The poem was quite differently
explained by Goto Shigeo (in Sankashu, pp. 194-95). He took sora ni naru
to mean that the speaker's mind was traveling up into the sky out of
yearning for the Pure Land. Kubota gave examples of the use of sora ni
naru in the Man'yoshu and Kokinshu with the meaning of "to be distracted"
or "to be absentminded." The mist is only barely perceptible, but it rises
into the sky, leaving this world behind; in a similar manner, the speaker's
mind, uncertain precisely what it wants to do, rises into the sky, now that
it is sure it does not wish to remain in this world. Another translation
(including the preface) by William R. LaFleur in Mirror for the Moon,
P·34·
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n sh u
139· Sankashu 725. Goto, Sanliashu, p. 195.
140. See Ishida Yoshisada, Inja, p. 12.
14 I. See Varley and Kumakura, Tea, p. 76, where the use of wabi as an aesthetic
ideal is said "to express religious discipline as a life on the bare edge of
survival in a thatched hut in the midst of nature."
142. See above, note 73.
143. Sankashu 937. Text in Kazamaki Keijiro and Kojima Yoshio, Sankashu,
Kinlia: Waka Shu, p. 167. Other translations by Watson (Saigyo, p. 144),
LaFleur (Mirror, p. 47), and Brower and Miner (japanese, p. 261).
144. Takagi Kiyoko, Saigyo, p. 104. Takagi gives on pp. 99-102 many of the
poems composed by Saigyo on Mount Koya.
145. For Saigyo's relations with [akuzen (whose name is read as [akunen by
some scholars), see Kubota, Sankashu, pp. 123-31.
146. Sanbashi; 1199. I have followed Goto's interpretation of this difficult poem,
given by him in Sankashu, p. 342. For translations of other poems of this
series, see Watson, Saigyo, pp. 169-74; also LaFleur, Mirror, p. 56.
147· Sanhashi; 1223. See Kubota, Sankashu, p. 255, and Goto, Sankashu, p. 349,
for different interpretations of this poem.
148. Kubota, Sankashu, p. 257. The poem does not appear in Sankashu itself,
but is found in other collections of Saigyo's poetry.
149. Yasuda (in Saigyo, p. 37) lists the places to which Saigyo traveled; they
include the provinces of Michinoku, Dewa, Sanuki, and Awa, as well as
places closer to Mount Koya,
150. Kubota, Sankashu, p. 60. For Saigyo's relations with the unhappy Sutoku,
see ibid., pp. 56-57.
151. Some of these poems are translated by LaFleur in Mirror.
152. Shin Kokinshi; 625. Kubota, Shin Kohin Waka Shu, I, p. 213. Other trans-
lations by Watson (Saigyo, p. 90) and LaFleur (Mirror, p. 88).
153. Shin Kokinshu 362. It is preceded by a poem by the priest [akuren and
followed by a poem by Teika, each ending with the same last line, aki
no yugure. All three poems are considered to be masterpieces. Kubota,
Shin Kokin Waka Shu, I, p. 133.
154. I have followed the interpretation of Kubota, but there is another tradition
concerning the meaning of the verb tatsu (which I have translated as
"rises"). Goto (in Sankashu, p. 129) interprets tatsu as meaning "stands."
Other translations by Watson (Saigyo, p. 81) and LaFleur (Mirror, p. 24).
155. See Ishida, Inja, p. 90; also Takagi Kiyoko, Saigyo ; p. 165. The poem by
Saigya that Shunzei preferred (Sankashu 294) is an unimpressive example
in the manner of the Kokinshu; the speaker asks what the source might
be of the dew that covers the landscape and decides it must be the tears
he has shed into his sleeve. Goto, Sankashu, p. 86.
156. Ishida, Inja, pp. 90-91, gives the text of To no Tsuneyori's evaluation of
the poem.
157. Shin Kokinshi; 627. Kubota, Shin Kohin Waka Shu, I, p. 213; it is also
696 The Middle Ages
poem 513 in Sanhash«. See Yasuda, Saigyo ; pp. 63-64, for other poems in
which Saigyo expressed the wish he had friends with whom to share the
pleasures of solitude.
158. Saigyo made at least two journeys to Michinoku, the provinces at the
northern end of Honshu. His poems on such sites as the Shirakawa Barrier
seem to have been inspired by the priest Noin, who visited the same places
about 1025. See Kubota, Sankashu, pp. 210-16.
159. An interesting exception to this generalization is found in Yasuda, Saigyo,
where he discusses such matters as the vowel patterns in Saigyo's poetry,
notably on pp. 57, 61, 66, 68-69.
160. See, for example, Tsukamoto, Teilea Hyakushu, p. 24.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Ando Tsuguo. Fujiwara Teiha. Chikuma Shobo, 1977.

Aoki Takako, Ide Itaru, et al. Man'yoshu, 4 vols., in Shincho Nihon Koten
Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1976.
Brower, Robert H. Fujiwara Teika's Hundred-Poem Sequence of the Shoji Era,
1200. Tokyo: Sophia University, 1978.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Fujiwara Teika's Superior Poems of Our
Time. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1967.
---.Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1961.
Carter, Steven D. Waitingfor the Wind. New York: Columbia University Press,
1989.
Goto Shigeo. Sankashu, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha,
1979·
Hagitani Boku and Taniyama Shigeru. Uta-au/ase Shu, in Nihon Koten Bun-
gaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1965.
Higuchi Yoshimaro. Gotoba-in . Shueisha, 1985.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi and Nishio Minoru. Karon Shu, Nogalruron Shu, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Imagawa Fumio. Kundoku Meigetsuki, 6 vols. Kawade Shobe Shinsha, 1977-79.
Ishida Joji and Shimizu Yoshiko. Genji Monogatari, II, in Shincho Nihon Koten
Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1977.
Ishida Yoshisada. Inja no Bungaku. Hanawa Shobe, 1969.
Ishida Yoshisada and Satsugawa Shuji, Minamoto Ienaga Nikki Zcnchuha», Yu-
seido, 1982.
Ito, Setsuko. "The Muse in Competition," Monumenta Nipponica 37=2, Summer
1982.
The Age of the Shin Ko k i n sh u
Katagiri Yoichi (ed.), OcM Waka no Seha«. Kyoto: Sekai Shiso Sha, 1984.
Kazamaki Kcijiro and Kojima Yoshio. Sankashu, Kinha: Waka Shu, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Keene, Donald. Travelers of a Hundred Ages. New York: Henry Holt, 1989.
Kibune Shigeaki. Shoku Gosen Waka Shu Zenchushahu. Kyoto: Daigakudo
Shoten, 1989.
Konishi [in'ichi, "Association and Progression: Principles of Integration in
Anthologies and Sequences of Japanese Court Poetry," Harvard Journal of
Asiatic Studies 2 I, 1958.
- - - . "Teika wa Shocho Kajin ka," Kokubungaku Gengo to Bungei 43,
November 1965.
Kubota Jun. Chiisei Bungaku no Seeai, Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1972.
- - - . Fujiwara Teiea. Shueisha, 1984.
- - - . "Honka-dori no Imi to Kino," Nihon no Bigaku 3:12, 1988.
- - - . Sanbashu. Iwanami Shoten, 1983.
- - - . Shin Kokin Kajin no Kenky«, Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1973.
- - - . Shin Kokin Waka Shu, 2 vols., in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei, Shin-
chosha, 1979.
- - - . "Shoji Ninen Shodo Hyakushu ni tsuite," in Akiyama Ken (ed.),
Chusei Bungaku no Kenkyu. Tokyo Daigaku Shuppan Kai, 1972.
- - - . Yakuchu Fujiwara Teika Zcnhashii; 2 vols. Kawade Shobe Shinsha,
1985.
Kuriyama Riichi. Teika Den. Furukawa Shobe, 1974.
LaFleur, William R. Mirrorfor the Moon. New York: New Directions, 1978.
Levy, Ian Hideo. Man'yoshu, I. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
1981.
Maruya Saiichi. Gotoba-in, Chikuma Shobo, 1973.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Kokin Wakashu. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Univer-
sity Press, 1985.
---.Okagami, The Great Mirror. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
1980.
- - - (trans.). The Tale of the Hciec, Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1988.
McCullough, William H., and Helen Craig McCullough (trans.), A Tale of
Flowering Fortunes, 2 vols. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1980.
Minegishi Yoshiaki. Uta-au/asc no Kenky«. Sanseido, 1954.
Miya Shuji. Saigyo no Uta. Kawade Shobe Shinsha, 1977.
Mizukawa Yoshio. Minamoto Michichiea Nikki Zenshaku, Kasama Shoin, 1978.
Morris, Ivan. The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, 2 vols. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1967.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai (trans.), The Manyosli«, New York: Columbia
University Press, 1965.
698 The Middle Ages
Okumura Tsuneya. Kokin Waleash«, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series.
Shinchosha, 1978.
Osone Shosuke and Horiuchi Hideaki. Wakan Roei Shu, in Shincho Nihon
Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1983.
Ozawa Akira. Shinshaku Azuma Kagami, 2 vols. Senjiisha, 1985.
Rodd, Laura Rasplica, with Mary Catherine Henkenius (trans.). Kokinshu.
Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984.
Seidensticker, Edward G. The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 1976.
Shimazu Tadao. Hyakunin Isshu, in Kadokawa Bunko series. Kadokawa Sho-
ten, 1969.
Takagi Ichinosuke et al. Heilt« Monogatari, 2 vols., in Nihon Koten Bungaku
T aikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1959-60.
Takagi Kiyoko. Saigyo no ShukYoteki Sekai. Taimeido, 1989.
Takahashi Kazuhiko. MumyoshO Zeneai, Sobunsha, 1987.
Tsukamoto Kunio. Teiba Hyakushu, Kawade Shobe Shinsha, 1977.
Varley, Paul, and Kumakura Isao. Tea in Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii
Press, 1989.
Waley, Arthur. Japanese Poetry: the Uta. London: Lund Humphries, 1946.
Watson, Burton. Saigyo: Poems of a Mountain Home. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1990.
Yasuda Ayao. Saigyd, Yayoi Shobe, 1973.
Yoshida Hajime. Fujiwara Teilea. Hosei Daigaku Shuppankyoku, 1986.
 1 8.
WAKA POETRY OF THE
KAMAKURA AND
MUROMACHI PERIODS

~e Shin Kokinshu was by far the finest collection of poetry compiled

during the Kamakura period, and many of its poets remained active
during the first decades of the new era, but its roots were in the past.
The fusion of nostalgia for the golden age of the Kokinshu and awareness
of the dark uncertainty of the present gave the poetry particular depth
and resonance. More characteristic poetry of the age of the Kamakura
shoguns is not found until the court anthologies of the 1220S, as well
as in contemporary private collections.
The poetry that faithfully conveys the special atmosphere of the
Kamakura period may strike Western readers as being less memorable
and certainly less beautiful than the poetry of the Shin Kokinshu. It is
true that the poems of the third Kamakura shogun, Minamoto Sanetomo,
have been accorded extraordinary praise by Japanese critics, especially
since the Meiji period. The qualities most often admired in Sanetomo's
poetry-the unaffected simplicity or the masculinity in the vein of the
Man'yoshu-appealed especially to those who deplored what they con-
sider to be artificiality or overrefinement in earlier waka poetry.
The Kamakura period is otherwise important in the history of the
waka because of the emergence at this time of bitterly opposed schools
of poetry. The differences between these schools are likely to seem, at
our distance from the protagonists and their concerns, somewhat less
than cataclysmic; the most "conservative" and the most "radical" waka
poets used essentially the same vocabulary to evoke essentially the same
scenes or states of mind, and all paid homage to Teika. But to members
of the court in Kyoto (and their pupils everywhere) even slight differ-
ences in literary principles seemed enormously important, and the var-
ious schools fought for supremacy, especially for recognition in the form
of a command to compile a chokusenshii. Poetry became by default the
70 0 The Middle Ages

chief concern of the aristocrats in an age when the court had lost most
of its other powers to military men in Kamakura and elsewhere in the
east.

1
MINAMOTO SANETOM0

The first distinctive new voice in the waka poetry of the Kamakura
period, however, was that of a military man. Minamoto Sanetomo was
the second son of Minamoto Yoritomo who, after his victory in the war
with the Taira, had founded the Kamakura shogunate. Yoritomo died
under mysterious circumstances in 1199 and was succeeded as shogun
by his elder son, Yoriie, who was in turn forced by the Hojo, his mother's
family, to yield the office of shogun to his younger brother Sanetomo
in 1203.2 Sanetomo was eleven when he became shogun, and during the
sixteen years of his reign-until 1219 when he was assassinated by his
nephew-he was unable to free himself from the domination of the
Hojo regents. His short life has nevertheless appealed to the imagination
of later Japanese writers, especially those who have lived during times
of war, perhaps because he seemed to embody the ideal of the soldier-
poet.'
According to Mirror of the East, the semiofficial history of the Ka-
makura shogunate, Sanetomo began composing waka when he was
thirteen.' These poems have not survived, but we know that Sanetomo's
first acquaintance with the poetry in the Shin Kokinshu dates from about
this time. Four years later he obtained a copy of the Kokinshu. Study
of the poetry in these two collections probably inspired him to compose
poems of his own. When he was seventeen (in 1209) he sent thirty of
his waka to Teika for his appraisal, presumably because Teika's repu-
tation as the finest poet of the age extended even to distant Kamakura.
Teika, in return (as has been mentioned), sent Sanetomo Superior Poems
of Our Time, a collection of eighty-three waka, mainly from the period
from the Kokinshu through the Shuishu, that was intended to provide
models for Sanetorno's future poetic composition.' Teika's prefatory
essay to Superior Poems mentioned that he had been "asked by a certain
person how poetry should be composed," no doubt a guarded reference
to Sanetomo." The best-known part of Teika's advice relates to the
proper diction and treatment in the waka: "If in diction you admire
the traditional, if in treatment you attempt the new, if you aim at an
unobtainably lofty effect, and if you study the poetry of Kampei and
before-then how can you fail to succeed?"? Probably Teika was re-
ferring in general to the poetry of the Kokinshu and especially to such
Waka Poetry of the Kam ak ura and M uromachi Periods 701

ninth-century poets as Ariwara no Narihira and Ono no Komachi.

Teika was sure that in order to compose superior waka it was
necessary to be thoroughly familiar with the poetry of the past. Sane torno,
obeying the advice to adopt the old poems as his models, tried to make
up for his youth and lack of poetic experience by imitation; many early
poems hardly differ either in language or manner from their models,
as the following poems on the topic "nightingale in the depths of the
night" may suggest:

satsuki yami Rainy season dark:

obotsukanaki ni And in the uncertain light,
hototogisu A nightingale,
fukaki mine yori Emerging from a distant peak,
naliitc izu nari" Sings as it approaches.

At least four poems could have served as sources, but one by Fujiwara
no Sanekata in the Shuishu is especially close:

satsuki yami Rainy season dark:

Kurahashi yama no And from Black Bridge Mountain
hototogisu A nightingale
obotsuhanaleu mo Uncertainly makes its way,
nakiuiataru kana 9 Singing as it passes by.

The great twentieth-century waka poet Saito Mokichi expressed his

admiration for Sanetomo's poem, insisting that Sanetomo had completely
absorbed influences from the source poems and made them a part of
himself; in this way, Saito said, he created a splendid new poem that
was entirely his own." A contemporary reader's evaluation of this and
many other poems by Sanetomo is likely to be measured in terms of
whether or not he agrees that Sanetomo had imparted something dis-
tinctive to the borrowed imagery; if not, many of the poems will seem
egregiously unoriginal. It is clear, in any case, that heavy reliance on
the poetry of predecessors has not kept Sane tome's poetry from enjoying
a high reputation. A private anthology of Sane tome's collected poems
(known as Kinkai Waka Shu),11 regularly appears in sets devoted to the
classics of Japanese literature, a distinction he shares only with Saigyo."
Sanetomo's poetry is often praised in terms of its successful absorption
of influence from the Man'yoshu, but this influence came late in his short
life as a poet. He was twenty-one when Teika first sent him a volume
of Man'yoshu poetry, and all the poems in Kinhai Waka Shu were written
70 2 The Middle Ages

between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two. Indeed, only about a

tenth of the poems in Kinkai Waka Shu reveal Man'yoshu influence.!'
but these poems, rather than the nine tenths in the manner of the
Senzaishu or Shin Kohinshu, account for the esteem that poets and critics
have expressed for Sanetorno's poetry. Unfortunately, the Man'voshi;
diction-the makurakotoba, the archaic vocabulary, the particles that
suggest states of mind-is the least communicable part of his poetry.
Even if a reader recognizes that ashihiki no (sometimes translated as
"foot dragging") is a makurakotoba used as a fixed epithet before the
names of mountains, the term is unlikely to induce an emotional reaction.
This would not matter if the poem were as long as the famous choka
of Hitomaro in the Man'yiishu, but when one of the five lines of a waka
consists of an essentially meaningless makurakotoba, it inevitably reduces
what an already short poem can communicate. Only a poet or critic
who for some reason dislikes the indirectness and unspoken overtones
that characterize later poetry is likely to display enthusiasm for Sane-
tome's poems in the heroic mode.
Kamo no Mabuchi (1697-1769), one of Sanetorno's early admirers,
went through the text of Kinkai Waka Shu bestowing one star" on
exceptionally good poems and two on masterpieces. Mabuchi was a good
poet, and he was well versed in the Man'yoshu, but it is not always easy
for a modern reader to concur in his judgments of Sanetomo's poetry.
Here is a poem to which Mabuchi gave two stars:

ama no ham When I lift my head

[urisakc mireba And gaze at the firmament,
tsuki kiyomi The moon is so pure;
aki no yo italeu How terribly far along
furinikeru kana! 5 This autumn night has advanced!

The poem may bring to mind a more famous one, composed in

China by Abe no Nakamaro (d. 770):

ama no ham When I lift my head

[urisak« mireba And gaze at the firmament,
Kasuga naru The moon is the same
Mikasa no yama ni That rose over Mikasa,
ideshi tsuki kamo!!> The mountain in Kasuga.

The last three lines are different, it is true, but Sanetomo's were not
wholly original, as a poem by Fujiwara no Tametoki in the Shin Kokinstu;
makes clear:
Waka Poetry of the Kam ak ura and Muromachi Periods 703

yama no ha wo As I wait for the moon,

idegate ni suru So reluctant to appear
tsuki matsu to Over the mountain edge,
nenu yo no italeu How terribly far along
furinihcru kana" This sleepless night has advanced!

Comparing Sanetorno's poem with these two source poems, It IS

apparent that three of the five lines of his waka were borrowed in toto
from the two earlier works, and parts of the two remaining lines were
also borrowed. What, then, did Sanetomo contribute to his poem, and
why was it so highly rated by Kamo no Mabuchi? Presumably, Mabuchi
was attracted by the simple, straightforward expression in the manner
of the Man'yoshu, and perhaps by the archaic phrase ama no hara, "the
plain of heaven," for the sky; Sanetomo's contribution, Mabuchi might
have argued, consisted in joining two waka, one old and one relatively
recent, to form a new poem that combined the language of one with
the greater poetic sensitivity of the other. Another poem by Sanetomo,
written on the same topic, the moon, probably about the same time,
shows even more conspicuous Man'yoshi; influence:

tsuki kiyomi The moon is so pure:

aki no yo itaku How terribly far along
fukenik eri The autumn night advances;
Saho no kawara ni On the Saho river beach
chidori shiba naku l 8 The sanderlings keep crying.

This poem was derived from one by Yamabe no Akahito III the
Man'yoshu:

nubatama no Now, as the jet black

yo no fukeyukeba Of the night deepens over
hisagi ouru The lovely river beach
kiyoki kawara ni Where the hisagi trees grow
chidori shiba naku l 9 The sanderlings keep crying.

Mabuchi gave Sanetomo's poem one star, though he surely was aware
how much inferior it was to Akahito's, no doubt because he was always
ready to welcome unmistakable influence from the Man'yoshu.
Saito, who preferred poems by Sanetomo that stemmed directly from
personal experience, praised especially the miscellaneous (zatsu) section
of Kinkai Waka Shu, which includes those composed during Sanetorno's
 The Middle Ages

travels to various shrines. One especially celebrated travel poem bears

this prefatory note: "When I crossed over the Hakone mountains and
surveyed the scene, I could see a small island where the waves broke.
I asked my companion the name of this bay, and he replied that it was
the Izu Sea. Hearing this, I wrote:

Hakonc-ji wo When I crossed the pass

wa ga koekureba By the road through Hakone,
Izu no umi ya There was the Izu Sea;
oki no kojima ni I could see the waves approach
nami no yoru miyu" A little offshore island.

The poem was awarded two stars by Mabuchi, who commented, "I
never cease to wonder how anyone could have composed such a poem.
In the Man'yoshii there is the poem 'When this morning I crossed over
Osaka Pass, in the Sea of Omi waves were rising like cotton flowers,'
but this poem is even better.'?' Sanetorno's poem will probably strike
most contemporary readers as a pleasant evocation of an actual expe-
rience, but not as a poem of such extraordinary beauty as to make one
wonder how it could have been created with merely human powers.
Yet even Japanese critics who are known for their high standards have
expressed particular admiration for this poem," seeing in the lonely little
island a symbol for Sanetomo himself.
The greatest disappointment that Western readers experience with
Sanetomo's poetry comes not from inadequacies in his collection but
from the absence of poems that suggest his life as a shogun. Only a few,
like the following, reveal that he was a military man:

mononofu no As the warrior

yanami tsukurou Rearranges his arrows,
kote no ue ni Hail falls and bounces
arare tabashiru Off his upraised sleeve of mail,
Nasu no shinohara" In the bamboo plain of Nasu.

This poem seems to present a personal recollection of Sanetorno, not

filtered through the images of other people's poetry. And even if Sa-
netomo himself was not the warrior described, the poem surely was
based on an actual experience. This kind of direct involvement with his
subject is so rare in Sanetomo's poetry as to lend special interest to the
poem. If the scene had been written in the Shin Kokinshii style, unspoken
implications might have added complexity; but although the poem lacks
Waka Poetry of the Ka m aku ra and Muromachi Periods 705

depth, it is exceptionally effective. The reader will search in vain for

other poems that so memorably evoke the life of the third of the Ka-
makura shoguns, the last of Yoritorno's line.

THE SHIN CHOKUSENSHU

In 1232 the Emperor Gohorikawa commanded Fujiwara Teika to com-

pile the ninth chokusenshu, Teika had of course played a prominent
role in the compilation of the Shin Kokinshu, but he had been obliged
to accommodate himself to the views of the other compilers, especially
those of the Emperor Gotoba. It might have been expected that the new
collection, of which Teika was the sole editor, would, even more than
the Shin Kokinshu, embody his aesthetic preferences, especially his ad-
vocacy of the principle of yugen, or mysterious depths, something that
cannot be expressed in words; but the Shin Choleusenshi; (New Imperial
Collection) contains few poems comparable to those in the Shin Kokinshu,
and suggests that the court in Kyoto had lost its self-assurance after the
ill-fated [okyu Rebellion. If the Shin Choleusenshi; truly reflected Teika's
tastes, one can only conclude that they had changed conspicuously since
the time of the compilation of the Shin Kokinshu.24
The compilation of the Shin Chokusenshi; did not go smoothly, even
though Teika was not obliged to take other people's views into consid-
eration. Toward the end of 1232 he formally presented for imperial
approval a preface in kana and a table of the proposed contents. Two
years later he offered the court a fair copy of the anthology, but soon
afterward the Emperor Gohorikawa unexpectedly died. Teika, grieved
by this loss, burned his copy of the manuscript. Fujiwara Michiie later
found the copy that had been presented to Gohorikawa and returned
it to Teika, who was induced to re-edit the work. The final draft was
delivered to Michiie in 1235.25
The Shin Chokusenshu has sometimes been praised as the "fruit" of
which the Shin Kokinshu was the flower, but if this is so, the fruit has
never been enjoyed as much as the flower." When the contents first
became known, the prominence of poems by members of the military
gave rise to sarcasm and even hostility at the court in Kyoto." Teika
had been friendly with Sanetomo ever since the latter sent him poems
to correct, and his bitter quarrel with Gotoba strengthened his ties to
the shogun's court." Gotoba's defeat and exile in 1221 had enabled Teika
to regain his eminence in the world of poetry. Not surprisingly, political
considerations affected his choice of poems for the new collection. But
 The Middle Ages

although Teika included poems by Sanetomo and others of the sho-

gunate, the collection as a whole was dominated as before by the poets
of the aristocracy.
Fujiwara Ietaka was the most generously represented contributor to
the Shin Chohusenshi; with forty-four poems, two more than in the Shin
Kokinshu. However, most other well-known poets of the Shin Kokinshu
were represented by a drastically reduced number of poems-Saigyo
with fourteen instead of ninety-four, [ien with twenty-seven instead of
ninety-one, and Teika himself with fifteen instead of forty-seven."
Twenty-five poems by Sanetomo (whose poems do not appear in the
Shin Kokinshu) were chosen. Even if Sanetomo had not happened to be
a good poet, some of his poems would probably have been included
anyway;" but apart from Sanetomo, the military men were represented
with two or three poems each, rather in the manner that a few poems
by Minamoto Yoritomo had appeared in the Shin Kokinshu.
Not all of the changes in the representation in the new anthology
can be explained in terms of politics. Ietaka and T eika were friends,
but Ietaka remained faithful to Gotoba even after he was sent into exile,
and if Teika had invariably punished people who were sympathetic to
Gotoba by reducing the number of their poems in the Shin Chokusenshu,
Ietaka should have been the first to suffer. No doubt it was the notably
clear and pure expression of Ietaka's poems that won them such generous
representation despite his political unreliability. In place of his ideal of
yoembi, or "ethereal beauty," Teika now preferred a simpler style that
was exemplified by Ietaka's poems.
The blandness of the poems in the Shin Chokusenshu distressed poets
who still clung to the typical Shin Kokinshu style. The daughter of
Shunzei, one of the most accomplished poets of the yoernbi style, com-
plained that the collection was artistically inferior, and declared that if
it had not been compiled by Teika she would have refused even to take
it in her hands." There was from the outset a division of opinion
concerning the worth of the collection: Fujiwara Tameie (1198-1275),
who would compile two imperial anthologies, praised the "unaffected
configuration and felicitous conception" (sugata sunao ni kokoro uru-
washiki uta) of the poems in the Shin Choltuscnshi; ;32 and his high opinion
was shared by his wife, the nun Abutsu, in her work of poetic criticism
The Crane at Night. 33
Tameie was a scholar of Heian literature and a not inconsiderable
poet. Over three hundred of his poems were included in the imperial
collections, beginning with the Shin Chohusenshi«. The following poem
is typical:
Waka Poetry of the Kam a eura and Muromachi Periods 707

oto tatete With a mournful sound

ima hata fukinu It is blowing once again-
wa ga yado no The first autumn wind
ogi no uu/aba no Over the upper leaves of
aki no hatsukaze" The ogi by my dwelling.

There is nothing wrong with this poem, but it fails to produce much
of an impression. The upper leaves of the ogi, a reedlike plant, were
the first to change color in the autumn, a fact that had been duly noted
by innumerable poets before Tameie. If Tameie had mentioned some
normally overlooked plant, or had situated the blowing wind in a some-
what more unusual place than his own garden, the poem might linger
a bit longer in the memory, but as it is, nothing distinguishes it from
countless other poems on the upper leaves of the ogi in the first autumn
wind, save perhaps the rather unusual words ima hata for "again." But,
it should be noted, poets of the age were quite content if their waka
were free of faults (yamai) of the kind that might be reproved by the
judge of an uta-awase session or the author of a text of poetic criticism.
Regardless of its absolute merits, the Shin Chohusenshu never attained
anything like the popularity of the Shin Kokinshu. Even its excellent
poems, by masters of the waka, have been largely forgotten. Motoori
Norinaga, as always a model of sound judgment, attributed the relative
failure of the collection to the fact that the best poems by the poets of
the previous generation had already appeared in the Shin Kokinshu, and
there simply were not any outstanding poets in the next generarion."

FOUR NIJO SCHOOL COLLECTIONS

Four imperially sponsored collections were compiled between the Shin

Chohusenshu of 1235 and the Gyokuyoshu of 1313. These collections all
have titles beginning with either shin (new) or sholeu (sequel), suggesting
in a depressingly accurate manner that the compilers looked back to
past glories rather than ahead to new developments in poetry. The central
figures behind these collections were all poets of the conservative Nijo
school.
The creation of schools of waka poetry began with the sons by
different wives of Tameie, who contested the possession of Teika man-
uscripts that were believed to embody the true traditions of the waka.
The eldest son, Tameuji (1222-1286), founded the Nijo school (named,
like the other schools, after his place of residence in the capital); another
7°8 The Middle Ages

son, Tamenori (1226-1279) established the more innovative Kyogoku

school; and a much younger son named Reizei Tamesuke (1263-1328)
founded the Reizei school which, though generally on good terms with
the Kyogoku poets, had its own horde of manuscripts and poetic
traditions.
The style of Tarneie's most characteristic poetry was perpetuated by
the conservative Nijo school, and the tenth and eleventh chokusenshii,
which he compiled, represented this school at its most typical. Naturally,
there were good poems among the thousands in the four collections,
but to read all the poems in these collections might persuade one that
they contained not one individual voice or original image in this poetry.
This is not true, but much poetry was composed in the manner of a
virtuoso spinning out variations on established themes-not attempting
to surprise but to impress the reader with some slight modification of
a honka that came closer, even very slightly closer, than the original
poem to the heart of the perception or emotion described.

THE GYOKUYOSH/}

The next major imperial collection, the fourteenth, was called the Gyo-
kuyoshu (Jeweled Leaves Collection)." The name itself, probably an
allusion to the Man'yoshu, was a departure from the dreary titles of the
four previous collections, and indicated the desire of the compiler to
return to the roots of Japanese poetry in the Man'yoshu, rejecting the
normal insistence on fidelity to the orthodox line of descent of waka
composition from the Kohmshic," The Gyokuyoshu and the Fugashu
(Collection of Elegance), the seventeenth anthology, were the only two
compiled by poets of the Kyogoku-Reizei school; Nijo school poets edited
all the other Kamakura and Muromachi period chokusenshii down to
the twenty-first, the Shin Zoku Kokinshu (New Collection of Ancient
and Modern Times Continued) of 1439.
The background to the compilation of the Gyokuyoshu was as much
political as literary. The division between the two main schools of poetry
paralleled the division in imperial authority from the middle of the
thirteenth century until late in the fourteenth century. In 1246 the
Emperor Gosaga abdicated in favor of his elder son Gofukakusa, who
reigned from 1246 to 1259. Gofukakusa was in turn obliged by his
father, the in (cloistered emperor), to abdicate in favor of his younger
brother Kameyama, his father's favorite son. Gosaga lived on until 1272,
Waka Poetry of the Kam ak ura and Muromachi Periods 709

acting as long as he lived as the power behind the throne, insofar as it

is possible to speak of imperial "power" at a time when the Hojo family
ruled the country as regents for the shoguns, who at this time were
themselves merely figureheads. Relations between Gofukakusa and Ka-
meyama remained friendly, at least on the surface," until the death of
Gosaga. Two years later, in 1274, Kameyama abdicated in favor of his
son, the Emperor Gouda, much to the annoyance of the partisans of
Gofukakusa, who believed that the throne should have gone to the
senior line of the older brother. Open antagonism over the succession
broke out between followers of the two retired emperors, and it could
be subdued only by the shogunate.
State policy was controlled in almost every instance by the shogunate
officials. It was by their decree that the crown came to alternate more
or less regularly between the senior line (Gofukakusa) and the junior
line (Kameyama), beginning with the successor to Gouda, who abdicated
in 1287, and continuing until the accession to the throne of Godaigo in
1318.39 In the capital the in continued to exercise greater authority than
the reigning emperor, leading to further conflicts between senior and
junior lines. The office of in was discontinued by Gouda in 1321, but
the dynastic dispute, far from subsiding, soon erupted into open warfare.
It may seem surprising that these political events should have had
a direct bearing on the composition of poetry. It was not that poets used
the waka for obviously political ends, composing poetry that would in
some way further the cause of whichever branch of the imperial family
they supported. Regardless of the faction, the poets continued to celebrate
in their poetry not some political cause but the first mist of early spring
or the first cool breeze of autumn. The permissible subjects of waka
had been established at the time of the Kobinshic, and no one was so
indecorous as to compose a waka with openly political content.
All the same, a connection was established between the political and
poetic factions. The bitter disputes among the sons of Tameie for his
estates and treasured documents of poetic lore resulted, as we have seen,
in the creation of schools of poetry. Tameie was of a naturally conserv-
ative bent, although his poetic stance apparently changed in late years
under the influence of his wife Abutsu. She was not only a diarist and
poet," but a resolute woman who was unswervingly determined to obtain
the inheritance from Tameie for her son Reizei Tarnesuke." Her suit
for possession of two of Tarneie's estates, placed before the courts in
Kamakura, was eventually successful (in 1289, after her death) and Reizei
Tamesuke subsequently established close relations with the shogunate.
710 The Middle Ages
The Nijo school, headed by Nijo Tameyo (1251-1338), supported the
junior line (Kameyarna's), and both the Reizei and Kyogoku schools the
senior line (Gofukakusa's),
The command for the compilation of a new imperial collection-
the future Gyokuyoshu-was issued in 1293 by the Emperor Fushimi
(1265-1317), a member of the senior line and a gifted poet who had
been impressed by the poetry and poetic theory of Kyogoku Tamekane
(1254-1332). Fushimi chose four poets of different schools to compile
the collection, but clashes between Kyogoku Tamekane and Nijo Ta-
meyo, over such matters as whether or not Man'voshi; poems should be
included, made it almost impossible for the editors to collaborate.
In 1296 Tamekane, who then held the office of acting middle coun-
selor, suddenly resigned. He had been accused by rivals of having used
his poetry as a means of insinuating himself into political activity. The
shogunate, accepting the truth of these rumors, placed Tamekane under
house arrest." In 1298 he was imprisoned at the shogunate headquarters
in Kyoto, and two months later was sent into exile on the island of
Sado. In the following month the Emperor Fushimi abdicated in favor
of his son, Gofushimi. The cause of his abdication is not known, but it
may be that he felt chagrined over his inability to prevent the shogunate
from exiling the poet he so much admired.
The Nijo poets were delighted to learn of the exile of Tamekane
and abdication of Fushimi. Although Tamekane had made considerable
progress with the compilation of the Gyokuyoshu, this project was
dropped, and the Nijo poets, by command of the Cloistered Emperor
Gouda (and not Gofushimi, the reigning emperor), set about preparing
an imperial collection that accorded with their conservative preferences,
the Shin Gosenshii, the fourth of the Nijo collections that immediately
preceded the Gyokuyoshu. This collection, compiled by Nijo Tameyo,
has so dismal a reputation that critics claim that the poems of his own
that Tameyo chose for the Shin Gosenshii are inferior to those in the
Gyokuyoshu, proof that he not only lacked poetic talent but was incapable
of judging even his own work."
Once again, however, it is necessary to stress that not all the poems
even in a collection with as poor a reputation as the Shin Gosenshu were
inept. Here is one on a spring day by Tameyo, composed on the theme
of "dawn moon in late spring":

tsurenakutc o moon at dawn,

nokoru narai wo prolonging your stay in the sky
kurete yuku with such indifference-
Waka Poetry of the Kam a eura and Muromachi Periods 7II

haru ni oshie yo won't you teach your ways to spring

ariak« no tsuki before it draws to a close?"

Perhaps this poem shows no great originality, but the personification of

the moon and the spring makes it appealing. Other examples of agreeable
Nijo poetry are easily found," but ultimately, the value of a waka lies
in the individual voice of the poet and not in undifferentiated charm.
In 1301 Gofushimi abdicated and was succeeded by Gonijo of the
junior line. This development boded even worse days ahead for the
Kyogoku school; but although the change led immediately to the com-
pilation of the Shin Gosenshii by the Nijo school, it did not result in any
diminution of activity by the Kyogoku poets. At the time there were
five retired emperors," each with a small court of his own. Gouda, as
the in, had the greatest power, but Fushimi, the best poet among the
retired emperors, gathered around him poets of the Kyogoku school
and frequent uta-awase sessions were held at his palace."
The shogunate relented in 1303 and allowed Tamekane to return
to the capital from his place of exile in Sado. This heralded a period of
even greater activity by the Kyogoku school poets, and when Gonijo
died in 1308 and was succeeded by Hanazono of the senior line, the
stage was set for the Kyogoku poets to compile an imperial collection
of their own. But first there was a clash between Nijo Tameyo and
Kyogoku Tamekane. It will be recalled that Fushimi in 1293 had asked
four poets to compile a new imperial collection. During the years of
Tamekane's exile, two of the other poets died, and Tameyo himself had
withdrawn. It seemed that the Gyokuyoshu had died a natural death,
but Tamekane, back from exile, insisted that he still had a mandate to
compile the collection. The rumor spread at the court that Tamekane
had been appointed as the sale compiler. Tameyo, much upset by the
rumor, sent his son to ask Tamekane his intentions. Tamekane replied
that he did indeed consider himself to be the only one in a position to
make the compilation, and he suggested that if Tameyo did not like
this arrangement he should make representations at once to the
shogunate."
When Tameyo received this news, he was furious. He sent a mes-
senger to the shogunate and also formally protested to the court alleging
that Tamekane was not fit to be the compiler because he had been exiled
and, further, was an illegitimate son. Tamekane responded in equally
acrimonious terms. He admitted that he was illegitimate, but gave pre-
cedents for illegitimate sons' having been designated as the compilers
of imperial collections; moreover, he insisted, he had received personal
71 2 The Middle Ages
instruction from Tameie (the grandfather of both men), unlike Tameyo,
who had been taught by another man and had received neither written
nor oral instruction from Tameie. He declared that it would be intol-
erable if a man of no poetic ability were chosen to edit a collection,
solely on the basis of his seniority."
The recriminations continued between the two men. During the
course of these heated exchanges there was hardly a mention of poetic
practice. Fushimi, in his capacity as the original sponsor of the collection,
was the recipient of these letters. His inclination was to appoint Ta-
mekane as the sole compiler, but he feared this might upset the sho-
gunate: Tameyo was the poetry tutor of both the shogun and the Hojo
regent. However, word was received from Kamakura in the summer
of 1311 that there was no objection to Tarnekane's compiling the col-
lection by himself."
The Gyokuyoshu was presented to the ex-Emperor Fushimi by Kyo-
goku Tamekane in 1312.51 Of all the imperially sponsored collections,
it contains the largest number of waka, 2,796 in all. Perhaps, as has been
suggested," Tamekane feared that the Kyogoku and Reizei poets might
never again have the chance to compile a collection, and for this reason
included as many poems from these schools as possible.
The choice of poets for inclusion in the Gyokuyoshu provided a clear
indication of the change in the poetical preferences of the editors: of
the 182 poets, 113 were published in an imperial collection for the first
time." Among the poets most generously represented, the majority were
affiliated with the Kyogoku school, including the Retired Emperor Fu-
shimi with 93 poems, Saionji Sanekane (1249-1322) with 62 poems,
Tamekane's sister Kyogoku Tameko (1252?-1316?) with 60 poems, the
Empress Eifukumon'in (1271-1342) with 49 poems, and (modestly) Ta-
mekane with 36 poems. Teika, Shunzei, and Saigyo were also favored,
but there was only a token selection of poems of the Nijo school.
The Gyokuyoshu has never been studied with the care accorded the
Kokinshi; or the Shin Kokinshu or even the Gosenshii, but it has had its
admirers. Toki Zemmaro (1885-1980), an important tanka poet" who
published several studies devoted to Kyogoku Tamekane, wrote about
the Gyokuyoshu:

Seen against the background of the history of the waka from ancient
times to the middle ages, there is something truly startling about
the freshness of the Gyokuyoshu. A desire to break through the
traditional methods of the chokusenshu is apparent at every turn.
It is distinguished among the twenty-one collections by its rare pas-
Waka Poetry of the Kam aliura and Muromachi Periods 713

sion, evidenced by the number of the poems (the largest of any

collection), the grandness of its scale, the abundance and vividness
of its nature poetry, the respect offered the Man'yoshii in both quality
and quantity, its unique manner of carrying on the Shin Kokinshii
traditions; and again, by the boldness of its selection of works by
unknown poets and its policy of excluding compositions on stereo-
typed set topics. With respect to the division of the collection into
books, love poems (always difficult for Kyogoku poets) have been
reduced to five books, while the miscellaneous poems have been
increased to five books, in place of the traditional four books or
fewer, making it possible to include many poems on freely chosen
topics. Again, the category of travel poems was freshly considered.
A great many poems devoted to the contemplation of nature-about
twice the number of poems on love-were selected with the intent
of employing the vivid Kyogoku style of portraying nature as the
framework for a new and real fusion between place and nature."

It may be wondered why, if this praise is to be believed, the Gyo-

kuyoshii has left so little impression on the history of Japanese literature.
In part this can be explained in terms of the overwhelming strength of
the Nijo school during the following centuries. Not only were all but
one of the subsequent imperial anthologies compiled by Nijo poets but
most of the important waka poets of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and
sixteenth centuries were conservative in their poetic tastes even if not
formally associated with the Nijo school. Again, the innovations of the
Kyogoku poets, though important historically, have long since ceased
to startle readers, and it takes a certain effort to remember that some
poems that today seem innocuously attractive were interpreted in their
day as acts of defiance.
The lasting attraction of the Gyokuyoshii can be measured in terms
of the successful works composed by a very few poets. Three of the
many poets were outstanding-s-Kyogoku Tamekane, the Emperor Fu-
shimi, and Fushimi's consort, the Empress Eifukumon'in.
Of all the Gyokuyoshii (and Fiigashii) poets, surely Kyogoku Ta-
mekane was the best. He not only excelled in poetic composition but
his book of criticism, TamekanekYo Wakasho (Lord Tamekanc's Notes
on Poetry)," was the most important expression of the theoretical basis
of Kyogoku school poetry. In this work Tamekane insisted above all
on the kokoro, or feeling, expressed by a poem, and he accorded less
importance to the diction. As a matter of fact, most of his poems were
on topics that had claimed the attention of waka poets ever since the
 The Middle Ages

days of the Kokinshu, and his poetic vocabulary hardly differed from
Tsurayuki's, but his close observation of nature enabled him to impart
freshness even to hackneyed themes:

eda ni moru Sifting through branches,

asahi no kage no the rays of the morning sun
sukunaki ni are still very few-
suzushisa fukaki and how deep is the coolness
take no oku kana back among the bamboos!"

There is nothing startling in the material of the poem, but two words
stand out: sukunaki (few) and fukaki (deep). These ordinary adjectives
are peculiarly effective because unexpected: it was unusual to speak of
morning sunlight as sukunaki, and evokes an image of a bamboo grove
so thickly overgrown that only a few rays of sunlight find their way
inside. Because the sunlight cannot penetrate very far into the bamboos,
the coolness has a "depth" that is not easily dissipated. The adjective
fukaki is used with both what it follows and precedes: "the cool is deep"
"deep within a bamboo grove." The poem as a whole conveys with a
minimum of words and images a convincing picture of an early morning
scene that suggests actual observation. Another outstanding poem by
Tamekane has even more vivid imagery:

neya no ue wa It makes no sound

tsumoreru yuki ni On the snow piled on the roof
oto mo sede Of my bed chamber;
yoliogiru arare But the hail, slashing sideways,
mado tataku nari" Rattles against the window.

The poem creates an impression of novelty with two words, the first
the verb yokogiru, meaning to cut slantwise, and the second mado, a
window-words that were unexpected in the context of Kamakura
poetry." The contrast between the heavy blanket of snow on the roof,
absorbing every sound, and the volatile hail beating against the window
exemplifies the antithesis between the still and the moving often found
in Gyokuyoshu poems." Mention of snow, needless to say, was in no way
unusual in a winter poem, but snow at night (indicated by the mention
of the bed chamber) is typical of the attention given to dawn, twilight,
and night by the Kyogoku poets."
One other feature of this poem is worthy of note: the extra syllable
in the first line. Poets as far back as the Kokinshu had occasionally
Waka Poetry of the Ka m ak ura and Muromachi Periods 715

written lines containing an extra syllable (though never a line with one
syllable too few), but the Kyogoku poets wrote such lines so often as to
make ji-amari, as the practice is known, a typical feature of their schcol."
To add a single syllable to a poem is hardly revolutionary, even when
measured by the yardstick of traditional court poetry, but it serves to
distinguish Kyogoku poetry from the poetry of the Nijo poets, who
rarely permitted themselves such liberty.
The most interesting poems in the Gyokuyoshii are complex and
sometimes obscure, in contrast to the easy intelligibility of the poems by
the Nijo poets. Even when a poem seems to be no more than a straight-
forward description of a natural scene, it may "conceal" a Buddhist text,
as various allegorical poems (more in the Fiigashii than in the Gyoku-
yoshii) demonstrate. Again, Chinese poetic practice of the Sung dynasty
seems to have inspired the preference for hazy or dimly lit landscapes,
rather than for the more conventionally admired brilliance of cherry
blossoms or tinted maple leaves. In the following poem by Kyogoku
Tamekane the brightness of the crimson plum blossoms is seen through
the mistiness of spring rain:

ume no hana On an evening

kurenai niou aglow with the crimson
yiigure ni of plum flowers,
yanagi nabikite the willow boughs sway softly;
harusame zo furu and the spring rain falls."

Tamekane was arrested again in 1315. He had been denounced to

the shogunate by Saionji Sanekane, formerly his disciple in waka poetry.
This time Tamekane was accused of having flaunted his wealth and
prosperity during a visit to Nara, where he conducted himself like a
reigning emperor, surrounded by a great entourage of nobles, court
ladies, and priests. A passage in Essays in Idleness recalls the scene of his
arrest:

When the Major Counsellor and Lay Priest Tamekane had been
arrested and led off to Rokuhara surrounded by soldiers, Lord Su-
ketomo saw him near Ichijo. He exclaimed, "How I envy him! What
a marvellous last remembrance to have of this life!"64

Suketomo's envy would be ironically satisfied in 1324 when he was

exiled to Sado and put to death. Tamekane also died in exile, but the
 The Middle Ages

place of his last exile had been moved closer to the capital; he died in
Kawachi in 1332 at the age of seventy-eight.
The large number of poems by the Emperor Fushimi included in
the Gyokuyoshu was not a sign of sycophancy; he was a distinguished
and exceptionally prolific member of the Kyogoku school whose poems
would have ornamented any collection. Perhaps his best-known poem
is on the unusual topic of "lightning":

yOl no ma no All through the evening,

murakumozutai From one cloud bank to the next,
kage miete The flashes travel:
yama no ha meguru Circling the edge of the hills,
aki no inazuma" The bursts of autumn lightning.

Not only is this poem unconventional, but it seems to be the poet's

actual perception, rather than a variation on a set theme. Fushimi was
also prominently represented in the Fugashu, which contains another of
his poems on lightning:

nioi shirami The glow is so white

tsuki no chikazuku That flashes of lightning
yama no ha no Pale in its brilliance
hikari ni yowaru By the edge of the mountains
inazuma no kage 66 At the approach of the moon.

There is more artifice than truth in this description of a moonrise that

dims even the lightning flashes. The poem is a tour de force: three
different words are used for "light" to suggest the different qualities of
the light of the sky, the moon, and lightning. Another Fugashu poem
by Fushimi also contains striking imagery:

sayo fukete As the night grows late

yado moru inu no The barking of a watchdog
koe takash: Noisily echoes
mura shizuka naru Far beyond the moon over
tsuki no ochihata'" A village wrapped in silence.

The evocation of the silence of a village with the sound of a dog's

barking recalls Basho's haiku on the noisy cicadas at Yamadera: "How
still it is! / Stinging into the stones, / The locusts' tri11."68
Konishi [in'ichi, in the course of an illuminating essay on the char-
Waka Poetry of the Kam a eura and Murom ach i Periods 717

acteristics of Gyokuyoshu poetry, mentioned the frequent use of one

particular poetic device-a momentary external stimulus that causes the
speaker to become aware of something that might otherwise have re-
mained unnoticed, as in another poem by Fushimi:

fukenu to mo The hour grew late,

nagamuru hodo wa yet so intent was my gaze
oboenu ni I didn't know it-
tsuki yori nishi no until I saw so little left
sora zo sukunaki of the sky west of the moon."

Even those who have praised the poetry of the Kyogoku school
generally admit that love poetry was not their forte. Konishi took ex-
ception to this commonly accepted view, insisting that of all the poems
in the Gyokuyoshu, the love poems most clearly exhibit the characteristic
features of the collection." These poems seem bare because (unlike the
love poetry typical of other collections) they often contain not a single
image;" but sometimes they are effective precisely because the impression
of direct, even unliterary expression of feelings is not weakened by
conventionally pretty imagery. This poem by Fushimi illustrates such
an instance:
koyoi toe ya Come to me tonight-
nochi no ikuyo wa and if all your promises
ikutabi no on nights to come
yoshi itsuwari to should turn out to be lies,
naraba naru tomo then let them be lies."

Konishi discovered a strain that runs through many of the love

poems-an attempt to analyze the speaker's emotions by addressing
them or by keeping them, as it were, at arm's length so as to better
discern them, instead of outspokenly declaring one's feelings in the
manner of earlier waka. In the following by Kyogoku Tamekane's sister,
Tameko, the speaker addresses her heart, which personifies her
emotions:

wa ga kokoro o my heart,
urami ni mukuc If you are turning to resentment,
uramihate yo Do so to the limit,
aware ni nareba For if you turn to weaker sorrow,
shinobigataki wo It will be impossible to bear."
 The Middle Ages

Sometimes, too, love and other emotions are spoken of as if they

possess visible form, as in a poem (written in the persona of a woman)
by the statesman Saionji Sanekane:

koishisa wa My yearning for him

nagame no sue nt After endless pondering
katachi shite Has taken on shape:
namida ni ukabu Floating in a blur of tears,
toyama no matsu" A pine on a distant hill.

The pine into which the speaker's longing has been transformed is
blurred by her tears, but seems to be a symbol of her grief over a lover
who no longer visits. It was unusual for poets to speak of emotions
taking on shape or for a pine to be used as a symbol of this kind (though
the pun on matsu, meaning both "pine" and "wait for," frequently
appeared in poetry). The Gyokuyoshu is notable for the number of poems
with unexpected perceptions expressed in unusual combinations of lan-
guage. Konishi pointed out examples in the Gyokuyoshu and Fugashu:
the adjective omoki (heavy) used to characterize the sound of a vesper
bell, or "the deep color of autumn" mentioned in a poem by the Princess
Yugimon'in (1270-1307), the daughter of Gofukakusa and sister of
Fushimi."
Eifukumon'in, Fushimi's consort, had the melancholy distinction of
being the last important woman waka poet from the fourteenth until
the twentieth century. She was a member of the Saionji family at a time
when the Saionji were emulating the Fujiwara of the Heian period in
marrying their daughters to emperors.
In the sixth month of 1288 Sane kane sent his eldest daughter, the
future Eifukumon'in, to the palace as a nyogo (imperial concubine) in
the service of the Emperor Fushimi, who was then twenty-three. Two
months later she was proclaimed as his official consort. Although Ei-
fukumon'in was childless, the marriage was happy, and the royal couple
both excelled at composing waka in the style of the Kyogoku school.
In 1298 she resigned her position as consort to enter Buddhist orders
with the name Eifukumon'in.
Her earliest-known poems date from 1297, but she did not display
any special competence for another twenty years. Shortly before Fushimi
died in 1317, he bade his son, the Emperor Gofushimi, to consult with
Eifukumon'in and the former kampaku Takatsukasa Fuyuhira in the
event he planned to command the compilation of a new imperial col-
lection. Fushimi's high opinion of her poetic ability was otherwise dern-
Waka Poetry of the Ka m aleura and Muromachi Periods 719

onstrated by his deathbed gifts to her of manuscripts of the Kokinshu,

Gosenshii, and Shiashi; in his own hand. At the time Kyogoku Tamekane
was in exile, and Eifukumon'in became in effect the central figure of
the Kyogoku school."
The first poems by Eifukumon'in to appear in an imperially spon-
sored collection were three included in the Shin Gosenshii (1303),
compiled by the Nijo school. This was only token participation, but
forty-nine of her poems were chosen for the Gyokuyoshu, and in the
Fugashu sixty-nine of her poems appear, second only to Fushimi with
eighty-five. A few of her poems were also included in three of the last
four imperial collections.
Little is especially striking in the poems of Eifukumon'in, but as
one reads it is difficult not to be moved by the felicity of expression and
the suggestion of genuine emotion (kokoro) behind the words. One of
the first poems to reveal her poetic talent (composed in 1303, when she
was thirty-two) was the following:

kaku bakari If even now

uki ga ue dani in the midst of rejection
aware naru I still love him so,
aware nariseba then what would be my feelings
ikaga aramashi if he were to love me back?"

This poem, typically for a love poem in the style of the Kyogoku school,
contains no imagery; indeed, there is hardly an image in any of Eifu-
kumon'in's many love poems. The echoing of the words aware naru of
the third line in the aware nariseba of the next line is also characteristic
of her poetry; Brower and Miner said of her that among the Kyogoku
poets she was "the fondest of the various balances, contrasts, and par-
allelisms possible in [apanese.''" Her adherence to the Kyogoku school
is also suggested by her use of ji-amari:

tsune yori mo At the very moment

namida kakikurasu When, more depressed than usual,
ori shimo are I yielded to tears,
kusaki wo miru mo I saw the grasses and trees
arne no yugure 79 Soaked in the rainy twilight.

The second and third lines of this poem have an extra syllable each, a
suggestion perhaps of griefs too great to squeeze into the normal struc-
ture. The division in the poem between the first three lines that describe
72 0 The Middle Ages

the speaker's grief and the last two lines concerning the scene outside
is typical of Kyogoku poetry." The time of day of the poem-the twilight
hour-is also characteristic, as is the use of the pathetic fallacy of imag-
ining that the grasses and trees are also weeping in the rain even as she
weeps in her room.

kawachidori The river plovers-

tsuki yo wo samumi Are they unable to sleep
tnezu are ya This cold moonlit night?
nesamuru goto ni Every time I wake from sleep
koe no kikoyuru8! I can hear their voices call.

The empathy between the speaker and the subject is typical of Eifu-
kumon'in's poems. The season, winter, was also well suited to the lonely
quality of her poetry, though she naturally composed even more poems
about spring and autumn.

THE FUCASHU

Eifukumon'in did not live to see the completion and presentation of the
Fugashu. In between the Gyokuyoshu and Fugashu there were two col-
lections compiled by the Nijo school, neither of much literary distinction.
In 1308 the Emperor Hanazono (1297-1348), a son of Fushimi, came
to the throne as a boy of eleven and reigned until 1318 when he was
obliged to abdicate in favor of Godaigo. It was during his reign that
the Gyokuyoshu was compiled, though he was too young to participate
in the editing. After his abdication he spent much of his time in literary
and scholarly pursuits. His diary in kambun, Hanazono-in Shinki (Diary
of the Cloistered Emperor Hanazono)," which covers the years 1310-
1322, is an important source of information on poetic activity during
the late Kamakura and early Muromachi periods.
Hanazono lived for thirty years after his abdication, a period when
the country was repeatedly torn by warfare." As a member of the senior
line, he suffered particularly during the Kemmu Restoration of 1333-
1336, when Godaigo of the junior line established a government in
Kyoto intended to assert imperial authority after centuries of rule by
surrogates." Godaigo was no friend of the senior line, and Hanazono,
along with the ex-Emperor Gofushimi and the Emperor Kogon, was
forced to flee the capital. He took refuge in a remote monastery in Mino
province and did not return to the capital until after Ashikaga Takauji
Waka Poetry of the Ka m a leura and Muromachi Periods 721

had restored the senior line of emperors to the throne in 1336. Hanazono
lived in retirement until his death in 1348.
In 1343 work was begun on the compilation of a new imperial
collection, the Fugashu. Hanazono took an active part in the work and
contributed both the Japanese and Chinese prefaces," but (as recent
research has shown) it was not Hanazono, as long believed, but an-
other former emperor, Kogon (1313- 1364) who actually compiled the
Fugashu. H6 This was the first imperial collection compiled by an em-
peror.
Kogon, the son of Gofushimi, was the favorite nephew of Eifuku-
mon'in and had taken part in various poetry gatherings at her palace.
He first emerged into prominence in 1331, when the shogunate officials
in Kamakura, getting wind of Godaigo's plans to overthrow their gov-
ernment, sent a strong force to the capital. Godaigo fled, and by com-
mand of the shogunate Kogon was proclaimed the emperor. His
enthronement ceremony was, however, postponed until the next year
in the hope that Godaigo would be captured and with him the imperial
regalia. Godaigo refused to abdicate or surrender the regalia, and two
emperors ruled at the same time. Godaigo was captured and banished
to the Oki islands in 1332, but he escaped the next year and returned
in triumph to the capital. Kogon had no choice but to abdicate; he had
officially ruled for less than a year. Kogon is known as the first of the
Northern Court emperors, the term referring to the period from 1336
to 1392 when there were two courts, one in Kyoto (the senior or Northern
Court) and the other in Yoshino (the junior or Southern Court). After
three years in power, Godaigo was forced in 1336 to abandon the capital
and take refuge in Yoshino.
In 1352 Kogon took the Buddhist tonsure and during the following
years devoted himself chiefly to religion. Many sovereigns had entered
orders without noticeably changing their way of life, but Kogon was
deeply religious and, especially toward the close of his life, devoted
himself to prayers for the repose of those who had died in the wars. In
1362 he visited the Southern Court emperor, perhaps in the hope that
this might bring about peace. In the following year he founded the Zen
temple [osho-ji to the north of Kyoto and lived there in the utmost
simplicity. Shortly before he died in 1364 he gave instructions that there
be no elaborate funeral ceremony, but that he be buried in the earth
without any other marker than the trees that might of themselves grow
upon his graveY
Kogon was an accomplished poet. His waka were included not only
in the Fugashu, but in several collections edited by the Nijo school."
72 2 The Middle Ages

Among his poems the most affecting are those with religious or hu-
manitarian overtones.

terikumori Burning sun or clouds,

samuki atsuki mo Frigid cold or searing heat,
toki toshite Each has its season;
tami ni kokoro no In the hearts of my people
yasumu ma mo nashi'" There is no time even to rest.

This poem has no specific religious background (it is included among

the "miscellaneous" poems in the Fugashu rather than those devoted to
Buddhism), but it expresses compassion for the common people who,
afflicted by heat and cold by turns, have no time to think of anything
else. Kogon in his wanderings saw more of the life of the people than
emperors who never left the capital, and this may have inspired his
compassion. The chiasmus in the first and second lines provides a wel-
come poetic touch. Another poem of social concern is even more
effective:

samuka rashi How cold they must be!

tami no waraya wo When I think of my people
omou nt wa In their huts of straw,
fusuma no nalea no I feel ashamed of myself
ware mo hazukashi" As I lie under blankets.

Such poems make up only a small part of the poems in the Fugashu,
but specialists in the poetry of this period claim that they can sense
under the surface of poems on the usual set topics-flowers, birds, the
moon, snow-a tension intimated sometimes in the prefatory notes,
sometimes in the words themselves." The prominence of poems on
mountain retreats, not true of the Gyokuyoshu, also suggests an even
darker and lonelier world. On the whole, however, the poems much
resemble not only those in the Gyokuyoshu but often the Shin Kokinshu:

yuhi sasu The evening sun shines

ochiba ga ue ni over fallen leaves still wet
shigure sugite from a passing shower;
niwa ni midaruru in the garden, a confusion
ukigumo no kage of shadows from floating clouds."

One of the casualties of the warfare was the Kyogoku school. In

1351 the general Ashikaga Takauji, who had hitherto backed the North-
Waka Poetry of the Ka m ak ura and Muromachi Periods 723

ern Court, ostensibly surrendered to the Southern Court. Gomurakami,

the Southern Court emperor, thereupon invalidated the offices of Suko,
the Northern Court emperor, and his crown prince, Naohito. In the
following year Southern Court troops occupied Kyoto. When they left,
they took with them three former emperors of the Northern Court-
Kogon, Komyo, and Suko, together with Naohito." Although this was
surely not the intent of the Southern Court soldiers, they destroyed the
Kyogoku school by depriving it of its last imperial patrons." From this
time on until the nineteenth century the court unswervingly favored the
Nijo school.

Critics generally agree that the Fiigashii was the last important imperial
collection: the reputation of the four more compiled by Nijo poets is
dismal, though some good poets were represented." There were nu-
merous vicissitudes in the warfare of the second half of the fourteenth
century, but the Northern Court-the senior line-was most often in
control of the capital. The Nijo poets found a way of accommodating
themselves with the senior line, though it had previously favored the
Kyogoku-Reizei poets, and subsequently flourished in the capital.
Among the Nijo poets four priests-Ton'a (1289-1372), [oben (c. 1256-
c. 1343), Keiun (c. 1295-C. 1370), and Kenko (c. 1253-C. 1352)-were
renowned as the Four Deva Kings of the Waka." The poems of these
men are never less than competent, and occasionally they have charm,
as in this waka by [oben in the Shin Zoleu Kakinshii:

ukimi ni mo Did it perhaps

chigiri arite ya pledge to stay this night with me
yadoruran despite my sad state?
namida itowanu The moonlight on my sleeves
sode no tsukikage shows no aversion to my tears."

But poems of literary interest are rare in the imperial collections of the
time, though the private collections of these poets are of greater value.
The only collection of the late fourteenth century that is still read
(though even then to a very limited extent) is the Shin'yoshu (Collection
of New Leaves, 1381), compiled by Prince Munenaga (1311-1385?), the
eighth son of Godaigo and chief general of Godaigo's forces, who fought
valiantly in various parts of the country, especially in the mountainous
 The Middle Ages

province of Shinano. His talents as a waka poet, early displayed, may

have been nurtured by his mother, a daughter of the poet Nijo Tameyo.
One unusual feature of this collection is that all the poems were by
contemporaries. The poets were all associated with the Southern Court.
The compilation of the Shin'yoshu seems to have been inspired by
indignation that poems by persons associated with the Southern Court
had been excluded from the fourteenth-century imperial collections. The
neglect was understandable in the case of the Fugashu, since it was
compiled by the Kyogoku school, but the Nijo compilers of later col-
lections had no less adamantly refused to include poems by men of their
own school because, despite their poetic orthodoxy, they were fighting
against the Kyoto court.
The Shin'yoshu, despite this unusual background, was closely mod-
eled on earlier collections: it was in twenty books divided in the cus-
tomary manner into seasonal, travel, love, and other poetic subjects.
Even readers resigned to the probability that many poems in the
Shin'yoshu will closely resemble those in collections compiled under more
tranquil circumstances are likely to hope that at least some poems will
be imbued with genuine feeling. It is hard to imagine that nothing
would be reflected of the experiences of the authors, who had been
forced to live in the mountains, far from the capital, where they ex-
perienced hardships that went beyond disappointment over the falling
of cherry blossoms or the loneliness of an autumn dusk; but the rewards
of the Shin'yoshu are limited.
The preface (in Japanese), written by Prince Munenaga, makes brief
reference to the background: "Toward the beginning of the Genko era
[1331-33] within Akitsushima [a poetic name for Japan] the sound of
the waves was not quiet. In the region of the Kasuga plain the light of
beacon fires was often seen, but before long what had been disturbed
was controlled, and a return was made to the proper Way. Afterward,
the administration of rites in the palace returned to the old paths, and
the people of the land again enjoyed the far-spreading imperial bounty.
The emperor ruled the country entirely according to the principle of
subduing the wicked and destroying the rebellious, but it seems to be
the way of the world that what is once well-ruled will again become
disordered.... "98 The events referred to in this passage are Godaigo's
revolt against the Hojo regents, the subsequent warfare, the reestab-
lishment of imperial authority during the Kemmu Restoration, and the
collapse of imperial rule in Kyoto. Munenaga felt obliged to maintain
the decorum and indirection of Ki no Tsurayuki's preface to the Ko-
kinshu; but if suggestion is a legitimate and even admirable way of
Waka Poetry of the Kam a leura and Muromachi Periods 725

evoking regret over the coming of old age or the realization that one
is no longer loved, it is grossly inadequate in this particular context. To
say of the outbreak of Godaigo's momentous struggle to restore imperial
authority merely that "the sound of waves was not quiet" (nami no oto
shizuka narazu) is ludicrously restrained.
Prince Munenaga is generally considered to have been the most
accomplished poet of the Shin'yoshii. He also compiled a collection of
his own work, Rikashii (Damson Blossom Collection, 1371), some of the
poems being the same as in the Shin'voshii. The prose prefaces to Mu-
nenaga's poems are usually far more affecting than the poems themselves.
He led a wildly romantic life, which could easily have provided a poet
writing in a less intractable form than the waka with material for poetry
of intense and varied emotions. In 1326, at the age of fourteen, Munenaga
became a priest at the Tendai monastery on Mount Hiei and rapidly
rose in the Buddhist hierarchy. Five years later, when his father, the
Emperor Godaigo, staged his abortive revolt against the Hojo regents,
Munenaga descended from Mount Hiei with a band of armed priests
to aid in the fighting. After the defeat of Godaigo's forces Munenaga
was banished to the province of Sanuki. When Godaigo returned from
exile in 1333, Munenaga led his troops into Kyoto. After the victory, he
resumed his life as a monk on Mount Hiei. In 1336 Ashikaga Takauji's
army drove Godaigo from the capital, and for a time he took refuge
with his son on Mount Hiei. Once again, Munenaga returned to the
laity to serve as a general, and for the next thirty-five years he led the
Southern Court resistance to the Ashikaga family and the Northern
Court. In 1374 the aged Munenaga withdrew from his stronghold in
the province of Shinano and went to Yoshino, where he spent his time
mainly in composing poetry. But again, at the age of sixty-five, he was
ordered to take command of loyalist forces in Shinano, where he re-
mained until 1380. In 1381 he compiled (he Shin'yoshii. This is the last
appearance of Munenaga in the chronicles of the time, but there is reason
to believe that he died at the age of seventy-three in 1385 in command
of an army, this time in the eastern provinces.
Munenaga's long career of loyalist devotion to the cause of the
Southern Court and the many vicissitudes he suffered have caused some
Japanese scholars to liken him to Tu Fu, but when we compare the war
poems of the great Chinese poet with Munenaga's, we are likely to be
stunned by the inadequacy of the latter, an inadequacy more of the
medium than of the poet. Consider, for example, the poem Munenaga
wrote in 1338 on his first visit to Yoshino, after his army had been
disastrously defeated in the east. A relative in the capital, Nijo Tamesada
 The Middle Ages

(1293-1360), had sent him a poem urging Munenaga to leave Yoshino

and return to Kyoto. He replied:

furusato wa Yes, it is true,

koishiku to te mo I long for my home of old,
mi Yoshino no But how can I desert
hana no saltari u/o Holy Yoshino, now that
ikaga misuten'" The cherries are in full bloom?

By implication, of course, Munenaga is saying in the poem that he will

not abandon the cause of Godaigo in order to live a more agreeable life
in the capital. The poem is graceful, if not distinguished; but if we try
to imagine the response Tu Fu would have made to anyone urging him
to desert to the opposing side, we can see how inadequate Munenaga's
well-bred reply was. The weight of conventional poetic expression (es-
pecially for a Nijo poet) apparently made it impossible even for a talented
poet to present a more full-blooded statement of his emotions.
At times Munenaga's genteel idiom becomes almost frivolous in view
of the circumstances. In the same year as the previous poem he was
sailing in a convoy across Ise Bay. The preface to his poem continues,
"We intended to proceed to Totomi, but while we were in the Sea of
Tenryu, as I believe the place is called, the wind and waves became
exceedingly rough, and for two or three days we drifted, unable to make
shore. The other ships in the convoy all sank at one place or another,
and our ship just barely made it to the harbor of Shiroha, borne there
by the waves. Hardly knowing what we did, we managed to bring our
ship to shore, but all night long we felt miserable in our sea-drenched
clothes." After such a preface we are prepared for a poem of stark
intensity, but instead we find:

ikadc hosu I have no idea

mono to mo shirazu How to dry the clothes I wear:
toma yakata In a rush-thatched hut
katashiku sode no The sleeve I spread out wrinkles
yoru no uranamir" In the night waves from the bay.

It is clear that Munenaga spent an uncomfortable night in the hut, but

what were his feelings when he saw the ships bearing his companions
sink? Or his own on miraculously getting ashore? The preface tells us
a little, but the poem itself, even allowing that wet sleeves always suggest
tears, is hopelessly inadequate. The use of katashiku sode (single sleeve
Waka Poetry of the Kam aleura and Muromachi Periods 727

spread out) is hackneyed; and the pivot word yoru, which means both
"wrinkle" (as the predicate for "sleeve") and "night" (as a modifier for
"waves"), though it adds some content to the poem, is inappropriately
clever.
Munenaga's poem on the death of the Emperor Godaigo reveals
more genuine feeling, but here, too, the use of hackneyed imagery
weakens the effect. Once again, the preface is more powerful than the
poem: "Faint reports had reached us that the former emperor had passed
away on the sixteenth day of the eighth month of 1339, but being
completely unable to believe that these reports were true, we spent days
of uncertainty. Yet all the rumors that reached us, from whatever
quarter, spoke of the same tragic event, and we had no choice in the
end but to accept them. Even then, we felt as though it were a dream,
and our dwellings deep in the mountains, lonely enough even without
such tidings, seemed more forlorn than ever. Toward the end of the
ninth month, when the skies were more lowering than usual and the
showers of tears that fell among us were unceasing, it occurred to me
that the leaves in Yoshino must have been dyed a thousand times over
in tears of blood, as had our own, and I sent a message to Lord Suketsugu,
the intendant, urging him not to let the maple leaves scatter, and to
instruct others to the same effect. I took the opportunity to enclose some
tinted leaves from Ii Castle."!" The poem follows:

omou nt mo I realize now

nao iro asaki That these autumn maple leaves
momiji kana Are still pale of hue;
sonata no yama wa How the rains must have fallen
ikaga shigururu In the mountains where you are!

The prose is both more moving and more suggestive than the poem.
The prose relates Munenaga's initial disbelief that his father, so long
the central figure of the Southern Court, could have died, his terrible
grief when the truth became inescapable, and his concern lest, with the
death of Godaigo, the Yoshino forces would scatter like autumn maple
leaves. By contrast, the poem relies on the conceit that the grief which
inspired his tears has made his tears redder (they are tears of blood)
even than the autumn leaves he is sending with his letter; at the same
time, he imagines that the grief must be still greater in Yoshino.
There can be no doubting Munenaga's sincerity, but the form and
traditions of the waka made it difficult, perhaps impossible, for him to
be convincing. For centuries the subject matter of the poems composed
 The Middle Ages

at the court had been restricted almost exclusively to the appreciation

of the seasons or the remembrances of unhappy love affairs. The waka
could evoke such emotions poignantly; the subject and the form of the
poetry were perfectly matched. But when the poets of the Southern
Court were faced with the necessity of expressing unfamiliar and pow-
erful themes, they became tongue-tied.
Munenaga's case is striking because he was a talented poet, though
critics have also singled out for praise Munenaga's disciple, the Buddhist
monk Kouri (also known by his lay name, Kazari'in Nagachika, (1347-
1429).102 Koun, more fortunate than Munenaga, lived to see the reuni-
fication of the country in 1392 and moved back to the capital, where
he frequented poetry gatherings attended by the shoguns. His poetry,
in the Nijo tradition, is pleasant but unmemorable:

shigeriau Beneath the new green

sahura ga shita no in the shade of a cherry tree,
yiisuzumi I take the evening cool-
haru wa ulearishi waiting for the breezes
kaze no mataruru that upset me last spring.'?'

The poem probably means exactly what it says. One might have wished
for an allegorical meaning, but apparently there is none.
Of the other Shin'yoshii poets the most impressive are three emperors
who lived in Yoshino-Godaigo, Gomurakami, and Chokei. The col-
lection as a whole is a disappointment for most modern readers, but in
times of war and crisis Japanese have found inspiration in poems-and
especially in the prefaces-that evoke the heroism of the Southern Court
and its defenders.'?'

The priest Shotetsu was the last important waka poet of the Muromachi
period. It might even be argued that he was the last major poet before
the twentieth century who chose to express himself in the waka. In
Shotetsu's time the waka had been displaced by renga as the poetic
medium of the most important poets, and during the Tokugawa period
the haiku would be the dominant poetic form mainly because of Basho,
the greatest poet of the era. Shotetsu belonged to the tradition of the
court poets of the past, and he wrote his poems on the customary themes,
but exceptional skill enabled him to create individual poetry. He was
Waka Poetry of the Ka m aliura and Muromachi Periods 729

unusually prolific: he lost twenty thousand poems when his hermitage

was destroyed by fire in 1432, but managed to write another eleven
thousand waka that are preserved in his Sokonshu (Grass Roots Collec-
tion), probably the largest collection of waka by any recognized poet.
Shotetsu came originally from a military family in the province of
Bitchu, but was taken while still a boy to Kyoto. In Shotetsu Monogatari
(Tales of Shotetsu, c. 1450),105 a work that mixes autobiography and
criticism, he related that he showed aptitude for composing poetry even
as a small child, and that his first poem was written on a leaf offered
to the gods as part of the celebration of the Tanabata Festival.!" When
he was fourteen another priest, discovering that Shotetsu enjoyed writing
poetry, suggested that they visit an elderly magistrate (bugyo) called
Jibu,107 or Civil Administrator, who lived nearby in Kyoto and was
known as a lover of poetry. After some hesitation (he was embarrassed
to be seen because his forelock had been shavedj.!" Shotetsu allowed
himself to be taken to the magistrate's house. Here is his account of
what happened:

The Lay Priest and Civil Administrator.l" at the time a venerable,

white-haired gentleman more than eighty years old, came out to
meet us. He told me, "These days one never hears of children
composing poetry, but when I was young it used to be quite common.
How charming of you! I have a poetry gathering every month on
the twenty-fifth. Please do attend. Here are the subjects for this
month." So saying, he himself wrote down the topics for me. There
were three, each written with four Chinese characters: idle moon!'?
late at night, distant geese over twilight mountains, and a love affair
not followed by a next-morning letter. This happened at the begin-
ning of the eighth month.
On the twenty-fifth I went to attend the meeting. Inside, Reizei
no Tamemasa [the great-great-grandson of Teika and the head of
the Reizei school] and Reizei no Tamekuni'!' sat in one place of
honor, and the former governor of Kyushu in the other. Behind
them were their close retainers and my host's family, over twenty
persons in all, seated impressively in order of rank. I had arrived
late, so I was shown to the central place of honor.!" Embarrassing
though it was, that is where I took my place. The governor was at
the time a lay priest, over eighty years of age, and he sat there
wearing a robe without the usual black hems and a sash with a long
tassel.
My poem on the topic "idle moon late at night" was:
73° The Middle Ages

itazura ni How light the sky is

fukeyuku sora no This night as to no avail,
kage nare ya It grows ever later-
hitori nagamuru All alone, I stare up at
aki no yo no tsuki The moon of an autumn night.

My poem on the wild geese concluded, as I recall:

yama no ha ni At the mountain edge

hitotsura miyuru A whole chain is visible-
hatsuhari no koe The voices of the first wild geese.

I have forgotten the first part of the poem. I do not remember

my poem on love either.
I learned how to compose poetry, thanks to my frequent ap-
pearances at such sessions from then on. I was fourteen years old at
the tirne.!" Afterwards, when I was in the service of the resident
prince at Nara, I was the senior page at a memorial service conducted
in the Lecture Hall on Mount Hiei. I 14 I was so busy with this and
other duties that I stopped writing poetry for a time. Later, after
my father died,'" I again ventured to appear at poetry gatherings
and resumed writing poetry. I filled thirty-six notebooks with poems
composed from the time of the meeting at the [ibu's place. There
must have been over twenty thousand poems. They all went up in
flames at Imakumano. I have completed somewhat under ten thou-
sand poems since then.!"

If we can believe this account, written nearly sixty years after some
of the events described, Shotetsu even as a boy of fourteen was able to
compose poetry with sufficient skill to be a welcome visitor at gatherings
attended by the outstanding poets of the day. Perhaps his youthful
encounter with Reizei Tamemasa decided Shotetsu to compose poetry
in the manner of the Reizei school. However, a much more important
influence was exerted by Imagawa Ryoshun (1326-1414?), a daimyo and
poet whose essays on poetry defended the liberal tradition of the Reizei
school against the Nijo poets.
Only about one hundred poems by Ryoshun survive.t" none of great
interest though they have been praised for their honest, Man'yoshu sim-
plicity. His writings on poetry, most of them composed when he was
in his eighties,':" suggest the kind of influence he had over Shotetsu,
Ryoshun Isshi Den (Biography of Ryoshun for His Son), written in 1409,
Waka Poetry of the Kam akura and Muromachi Periods 731

when he was eighty-three, contains a mixture of autobiography and

poetic criticism that may have served as a model for Tales of Shotetsu,
Near the beginning we find these recollections:

When I was twelve or thirteen my grandmother Koun'in said to

me, "It is disgraceful for a boy like you not to compose poetry. Put
your mind to it, and regardless of whether it is good or bad, keep
composing ... I began to teach your father how to write poetry from
the time when he was seven or eight. Any son who does not continue
the accomplishment of his father is not worth talking about."!"

Ryoshun elsewhere recorded two other experiences that led him to

compose poetry. The first occurred in 1341:

I must have been sixteen when I saw in a vision Lord Tsunenobu.!"

He told me that people must definitely compose poetry. I watched
and listened, not knowing if this was a dream or reality, and it
stirred in me an even greater desire to write poetry.!"

In 1345 another experience helped to shape his course as a poet: he

read a poem by Reizei Tamehide that profoundly moved him.

nasalt« aru In this world of ours

tomo koso kataki Friends who are sympathetic
yo narikerc Are truly hard to find:
hitori arne kiku Alone, I listen to the rain
ak i no yosugara 122 All through the long autumn night.

Ryoshun was so impressed that he decided to become a disciple of the

Reizei school. He was struck, first of all, by the word nasake with which
the poem begins. This word was always avoided by Nijo poets because
it could refer to sexual relations. Ryoshun was also moved by the un-
spoken implication of the poem: if the speaker had had a kind friend,
the friend would surely have invited him to go somewhere, and he
would not have had to spend the night listening to the dreary rain.!"
Ryoshun's most interesting opinions concern language. Like other
Reizei poets, he insisted on the poet's freedom to choose whatever words
he preferred, in contrast to the strict observance of poetic diction required
of members of the Nijo school. "What do the teachings mean that
command us to use only old words? 'Forbidden words' should refer
only to those that seem peculiar in the context in which they are placed.
732 The Middle Ages

Why should we avoid using a word, even if it has never before appeared
in poetry, providing it is not unpleasant to the ears? "124 He favored
straightforward expression: "The essence of poetry is to describe things
as they are, without decoration." He believed that the simple language
of the Man'yoshii should be the inspiration for poets of his own time,
and that it was only in the centuries after the Man'voshi; that poets first
fell into the error of decorating their works.!" His special esteem for
the Man'yashu was what one might expect of a military man; but his
preference for unadorned simplicity seems not to have affected his de-
votion to Teika and the Shin Kokinshu.
Perhaps Ryoshun's most famous statement on poetry was:

Man cannot exist without thoughts and words. Why then should it
be difficult for him to express his thoughts with his mouth? If, for
example, he thinks, "Brrr-how cold it is!" he will say, "I wish I
had a jacket" or "I wish I could warm myself by a fire" and each
of these is poetry.!"

Ryoshun believed that the emotion (kokoro) that gave rise to a poem
was more important than words (kotoba), and if the emotion was strong
enough (even the emotion induced by a chilly room), the words became
poetry of themselves. This conviction led him to attack the Nijo poets,
especially Tori'a, who always emphasized the importance of the words.
Sometimes he became quite intemperate, and he did not hesitate to
declare that among the poems of Ton'a "seven or eight out of ten poems
borrow more than half their words from old poems."!" His main reason
for writing his various works of criticism in old age seems to have been
to protect and encourage Reizei Tamemasa, the young head of the Reizei
school. No doubt he also communicated these views to Shotetsu, who
revered Ryoshun as his teacher.
Shotetsu, though an important poet, is remembered most of all for
his work of criticism and autobiography, Tales of Shotetsu, The typical
manner adopted by Shotetsu in this work is to present a waka and
follow it with a close analysis of its components. The following is the
first part of what is perhaps the best-known passage:

FALLING BLOSSOMS

saltura chiru They blossomed only

yo no ma no hana no To fall in the space of a night,
yume no uchi ni In the space of a dream;
Waka Poetry of the Ka m aleura and Muromachi Periods 733

yagate magirenu All that remains as before

mine no shiraltumo Are white clouds over the peak.

This is a poem in the yugen style. What we call yugen is some-

thing within the mind that cannot be expressed in words. The quality
of yugen may be suggested by the sight of thin clouds veiling the
moon or autumn fog hanging over the crimson leaves on a moun-
tainside. If one is asked where in these sights is the yugen, one cannot
answer. It is not surprising that a person who fails to understand
this is likely to prefer the sight of the moon shining brightly in a
cloudless sky. It is quite impossible to explain wherein lies the interest
or the wonder of yugen.
The words "in the space of a dream; all that remains as before"
were derived from a poem composed by Genji. Genji, when he meets
Fujitsubo, says

mite mo mata We meet now, but rare

au yo mare naru Will be the nights we meet again.
yume no uchi ni Would that this poor frame
yagate magiruru Might dissolve, just as it is,
ukimi to mo gana Into the world of the dream.

This, too, was in the yugen style.!"

Shotetsu's conception of yugen was the key to his poetry and to his
criticism of poetry. He likened the effect of yugen in poetry to mist that
partly conceals the bare meanings of words, lending them mysterious
ambiguity. To achieve this effect, words were sometimes omitted from
poems, even words necessary for ready comprehension, and the difficulty
of the poem that resulted was justified in terms of the elusive depths
hinted at by the ambiguity. Shotetsu gave, as an example of a poem
whose meaning was not immediately apparent because one line had been
deliberately omitted, the celebrated waka by Ariwara no Narihira from
the Kohinshi; (already quoted above):

tsuki ya aranu Is that not the moon,

haru ya muliashi no And is the spring not the spring
haru naranu Of a year ago?
734 The Middle Ages

wa ga mi hitotsu wa This body of mine alone,

mota no mi shite Remains as it was before.!"

He commented: "Unless one understands the implications, there is noth-

ing interesting about the poem. The poem was composed when, re-
membering how in the spring of the previous year he had met the Nij6
empress, he went to the western pavilion. What he meant to say was,
'Is that not the moon, and is not the spring the same as before: I am
unchanged, but the person I met then is not here tonight."!"
Shotetsu's poetry is difficult because he deliberately defied normal
syntax in order to achieve a richness of meaning. He gave an elaborate
exegesis of one of his poems:

toatarikane Even clouds hesitate.

kuma mo yube wo They still struggle this evening
nao tadoru To cross over the bridge:
ato nak] yuki no A path to the peak in snow
mine no kakehashi Without a single footprint.

It is most improbable that clouds would have trouble passing over

trackless snow. However, it is the general practice in waka com-
position to impart feelings to insentient things. The fact is, clouds
are constantly crossing the sky, morning and night. But when I
looked out as evening came to the mountains covered in snow, the
drifts of fallen snow were so white that I thought the clouds might
not even realize evening had come, and they might hesitate to cross
trackless paths, but in fact they went by serenely. If one examines
a scene carefully in this way, there really is something about the
clouds that suggests they might have trouble crossing. It also occurred
to me that the clouds might hesitate to cross when there were no
human footprints in the snow along a mountain path as dangerous
as a hanging bridge.!"

Shotetsu went on to defend the unnatural syntax of the poem in

terms of the greater force it gave. His exegesis of the poem concluded,
"A poem that does not spell out everything is a good poem."
Tales ofShotetsu opens with the flat statement "Anyone who follows
the way of poetry and criticizes Teika will not enjoy the blessings of
the gods but will incur their punishment."!" His reverence for Teika
cannot be questioned, but his poems do not much resemble those of his
avowed master. One senses instead that Shotetsu fretted over the lim-
Waka Poetry of the Kam a eura and Muromachi Periods 735

itations of the waka. His disciples included renga poets, and Shotetsu
himself might have found renga a more congenial medium. He at-
tempted to compensate for the brevity of the waka by resorting to
suggestion, and he managed to cram into thirty-one syllables a surprising
number of images or ideas. Teika had also composed dense poems, but
he never was as arcane in his images as Shotetsu in his poem on clouds
over the snow. Shotetsu, like Poe, would probably have been satisfied
to convey "a suggestive indefiniteness of vague and therefore of spiritual
effect."
Shotetsu's yiigen was closer to that of Shunzei than of Teika, for
whom the word seems to have meant surpassing charm above all. It
differed also (as we shall see) from the yiigen of Zeami, as employed in
his essays on N6, where the primary meaning seems to have been
elegance. Shotetsu meant a kind of symbolism, achieved by using am-
biguous but suggestive language, affording the reader the possibility of
an experience that transcends words. In this respect Shotetsu may be
said to have gone beyond his avowed master Teika, and to have enun-
ciated one of the most important ideals of the medieval aesthetic. The
same preference for suggestion and mystery could be found in the
monochrome paintings of the Muromachi period, the tea ceremony, and
the gardens of stone and pebbles that are closer to ink sketches than to
natural vegetation.
These different arts were all influenced by aesthetic beliefs associated
with Zen Buddhism which, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries
especially, acquired dominant importance among writers and artists.
Shotetsu, a Zen monk, wrote many religious poems whose inspiration
came from Zen Buddhism, such as:

tera wa aredo There is a temple,

mukashi no mama no But, unaltered from the past,
kazari naki The mountain becomes
hotoke to narite A Buddha without trappings,
yama zo aseyuku And its color fades away.

This poem, composed in 1452, when Shotetsu was seventy-one, IS a

difficult but characteristic expression of Zen belief: the temple exists and
Shotetsu has often sat there in meditation, but the temple is not itself
of importance; the achievement of Buddhahood is the reason for the
temple's existence. On the other hand, the mountain on which the temple
stands has attained the eternal essence of Buddha, though (unlike the
temple) it is bare of adornment.!" Shotetsu's Buddhist poem is unlike
736 The Middle Ages
any in the Kokinshu and later court anthologies. It comes dangerously
close to bursting the seams of the waka, and suggests also the kanshi
being written by the Zen monks of the Five Mountains at about the
same time.
There were waka poets after Shotetsu, but their names are hardly
remembered. A few late Tokugawa waka poets are still of interest.!"
but it was not until the twentieth century that the waka was reborn as
a vital medium for the communication of genuinely felt joys and griefs.

Notes
1. I have decided, following Japanese usage, to omit the particle no be-
tween the surnames and personal names of persons of the Kamakura
period and later; there are, however, exceptions. One commonly en-
counters names of Kamakura figures with the no, e.g., Minamoto no
Sanetomo; and the names of some Japanese, even as late as the Toku-
gawa period, usually include the no, e.g., Kamo no Mabuchi and Ki no
Kaion.
2. The Hojo family, to which Yoritorno's wife Masako belonged, soon ac-
quired the same kind of control over the shogun that the Fujiwara family
exercised over the emperor. This was especially true when the shogun
was a minor. The official name of the position occupied by the Hojo
"regents" was shikken, or "administrator." For a fuller account of the
Hojo, see George Sansom, A History of Japan to 1334, pp. 371-437.
3. Among the many works written about Sanetomo, one might cite the novel
Udaijin Sanetomo (1943) by Dazai Osamu (see Dawn to the West, I, pp.
1051-52, for an account of this work); the modern No play Sanetomo
(1943) by Toki Zemmaro; and the wartime essays of Kobayashi Hideo.
Sanetomo Shuppan (1973) by Yamazaki Masakazu is a more recent play
based on Sanetomo's life.
4. See Saito Mokichi, Kinkai Waka Shu, p. 113·
5. This collection was translated and commented on by Robert H. Brower
and Earl Miner in their Fujiwara Tcika's Superior Poems of Our Time.
6. Ibid., p. 41.
7. Ibid., p. 44. The era name Kampei is more commonly read as Kampyo,
The era itself lasted from 888 to 897.
8. This is poem 144 in Sanetorno's collection Kinkaishu. See Higuchi
Yoshimaro, Kinkai Waka Shu, p. 50, for this poem and two honka. Saito
(Kinkai, p. 117) gives five possible honka.
9. Shuishu 124.
10. Saito, Kinkai, pp. 117-18.
Waka Poetry of the Kam aliura and Muromachi Periods 737

I I. The title means literally "Collection of Golden Locust Waka," locust being
the tree (enju in Japanese) sometimes translated as "pagoda tree" or
"Chinese scholar tree." Sasaki Nobutsuna, the celebrated scholar of Jap-
anese poetry, interpreted "golden" as referring to Kamakura (because the
word kama is written with the metal radical), and kai or kaimon, "locust
tree," a word used in ancient China for the three highest ranks of minister.
Kinkai would therefore mean "the Kamakura great minister" or the
shogun. However, the title Kinkai Waka Shu was not given to the collection
until long afterward, perhaps not until the Muromachi period. See Kojima
Yoshio, "Kaisetsu" to Kinkai Waka Shu in Kazamaki Keijiro and Kojima
Yoshio, Sanltashu, Kinltai Waka Shu, p. 297. Kinkai Waka Shu contains
from 663 to 749 waka, depending on the text.
12. Other volumes devoted to waka poetry are collections by many poets such
as the Kokinshu and Shin Kokinshu.
13. Sasaki Yukitsuna, Chusei no Kajintachi, p. 114. Sasaki estimated that about
60 of the 663 poems in Kinleai Waka Shii show the influence of the
Man'yoshu. Sasaki did not take into account the additional 56 poems by
Sanetomo, not included in Kinliai Waka Shu but later collected by someone
who used the pseudonym Ryuei Akai. The identity of this person is
unknown, but it has been suggested that he was Ashikaga Yoshimasa
who from 1450 to 1458 held the position of ryiiei altai, ryuei meaning
"shogun" and akai being a Chinese name for the office of dainagon. Some
of Sanetomo's most highly rated poems are found in the collection of
Ryuei Akai. In addition, 40 other poems by Sanetomo are found in various
sources such as Mirror of the East. See Higuchi, Kinkai, pp. 258-61.
14. What he actually gave was a circle, rather than a star, but I have used a
more familiar sign of approbation. Mabuchi gave one circle to about ISO
poems and a double circle, his highest mark of approbation, to 22.
IS. Kinliai Waka Shu 210. Higuchi, Kinkai, p. 68. For Mabuchi's comment
see Matsumura Eiichi, Minamoto Sanetomo Meilea Hyoshaku, p. I IS.
16. Kokinshi; 406. Abe no Nakamaro, in China, yearned to be back amid
familiar scenery in Japan.
17. Shin Kokinshu 1499. Although the poem seems to be no more than an
expression of impatience over the slowness of the moon to appear, it has
been interpreted as an indirect expression over slowness of promotion.
18. Kinkai Waka Shu 244· Higuchi, Kinkai, p. 77-
19. See above, p. 125, for another translation of the poem.
20. Kinleai Waka Shu 639. See Higuchi, Kinhai, p. 183, also Matsumura, Mina-
moto, pp. 191-92. Kojima (in Kazamaki and Kojima, Sankashii, p. 441)
gives an account of the reputation of this particular poem. Despite Kamo
no Mabuchi's praise, Ito Sachio (more recently) criticized it. Still later
men, notably Kawada [un, praised it so enthusiastically that it is now
generally recognized as one of Sanetomo's finest poems.
21. Matsumura, Minamoto, p. 191. The quoted poem is Man'yoshu, XIII:3238.
 The Middle Ages
The "Sea of Omi" was a poetic name for Lake Biwa. Mabuchi somewhat
misquotes the original.
22. Kobayashi Hideo found it "an extremely tragic poem," and Yoshimoto
Takaaki interpreted it as an "unbelievably nihilistic poem." See Sasaki
Yukitsuna, Chusei, p. II9. Sasaki also noted that when Sanetomo first got
a glimpse of the superb panorama from the heights, he did not say that
it was beautiful or magnificent, but focused his attention on a small island,
producing an effect of loneliness rather than grandeur.
23. Kinltai 348, in Kazamaki and Kojima, Sankashu, p. 373. See also Higuchi,
Kinkai, p. 197. This poem was not in the original Kinhai Waka Shu but
in a seventeenth-century supplement. For a comment on the poem, see
Robert H. Brower and Earl Miner, Japanese Court Poetry, p. 33 I.
24. Hisamatsu Seri'ichi, Chiaei Waka Shi, p. 142.
25. This account of the circumstances leading up to the submission of the
Shin Chohuscnshi; is taken from Gtori Kazuma, Shin Chokuscn Waka Shu
Kochushaku to sono Kenhyu , I, p. 5. The most detailed account of these
circumstances is found in Kyusojin Hitaku and Higuchi Yoshimaro, "Kai-
dai," in Shin Chokuscn Waka Shu, pp. 2°3-12.
26. In contrast to the literally dozens of commented editions of the Shin
Kokinshu, there is not a single such edition of the Shin Chohusenshu, and
scholars have seldom discussed its poetry.
27. The collection acquired the nickname of "Uji River Collection" (Ujigawa-
shu), supposedly by way of reference to a poem by Hitomaro (Shin Kokinshu
1648) that mentions soldiers (mononofu) and the Uji River; but even if
this reference is incorrect, the name Uji River was likely to recall the
rivalry, described in The Tale of the Hcikc ; between two soldiers as to
who could cross the river first. See Ishihara Kiyoshi, Chiisei Bungakuron
no KokYu, p. 21.
28. After Sanetomo died without heirs in 1219, he was succeeded as shogun
by Yoritsune, a son of the kampaku Michiie, the head of the Kujo branch
of the Fujiwara family. Among the Kyoto nobles, the Kujo and Saionji
families were the most sympathetic to the shogunate. Teika was related
to the Kujo family, and his eldest son, Tarneie, was married to the daughter
of the important shogunate official Utsunomiya Yoritsuna. For a detailed
account of these relationships, see Kazamaki Keijiro, "Shin Chokusenshu,"
pp. 14- 2 0 .
29. For a table showing comparative numbers of poems in the two collections
by different poets, see Kazamaki, "Shin Chokusenshu," p. 9.
30. Ibid., p. 21.
3 I. Otori, Shin, I, p. 8. She made this statement in 1252 in a letter she sent
to Teika's son Tameie. She objected also to the absence of even one poem
by the three exiled emperors-Gotoba, Tsuchimikado, and [untoku, She
may also have been annoyed that the number of her own poems selected
Waka Poetry of the Kam a leura and Muromachi Periods 739

was reduced from twenty-nine in the Shin Kokinshi: to nine in the Shin
Chokusenshii.
32. Ibid., p. 6. This statement is found in his preface to Shoku Gosen Mokuroku.
33. See Morimoto Motoko (ed.), Izayoi Nikki, Yoru no Tsuru, p. 215. Abutsu
did not like the Shin Koliinshi; because, she wrote, it had "made the
configurations of poetry bad again." Her highest praise was accorded to
the Shoku Gosenshu; the tenth imperial collection, compiled by her husband
Tameie.
34. Otori, Shin, I, p. 339. This is poem 198.
35. Quoted in ibid. p. 19. This statement appeared originally in Motoori's
Ashiwake no Obune. For further information on Motoori as a critic of
Japanese poetry, see my World Within Walls, pp. 322-30.
36. It was not considered to be an important collection until 1926 when Toki
Zemmaro published his Salrushabctsu Man'yo Igo, a selection of poems
from the twenty-one imperial collections. Toki gave considerable space
to three Kyogoku poets-Tamekane, the Emperor Fushimi, and the
Empress Eifukumon'in-much to the surprise of scholars of the time
who had taken the word of the Nijo poets that the Kyogoku poets were
of no importance. Toki's views were expanded in later years by other
scholars of the waka, and he himself wrote a valuable study of Kyogoku
Tamekane, the most recent edition of which is called Shinshu Kyogoku
Tameleane. See Iwasa Miyoko, Kyogoku-ha Kajin no KenkYu, pp. 5-6.
37. Although this seems to have been his desire, the poems rarely suggest
those in the Man'yosh«, which was imperfectly known at the time.
38. The diary Towazugatari (The Confessions of Lady Nijo) contains vivid
descriptions of one aspect of their fraternal relations-their sexual in-
volvement with the same woman.
39. For an account in English of the succession dispute, see Sansom, Japan to
1334, pp. 461-67; also (in greater detail) pp. 476-84. The senior line is
commonly known as the [imyo-in, and the junior line as Daigaku-ji, from
the temples where the emperors Gofukakusa and Gouda respectively lived
after they had entered Buddhist orders.
40. For an account of Abutsu's diaries, Utatane (Fitful Slumbers) and Izayoi
Nikki (The Diary of the Waning Moon), see pp. 835-38.
41. By this time the surname Fujiwara had become so common among the
nobility, and the names within a given branch of the family were often
so similar (Tameie, Tameuji, Tamekane, and so on), that another name,
usually the name of the place in the capital where the founder of a branch
line lived, came to serve as a surname. This was not the official name,
however, and the same man might therefore be known both as Fujiwara
Tamesuke and Reizei Tamesuke or Fujiwara Tameyo and Nijo Tameyo.
42. The cause of Tamekane's arrest and exile is by no means clear. Some
historians believed that it was because of the clash that had occurred
740 The Middle Ages
between Tamekane and Saionji Sane kane, but Inoue Muneo in Chusei
Kadanshi no Kenkyu, I, p. 43, gives convincing reasons for doubting this.
According to the account (dated 1332) in the diary Hanazono-in Gyoki
(quoted by Inoue, p. 43), Tamekane was slandered by "colleagues" (hobai).
43. For poems by Tameyo in both collections (and unfriendly judgments of
Tameyo by the author), see Hisamatsu, Chiisei, pp. 227-29. Hisamatsu
concluded his discussion of Tameyo, "In short, as a poet Tameyo was
mediocre."
44. Translation by Steven D. Carter in Waiting for the Wind, p. ISS. Carter
notes that this poem (Shin Goscnshii 151) was an allusive variation on
Koltinshi; 625 by Mibu no Tadamine.
45. Carter's Waiting contains a good sampling of such poetry.
46. Gofukakusa, Kameyama, Gouda, Fushimi, and Gofushimi.
47. For an unbearably detailed account of these sessions, see Inoue, Chiisei, I,
pp. 106-20.
48. Ibid., p. IS0.
49. Ibid., p. 151.
50. Ibid., p. 154.
51. I have taken the dates 1311 for the command from Fushimi and 1312 for
the completion from Inoue, Chiisci Kadanshi, I, p. 156. These are the same
dates given by Tsugita Kasumi in his authoritative, "Gyokuyoshu no Sei-
ritsu to sono Denrai," pp. 571-72, but he believed that the Gyokuyoshu
was revised and augmented in 1313. Robert N. Huey in Kyogoku Ta-
mekanc, p. 56, accepted these dates. However, Earl Miner and his fellow
editors of The Princeton Companion to Classical Japanese Literature, p. 159,
stated that the command to Tamekane came in 1312 and the compilation
was completed in the following year. Toki Zemmaro, in Shinshu Kyogoku
Tamekane, pp. 286-87, gave 13II as the year of the command to Tamekane
but 13I 3 as the year of presentation. These contradictions originated in
the discrepancies found in the various documents of the period. See Araki
Yoshio, Chusei Bungaleu no Keisei to Hatten, p. I05.
52. See Bower and Miner, Japanese, p. 485.
53· Huey, Kyogok u, p. 57·
54. See my Dawn to the West, II, pp. 38-41, for an account of his contributions
to the modern tanka.
55. Toki Zemmaro, Kyogoku Tameleane, pp. 239-40.
56. There is a translation by Robert N. Huey and Susan Matisoff, "Tame-
kanekyo Waltasho: Lord Tarnekane's Notes on Poetry." The work is dis-
cussed by Huey in Kyogoliu, pp. 63-75.
57· Gyokuyoshu 832 . Translation in Carter, Waiting, p. 99. See also Brower
and Miner, Japanese, p. 366. (They use a text that has sukunasa instead of
sukunaki, yielding a somewhat different meaning.)
58. Gyokuyoshu IOIO. Another translation by Huey in Kyogoku, p. 110; also
Brower and Miner, Japanese, p. 372. See also Toki, Kyogoku, pp. 30-31.
Waka Poetry of the Ka rnaleura and Muromachi Periods 741

59. Windows of course appeared elsewhere in Kamakura poetry, but almost

always as open windows through which one saw nature outside or heard
bird calls, not as closed surfaces against which hail would rattle.
60. Toki (in Kyogoku, p. 30) noted that poets of the Kyogoku school aimed
at the effect of bringing together in a poem sei (quiet) and do (active).
61. See Hisamatsu Seri'ichi et aI., Nihon Bungaku Shi: Chusei, p. 57.
62. The practice of ji-arnari by Kyogoku poets is the subject of Hamaguchi
Hiroaki's "Gyokuyo Waka Shu no Hyogen." The subject is also considered
at length by Huey in Kyogoku, pp. 89-98. Huey stressed the function of
the extra syllables in various examples of Tamekane's poetry. In the present
instance, the line neya no ue wa can either be read as six syllables or,
running the 0 of no and the u of ue together, as five syllables. In other
instances the ji-amari is unmistakable.
63. Gyokuyoshu 83. Translation by Carter in Waiting, p. 98. For another
translation see Huey, Kyogoku, p. 126. For a discussion of the relation to
Gyokuyoshu poetry and Sung poetry see Konishi [in'ichi, "Gyokuyo [idai
to Soshi," p. 171-80. For further comments on this poem see Toki, Kyo-
goku, p. 14. Toki pointed out that the poem is an allusive variation on
one by Otomo no Yakamochi, Man'yoshu, XIX:4139, and suggested that
this is an example of the attempt of the Gyokuyoshu poets to go back be-
yond the Shin Kokinshu to the basic nature (honshitsu) of waka expression.
64. My translation in Essays in Idleness, p. 136.
65. Gyokuyoshu 628. Another translation by Huey in Kyogoku, p. 83. Huey
also gives a poem by Tameie that ends with the same words meguru aki
no inazuma, and suggests that Fushimi's poem is "close enough to Tarneie's
to be an allusive variation." Fushimi's poem, however, is distinctly superior
to Tameie's, See also Ueda Hideo, "Gyokuyoshu Fugashu Kogi," in Senshu
Kogi-hen.
66. Fugashu 566. For another translation, see Brower and Miner, Japanese,
P·373·
67. Gyokuyoshu 2154. Another translation by Huey in Kyogoku, p. 83. See
also Ueda, "Gyokuyoshu," pp. 438-39, for an interpretation of the
poem.
68. See my World Within Walls, p. 89.
69. Gyokuyoshu 713. Konishi, "Gyokuyo," p. 165. The translation is by Carter
in Waiting, p. 129.
70. Konishi, "Gyokuyo," p. 153.
71. Ibid., pp. 153-55, gives examples of the love poetry in the Gyokuyoshu.
He recognizes that love poetry without images can also be found in earlier
collections, but insists that the proportion is far greater in the Gyokuyoshu
and Fugashu. Huey (in Kyogoku, p. 141) disagrees with Brower and Miner
who, following Konishi, maintained that a lack of imagery characterized
the love poetry of the Kyogoku school.
72. Gyokuyoshu 1390. Translation by Carter in Waiting, p. 130.
 The Middle Ages
73. Translation from Brower and Miner, Japanese, p. 386. Original text is
Fugashu 1297.
74- Gyokuyoshu 1569. See Konishi, "Gyokuyo," p. 159. Another translation
with analysis of the poem is in Brower and Miner, Japanese, p. 381.
75. Konishi, "Gyokuyo," p. 166. See also Tsugita Kasumi, "Gyokuyo, Fugashu
no Uta no Tokushitsu."
76. See Iwasa Miyoko, Eifukumon'in, p. 32.
77. Gyokuyoshu 1704. Translation by Carter in Waiting, p. 144. See Iwasa,
Eifukumon'in, pp. 110-11.
78. Brower and Miner, Japanese, p. 379.
79. Gyokuyoshu 1464. For commentary see Iwasa Miyoko, Eifukumon'in,
p. 104.
80. See Brower and Miner, Japanese, pp. 378-79, where they discuss poets
who "tended to divide a poem into two units, or sometimes more, whose
integration was less one of common tonal elements than of an intensity
of feeling reflected in a rich verse texture."
81. Gyokuyoshu 925. Another translation by Carter in Waiting, p. 143. For
commentary, see Iwasa Miyoko, Eifukumon'in, p. 96; also Ueda, "Gyo-
kuyo," p. 434.
82. There are several variant titles for this diary, including Hanazono-in Gyoki
(see note 42). I have chosen the title given in the authoritative Kohusho
Somoeuroh«. Excerpts from the diary translated into English, along with
an interpretation of the contents are given by George Sansom in A History
ofJapan: 1334- 1615, pp. 127-4°.
83' For an account of the warfare, see pp. 875-78.
84. For an account of the Kemmu Restoration, see H. Paul Varley, Imperial
Restoration in Medieval Japan. A briefer description is given by Sansom
in Japan: 1334-1615, pp. 22-42.
85. The prefaces are given by Tsugita Kasumi and Iwasa Miyoko in Fuga
Waka Shu, pp. 47-52; also in Nishino Taeko, Kiigon-in, pp. 57-60.
86. For an account of the reasons why specialists in the Fugashu tend to believe
that Kogon was the compiler, see Tsugita and Iwasa, Fuga, pp. 20-22.
87. For a description of his final instructions, see Iwasa Miyoko, Eifukumon'in,
pp. 65-66. Also Nishino, Kiigon-in, pp. 245-46.
88. Thirty-one of his poems were included in the Fugashu, twenty in the Shin
Senzaishu, fifteen in the Shin Shuishu, seven in the Shin Goshuishu, and
two in the Shin Zokukokinshu (the last of the chokusenshu).
89' Fugashu 1787. For another translation, see Carter, Waiting, p. 220. See
Nishino, Kogon-in, pp. 9°-92, for a commentary.
90. Fugashu 870. For another translation, see Carter, Waiting, p. 219. The
word fusuma in the third line is given in kanji meaning "quilts" or
"bedding" in Tsugita and Iwasa, Fuga, p. 189, but Nishino (Kogon-in, P:
77) takesfusuma to be a homonym meaning interior partitions like shoji.
The poem seems to be a honka-dori variation on one by the Emperor
Wak a Poetry of the Kam ah ura and Muromachi Periods 743

Gotoba in Shoku Gosenshu (1251): yo u/o samumi / neya no fusuma no /

sayuru ni mo / waraya no kaze u/o /omoi koso yare.
91. See Tsugita and Iwasa, Fuga, pp. 5-7. For a good general discussion of
the characteristics of the Gyokuyoshii and Fiigashii, see Tsugita, "Gyokuyo."
92. Fiigashii 720. Translation by Carter in Waiting, p. 219. Commentary by
Nishino in Kogon-in, pp. 76-77.
93. For a more detailed account of what occurred, see Varley, Imperial, pp.
115- 16.
94. See Inoue, Chusei, p. 512.
95. For example, the priest Ton'a, a poet of some distinction, completed the
editing of the nineteenth collection, the Shin Shuishii, after the editor,
Fujiwara Tameaki, died. The Japanese preface to the twentieth collection,
the Shin Goshuishi«, was written by Nijo Yoshimoto, a pupil of Ton'a,
who was a key figure in the development of renga though not an important
waka poet. Both Japanese and Chinese prefaces to the twenty-first (and
last) collection, the Shin Zokukokinshii, were written by Ichijo Kaneyoshi,
one of the chief scholars and critics of the fifteenth century. But the
contributions of these distinguished men did not diminish the dreariness
of the collections as a whole.
96. Originally, the priest Noyo (c. 1260-?), a truly obscure poet, was one of
the Four Deva Kings, but by the time of Shotetsu he was replaced by
Keiun. See Inoue, Chiisei, pp. 305-7. English translations of waka by the
(latter) Four Deva Kings are given by Carter in Waiting, pp. 164-201.
97. Shin Zokukokinshii 2036. Translation by Carter in Waiting, p. 186.
98. Text in Iwasa Tadashi, Shin'yo Waka Shii, p. 13. See also Saito Kazuhiro,
Kscha Shin'yoshii, p. I.
99. Saito Kazuhiro, Kochii, pp. 22-23; Iwasa Tadashi, Shin'yo, p. 36. Another
translation by Carter in Waiting, p. 247.
100. Yoneyama Muneomi, Rikashii Hyochii, pp. 154-55. See also Kawada [un,
Yoshino-cho no Hika, pp. 322-23.
101. Kawada, Yoshino-cho, pp. 326-27 (from Rikashii). The poem, with a some-
what shorter preface, appears in the Shin'yoshii; see Saito Kazuhiro, Kochii,
p.220.
102. Dates from Ogi Takashi, Shin'yo Waka Shii Hombun to KenkYii, p. 487.
103. Shin'yoshii 239. See Saito, Kochii, p. 42. Translation by Carter in Waiting,
p. 261.
104. It is surely no coincidence that the Shin'yoshi; entered the Iwanami Bunko
series in 1940. Kawada's book on the tragic poetry of Yoshino was pub-
lished in 1944, and Iwasa's edition of the text in 1945.
Typical praise for the collection is given by Numazawa Tatsuo in
"Shin'yo Waka Shu Kogi," p. 457: "The value of this collection is ex-
tremely high. It goes without saying that there is none among the hundreds
of private anthologies that can compare with it, but even among the
twenty-one imperial collections it stands out; and among the fourteen
744 The Middle Ages
imperial collections of the Kamakura and Muromachi periods, leaving
the Shin Kokinshi: out of consideration for the moment, it is fully worthy
to represent these periods, along with the Gyokuyo and Fugashu. It is not
like the rest of the collections, most of which did nothing more than
imitate the Kokinshu,"
l0S. The complete translation of this work by Robert H. Brower was published
under the title Conversations with Shotetsu, This immaculate work of
scholarship is further enhanced by an extensive introduction and notes by
Steven D. Carter.
ro6. Tanabata was the Japanese name given to the Chinese festival that cel-
ebrated the meeting of two stars (the Herd Boy and the Weaver Girl) on
the seventh night of the seventh moon. Today poems are written on paper
slips that are attached to stalks of bamboo.
ro7. The identity of this man has not been determined. Hisamatsu Seri'ichi
and Nishio Minoru, Karon Shu, Nogakuron Shu, p. 197, suggested that
[ibu might have been a way of referring to Imagawa Ryoshun, noting
that Shotetsu said of both that they were over eighty, but more recent
research has shown that Ryoshun was probably not there on the occasion
Shotetsu described. [ibu, though an official title, seems to be used here as
a personal name. Shotetsu, writing many years after the event, seems to
have confused memories. See Inada Toshinori, Shotetsu no KenkYu, pp.
34-35 and 163-64, for a careful examination of the evidence.
ro8. Perhaps this means that he had recently become a Buddhist priest. The
date of Shotetsu's entering orders is not known.
1°9. [ibu was a general appellation of officers of the jibusho, which was rendered
by R. K. Reischauer as "Ministry of Civil Administration."
I ro. Kangetsu was a technical term for the moon at a time of year when the
farmers are idle, as opposed, say, to "harvest moon." In the poem that he
composed on this subject Shotetsu used the image to suggest the moon
on a night that brought no meeting, no matter how late it might become-
an "idle" moon of another kind.
I I I. Reizei Tamemasa's name is usually read as Tametada, but I have followed
the pronunciation given by Fukuda Hideichi in Chiisei Waeashi no KenkYu,
p. 853. Tamemasa (1361-1417) was actually the son of Tamekuni, but
because Tamekuni entered Buddhist orders in 1371, he was ineligible to
succeed as head of the school. Shortly before Tamekuni's father (Tame-
masa's grandfather) Tamehide (I306?-I372) died, Tamemasa was adopted
as his heir, making Tamemasa and Tamekuni brothers. See Hisamatsu
and Nishio, Karon Shu, pp. 171, 197. For Tamemasa, see Inoue, Chusei,
II, pp. 47-48.
112. Presumably, the other guests had modestly declined to sit in the yokoza,
the place at the head of the table.
I 13. By Japanese count; only thirteen by Western reckoning.
Waka Poetry of the Kam a eura and Muromachi Periods 745

114. The Lecture Hall (kodo) was one of the buildings of the monastery En-
ryaku-ji on Mount Hiei, called here Muroyama.
115. In 1403, when Shotetsu was twenty-one.
116. Translation from my Some Japanese Portraits, pp. 44-45. Original text in
Hisamatsu and Nishio, Karon Shu, p. 197.
117. Araki Hisashi in Imagawa Ryoshun no Kenkyu, pp. 393-404 gives 113
poems, of which 5 appeared in chokusenshu, 8 in uta-awase, and the rest
in essays on poetry, diaries, and so on. Some poems are incomplete in
their quoted form. Hisamatsu (in Chusei, p. 298), citing Araki among
other authorities, seems to favor 98 poems.
118. Araki Hisashi (Imagawa, pp. 33-34) gives the names of eleven works. The
earliest was written when Ryoshun was sixty-six, but eight were written
in his eighties.
119. Sasaki Nobutsuna (ed.), Nihon Kagaku Taikei, V, p. 177.
120. Minamoto no Tsunenobu, a late Heian poet whose original style un-
doubtedly impressed Ryoshun, In his own day he was unpopular because
he departed from the conventions, but in later times his poems were much
praised.
12I. Quoted by Araki Hisashi, Imagawa, p. 13. Ryoshun says he was sixteen,
but he was fifteen by Western calculation.
122. The poem is found in Ryoshun's book of criticism Raeusho Roken. I have
used the text prepared by Mizukami Kashizo in Gengo to Bungei, Sept.
1959, p. 68. See also Sasaki Nobutsuna, Nihon Kagalru Taikei, V, p. 202.
For another translation see Carter, Waiting, p. 230.
123. This is the explanation given by Shotetsu in Tales of Shotetsu, See Hisa-
matsu and Nishio, Karon Shu p. 18I.
124. Imagawa Ryoshun, "Wakadokoro e Fushin Jojo," quoted in Sasaki No-
butsuna, Nihon Kagaeu Shi, p. 166.
125. Quoted in Sasaki, Nihon Kagala« Shi, p. 158.
126. From Ryoshun's "Gonjinshu," quoted by Sasaki Nobutsuna in Nihon
Kagaku Shi, p. 158.
127. From his "Wakadokoro e Fushin Jojo." See Sasaki Nobutsuna, Nihon
Kagaku Taikei, V, p. 172.
128. This is part II, section 77 of Tales of Shotetsu, Text in Hisamatsu and
Nishio, Karon Shu, p. 224. Translation, slightly modified, from my Some
Japanese Portraits, pp. 48-49. The poem from The Tale of Genji is in the
"Waka Murasaki" chapter. See the translation by Edward Seidensticker,
The Tale of Genji, I, p. 98.
129. Kokinshu 747. For a discussion of the poem, see above, p. 226.
130. Hisamatsu and Nishio, Karon Shu, p. 173.
13I. Ibid., p. 172. Not only is the poem difficult to understand but the expla-
nation compounds the difficulties. The modern explanation of Shotctsu's
poem, given by Fujihira Hideo (in Sasaki Yukitsuna, Chasei, pp. 212-13),
 The Middle Ages
is even longer and almost as obscure. For another translation of the poem,
see Steven D. Carter, Traditional Japanese Poetry, p. 299.
132. Hisamatsu and Nishio, Karon Shu, p. 166.
133. Poem and explanation both derived from Koyama Keiichi, Shotetsu Ron,
PP·237-39·
134. See my World Within Walls, pp. 494-506.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were pubished in Tokyo.

Araki Hisashi. Imagawa Ryoshun no Kenkyu. Kasama Shoin, 1977.

Araki Yoshio. Chusei Bungaku no Keisei to Hatten. Kyoto: Minerva Shobo,
1957.
Brower, Robert H. Conuersatons with Shotetsu. Ann Arbor, Mich.: Center for
Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 1992.
- - - . "Ex-Emperor Go- Toba's Secret Teachings," Harvard Journal ofAsiatic
Studies 32, 1972.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Fujiwara Tcika's Superior Poems of Our
Time. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1967.
---.Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 196r.
Carter, Steven D. Traditional Japanese Poetry. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Uni-
versity Press, 199r.
- - - . Waiting for the Wind. New York: Columbia University Press, 1989.
Fukuda Hideichi. Chusei Wakashi no Kenkyu. Kadokawa Shoten, 1972.
Fukuda Yusaku, Teilea Karon to sono Shuhen, Kasama Shoin, 1974.
Hamaguchi Hiroaki. "Gyokuyo Waka Shu no Hyogen," Kokugo to Kokubun-
gaku, April 1969.
Higuchi Yoshimaro. Kinkai Waka Shu, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series.
Shinchosha, 198 I.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi. Chusei Waka Shi. Tokyodo, 196r.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi and Nishio Minoru. Karon Shu, Nogaeuron Shu, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 196r.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi et al. Nihon Bungaku Shi: Chusei, Shibundo, 1955.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi, Yokozawa Saburo, Shuzui Kenji, and Yasuda Ayao. Gei-
jutsuron Shu, in Koten Nihon Bungaku Zenshii series. Chikuma Shobo,
1967.
Huey, Robert N. Kyogoku Tamehane. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1989.
Huey, Robert N., and Susan Matisoff (trans.). "Tamekanekyo Wakasho: Lord
Tamekane's Notes on Poetry," Monumenta Nipponica 40:2 (Summer 1985).
Inada Toshinori. Shiitetsu no Kenkyu. Kasama Shein, 1978.
Waka Poetry of the Ka m aleura and Muromachi Periods 747

Inoue Muneo. Chusei Kadanshi no Kenkyu, 2 vols. (Nambokuchohen). Meiji

Shoin, 1965.
Ishida Yoshisada. Ton 'a, Keiun. Sanseido, 1943.
Ishihara Kiyoshi. Chusei Bungakuron no Kokyu. Kyoto: Rinsen Shoten, 1988.
Iwasa Miyoko. Eifukumon'in . Kasama Shoin, 1976.
- - - . Kyogoeu-ha Kajin no Kenkyu. Kasama Shoin, 1974.
Iwasa Tadashi. Shin'yo Waka Shu, in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten,
194°·
Kawada Jun. Yoshino-cho no Hilea. Daiichi Shobe, 1944.
Kawazoe Shoji. Imagawa Ryoshun. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1964.
Kazamaki Keijiro, "Shin Chokusenshu," Kokugo Kokubun, vol. VIII, no. 3,
March 1938.
Kazamaki Keijiro and Kojima Yoshio. Sankashu, Kinka: Waka Shu, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Keene, Donald. Down to the West, 2 vols. New York: Holt, Rinehart and
Winston, 1984.
- - - . Essays in Idleness. New York: Columbia University Press, 1967.
- - - . Some Japanese Portraits. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1978.
- - - . World Within Walls. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1976.
Keene, Donald (trans.), Essays in Idleness: The Tsurezuregusa of Kenko. New
York: Columbia University Press, 1967.
Kibune Shigeaki. Shoku Gosen Waka Shu Zenchiishaleu, Kyoto: Daigakudo
Shoten, 1989.
Konishi [in'ichi, "Gyokuyo [idai to Soshi," in Joko Kari'ichi (ed.), Chusei Bun-
gaku no Seleai, Iwanami Shoten, 1960.
Koyama Keiichi. Imagawa Ryoshun: sono Bushido to Bungaku. Sanseido, 1944.
- - - . Shotctst« Ron. Sanseido, 1942.
Kyusojin Hitaku and Higuchi Yoshimaro (eds.). Shin Choleusen Waka Shu, in
Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Mass, Jeffrey P. Court and Bakufu' in Japan. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University
Press, 1982.
Matsumura Eiichi. Minamoto Sanetomo Meika Hyoshaku. Hibonkaku, 1934.
Miner, Earl, Hiroko Odagiri, and Robert E. Morrell. The Princeton Companion
to Classical Japanese Literature. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
1985.
Morimoto Motoko (ed.). Izayoi Nikkl~ Yoru no Tsuru, in Kodansha Gakujutsu
Bunko series. Kodansha, 1979.
Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai (trans.). The Man'yoshu. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1965.
Nishino Taeko. Kiigon-in, Kokubunsha, 1988.
Notoru Damu Seishin Daigaku Kokubungaku Kenkyushitsu Koten Sosho
Kankokai (ed.). Sokonshu. Okayama, 1973.
Numazawa Tatsuo. "Shiri'yo Waka Shu Kogi," in Tanka Koza, III. Kaizosha,
1932.
 The Middle Ages
Ogi Takashi. Shin'yo Waka ShU Hombun to KenkYu. Kasama Shoin, 1984.
Otori Kazuma. Shin Chokuscn Waka Shu Kochiishaku to sono Kenhyu, 2 vols.
Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 1986.
Saito Kazuhiro. Kochu Shin'yoshu. Nihon Dernpo Tsushin Sha, 1945.
Saito Mokichi. Kinbai Waka Shu, in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shim bun
Sha, 1950.
Saito Yoko, "Fujiwara Teika Kenkyu," Nihon Bungaleu, no. 16, 1961.
Sansom, George. A History ofJapan to [334. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1958.
- - - . A History of Japan: [334-[6[5. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1961.
Sasaki Nobutsuna. Nihon Kagaku Shi. Hakubunkan, 19IO.
- - - . (ed.) Nihon Kagaku Taikei, V. Kazama Shobe, 1957.
Sasaki Yukitsuna. Chusei no Kajintachi. Nihon Hoso Shuppan Kyokai, 1976.
Seiden sticker, Edward. The Tale ofGenji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1976.
Sensha Kogi-hen, in Tanka Koza series, vol. 5. Kaizosha, 1932.
Toki Zemmaro. Kyogoku Tamekanc. Chikuma Shobe, 1971.
- - - . Shinshu Kyogoku Tamekane. Kadokawa Shoten, 1968.
Tsugita Kasumi. "Gyokuyo, Fugashu no Uta no Tokushitsu," in Nisho Gakusha
Daigaku Soritsu Hachiju Shunen Kinen Ronshu, Nisho Gakusha Daigaku,
1957·
- - - . "Gyokuyoshu no Seiritsu to sono Denrai," in Bungalru, vol. IX, no.
5, May 1941.
Tsugita Kasumi and Iwasa Miyoko. Fuga Waka Shu. Miyai Shoten, 1974.
Varley, H. Paul. Imperial Restoration in Medieval Japan. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1971.
Yoneyama Muneomi. Rikashu Hyochu. Furukawa Shuppanbu, 1935.
 1 9.
BUDDHIST WRITINGS OF
THE KAMAKURA PERIOD

There was a great upsurge of religious belief during the Kamakura

period, and many varieties of literature reveal the omnipresent influence
of Buddhism. During the five centuries from the time that Buddhism
first took hold in Japan, its role in the creation ofliterature had continued
to grow. It is true that the various sects at times engaged in unseemly
sectarian quarrels and even violence, but such doctrinal matters seldom
appear in works of literature. Common to all sects was an awareness
of the transience of worldly things; a belief in rebirth and transmigration;
in causes from past lives resulting in effects in the present life; and in
the existence of a heaven and hell. These concepts were reflected in
literature, as obvious facts rather than as religious doctrines. Different
sects paid homage to different divinities of the Buddhist pantheon, but
whether believers placed their trust in the compassion of Kannon, or in
the vow of Amida to save all men, the religion brought comfort in time
of adversity, and the awe and gratitude the Japanese felt were often
expressed in their writings.
Even literary works that may seem to owe little to Buddhist tradition
were usually colored by these beliefs. We are likely to remember The
Tale of Genji in terms of the peerless hero and the loveliness of the
world surrounding him, but we should not forget that again and again
Genji expressed his conviction that the beauty of this world was not
enough and his determination to quit the evanescent world for the eternal
world of Buddhist truth. To the end he did not take this step, but others
in the novel, including emperors and their consorts, exchanged their
brilliant robes for somber priestly garb. Again, the various accounts of
the warfare of the twelfth century are remembered in terms of the deeds
of bravery they describe; but the heroes in their last moments generally
expressed not defiance of the enemy but reliance on the saving grace of
75° The Middle Ages

Buddha. The poetry, too, was increasingly colored by an awareness of

the illusory nature of wordly pleasures.
Needless to say, The Tale of Genji and the other celebrated works
of Heian prose and poetry were not written with the intent of prose-
lytizing the readers. It is hard to imagine anyone being impelled by a
reading of The Tale of Genji to "abandon the world." Some notable
writings in fact had for their principal objective the dissemination of
Buddhism, but they possess little literary interest. The priest Genshin's
6jo Yosha (The Essentials of Salvation, 985), one of the best-known
works of this kind, contains a lengthy description of heaven and hell,
but Genshin was unfortunately no Dante: his work was cast in unpoetic
kambun, and his chief interest seems to have been the specific punish-
ments appropriate for different sinners, ranging down from people who
have pushed nuns off cliffs to merchants who watered their sake. None
of the people suffering in Genshin's hell or rejoicing in his heaven is
even named, much less characterized. The reader is unlikely to remem-
ber more of The Essentials of Salvation than the ingenious tortures that
Genshin lovingly described.'
Mahayana Buddhism, as practiced in China and Japan, favored ar-
tistic depiction of principles of the faith as a means of making abstruse
doctrines more easily intelligible. Shingon Buddhism, one of the chief
Mahayana sects, placed particular reliance on art and accepted literature
as a hoben, or expedient for gaining salvation.' Po Chu-i, a devout
Buddhist, had expressed the belief that "wild words and fancy lan-
guage,"3 though not in themselves of value, could suggest higher truths,
and this served as a justification for secular literature, even when the
truths they conveyed remained hidden to the naked eye.
The Buddhist literature of the Kamakura period is varied. There
are, first of all, the sermons and sayings of religious leaders, sometimes
so memorably expressed that they can be treated as literature; tales in
the tradition of the setsuwa of the Heian period; waka poetry and essays
by monks; diaries of priests who traveled to sacred places or who lived
in remote hermitages; and works of poetry and prose in Chinese. These
categories are not of equal literary importance, but they all testify to the
importance of the role Buddhism played.

BUDDHIST SERMONS

The Buddhism of the Kamakura period is usually discussed in terms

of the new sects: Jodo (Pure Land) Buddhism, especially the Shin branch
Buddhist Writings of the Kam ak ura Period

founded by Shinran (1173-1262); the Nichiren or Hokke (Lotus Sutra)

Buddhism named after the prophet-priest Nichiren (1222-1282); and
Zen Buddhism-both the Rinzai branch of Eisai (1141-1215) and the
seee branch of Dagen (1200-1253). The older sects of Buddhism-
Tendai, Shingon, and the various Nara sects-enjoyed a revival during
the Kamakura period and had important leaders,' but in retrospect it
now seems clear that the new sects exerted a greater influence over later
Japanese literature.
Of the many works credited to priests of this period, one is of
particular importance, Tannishii (Lamentations over Divergences)," com-
piled by Shinran's disciple Yuien-bo, Tannishii is a short work in eighteen
sections, each devoted to some statement by Shinran, either an expla-
nation of Iodo Buddhism or else a correction of the mistaken opinion
of some other priest-the "divergences" he lamented. The work con-
cludes with a postscript by Yuien-bo and several appended notes."
The first half of the work, in which Shinran voiced his basic con-
victions, is more interesting than the series of rebuttals to heresies that
make up the second half. Some of Shinran's dicta are justly famous,
notably the opening of the third section: "Even a good person can achieve
birth in the Pure Land; how much truer this is for an evil person." The
statement seems paradoxical, but Shinran was quite in earnest. Before
explaining what he meant, he cited the more conventional, "Even an
evil person can achieve birth in the Pure Land; how much truer this is
for a good person." This accords better with common sense, but in fact
it does not take into account the most important principle of Shinran's
faith, the vow of Amida Buddha to save all those who call his name.
If a man is good and aware of his own goodness, he may suppose that
his good works will ensure birth in paradise; but the bad man, knowing
he has no hope of gaining paradise except by the intercession of Amida,
will call his name. The good man relies on his own strength (jiriki), but
this will inevitably prove insufficient; the bad man relies on the strength
of another (tariki) because he knows his own strength will not save him,
and he will be saved by Amida.
The fifth section is equally striking:

I have never said the Name even once for the repose of my departed
father and mother. For all living things have been my parents and
brothers and sisters in the course of countless lives in many states
of existence. Upon attaining Buddhahood in the next life, I must
save everyone of them.
Were saying the Name indeed a good act in which a person
752 The Middle Ages
strove through his own powers, then he might direct the merit thus
gained toward saving his father and mother. But this is not the case.
If, however, he simply abandons such self-power (jiriki) and quickly
attains enlightenment in the Pure Land, he will be able to save all
beings with transcendent powers and compassionate means ...
beginning with those with whom his life is deeply bound.'

The saying of the name of Amida Buddha in the formula Namu

Amida Butsu became in Shinran's day the most common expression of
religious faith, and appears again and again in later literature. Honen
(II 33-1212), the founder of the [odo sect, began about 1175 to advocate
the calling of the name of Amida Buddha (nembutsu) as the sole way
to gain salvation. This doctrine was eagerly received at a time when the
country was torn by warfare and it was feared that the world had reached
the predicted last phase of the Buddhist Law (mappo), when people
could neither comprehend nor practice the teachings of the Buddha."
In such a period no one could be strong enough to earn salvation himself;
the only hope of birth in paradise was by beseeching the help of Amida.
But it should not be thought that saying the nembutsu constituted a
good deed, for that would be "self-power" (jiriki) and the essence of
the nembutsu is dependence not on the self but on Arnida's saving
grace. 9 Honen had urged people to recite the nembutsu as often as
possible,'? and believed that it was necessary to say it aloud," but Shinran
was sure that saying the nembutsu only once, whether aloud or to oneself,
was sufficient." Honen did not ignore the traditional Buddhist learning
and had many disciples, but Shinran told those who sought to become
his followers:

Each of you has crossed the borders of more than ten provinces to
come to see me, undeterred by concern for your bodily safety, solely
to inquire about the way to birth in the land of bliss. But if you
imagine in me some special knowledge of a way to birth other than
the nembutsu or a familiarity with the writings that teach it, you
are greatly mistaken. If that is the case, you would do better to visit
the many eminent scholars in Nara or on Mount Hiei and inquire
fully of them about the essentials for birth."

It might seem excessively easy for a person to achieve birth in paradise

merely by saying (or even only thinking) the nembutsu once in a lifetime,
but of course the invocation of Arnida's name must be fully meant and
absolutely sincere. It is an act of faith, an acknowledgment on the part
Buddhist Writings of the Kam a eura Period 753
of the person who pronounces the syllables na-rnu-a-mi-da-bu-tsu that
he is incapable of saving himself, that his only hope of salvation is the
intercession of Amida Buddha. It is difficult for anyone to admit his
nullity, the insignificance of all he has done in his lifetime. Building
temples or offering copies of the sacred writings to the temples had
always been considered to be acts of merit that would promote salvation,
but Shinran insisted, "Even though one offer not even a single sheet of
paper or half a sen toward the dharma (Buddhist Law), if one casts up
one's heart to Other Power (tariki) and one's shinjin [faith in Amida] is
deep, one is in accord with the fundamental intent of the VOW."14
Tannisho is today probably the best-known work by any Japanese
Buddhist. Its chief appeal is the portrait it presents of Shinran himself
in his strikingly individual comments; his every phrase has inspired
believers. However, as far as we can tell, the work was virtually unknown
for over six centuries after Yuien-bo committed it to paper. Kiyozawa
Manshi (1863- 19°3), a priest of the Shin sect, first called the attention
of the world to a work that hitherto had been kept secret by the monks
of the Hongan-ji; they feared that its apparent tolerance of evil might
induce the ignorant, trusting that Amida would forgive them, to commit
sins." But Shinran, in a memorable passage of Tannishii, explained the
existence of good and evil in terms of karma from previous lives:

Good thoughts arise in us through the prompting of past good, and

we come to think and do evil through the working of karmic evil.
The late master [Honen] said, "Know that not one evil act is done-
even if no more than a particle of dust on the tip of a hair of rabbit's
fur or sheep's wool-but has its cause in past karma."
The master once asked, "Yuien-bo, do you believe what
I say?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then, will you do exactly what I ask you?" he said, laying
stress on his words.
I humbly affirmed that I would, whereupon he said, "Would
you be willing, for example, to kill a thousand people? If you are,
your birth in the Pure Land is assured."
To this I responded, "Even if this is your command, I doubt
that I am capable of killing even one person."
"Then how can you say you will do exactly what Shinran asks
of you?"
He continued, "You should realize from this that if everything
were simply a matter of will, when I told you to kill a thousand
754 The Middle Ages

people in order to achieve rebirth, you would have immediately set

about killing. But you have not the karmic cause that would enable
you to harm even one person. It is not that you refrain from killing
because your heart is good. In the same way, a person may not wish
to harm anyone and yet end up by killing a hundred or a thousand
people."16

The only way to escape one's karma was to throw oneself on the
mercy of Amida Buddha. The same message is found in the writings
of Honen and of the peripatetic Ippen (1239-1289), who urged the people
wherever he went to join with him in dancing and singing together in
praise of Amida. A more literary expression of the same beliefs is found
in Ichigon Hiidan (Brief Sayings of the Great Teachers), a collection of
the sayings of various nembutsu practitioners and hermits. Neither the
compiler nor the date of compilation of Brief Sayings has been deter-
mined, though it has been conjectured that it might have been Kyobutsu
(also known as Kyobutsu-bo), a priest who appears in about a third of
the episodes of the collection."
On the whole, the book makes dull reading for anyone who is not
a student of medieval Buddhism," and many sections consist of only a
few lines. The following sections are longer and more interesting than
most:

When the Abbot Myohen of Koya was returning from a pilgrimage

to Zenko-ji," he paid a visit to the holy man Honen. The abbot
asked him, "How may one free oneself from the cycle of death and
birth?" The holy man replied, "By saying the nembutsu." Myohen
asked him next, "Yes, of course that is true. But when deluded
passions arise within us, what are we to do?" Honen answered,
"Even if deluded passions arise, the strength of the Original Vow
will enable one to achieve birth [in the Pure Land)." Myohen left,
saying that he had been fully persuaded. Honen murmured, "The
man who hopes to be reborn [in the Pure Land] without ever having
been troubled by confused passions is like someone who thinks he
will say the nembutsu after first gouging out the eyes and cutting
off the nose he was born with.?"

In this episode Honen was mocking people who hoped to gain

salvation without a struggle or who would say the nembutsu only after
they had deprived themselves of the sources of temptation. The following
passage deals with a basic question: if one may gain salvation merely
Buddhist Writings of the Karn akura Period 755
by saying the nembutsu with a devout heart, what use is there in reading
books by the great teachers of the [odo faith?

Kyobutsu-bo said, "People say that learning is useless to priests who

have given up the world," but it is a question of degree. Those with
scholarly ability should, as a matter of form, at least glance through
The Essentials of Salvation, taking in the words if not the meanings.
Turning the pages once in a while will help them to understand
why this transient world of life and death is to be hated, and why
we should place our trust in the nembutsu and rebirth.... But saying
that one should study definitely does not mean that one should
entertain ambitions of understanding every single word and phrase
of The Essentials of Salvation from cover to cover. ... It is quite
enough to have opened the book and skimmed over the most im-
portant parts. Once one has grasped this technique, it will serve as
a starting point for advance on the path toward the future life....
"Learning is especially valuable because it enables one to benefit
others by persuading them to have faith. But if with even this
modicum of learning one becomes puffed up with one's own im-
portance or one seeks to gain recognition as a scholar, one should
cease one's studies altogether. Nothing is more foolish than making
a poison out of what should be a medicine....
"However, if a person is not naturally endowed with such in-
tellectual capacity, he should devote himself wholeheartedly to the
nembutsu, and not attempt to gain even this modicum of learning.
If he is assiduous in intoning the nembutsu and in other acts, he
will not be at variance with the basic intent of our teachings."22

The attitude expressed is anti-intellectual, but Kyobutsu's opinion

was not necessarily shared by all believers in [odo Buddhism; it was a
logical extension of the supreme importance accorded to the recitation
of the simple invocation to Amida Buddha.
Zen Buddhism, which, like [odo Buddhism, emerged into promi-
nence in Japan during the thirteenth century, was known for its icon-
oclastic attitude with respect to the sacred writings. The painting by the
thirteenth-century painter Liang K'ai of a Zen master tearing up a surra"
is probably the most vivid representation of the Zen distrust (or scorn)
of authority. But, contrary to the impression created by this painting or
by many of the sayings of the Zen masters that insist on nonverbal and
nonliterary transmission of Zen beliefs, there is a large body of writings
by the masters. Shobo Genzo (The Eye and Treasury of the True Law)24
 The Middle Ages

was the name given to the collection of discourses and essays composed
in Japanese between 1232 and 1253 by Dagen, generally considered to
have been the greatest Japanese master of Zen.
Dagen was born into the highest aristocracy as the son of the court
poet and statesman Minamoto no Michichika. On his father's side he
was closely related to the imperial house, and on his mother's side to
the Fujiwara regents. He lost his father when he was two years old and
his mother five years later. He early showed such promise in his studies
that the regent of the time considered adopting Dagen and preparing
him for a career as a statesman, but the boy's heart was set on religion,
and at the age of twelve he entered Buddhist orders on Mount Hiei.
At fifteen he felt so dissatisfied with the Tendai teachings on a critical
point" that he went to study with Eisai," a monk originally of the
Tendai sect who had twice traveled to China where he studied the Zen
teachings. Unfortunately, Eisai died almost immediately afterward, and
Dagen studied instead with Eisai's disciple Myozen (1184-1225). In 1223
Myozen took Dagen with him to China, where both men studied with
a master of the Sata (Ts'ao Tung) sect of Zen Buddhism. Myozen died
while in China, and Dagen took his bones back to Japan when he
returned in 1227.
After his return, Dagen lived some years at the Kennin-ji in Kyoto,
but, distressed by the lax ways into which the monks of this temple had
fallen, and feeling that nothing remained of the spirit of Eisai, he went
to live in a hermitage. In 1233 he moved to an abandoned temple, where
he attracted a continually growing number of followers. In 1236 he
opened a new temple called Koshohorin-ji, the first independent Zen
monastery in japan." The monks of Mount Hiei began to harass Dagen
and his followers, and attempted to burn his monastery. He accepted
an invitation from the daimyo of Echizen to establish a monastery in
that province and left the capital in 1243. The temple he founded was
called Eihei-ji," and became the central temple of the sere sect.
As a religious teacher, Dagen stressed above all the importance of
sitting in meditation. The Rinzai sect of Zen, which had emerged into
prominence at this time, also practiced sitting in meditation, but relied
especially on the use of koans, or riddles, for gaining enlightenment."
Dagen's chief work, Shabo Gcnzo ; is exceptionally difficult to understand.
An American philosopher, despairing of ever understanding the text,
asked a Japanese specialist in the writings of Dagen why he had written
in Japanese, rather than Chinese, the normal language of Buddhist and
philosophical treatises. He was told, "Dagen did not write the Shobogenzo
in Japanese instead of Chinese. No other Japanese before or after Dagen
Buddhist Writings of the Kam ak ura Period 757

wrote in the language of the Shobogenzo, It is Dagen's own language.':"

The difficulties are such that not even experts who have devoted much
of their lives to studying Shobo Genzo feel confident that they can explain
it." One authority has suggested the attraction, as well as the difficulty,
of Dagen's language in terms of "reshuffling the Chinese lexical com-
ponents of a given phrase or expression." He continued, "The trans-
position of linguistic elements is intended to suggest that they are as
dynamic and versatile as reality itself in their infinitely variegated con-
figurations and possibilities."?
Shobo Genzo is a work of profundity, but apart from its striking use
of similes and metaphors it is not of great literary interest. It provides
evidence that even though Zen emphasizes nonverbal means of gaining
enlightenment, language could also be employed to illustrate the truths
of Buddhism. The traditional beginning of Zen was traced back to the
moment when Shakyamuni Buddha held up an udumbara blossom and
winked, in this way directly transmitting the Law (dharma) to Maha-
kashyapa. All of the seven Buddhas of the past, including Shakyamuni
and the patriarchs who came after him, transmitted the Law to their
successors in the same manner; it was the actualization of their enlight-
enment." Dagen denied, however, the view current among some monks
of the time that this was the only way of transmitting the Law: did not
Shakyamuni, after first twirling the flower and winking, utter the words,
"I possess the Eye and Treasury of the True Law and the Serene Mind
of Nirvana. I now bestow it on Mahakashyapa'Y" Iflanguage were not
a legitimate means of communication, Shakyamuni need not have spo-
ken. This reasoning could serve as a justification for such Zen texts as
Shobo Gcnzo.
Only a person deeply familiar with Buddhist philosophy could prof-
itably read so difficult a work. Dagen's thought was communicated in
much easier to understand language in Shobo Genzo Zuimonki (Record
of Things Heard Concerning the Eye and Treasury of the True Law),
the account by his disciple Eja (1198-1280) of sayings of Dagen he had
heard on various occasions. Sometimes Dagen's distrust of book learning
approaches Shinran's," but his insistence on jiriki could not be further
removed from Shinran's total dependence on Amida. A few excerpts
will suggest the tone of the Zuimonhi:

One day in casual conversation he told me, "A student of Zen must
not fret himself over clothing and food. Our country is small and
remote, but in the distant past as today, it has been celebrated for
both exoteric and esoteric doctrines. Of the scholars who are likely
 The Middle Ages
to be remembered even by future generations, I have never heard
of even one who enjoyed an abundance of clothing and food .... How
much truer this is of the practitioners of our Way: they abandon all
thought of getting ahead in this world and run after nothing. How
could such people ever be prosperous? In the Zen temples of the
Great Sung Country," even though these are the latter days of the
Law, there are thousands and even tens of thousands of students,
some from afar, others from nearby regions, and nearly all of them
are poor. However, they do not complain of this; they worry only
about the difficulty of obtaining enlightenment. Some climb to the
tops of temple towers" to sit in meditation, others remain below
under the eaves of the temple halls, practicing the Way in a silence
that suggests they might be in mourning for their parents.?"

A devotion to poverty was not unique to Zen, but it typified the

indifference to worldly goods or fame on the part of the Zen believer.
Members of the samurai class of the Kamakura period were especially
receptive to such tenets and to the rigid discipline of sitting in meditation,
even if they were unable to understand the highest reaches of Dagen's
philosophy. The emphasis on simplicity and even poverty in the tea
ceremony, the bare monochromes of the landscape paintings inspired
by Zen, and the austere Na stage all evoke the rejection of abundance
taught by Dagen.
Other sections of the Zuirnonki are in a lighter vein:

The Chancellor from Uji 39 went one day to the boiler room" for
the bath and watched as men lighted the fires. The boiler man called
out, "Who are you? What do you mean by charging into the boiler
room of the palace without a word of explanation?" The Chancellor,
after having been chased out, took off the mean clothes he had been
wearing and, changing to a magnificent robe befitting his office,
went back to the boiler room. The man in charge, seeing him coming
from a distance, ran off in alarm. At this, the Chancellor hung his
robe on a pole and paid it homage. When someone asked what he
was doing, he replied, "The respect people pay me is not due to any
virtue of mine. It's all because of this costume." The fool respects
other people for the same reason. And it is true, too, of the respect
paid the sutras-it's only for the words."

Such anecdotes bring us to the border of literature, even though

Zuimonki is not as a whole literary in intent. The influence of Buddhism
Buddhist Writings of the Kam aleura Period 759
on the literature of the Kamakura and Muromachi periods was incal-
culably great, but the philosophical tenets of a particular sect tended to
remain within the temple walls and rarely affected society as a whole.
It was through popularizations, both of the kind represented by Zuimonki
and by the Buddhist setsuwa, that Buddhist doctrine filtered down to
the general public and enriched the literature.

KAMa NO CH<)MEI (1155-1216)

Kamo no Chomei, an important compiler of Buddhist setsuwa literature,

was also a distinguished poet and critic of poetry, but he is known today
above all for his essay Hojoki (An Account of My Hut),42 written in
1212. In this short work he enunciated with great beauty of style his
conviction that a hermitage was the only possible refuge from a world
of disasters. Throughout the work Chomei used the image of the house
to represent the vanity of wordly attachments, describing on the one
hand the grief of those who lost their houses in an earthquake, confla-
gration, or whirlwind, and on the other the joy of the hermit whose
hut is so temporary and so unpretentious that it would not bother him
even if it were destroyed.
The opening of An Account of My Hut is one of the most celebrated
passages of Japanese literature:

The flow of the river is ceaseless and its water is never the same.
The bubbles that float in the pools, now vanishing, now forming,
are not of long duration: so in the world are man and his dwellings.
It might be imagined that the houses great and small, that vie roof
against proud roof in the capital, remain unchanged from one gen-
eration to the next, but when we examine whether or not this is
true, how few are the houses that were there of old. Some were
burnt last year and only since rebuilt. Great houses have crumbled
into hovels, and those who dwell in them have fallen no less. The
city is the same, the people as numerous as ever, but of those I used
to know, a bare one or two in twenty remain. They die in the
morning, they are born in the evening, like foam on the water.
Whence does he come, where does he go, man that is born and
dies? We know not. For whose benefit does he torment himself in
building houses that last but a moment, for what reason is his eye
delighted by them? This too we do not know. Which will be first
to go, the master or his dwelling? One might just as well ask this
760 The Middle Ages

of the dew on the morning-glory. Perhaps the dew may fall and the
flower remain-remain only to be withered by the morning sun.
Or the flower may fade before the dew evaporates, but even if the
dew does not evaporate, it never waits until evening."

Apart from the recurrent use of the house as a metaphor for the
fortunes of the people who inhabit them, other stylistic features, such
as the parallel constructions (a sure sign of Chinese influence), stand
out. The last two sentences quoted above, beginning with "Perhaps the
dew may fall," are, in the original:
Aru wa tsuyu ochite hana nohorcri. Nokoru to iedomo asahi ni karenu.
Aru wa hana shibomite tsuyu nao kiezu. Kiezu to iedomo yiibe wo matsu
koto nashi.
The parallelism is as precise as in Chinese p'ien wen, but it does not
give an impression of heaviness. The repetition of the verb shirazu (we
do not know) at the head of two earlier sentences in the passage violates
normal Japanese word order (the verb should come at the end of the
sentence), but it is stylistically effective; by placing the verb in this
exposed position, Chomei emphasized the rhetorical nature of the ques-
tions he asked.
Another stylistic feature is the repeated use of hysteron protoron-
a reversal of the natural order-as in "The bubbles that float in the
pools, now vanishing, now forming" or "They die in the morning, they
are born in the evening." The effect of this device is to suggest the
rapidity of the changes and, again, the uncertainty of both the natural
order and the works of man.
The main burden of the introductory section is its insistence on
impermanence, the most fundamental of Buddhist beliefs. The word
muja (impermanence) occurs toward the end of this section in the phrase
shu to sumilta to muja wo arasou sama (the way the master and the
dwelling vie for impermanence);" mujd is a key word to the under-
standing of much of the literature of the time and not only works of a
specifically Buddhist character.
Following the introduction, Chomei cited examples of disasters that
convinced him of the undependability of this world: the great fire of
I I 77, the whirlwind of 1I8a, the famine of 1I8I and I I 82, and the

earthquake of I 185. Each of these is narrated with the vividness of

someone who had actually witnessed the disasters he described. Again
and again Chomei referred to the destruction of houses, the symbols of
human vanity; he concluded after his account of the great fire, "Of all
the follies of human endeavor, none is more pointless than expending
Buddhist Writings of the Kam aleura Period
treasure and spirit to build houses in so dangerous a place as the capital."
Again, after describing the whirlwind, he declared, "Not only were
many houses damaged or destroyed, but countless people were hurt or
crippled while repairing them." During the famine "as even firewood
grew scarce, those without other resources broke up their own houses
and took the wood to sell in the market." After the earthquake, "not
a single mansion, pagoda, or shrine was left whole."
One of the disasters enumerated by Chornei was caused not by the
forces of nature but by the will of a tyrant: Taira no Kiyomori, wishing
to have the capital closer to the Taira naval strongholds, moved it by
decree from Kyoto, where it had remained for almost four hundred
years, to Fukuhara on the shore of the Inland Sea. Although this decision
caused immense consternation, there was no possibility of protesting the
actions of a despot, "and everyone moved, from the Emperor, his min-
isters, and the nobility on down. Of all those who served at the court,
not a soul was left behind. Those who had ambitions of office or favors
to ask of the Emperor were eager to be the first to move. Only those
who, having lost all chance of success, were superfluous in the world,
remained behind, although most unhappily."? In this instance, too, the
houses were eloquent witnesses of the disaster. Some people abandoned
their houses in the old capital, others attempted to take their houses
with them: "Houses were dismantled and floated down the Yodo River,
and the capital turned to empty fields before one's eyes."
One disaster that Chornei failed to mention probably caused more
hardship than the whirlwind or the earthquake-the warfare between
the Taira and Minamoto clans that broke out in 1181, the year of the
famine. Perhaps Chornei feared that mention of political matters would
be improper in an essay of this kind, but by implication he had already
compared the present day, when the rulers showed no compassion for
their subjects, with the distant past when the Emperor Nintoku, seeing
how little smoke was rising from the kitchen fires of the people, remitted
taxes. Chomei commented, "This was because he loved his people and
sought to help them. If we compare present conditions with those in
ancient times, we can see how great is the difference.":" Perhaps also
(though this is only a conjecture) Chomei rejoiced over the downfall of
the Taira, but thought it might weaken the force of his arguments in
favor of "leaving the world" if he lightened with an expression of
pleasure the otherwise unbroken gloom of his narration of life in the
world.
Chomei followed his description of the various disasters with a
section on "hardships of life in the world." He wrote, "When a man
 The Middle Ages
of no great standing happens to live next door to a powerful lord,
however happy he may be, he cannot celebrate too loudly; however
grief-stricken, he cannot raise his voice in lamentation. He is uneasy no
matter what he does; in his every action he trembles like a swallow
approaching a falcon's nest.?"
This is accomplished writing but (unlike the accounts of the disasters)
it need not have come from Chomei's own experience. Indeed, the
language is so close to that of the tenth-century Record of the Pond
Pavilion by Yoshishige no Yasutane, an essay written in kambun, that
surely there must have been direct influence." Here is the parallel passage
to the one by Chomei quoted above:

Then there are the humble folk who live in the shadow of some
powerful family: their roof is broken but they don't dare to thatch
it, their wall collapses but they don't dare build it up again; happy,
they can't open their mouths and give a loud laugh; grieving, they
can't lift up their voices and wail; coming and going always in fear,
hearts and minds never at rest, they're like little sparrows in the
presence of hawks and falcons."

An Account of My Hut presents next a brief autobiographical sketch

of the circumstances that impelled Chornei to "leave the world." Once
again, the house is the image used to chronicle his steady disenchantment
with society. He related that, after growing up in the house of his great-
grandmother, unspecified misfortunes caused him to leave that house:
"Many things led me to live in seclusion, and finally, unable to remain
in my ancestral home, in my thirties I built after my own plans a little
cottage. It was a bare tenth of the size of the house in which I had
lived."50 Chornei was disappointed over not having been appointed after
his father's death to the hereditary office of his ancestors at the Kamo
Shrine, and probably lacked the means to maintain a large establishment.
It was here that Chomei, in his fiftieth year, "became a priest and turned
his back on the world." It may seem strange that someone who had
been reared in a Shinto family, and who himself hoped to be appointed
an official of a Shinto shrine, should have become a Buddhist priest,
but at the time no contradiction was felt between the two religions.
The last and longest section of An Account of My Hut is devoted to
the description of how Chornei at last found peace. The section opens:

Now that I have reached the age of sixty and my life seems about
to evaporate like the dew, I have fashioned a lodging for the last
Buddhist Writings of the Kam ak ura Period

leaves of my years. It is a hut where, perhaps, a traveller might

spend a single night; it is like the cocoon spun by an aged silkworm.
This hut is not even a hundredth the size of the cottage where I
spent my middle years."

The imagery is entirely Buddhist: the quickly evaporating dew was

a familiar metaphor for life; the hut where the traveler might spend a
single night was similarly used as a metaphor for human beings passing
only a brief time in this world before moving on to another stage of
existence; and the phrase "the cocoon spun by an aged silkworm,"
effective though it is, had already appeared in the Buddhist-inspired
Record of the Pond Pavilion.52
Needless to say, Chomei was not guilty of plagiarism when he
borrowed imagery. The underlying conception-the discovery of a ref-
uge in a hut far from the city-owed much to Yasutane, but far from
concealing his source, Chomei probably hoped that readers would rec-
ognize it and admire his adroit variation on the theme of another man,
rather in the manner of honka-dori. Yasutane himself had borrowed
from prose pieces by Po Chu-i." Chomei, following in Yasutane's foot-
steps, took refuge in a hermitage, and his thoughts naturally turned to
Yasutane's description when he attempted to convey how he had found
peace.
Discovering a refuge from the passions and confusion of this world
in a hermitage is common to the histories of many faiths. Sometimes
the hermit chooses to live in the desert where there is nothing to tempt
him, or in a forbidding mountain region where his only food is the nuts
and berries he picks from the trees. Chornei, however, chose for his
retreat a particularly lovely part of Japan. He says he did not consult
diviners to ascertain whether or not the site was auspicious, implying
that one spot was as good as another, but it is obvious that he delighted
in his surroundings. Not only were the vistas south of Lake Biwa
beautiful, but everything reminded him of old poetry:

If the evening is still, in the moonlight that fills the window I long
for old friends, or wet my sleeve with tears at the cries of the
monkeys. Fireflies in the grass thickets might be mistaken for fishing-
lights off the island of Maki; the dawn rains sound like autumn
storms blowing through the leaves. And when I hear the pheasants'
cries, I wonder if they are calling their father or mother; when the
wild deer of the mountain approach me unafraid, I realize how far
I am from the world. And when sometimes, as is the wont of old
 The Middle Ages

age, I waken in the middle of the night, I stir up the buried embers
and make them companions in solitude."

Even if we do not look up the sources of each allusion, the tone of

the writing makes it clear that it is an allusion. To cite one example,
here is a poem composed by Saigy6 on Mount Koya:

yama fukami Deep in the mountains,

naruru kasegi no So deep the deer, unafraid,
kejikasa ni Come close up to me,
yo ni tozakaru I can tell just how far
hodo zo shiraruru'? I have left the world behind.

Chomei saw himself not only as a hermit but as a poet. His house
was a bare ten feet square (hojo), and he fashioned it in such a way that
it could easily be dismantled. The furnishings were extremely simple:
a few shelves for his meager possessions, paintings of Amida and other
budd has and bodhisattvas, a desk, a brazier for burning brushwood. He
also laid out a small garden where he grew herbs.
Chomei seems to have deliberately planned to prevent himself from
feeling attachment to his hut: "Only in a hut built for the moment can
one live without fears," he wrote. But after five years spent amid scenery
that gave him endless pleasure, in a hut that exactly fitted him like the
little shell that a hermit crab chooses as his habitation, knowing his own
size, he could not help but develop feelings of attachment: "This lonely
house is but a tiny hut, but somehow I love it." And he reached the
sad conclusion: "It is a sin for me now to love my little hut, and my
attachment to solitude may also be a hindrance to enlightenment.?" He
told himself that although he had fled the world to live in a mountain
forest in order to discipline his mind and practice the Way, "In spite
of your monk's appearance, your heart is stained with impurity. Your
hut may take after Vimalakirti's, but you preserve the Law even worse
that Suddhipanthaka."57 He had no reply to offer to these and other
self-accusations: "All I could do was to use my tongue to recite two
or three times the nembutsu, however unacceptable from a defiled
heart."
An Account of My Hut is a superbly written example of zuihitsu. Of
course, the composition itself is anything but random; the successive
disasters that Chornei witnessed and described build up inexorably to
his withdrawal from human society, but the conclusion is unexpected:
instead of expressing joy over his triumph over vain pretenses and his
Buddhist Writings of the Ka m aleu ra Period

assured birth in the Pure Land, he confesses that he has in fact been
unable to sever his ties to the world. His hut is tiny, but he loves it,
and his "only desire for this life is to see the beauty of the seasons."
Even such attachments, remote though they are from the getting and
spending of life in the capital, were bound to be hindrances in the path
of enlightenment.
Chomei had the honesty to record what he considered to be the
ultimate failure of his attempt to free himself of worldly attachment.
He seems less candid with respect to another matter: although he gives
the impression of never having returned to the life he knew in the past
once he had found peace in his hut, the year before he wrote An Account
of My Hut he traveled to Kamakura at the invitation of the shogun,
Sanetomo, and gave him instruction in composing poetry. This devel-
opment, though in no way shameful, contradicts Chornei's self-portrait:
the reader may feel disappointed by seeming disingenuousness, as other
readers have felton discovering how close Walden Pond was to the
civilization Thoreau had rejected.
Leaving such matters aside, it must be said that An Account of My
Hut is perhaps the most perfect work ofliterature composed in Japanese
under the strong influence of Buddhism. The style is surpassingly beau-
tiful, accommodating Chinese influences in structure and vocabulary
without a trace of awkwardness, and preserving the effortless lyrical
flow of traditional Japanese prose. Each of the disasters described is
made vivid by a graphically presented incident: the great conflagration
fanned by the wind that carried the flames over two or three streets,
leaving the houses in between untouched and the people in them feeling
as though they were caught in a nightmare; the removal of the capital
by the river thick with dismantled houses; the earthquake by the un-
controllable wailing of a normally impassive samurai when his child
was crushed under a wall. Chomei probably did not strive for literary
effects, but his training not only as a priest but as a poet made him
sensitive to the varied sights he had witnessed and gave him the stylistic
control necessary to communicate his vision in a manner so vivid that
it still moves readers as much as it did those for whom it was first
composed.
Chornei's achievements as a poet and as a critic of poetry are discussed
above, but his compilation of Buddhist tales called Hosshinshii (A Col-
lection to Promote Religious A wakening)" is of direct concern here.
The standard text consists of 102 tales divided into eight chapters."
Chornei's preface opens with a sentence quoted from the Nirvana Sutra:
"There is something that Buddha taught: Even if you may become the
 The Middle Ages

teacher of your heart (kokoro) , you must not let your heart be your
teacher." This warning against yielding to one's emotions and insistence
on the necessity for self-control is a key theme in the stories related in
the work.r" More interesting for us are the personal remarks by Chomei
about his reasons for compiling the collection:

In view of the shallowness of my heart, I have not attempted es-

pecially to seek profound religious truths, but have done no more
than gather together things I casually happened to see or hear, and
have privately kept them by my side. I mean, when I saw wise deeds,
even though I knew I could never equal them, they became the
occasion for wishing I were capable of such deeds; when I saw
foolish deeds, I made them an instrument for improving my-
self.... Who, I wonder, will take these stories seriously? ... I have
been stirred by idle tales I happened to hear on my travels, and I
hope only that they will stir in my heart a modicum of religious
awakening [hosshin ].61

Hosshinshu has a basically different intent from that of other collec-

tions of Buddhist tales: Chomei did not merely gather together stories
of people who had achieved a religious awakening in the hope of edifying
readers; he hoped that the act of compilation might help him to achieve
an awakening. He did not urge other people to believe these tales. One
remembers the statement in An Account of My Hut: "I do not prescribe
my way of life to men enjoying happiness and wealth, but have related
my experiences merely to show the differences between my former and
present life."
Although (as scholars have demonstratedr" the preface and later
sections of Hosshinshii borrowed words and ideas from The Essentials of
Salvation, the closest connections are with An Account of My Hut. As
yet, however, no conclusive evidence has been uncovered as to which
work Chornei wrote first. It was long believed that he completed Hos-
shinshu shortly before his death in 1216, but the similarity in mood to
that of An Account of My Hut has led some to infer that Chornei may
have written the two works about the same time."
Chomei's preface also described what guided him in making his
selection of tales. He excluded tales related in India and China because
they were "too far away." He also excluded stories about buddhas and
bodhisattvas because they were too exalted for someone of his modest
attainments. The stories, then, were all set in [apan," and dealt with
monks and priests of this world and not superhuman beings. In order
Buddhist Writings of the Kam ak ura Period
to emphasize the everyday aspect of the stories, the tone was made
deliberately colloquial, evidence also that these were tales Chomei had
heard and that were not from written sources.
The tales are mildly interesting, but in no way comparable in effect
toAn Account of My Hut. As we might expect of Buddhist tales, especially
those written under the influence of The Essentials of Salvation, they
generally describe the blissful deaths (aja) of men who had spent their
lives in prayer and austerities. Occasionally, a figure will stand out, as
in the story of Butsumyo, presented as an appendix to the story of the
holy man of the Tenno-ji:

To every person he met he invariably performed obeisance, saying,

"Fisherman or monk, man or woman-clear and pure," and that
was how he came by his name. Not a soul who saw him but thought
him no more than an ill-omened, disagreeable creature; but there
must have been something special about him, for he was on good
terms with the holy man named Ashobo. He would borrow the
most unlikely sutras and treatises from him and, unbeknownst to
anyone, carry them off in the bosom of his robe, always returning
them after a few days. He died, seated as for meditation, on top of
a crumbling embankment, facing the West with his hands devoutly
clasped."

Not all the stories in Hosshinshii describe priests who at the close of
their lives achieve religious awakening. One story, for example, tells of
a priest who had long since retired from his duties at the Yakushi-ji,
the great temple in Nara, because of old age. When he heard, however,
than an important post in the administration of the temple had fallen
vacant, he decided to apply for the job. His disciples attempted to
dissuade him, saying it was unbecoming for a man of his age to entertain
such aspirations. He refused to listen to them, and the disciples, de-
spairing of changing the old priest's mind by their arguments, decided
to invent a dream which the priest would interpret as an augury of ill
fortune if he continued in his plan. One disciple was chosen to tell the
old man about a dream in which demons prepare a cauldron in which
to boil him alive. They supposed this would frighten him into giving
up his unseemly ambition, but the old man interpreted the dream in
an entirely favorable way, grinning from ear to ear to show his delight.
The moral is ironic:
 The Middle Ages

This man had risen to the rank of risshi'" because of his learning,
but for him at seventy to have rejoiced over this dream shows the
depth of his greed. There is absolutely no comparison between him
and the ignorant old man of the previous story who was able to gain
enlightenment through his own strength.'?

It is difficult to imagine how such a story could have helped Kamo

no Chomei to achieve a religious awakening. However, the cauldron
for boiling sinners harked back to The Essentials of Salvation, and the
account of a priest's failure to gain enlightenment might serve as a
warning. Later readers were probably amused rather than edified by
the tale. Hosshinshii was possibly the first work of Japanese prose to have
been introduced to the West: the Portuguese missionary and scholar
[oao Rodrigues in his Arte da Lingoa de Iapam (1604-1608) quoted over
ten passages from the work as examples of Japanese grammar. It is
surprising, considering the extremely bad relations that prevailed be-
tween Christians and Buddhists at that time, that Rodrigues should have
chosen so many examples from a Buddhist work (including passages
praising the Buddha), but perhaps he thought missionaries should be
familiar with their "enemies."68 The citations by Rodrigues also provide
evidence that Hosshinshu was widely known at the beginning of the
seventeenth century.

COMPANION OF A QUIET LIFE

Keisei (1189-1268), the Tendai priest who wrote Kankyo no Tomo (Com-
panion of a Quiet Life, 1222),69 was a member of the Kujo branch of
the aristocratic Fujiwara family, the son of the Regent and Prime Min-
ister Yoshitsune. As an infant he was dropped by his wet nurse, and he
grew up with a crooked spine; this seems to have been why he later
entered Buddhist orders, though the sudden death of his father may
have contributed to the decision. After studying with the celebrated
monk Myoe (1173-1232), Keisei went to live in a hermitage west of the
capital. He left the hermitage to travel to China in 1217, returning to
Japan after a relatively short stay of about a year. While in China, Keisei
met a "southern barbarian" (a Persian) who wrote at his request an
inscription for Myoe, a worshiper ofShakyamuni, the historical Buddha.
The story Keisei chose to head Companion of a Quiet Life seems to
reflect both his experiences in China and the long-standing wish of Myoe
to travel to India, the land where Shakyamuni Buddha was born. This
Buddhist Writings of the Kam akura Period

story concerns Prince Shinnyo, the third son of the Emperor Heizei,
who after entering Buddhist orders studied with various teachers in-
cluding Kukai. Not satisfied with what he could learn in Japan, he
journeyed to China in 862, where he discovered to his disappointment
that Buddhism was on the decline. He set out on foot for India, though
he was over eighty years old. Various Chinese and Koreans had suc-
cessfully made the journey, but Shinnyo was the first Japanese to attempt
to reach India. Unfortunately, however, he was eaten by a tiger.
At the conclusion of the tale Keisei explained why, unlike Chornei
in Hosshinshii, he had not attempted to relate in his collection stories
about persons whose biographies had already been written." he feared
that he might be criticized (as Chomei had been) for attempting to
improve on the old accounts." These words make it evident how con-
scious Keisei was of writing in the tradition of Hosshinshii."
Many tales in Companion of a Quiet Life, in keeping with the title,
are about hermits. In this respect, too, we can detect the influence of
Chomei. Keisei described in one of the essays appended to his tales why
he had decided to live in a "grass hut" (soan), as a hermitage was called:
"I thought I would build just for myself a humble hut of grass at the
foot of some mountain where no one would find fault with me, and
that I would live with quails as my only companions. And if that place
should become unlivable, I would be free to go wherever else I pleased
and hide myself there.':" Apparently, however, Keisei's hermitage was
anything but deserted: he received gifts of food and clothing from his
family, and courtiers found his retreat a congenial place to compose
poetry." Keisei was even able to obtain books from abroad," but the
hermits who figure in his tales do not readily admit others to their
remote dwellings, and they lead lives untouched by worldly attachments.
The special interest of Companion of a Quiet Life is to be found in
four of the thirty-two tales, those that describe in vivid detail the Tendai
practice of contemplating pollution. In the first of them" a young man,
who attends a holy man of Mount Hiei as his servant though he is
actually a priest, disappears each night and does not return until dawn.
People at the temple suspect that he must be frequenting prostitutes in
Sakamoto, the town below Mount Hiei, and one night a holy man has
someone secretly follow the young priest. To his surprise, the priest goes
not to the town but to a deserted area of Kyoto where corpses were
abandoned. The priest approaches a putrefying corpse, indescribably
loathsome, and remains there all through the night weeping, now shut-
ting, now opening his eyes as he prays. When he hears the early morning
sounds, the priest wipes away his tears and returns to Mount Hiei.
77° The Middle Ages

The holy man on learning what took place regrets having suspected
the young priest of sinful behavior, and henceforth no longer treats him
as an ordinary person. One morning, when nobody else is about, the
holy man reveals that he knows the young priest's secret. At first the
priest denies he has performed a meritorious action, but the holy man
presses him to display the special powers he has undoubtedly acquired
from his contemplation of pollution (jujokan). The young priest there-
upon puts a lid over a bowl of rice gruel and contemplates it. After a
few moments he removes the lid. The rice gruel has turned into a mass
of white worms. The holy man, weeping over the prodigy, begs the
young man to guide him to salvation."
The contemplation of pollution, especially the rotting of a corpse,
was believed to aid in the realization of the falsity of outward appear-
ances. The man who falls in love with a beautiful woman comes to
understand that the beauty he loves will rot away as horribly as the
corpse before him. Chih-k'ai (538-597), the founder of Tendai Bud-
dhism, wrote, "If even an ignorant man goes to the side of a grave
mound and contemplates a bloated and putrid corpse, it will be easy
for him to achieve meditation."78 The lesson of the contemplation of
pollution is horrifying, but it is unforgettable.
Keisei was not, on the whole, a skillful writer. However interesting
a tale, the effect is likely to be weakened by the lengthy moral, usually
a commentary delivered in his own voice, with which it closes. Scholars
have suggested that Keisei wrote mainly for women readers. The second
of the two books consists almost exclusively of tales about women, and
the style of the narration is more gracious than in other setsuwa col-
lections, as if Keisei hoped that by adding poetic embellishments he
would make his work appealing to women."
Companion of a Quiet Life stands stylistically midway between two
better-known setsuwa collections, Hosshinshu and Senjusho (Selection
of Tales), the latter traditionally attributed to the priest and poet
Saigyo."

SENJUSHl3

The postscript to Senjusho states that it was written in the firt moon of
I I83 at a hermitage of the Zentsii-ji in the province of Sanuki. This, to
anyone familiar with the life of Saigyo, would immediately suggest that
he was the author." The postscript is a forgery, but the persistent at-
tribution of Senjiisho to Saigyo was made plausible by the person of the
Buddhist Writings of the Kam akura Period 771
narrator of many tales, a man who shared many of Saigyo's qualities:
he was a priest and poet, a constant traveler, a lover of solitude, a man
who sought to flee the world. Although the materials in the tales are
sometimes anachronistic, they are all close enough to Saigyo's time for
the mistakes to be overlooked by all but specialists. The association of
the work with the great poet enhanced its popularity over the centuries.
Even the Portuguese missionaries were familiar with the work, as we
know from the praise bestowed on it by J03.0 Rodrigues. However, as
far back as the middle of the seventeenth century scholars pointed out
the contradictions between the known facts of Saigyo's life and the
account of him in Senjusho, and in recent times the attribution has been
thoroughly discredited."
The elimination of Saigyo has not brought us any closer to discov-
ering the real author or authors. As for the time of compilation, various
clues in the text strongly suggest that the author of Senjusho knew
Companion of a Quiet Life and borrowed from it." This would place
the time of compilation about the middle of the thirteenth century.
Two main lines of texts exist, one much longer than the other. It
was at first generally believed that the shorter text was the original
version, and that the longer one had been padded with later accretions,
but critical opinion has shifted, and the longer version (consisting of 121
tales) is now considered to be the original state." The tales are divided
into nine books, the eighth of which stands out. Most of the tales in the
other books are provided with epilogues in which Buddhist morality is
preached, often at greater length than the tale itself, but the tales in the
eighth book are presented for the most part without overt preaching;
in this book poetry is the central concern, and the context is sometimes
completely secular. These tales are certainly more appealing to modern
readers than the more orthodox stories, though less typical of the
collection.
Senjusho enjoyed great popularity up until the late Tokugawa period,
as we know from the numerous editions and the frequent references to
the collection in later works. One tale was especially famous, the en-
counter of Saigyo and the courtesan of Eguchi. The story itself is not
of unusual interest, but the striking combination of the hermit Saigyo,
a man who had turned his back on worldly pleasure, and a woman who
sold herself to men who craved pleasure, cast a spell over generations
of readers. This is how the tale opens:

I once passed through Eguchi, some time after the twentieth of the
ninth month. Both the north and south banks of the river were
 The Middle Ages

crowded with the houses of the town. The inhabitants' fickle hearts
were preoccupied with the comings and goings of travellers' boats;
gazing at the town, I thought how sadly ephemeral were the lives
its residents led.
Just then an unseasonably wintry wind darkened the sky, and I
went up to a simple cottage to seek shelter until the weather cleared.
The woman who owned the place showed no sign of granting my
request. I recited a verse that came to mind,

yo no naka wo Indeed it may be hard

itou made koso To reject
katakarame The world,
kari no yadori u/o But you begrudge
oshimu kimi kana A temporary lodging.

The prostitute replied sadly,

te wo tzuru Seeing that you were one

hito to shi mireba Who had left his horne,"
kari no yado ni I only thought
kokoro tomu na to Your mind should not dwell
omou bakari zo On temporary lodgings."

Although I had intended to shelter there only briefly, for the

duration of a shower, her poem was so interesting I stayed all night."

Identification of the speaker as Saigyo, even if there were no other

clues, would be clear from the quoted poem, which appears in Sankashu
(Mountain Hut Collection), together with the response from the cour-
tesan of Eguchi. The No play Eguchi, often attributed to Kan'ami, has
this exchange of poems as its central incident. In the second part of the
play the courtesan reveals herself in her true form, as the bodhisattva
Fugen. In The Narrow Road ofOku, Basho included an episode of talking
with prostitutes who had spent the night at the same inn. The diary
kept by Sora, Basho's companion on the journey, does not mention the
incident, leading to the suspicion that Basho invented the episode, pos-
sibly under the influence of the tale.
The story, up to the point quoted above, possesses sufficient interest
for us to understand why generations of Japanese remembered the cour-
tesan of Eguchi. The association of prostitution and enlightenment goes
Buddhist Writings of the Kam akura Period 773
back at least as far as the tale in the Flower Wreath Sutra (Kegon-kyo)
of the courtesan Vasumitra who led men to enlightenment by the prom-
ise of sensual pleasures." There is also an intriguing ambiguity in the
priest Saigyo's having spent a night in a prostitute's quarters. But the
remainder of the tale is likely to dampen the enthusiasm of the modern
reader: the courtesan of Eguchi relates her story in a mixture of the
most conventional and banal language of Buddhist and poetic tradition.
The tale concludes with a barrage of hackneyed poetic imagery:
"Whether there is autumn wind rustling the reeds, a storm disordering
the leaves deep in the mountains, or autumn rain mixing with the leaves,
when one is pensive it is the evening sky that calls forth tears. When
we listen at dawn to the monkeys' lonely cries by a tall pine tree, or
hear the calling of migrating geese, one's mind becomes clear and tears
overflow.':"
Needless to say, it was in order to relate the Buddhist moral lessons
at the end that these anecdotes were related, and readers in the past
were probably not bored by oft-repeated sentiments or by literary phrase-
ology they had often heard before. They seem not to have craved an
exciting climax or a "punch line." The repetition of poetic cliches was
perhaps even welcomed as a reassuringly familiar theme, and one can
imagine listeners joining in the recitation of a sonorous declaration of
the undependability of this world.
Many tales in Senjusho began promisingly-for example, the one
that opens with Saigyo' assembling human bones to make a living
man 9 0 - b u t not one manages to carry the story to a satisfying conclusion.
All this suggests is what we knew before: the primary intent of the
compilers of Buddhist tales was not literary. They borrowed interesting
anecdotes as "accommodations" (hoben) that would enable them to per-
suade listeners or readers (who might not otherwise listen to Buddhist
homilies) that they must give heed to their salvation.

SAND AND PEBBLES

The last major collection of Buddhist tales of the Kamakura period was
Shasekishu (Sand and Pebbles)," compiled between 1279 and 1283 by the
priest Muju Ichien (1226-1312).92 The marked tendency observable in
Senjusho to stress the Buddhist lessons of the tales, at the expense of
literary effectiveness, is even more noticeable in Sand and Pebbles, where
the story is often subordinated to the moral.
Sand and Pebbles is a voluminous work consisting of 153 chapters in
774 The Middle Ages

ten books, each book consisting of tales devoted to a particular theme.

The first book contains stories relating to Muju's belief that the Japanese
gods are local manifestations of the buddhas and bodhisattvas, a doctrine
otherwise known as honji suijaku ("original substance manifests traces"}."
The second book treats miracles performed by various buddhas and
bodhisattvas, and each of the subsequent books has a theme of religious
or moral (not necessarily Buddhist) importance. The fifth book, of special
literary interest, discusses the function of poetry in promoting
enlightenment.
The collection opens with Muju's preface, in which he explains his
purpose in compiling Sand and Pebbles:

Coarse words and refined expressions both proceed from the First
Principle, nor are the everyday affairs of life at variance with the
True Reality. Through the wanton sport of wild words and specious
phrases, I wish to bring people into the marvelous Way of the
Buddha's teaching; and with unpretentious examples taken from the
common ordinary affairs of life I should like to illustrate the pro-
found significance of this splendid doctrine."

Muju was here justifying the use of coarse, mundane stories in order
to convey the wonderful truths of Buddhism to people who might not
be able to appreciate a more philosophical presentation. "Wild words
and specious phrases" (kyogen kigyo) had a similar meaning; colorful
language often induces people to absorb painlessly lessons that they
otherwise would not understand. Earlier collections of Buddhist setsuwa
had depended largely on anecdotes from antiquity that were sometimes
set in India and other distant places, but Muju's stories are most often
about fairly recent people living in Japan, and the language is much
closer to the colloquial than was customary. He compared what he did
to people who find gold in sand or who polish pebbles until they look
like gems; this was the meaning of the title.
Behind his readiness to use materials of every sort, no matter how
humble, was his conviction (also expressed in the preface) that "There
is not just one method for entering the Way, the causes and conditions
for enlightenment being many." A man or woman could enter the Way
as the result of a trivial experience, or of reading an anecdote that seemed
to be devoid of religious significance. Muju's attitude contrasted espe-
cially with those exhibited by the new religious leaders of the Kamakura
period. Unlike Shinran, who insisted that calling upon Amida was the
only way to gain salvation, or Nichiren, who made the same claim for
Buddhist Writings of the Kam ak ura Period 775
the Lotus Sutra, Muju, who had studied both Tendai and Zen Buddhism,
was willing to accept the manifold accommodations Buddha made to
human frailties."
In this spirit, Muju was able to accept the existence of the Shinto
gods, as intermediaries for Japanese in approaching the Buddhist truths.
An anecdote in the first book relates how a devotee of [odo Buddhism
was punished for having slighted the gods, sure that believers in Amida
need not concern themselves with any other deity. The man is stricken,
and when his mother begs a Shinto priestess to intercede on his behalf,
the offended god, speaking through the priestess, recalls the man's
impious words and declares, "I am a Transformation Body of the Eleven-
Faced Kannon. If one relies on the Original Vow of Amida, my pri-
mordial form, and calls upon his name with an upright heart, how
endearing do I consider this, how precious! But how can such a dirty,
defiled, and unrighteous mind be worthy of the Original Vow? "96
Muju believed that Japanese poetry, no less than the Japanese gods,
was a manifestation in Japan of eternal religious truth. He wrote,

When we consider waka as a means to religious realization, we see

that it has the virtue of serenity and peace, of putting a stop to the
distractions and undisciplined movements of the mind. With a few
words, it encompasses its sentiment. This is the very nature of mystic
verses or dhdrani.
The gods of Japan are Manifest Traces, the unexcelled Trans-
formation Bodies of buddhas and bodhisattvas. The god Susa-no-o
initiated composition in thirty-one syllables with the "many-layered
fence at Izumo.":" The dhiirani of India are simply the words used
by the people of that country which the Buddha took and inter-
preted as mystic formulas.... Had the Buddha appeared in Japan,
he would simply have used Japanese for mystic verses."

Muju also concurred in the belief expressed by Ki no Tsurayuki in

the preface to the Kokinshu that poetry could move the gods. He wrote,
"Likewise the gods, greatly admiring a man's poetry, will grant his wish.
The efficacy of Japanese poetry and the nature of mystic verse are in
every respect to be understood as identical with dhiirani."99 Muju was
not the first to have applied Tendai religious ideals to justify the existence
of poetry,'?" but he gave it authority. The religious importance of the
waka would be proclaimed in various No plays, and was implicitly
accepted by many of its practitioners.
Muju lived in a world that was believed by contemporaries to be
776 The Middle Ages

afflicted by the ignorance and corruption of mappo, Again and again

he lamented the decline in religious practices. It was true that more
people than ever "fled the world" to live in hermitages, but Muju
questioned their devotion to truth: "The recluse of old imbued his heart
with the Buddha's Law and set aside the myriad matters of the world,
while in the present age men ... only bear the name of 'recluse' (tonsei),
but do not know its reality. Year after year we see an increasing number
of people who escape the world simply to get ahead in life and in spite
of the fact that they have no religious aspiration at all."'?'
Muju compiled another setsuwa collection, Zotanshu (Collection of
Casual Digressions), completed in 1305,102 but his chief literary work
was undoubtedly Sand and Pebbles. It is the last important example of
Buddhist setsuwa.

BUDDHIST POETRY

The tradition of Buddhist priests and laymen composing poetry goes

back to the eighth century if not earlier, but the first imperially sponsored
collection of waka poetry to include a section devoted specifically to
Buddhist poetry (shakkyoka) was the Goshiashii, compiled in 1086. 103 The
authors included not only priests but men and women of the court and
commoners. This waka is attributed to the courtesan Miyaki:

Tsu no kuni no What kind of thing

Naniwa no koto ka Is not within the Law,
non naranu Even at Naniwa in Tsu?
asobitawabure I have heard the Law applied
made to koso kike Even to gambling and sex.!"

One book of the Shin Kokinshu, containing sixty-three poems, is

devoted to shakkyoka. These poems on the whole lack the appeal of
the well-known poems of this great collection, most of them being little
more than paraphrases of teachings from the Lotus Sutra and other
Buddhist texts; but in others the Buddhist themes are so completely
accommodated to the traditional imagery of the waka as to be unrec-
ognizable as Buddhist unless read in conjunction with the explanation
in the preface. The following waka is by Princess Shokushi:

shizuka naru In the quiet

akatsuki goto ni Each day before the dawning
Buddhist Writings of the Kam aleura Period 777
miwataseba When I gaze round me,
mada fukaki yo no How saddening that still
yume zo kanashiki The deep night's dream persists.

We might guess from the last two lines that Shikoshu's sadness
comes from something more than mere observation of the darkness
before the dawn, but the kotobagaki (prose preface) makes her intent
clear: "Among one hundred poems on the theme of 'every morning at
dawn he enters into quiet meditation.' " This is a reference to a phrase
in Emmei ]izokYo, a sutra that relates how the bodhisattva [izo vowed
to prolong the lives of (and otherwise benefit) those who turned to him.
The speaker of the poem, then, is [izo, who expresses grief that human
beings have not yet awakened from the darkness of the "deep night"
of ignorance and delusion. But the speaker is also Princess Shokushi,
whose dream, from which she is still not able to free herself, fills her
with sadness. lOS
Buddhist poetry was not always so difficult. Ryojin Hisho (Secret
Selection of Dust on the Beams),'?" a collection of some 566 poems
compiled about 1170 by the Emperor Goshirakawa, contains many pop-
ular songs on Buddhist, Shinto, and secular themes. The most typical
of the varieties of song found in Ryojin Hisho is the imayo (new-style
tunes), usually eight or twelve lines consisting of alternating lines of
seven and five syllables each. The collection had been lost, but in 1911
the surviving fragments (about a tenth of the original twenty books)
were discovered. Buddhist poems constitute a major part of the extant
poems. Some, almost devoid of poetic quality, are little more than ver-
sifications of lines from the Lotus Sutra and other sacred writings, or
else statements of the principles of a particular sect, as in the following
example:

hotolo: wa samazama ni Buddhas there are

imasedomo Of many kinds,
makoto wa ichibutsu But in truth, they say,
nari to ka ya There is only one.
Yakushi mo Mida mo Yakushi and Mida both
Shalea Miroku mo Shaka and Miroku too
sanagara Dainichi Are none other than Dainichi
to koso kike Or so I have been told.""

This hymn is clearly in praise of Dainichi, but others in the collection

praise Amida, [izo, Kannon, and various lesser Buddhist divinities. The
778 The Middle Ages

pleasing rhythms of these hymns make it easy to imagine believers

singing them, but they possess little literary interest. The secular poems
in Ryojin Hishii are far more interesting, and they account for the pop-
ularity of the collection today. Arthur Waley's translations of Ryojin
Hisho poems, published in 1921, were their first introduction to the
West. They include such delightful poems as:

mae mae katatsuburi Dance, dance, Mr. Snail!

mawanu mono naraba If you won't I shall leave you
muma no ko ya For the little horse,
ushi no ko ni For the little ox
kuesaseten To tread under his hoof,
}'umiwaraseten To trample to bits.
makoto ni utsukushiku But if quite prettily
mautaraba You dance your dance,
hana no sono made To a garden of flowers
asobasen I will carry you to play.!"

The irregular metrics of the poem suggest it was composed to fit

existing music. It is a children's song, though attempts have been made
to extract from it a specifically Buddhist meaning.l" Other poems,
though seemingly irreverent, no doubt have antecedents in religious
writings:

chihayaburu kami Oh gods almighty!

kami ni mashimasu If gods indeed you are,
mono naraba Take pity on me;
aware to oboshimese For even the gods were once
kami mo mukashi wa Such men as we. I IO
hito zo kashi

There are no clues to the authors of these poems. It is conceivable

that they were composed by Buddhist priests, despite the levity of some
verses and the sexual overtones of others. It had been customary ever
since the age of the Kokinshi; for priests to participate in poem com-
petitions at which they were required to compose poems on set themes,
even of romantic love, though they were not appropriate to men of their
calling. There are similar poems in the Shin Kokinshii, but the poems
by priests in that collection are generally somber rather than gallant.
On the other hand, some waka of Myoe, the leader of the revival of the
Kegon sect,'!' are so marked by nature imagery that they may seem to
Buddhist Writings of the Kam.aleura Period 779
be without religious significance.!" The poems in the Ryojin Hishii are
not as accomplished as those by Myoe (or by the court poets of the day),
but their subjects and expression have a delightful unconventionality
and have not lost their appeal. They suggest that all was not gloom even
at a time when the world was believed to have entered the latter days
of the Buddhist Law.

Notes
I. Ojo Yosha was translated by A. K. Reischauer in "Genshin's Ojoyoshl1."
2. The use of hoben (upaya in Sanskrit) is well discussed by William R.
LaFleur in The Karma of Words, pp. 84-87, in terms of the Lotus Sutra.
He preferred to translate hiiben as "modes," as in his version of a passage
from the sutra in which "the World Honored One" tells a disciple, "Since
becoming a Buddha, I, in a variety of modes and through many kinds
of metaphors, have been conversing and preaching very widely, thus in
countless ways leading living beings and helping them abandon their
attachments."
3. In Japanese, kyogen kigyo. Po made the statement in 839, when presenting
a copy of his poetry to a Buddhist library. See LaFleur, Karma, p. 8, for
a discussion of the term.
4. This is the subject of Robert E. Morrell's Early Kamakura Buddhism: A
Minority Report. He discusses in particular four priests: [ien (Tendai),
Myoe (Kegon), [okei (Hosso), and Kakukai (Shingon).
5. I shall refer to the work by its Japanese rather than its translated title
because that is how it is known even outside Japan.
6. The Japanese text of Tannisho, together with a free and a literal translation
into English, is given in Dennis Hirota, Tannishii: A Primer. The text,
together with a translation into modern Japanese and copious notes, can
be found in Gorai Shigeru, Bukkyo Bungaku, pp. 23-137.
7. Hirota, Tannisho, p. 25·
8. Many people were convinced that the mappo period had commenced in
1°52. Not all Buddhists, however, accepted this view. Degen insisted that
it was no less possible than in the past to understand and practice Bud-
dhism. See LaFleur, Karma, p. 3.
9. Hirota, Tannisho, p. 26.
10. See Harper Havelock Coates and Ryugaku Ishizuka, Honen the Buddhist
Saint, p. 441, where Honen is quoted: "You should continuously call upon
the sacred name, and so you should do it without interruption. It would
be a good thing to think of it say three times during mealtime, and if
you always thus keep it in mind, even though you do not succeed in
repeating it sixty or a hundred thousand times, it may still be called
780 The Middle Ages
continuous." For a discussion of whether the nembutsu had to be said
many times or if only once was sufficient, see Alfred Bloom, Shinran's
Gospel of Pure Grace, pp. 20-22.
11. Coates and Ishizuka, Honen, p. 725.
12. See Ryusaku Tsunoda et al., Sources ofJapanese Tradition, p. 210.
13. Hirota, Tannisho, p. 22. See also Gorai, Bukkyo Bungaleu, pp. 35-40.
14. Hirota, Tannisho, p. 41.
15· Gorai, Bukkyo Bungaleu, p. 34·
16. Ibid., pp. 80-81. See also the translation by Hirota in Tannisho, p. 33.
I7- See Gorai, Bukkyo Bungaku, pp. 147-48; also Miyasaka Yusho, Kana Hogo
Shu, pp. 21-23. Mita Zenshin in 1953 attributed the work to the poet
Ton'a, but even though this attribution was based on an exhaustive study
of the evidence, it does not appear to have been adopted by later scholars.
The work has tentatively been dated between 1287 (the date of the death
of the priest [ishin, mentioned in the text) and 1350, the conjectured date
of the death of Kenko, who quoted Brief Sayings in section 98 of Essays
in Idleness.
Virtually all that is known about Kyobutsu is that he seems to have
been a disciple of both Honen and Myozen. (See Miyasaka, Kana, p. 191.)
He is mentioned in Shasekishu, where he is identified as a holy man of
Mount Koya who was a native of Makabe in modern Ibaraki Prefecture
(see Miyasaka Yusho, Shasekishu, p. 186; also Robert E. Morrell, Sand and
Pebbles, p. 255,) If Kyobutsu really was the compiler of Brief Sayings and
was also a disciple of Myozen, he must either have been a child when he
became a disciple or else he compiled the work when he was very, very
old. Gorai suggested (Bukkyo Bungaeu, pp. 202-3) that Kyobutsu was
probably a contemporary of Shinran; but if the earliest possible date for
the compilation was 1287, this was twenty-four years after Shinran's death
(and fifty-three years after the death of Myozen). Obviously, the date and
the author of the work are still not known.
18. This judgment may be unfair. Kobayashi Hideo opened his most cele-
brated work "Mujo to iu koto" (The Fact of Evanescence) with the
quotation of an episode from Brief Sayings. See Dawn to the West, II, p.
605. The episode is given in Miyasaka, Kana, p. 204.
19. The great temple in Nagano, now used for worship by both the Tendai
and [odo sects.
20. Miyasaka, Kana, p. 186. See also Yanase Kazuo, Ichigon Hodan, pp. 20-
21,78. There is a retelling of the anecdote in Coates and Ishizuka, Honen,
pp. 318- 19.
21. Meaning a priest who lives in a hermitage, rather than in a temple or
monastery.
22. C-orai, Bukkyo Bungaku, pp. 221-22. The texts given by Miyasaka in Kana,
pp. 195-96, and by Yanase in Ichigon Hodan, pp. 36-38, 93-94, are some-
what different.
Buddhist Writings of the Kam aleura Period
23. This painting has often been reproduced. In Jan Fontein and Money L.
Hickman, Zen Painting and Calligraphy, it is figure 6.
24. The title has been rendered into English in many ways, none of them
graceful. I have given here the translation of Nishiyama Kosen in Sho-
bogenzo, I, p. I 17.
25. The point was: "Both the exoteric and esoteric schools teach that all beings
possess Buddha-nature and original enlightenment. If that is so, why do
all the Buddhas of the three worlds arouse the Buddha-seeking mind and
search for enlightenment through practice?" (Nishiyama, Shobogenzo, I,
p. xiii.)
26. His name is also pronounced Yosai,
27. See Nishiyama, ShObi5genzo, I, p. xviii.
28. When the temple was completed in 1244, Dagen at first called it Daibutsu-
ji, but in 1245 he changed the name to Eihei-ji, Eihei (Ying-p'ing) being
the period of Chinese history when Buddhism first entered the country.
29. Dagen did not deny the value of the koan, though he gave much greater
emphasis to zazen (meditation).
30. Quoted by Thomas P. Kasulis in "The Incomparable Philosopher: Dagen
on How to Read the Shobogenzo," p. 90.
31. See Gorai, Bukkyo Bungaleu, p. 233·
32. Hee-Iin Kim, "'The Reason of Words and Letters': Dagen and Koan
Language," in William R. LaFleur, ed., Dogcn Studies, p. 61.
33. Nishiyama, Shobogenzo, I, p. I 17.
34. Ibid.
35. See, for example, Nishio Minoru et aI., sssss Genzo, Shobo Gcnzo Zui-
monlti, I, p. 5. The translation by Thomas Cleary is, "Extensive study and
broad learning is something that cannot succeed. You should firmly resolve
to give it up altogether. Only in respect to one task should you learn the
ancient standards of mental discipline. Seek out the footsteps of past
masters, wholeheartedly apply effort to one practice, and avoid any pre-
tense of being a teacher of others or a past master." Thomas Cleary, Record
of Things Heard from the Treasury of the Eye of the True Teachings, p. 4.
36. During the Sung dynasty (960-1279) China was known as Sung; the
"Great" in the name conveyed the dynasty's high opinion of itself.
37. Probably the shoro (bell tower) or kuro (drum tower) of a Zen temple.
38. Nishio et aI., Shobo Genzo, pp. 319-20. See also Gorai, Gukkyo Bungala«,
pp. 238-39, and the translation by Cleary, Record, pp. 116-17.
39. A reference to the kampaku Fujiwara no Yorimichi, who acquired this
name because he built at Uji the magnificent temple Byodo-in.
40. A kind of cauldron used for baths. Either a lid was placed over the mouth
of the cauldron, creating a kind of steam bath, or else hot water was
transferred from the "boiler" to a wooden tub in which people bathed.
41. Nishio et aI., Shobo Genzo, p. 327. See also Gorai, Bukkyo Bungaku, pp.
247-48, and the translation by Cleary, Record, p. 123. Virtually the same
782 The Middle Ages
anecdotes would be told many years later of the wayward Zen monk
Ikkyu Sojun, Although the comment is attributed in this instance to the
nobleman Yorimichi rather than to a Zen monk, the point is that only a
fool takes the outer garments a man is wearing for the man himself.
Evidently, the man in the boiler room judged people by what they wore
rather than by their personal dignity, and that was why Yorimichi sar-
donically bowed before his robe.
42. The title means literally, "Account of One js Square." A jo was about
ten feet, and hojo came to designate a hut ten feet square, following the
account of the Chinese pilgrim Wang Hsuan-ts'e who, en route to India
in A.D. 660, passed the ruins of the hut where the Buddhist layman-sage
Vimalakirti had instructed 32,000 disciples and debated with Mafijusri.
Later, hojo came to designate the abbot's quarters in a Zen temple. This
kind of hojo was much bigger than a hermitage, but in theory the abbot,
like Vimalakfrti, resided in a hut only ten feet square. See Martin Collcutt,
Five Mountains: The Rinzai Zen Monastic Institution in Medieval Japan, pp.
197-201, for a description of the abbot's building and its history. Kamo
no Chomei used the term for his hut in accordance with the original
meaning.
43. My translation in Anthology of Japanese Literature, pp. 197-98. Text in
Nishio Minoru, Hojoki, Tsurezuregusa, pp. 23-24.
44. Freely translated above as "Which will be first to go, the master or his
dwelling?"
45. My translation in Anthology, pp. 199-200.
46. Ibid., p. 201.
47. Ibid., p. 205·
48. See above, pp. 347-48.
49. Translation by Burton Watson in Japanese Literature in Chinese, I, p. 59.
50. Keene, Anthology, p. 205.
51. Ibid., p. 206.
52. Watson, Japanese, I, p. 64.
53. Ibid., p. 211.
54. Keene, Anthology, p. 209·
55. Sanhashi; 12° 7. See Kazamaki Keijiro and Kojima Yoshio, Sankashu, Kin-
kai Waka Shu, p. 212.
56. Ibid., p. 211.
57. For Vimalakirti, see above, note 42. Suddhipanthaka (Handoku in Jap-
anese) was the most stupid of the disciples of Buddha. See LaFleur, Karma,
pp. 113- 15.
58. The title might more literally be rendered as "Awakening of Faith Col-
lection." Because both English translations are so awk ward, I shall refer
to the work by its Japanese title, as Marian Dry did in her translation of
sections of the work.
59. A shorter version (ihon) with only sixty-four tales was apparently compiled
Buddhist Writings of the Kam ak ura Period
somewhat earlier than the rufubon version which is now accepted as
authoritative. See Kishi Shozo, "Kaisetsu," in Nishio Koichi and Kishi
Shozo, Chusei Setsuwa Shu, pp. 131-32, for a comparison of the two texts.
Translations of ten stories are given in Marian Dry, "Recluses and Ec-
centric Monks: Tales from the Hosshinshii by Kamo no Chomei."
60. Kishi, "Kaisetsu," p. 145, says, "An attitude of special attention to kokoro
runs through the entire Hosshmshii from beginning to end."
61. Kishi and Nishio, Chusei, pp. 142-43.
62. See, for example, Aoyama Katsuya, Kamo no Chomei no Setsuwa Seeai,
pp·7- 22.
63. See Nishio and Kishi, Chusei, p. 148. Kishi, in his "Kaisetsu," p. 130,
produced evidence that Hosshinshii was compiled between 1208 and 1213.
64. As a matter of fact, two stories (numbers 24 and 25) deal with India and
China, but they could be considered appendages to stories about Japan.
See Nishio and Kishi, Chusei, p. 148.
65. Translation by Dry in "Recluses," P: 169.
66. "Master of discipline," a priestly officer of the fifth rank.
67. This is story 35 (the tenth story in Book III). I have used the text of
Nishio and Kishi, Chusei, pp. 210-1 I.
68. Passages from Hosshinshu quoted by Rodrigues are given and analyzed
by Yanase Kazuo in Hosshinshii Kenkyu, pp. 26-31. For the contents of
Arte da Lingoa de Iapam, see Michael Cooper, Rodrigues the Interpreter,
pp.224-33·
69. Some scholars question the attribution to Keisei, but it is generally ac-
cepted. A convincing case for the attribution was made by Nagai Yoshinori
in Nihon Bukkyo Bungaku Kenkyu, pp. 155-69.
70. A reference to various accounts of holy men who had attained enlight-
enment. Fifteen persons treated in these biographies also appeared In
Hosshinshu. See Minobe Shigekatsu, Kankyo no Torno, pp. 68, 170.
71. Minobe, Kankyo, pp. 68-69.
72. For a discussion of the influence of Hosshinsha on Kankyo no Torno, see
Harada Kozo, "'Kankyo no Torno' Kiko to Keisei no Soan Seikatsu,"
pp. 44-47, 59· Harada believed that Keisei began to compile Kankyo no
Torno only a few months after Chomei's death in 1216, and that he closely
modeled his work on Hosshinshii.
73. Minobe, Kankyo, pp. 74-75. This passage occurs at the end of the story
of the Abbot Gempin.
74. Harada, "Kankyo," p. 51.
75· Minobe, Kankyo, p. 75·
76. This tale was summarized by Tanizaki [un'ichiro in his novel ShoshO
Shigemoto no Haha (The Mother of the Captain Shigemoto). For an English
translation by Edward Seidensticker of this portion of the novel, see my
Modern Japanese Literature, pp. 391-94.
77. Minobe, Kankyo, pp. I I 1-14. This is Book I, tale 19.
 The Middle Ages
78. Paraphrased by Keisei (Minobe, Kankyo, p. 114). "Achieve meditation" is
an inadequate stab at a translation of kannen joju. It seems to refer to the
Tendai belief in "meditation" (kannen) on Amida through which one
attains the supreme bliss (gokuraku) of Buddhahood in this very body
(sokushin jobutsu). See Morrell, Early, p. 141.
79· See Minobe, Kanltyo, pp. 4-5.
80. Biographical and other materials concerning Saigyo are found on pp. 676-
81. I shall refer to the work by its Japanese title. Selection of Tales is
nondescript; and the only study of the work in English, by Jean Moore,
used the Japanese title.
81. Saigyo's connection with Sanuki is attested by the account in Tale of the
Disturbance in Hogen of how he visited the grave of the Emperor Sutoku
at Shiramine in Sanuki. See above, p. 620.
82. See Nishio Koichi, "Kaisetsu," in Senjusho, pp. 346-63, where he lists
forty-one examples of errors in the text that make it impossible for it to
be the work of Saigyo. See also Nishio Koichi, Setsuwa Bungaku shoko,
PP·233-39·
83. Minobe, Kankyo, pp. 39-48, noted many resemblances, not only in the
tales but in the appended morals.
84. Nishio Koichi, "Kaisetsu," p. 336. The theory that the kohon (longer text)
was the original text and the shorter text (ryakuhon) a selection from the
longer one, was first proposed by Kobayashi Tadao in 1942.
85. A priest was often described as a shukke, meaning one who had left his
home to enter the path of the Buddha.
86. "Temporary lodgings" was a Buddhist way of referring to this world, a
temporary stop on the way to the eternal world of Amida Buddha.
87. Translation by Jean Moore, "Senjiaho: Buddhist Tales of Renunciation,"
pp. 168-69. Text in Nishio Koichi, Senjusho, pp. 294-95.
88. See Robert E. Morrell, "Mirror for Women: Muju Ichien's Tsuma Ka-
gami," p. 57.
89. Translation by Moore, "Senjiisho," p. 171. Text in Nishio Koichi, Senjusho,
P·29 8.
90. Translated by Royall Tyler in Japanese Tales, pp. 68-70.
91. There is a translation into English of a substantial part of the work by
Morrell in Sand and Pebbles. He summarizes tales he does not translate
in full. There is also a French translation by Hartmut O. Rotermund in
Collection de sable et de pierres.
92. The best account in English of Muju's life is given by Morrell in Sand,
pp. 13-33·
93. For a discussion of honji suijaku in English, see Tsunoda et aI., Sources,
pp. 268-70' A much more extensive treatment is found in Alicia Ma-
tsunaga, The Buddhist Philosophy of Assimilation. The oldest example of
honji suijaku thought in Japan dates from 937, when two gods were
declared to be local manifestations of bodhisattvas.
Buddhist Writings of the Kam ak ura Period
94. Translation by Morrell in Sand, p. 7r. Text in Watanabe Tsunaya, Sha-
sekishii, p. 57. The "First Principle" is Ultimate Reality, and the whole
phrase from the Nirvana Sutra (Daihatsu Nchangyo].
95. Morrell, Sand, p. 60.
96. This is anecdote IO in Book I. Translation by Morrell in Sand, pp. 97-
99. Text in Watanabe, Shasekishii, pp. 83-85.
97. A reference to the poem in the Kojiki attributed to the god. See p. 43.
98. Translation by Morrell in Sand, pp. 163-64. Text in Watanabe, Shasekishii,
pp. 222-23·
99. Morrell, Sand, p. 165; Watanabe, Shaseeishi«, p. 224.
IOO. See Robert H. Brower and Earl Miner, Japanese Court Poetry, p. 257,
where the Tendai practice of shiban ("concentration and insight") was
equated with the aesthetic ideal of grasping the "real significance" or
"essence" of an experience by concentrating on a given topic.
ror, Morrell, Sand, p. 135. Watanabe, Shasekishii, p. 163.
I02. Some stories from this collection are translated by Morrell in Sand, pp.
275-80. A study of the relations of Zotanslui to other setsuwa collections
is given by Shimura Kunihiro in Chiisei Setsuwa Bungaku KenkYii Josetsu,
pp.266- 83·
I03. Only 19 of the 1,220 poems in Goshiiishii are found in this section.
104. Translation by Robert E. Morrell in "The Buddhist Poetry in the Goshii-
ishii," p. 100. This is poem 1199 in the collection. The preface to the poem
states that the officiating priest seemed dubious about the propriety of
accepting Miyak i's offering of money for a Surra-Copying Ceremony. Her
reply, in the form of this poem, declares that "all phenomena participate
in true reality."
I05. Shin Kokinshii 1970. I have followed the interpretation of Minemura Fu-
mito in Shin Koein Waka sha, p. 586.
106. This strange appellation for a collection of poetry is explained in the text:
"The reason why [this work] has been called Secret Selection of Dust on
the Beams is that Yu Kung and Han E, who lived long ago, had such
wondrously beautiful voices that no one could match them. People who
heard them sing were so moved that they could not hold back the tears.
The dust on beams rose up to the echoes of their singing voices and did
not settle for three days." (From Konishi [in'ichi, Ryojin Hisho Ko, pp.
207-8. Konishi suggested that this was a later interpellation.) The two
Chinese renowned for their voices are described in various works of
antiquity including Lieh Tzu.
107. Konishi, Ryojin, pp. 204-5. This is poem 19 of the collection. Konishi
believed that the poem was an expression of Tendai esoteric beliefs. With
respect to Yakushi (the Healing Buddha), Mida (Amida), and Miroku (the
Buddha of the Future), Tendai and Shingon beliefs would have been the
same, but Shingon believers differentiated between Shaka (Shakyamuni)
and Dainichi (Vairochana).
 The Middle Ages
108. Ryojin Hisho 408. Translation by Arthur Waley, quoted in my Anthology,
p. 168. See Konishi, Ryojin, p. 501; also Kawaguchi Hisao and Shida
Nobuyoshi, Wakan Roei Shu, Ryojin Hisho, p. 417.
109. See Konishi, Ryojin, p. 502, where he quotes Yamada Yoshio who had
found similarities between this poem and one by the priest Jakuren that
described a snail that was stepped on by a calf. Konishi disagreed; he
believed it was a children's song and not an example of honka-dori.
110. Ryojin Hisho 447. Translation by Waley in my Anthology, p. 169. See

Kawaguchi and Shida, Wakan, p. 232, for statements in earlier literature,

both canonical and secular, to the effect that Buddha himself was once a
human being. This is the corollary of the more frequently expressed belief
that all living creatures possess the Buddha nature.
I I I. For a discussion of Myoe and translations of some of his writings, see

Morrell, Kamakura, pp. 44-65.

112. Myoe's best-known waka is: Aka aka ya I aka aka aka ya I aka aka ya I aka
aka aka ya I aka aka ya tsuki. (Yoshihara, Mvoe, pp. 159-60.) The meaning
is approximately, "Bright bright ah I bright bright bright ah I bright bright
bright ah I bright bright ah I bright bright ah the moon." Kawabata Ya-
sunari in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech quoted this poem because of
the profound sense of wonder he detected. Myoe was exceptionally fond
of the moon, but the moon was of course a familiar Buddhist image for
enlightenment.
Myoe's poetry is treated by Yoshihara Shikeko in Myoe Shonin Kashii
no KenkYu, and by the same writer in "Myoe Shanin no Waka," in Bukkyo
Bungaku Kenkyukai, BukkYo Bungaleu KenkYu, XI, pp. 103-39. His poems
were included in various chokusenshu, beginning with the Shin Choleu-
senshii; in which five poems appear.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Aoyama Katsuya. Kamo no Chomci no Setsuwa Sekai. Ofusha, 1984.

Bloom, Alfred. Shinran's Gospel of Pure Grace. Tucson: The University of
Arizona Press, 1965.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1961.
Bukkyo Bungaku Kenkyukai (ed.). BukkYo Bungaku KenkYu. Kyoto: Hozokan,
1972-76.
Cleary, Thomas. Record of Things Heard from the Treasury of the Eye of the
True Teachings. Boulder, Colo.: Prajfia Press, 1980.
Buddhist Writings of the Kam aleu ra Period
Coates, Harper Havelock, and Ryugaku Ishizuka. Honen the Buddhist Saint.
Tokyo: Kodokaku, 1930.
Collcutt, Martin. Five Mountains: The Rinzai Zen Monastic Institution in Medieval
Japan. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1974.
Cooper, Michael. Rodrigues the Interpreter. New York: Weatherhill, 1974.
Fontein, Jan, and Money Hickman. Zen Painting and Calligraphy. Boston:
Museum of Fine Arts, 1970.
Gorai Shigeru. Bukkyo Bungaku, in Kansho Nihon Koten Bungaku series.
Kadokawa Shoten, 1977.
Harada Kozo. "'Kankyo no Torno' Kika to Keisei no Soan Seikatsu," in
Bukk yo Bungaku Kenkyukai (cd.), Bukkyo Bungaleu Kenkyu, II. Kyoto:
Hozokan, 1976.
Hare, Thomas Blenman. "Reading Kamo no Chornei," Harvard Journal of
Asiatic Studies 49:1, 1989.
Hirota, Dennis. Tannisho: A Primer. Kyoto: Ryukoku University, 1982.
Kasulis, Thomas P. "The Incomparable Philosopher: Dagen on How to Read
the Shobogenzo," in William R. LaFleur (ed.), Dogen Studies. Honolulu:
University of Hawaii Press, 1985.
Kawaguchi Hisao and Shida Nobuyoshi. Wakan Roei Shu, Ryojin Hisho ; in
Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1965.
Kazamaki Keijiro and Kojima Yoshio. Sankashu, Kinleai Waka Shu, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 196I.
Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
- - - . Modern Japanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1956.
Konishi [iri'ichi. Ryojin Hisho, in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shimbun
Sha, 1953.
- - - . Ryojin Histui Ko. Sanseido, 194I.
LaFleur, William R. (ed.). Dogen Studies. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press,
1985.
- - - . The Karma of Words. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983.
Matsunaga, Alicia. The Buddhist Philosophy of Assimilation-the Historical De-
velopment of the Honji-Suijaku Theory. Tokyo: Sophia University Press,
1969.
Miller, Roy Andrew. 'The Footprints of the Buddha": an Eighth-Century Old
Japanese Poetic Sequence. New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1975.
Minemura Fumito. Shin Kokin Waka Shu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu
series. Shogakukan, 1974.
Minobe Shigekatsu. Kankyo no Torno. Miyai Shoten, 1974.
Miyasaka Yushe. Kana Hogo Shu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series.
Iwanami Shoten, 1964.
- - - . Shaseltishu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten,
1966.
Moore, Jean. "Senjusho: Buddhist Tales of Renunciation," Monumenta Nip-
ponica 4 I : 2, 1986.
 The Middle Ages
Morrell, Robert E. "The Buddhist Poetry in the Goshiashu:" Monumenta Nip-
ponica 28:1, 1973.
- - - . Early Kamaeura Buddhism: A Minority Report. Berkeley: Asian Hu-
manities Press, 1987.
- - - . "Mirror for Women: Muju Ichien's Tsuma Kagami," Monumenta Nip-
ponica 35:1, 1980.
- - - . Sand and Pebbles (Shasehishu}. Albany: State University of New York
Press, 1985.
Nagai Yoshinori. Nihon BukkYo Bungaeu KenkYu. Toshima Shobe, 1966.
Nishio Koichi, Scnjusho, in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten, 1970.
- - - . Setsuwa Bungaku Shako. Kyoiku Shuppan, 1985.
Nishio Koichi and Kishi Shozo, Chusei Setsuwa Shu. Kadokawa Shoten, 1977.
Nishio Minoru. Hojokl~ Tsurezuregusa, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series.
Iwanami Shoten, 1957.
Nishio Minoru, Kagamishima Genryu, et al. sssto Gcnzi), ShabO Genzo Zui-
monki, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1965.
Nishiyama Kosen, ShabOgenzo, I. Nakayama Shobe, 1975.
Reischauer, A. K. "Genshin's Ojoyoshu," Translations of the Asiatic Society of
Japan, second series, VII, Dec. 1930.
Rotermund, Harmut O. Collection de sable et de pierres (Shasekishu). Paris:
Gallimard, 1979.
Shimura Kunihiro. Chusci Setsuwa Bungaeu KenkYu Josetsu. Ofusha, 1974.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene. Sources of
Japanese Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958.
Tyler, Royall. Japanese Tales. New York: Pantheon, 1987.
Ury, Marian. "Recluses and Eccentric Monks: Tales from the Hosshinshu by
Kamo no Chornei," Monumenta Nipponica 27:2, 1972.
Watanabe Tsunaya. Shasekishu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwa-
nami Shoten, 1966.
Watson, Burton. Japanese Literature in Chinese, 2 vols. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1975.
Yanase Kazuo. Hosshinshu KenkYu. Kato Chudokan, 1975.
- - - . Ichigon Hodan, in Kadokawa Bunko series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1970.
Yoshihara Shikeko. Myoe Shonin Kashu no KenkYu. Ofusha, 1976.
 2 O.
COURTLY FICTION OF THE
KAMAKURA PERIOD

~e reputation of the works of fiction composed during the Kamakura

period in the tradition of the Heian monogatari is by no means high.
Few scholars are attracted to what seems to be a barren field, certainly
when compared to the war tales or setsuwa of the same period, and
even they are likely to opine that the later examples of courtly fiction
are so greatly indebted to The Tale of Genji as to be little more than
copies. Every instance of influence from The Tale of Genji on these
works has been painstakingly traced, but the extraordinary dissimilarities
are generally passed over in silence or stated without comment, as if
the scholar were rather embarrassed to discover that not everything
could be explained in terms of imitation. No doubt it is frustrating to
deal with works of literature that are known, even before they are read,
to be inferior to The Tale of Genji or even to the fiction of the late
Heian period. The incomplete state of the texts of some of the best
monogatari of the Kamakura period also makes it difficult for the rare
enthusiast to claim that his particular discovery is almost as good as
Murasaki Shikibu's masterpiece.
Other problems of a more technical nature are involved when dis-
cussing the courtly fiction of the Kamakura period. As is true of the
monogatari of the late Heian period, the surviving texts are not dated,
and our only sources of information about when the works of courtly
fiction of this period were written are Story Without a Name and the
Fiiyoshii (Wind and Leaves Collection), an anthology of poems that
originally had appeared in monogatari.' Internal evidence is even harder
to obtain. The writers of courtly fiction deliberately avoided the use of
new words or grammatical constructions, rather in the manner that most
waka poets for a millennium avoided words that had not been mentioned
in the Kokinshii, and there are virtually no allusions to contemporary
events or to developments in Buddhism. Works of courtly fiction of the
79° The Middle Ages

Kamakura period are for this reason often referred to as giko monogatari
(archaic fiction), though the appropriateness of this term has been
questioned.'
The establishment of the shogun's court in Kamakura deeply affected
the nobility, whether they remained behind in the old Heian capital or
attempted to improve their situation by going elsewhere. Power was
now in the hands of the military, and there are descriptions in writings
of the time of how the aristocrats were obliged to fawn on their erstwhile
servants. The nobles experienced severe economic hardships especially
during the warfare of the late twelfth century; but little in the traditional
fiction produced at the court indicates what important political changes
had occurred in the lives of the authors. It is quite possible, however,
that some of the lost works whose titles we know from Story Without
a Name or the Fuyoshu more clearly revealed than any surviving work
that a new age had begun in literature as well as in the domain of
politics.'
Works in the courtly tradition of the Kamakura period are for this
reason, perhaps even more than for their old-fashioned style, considered
to be pseudoclassical. The term is used to mean that the authors were
pretending to be writing in an earlier (and happier) age. Not even the
Heian courtly fiction had been really faithful to its time. Who would
guess when reading The Tale of Genji or Wakefulness at Night that while
their authors were evoking the beauty of a society free from any hint
of disorder and ruled by canons of taste rather than by laws, the capital
was overrun by bandits who threatened the property and even the lives
of the aristocratsj'" All the same, the Heian writers persuade us of the
truth of their romanticized portrayal of their society. The Kamakura
writers, despite their lavish descriptions of the beauty of the world they
portray, were not so successful. Indeed, the feature that most clearly
distinguishes the court fiction of the Kamakura period is the prominence
of deviations-conscious or otherwise-from the cult of beauty that
had characterized the Heian literature during its heyday.
The decline in the morals of the Heian aristocracy, a conspicuous
element in this loss of beauty, began long before the shogunate capital
was established in Kamakura.' Yet it is hard to escape the impression
that signs of decadence among the aristocrats, evident much earlier,
grew increasingly pronounced. The Confessions of Lady Nljo, a diary
written toward the close of the Kamakura period, is evidence of the
degree of promiscuity that existed at the court. The nobles were deprived
by the rising power of the military of almost everything but their titles,
and in inverse proportion to the court's loss of importance as the central
Courtly Fiction of the Ka m aleura Period 791

organ of administration, ceremony and precedents became not merely

guides to the correct performance of court activities but matters of the
most intense concern.
For many aristocrats of this period, especially the women, The Tale
of Genji was not only a beautiful novel but a faithful portrayal of a
glorious age of the court, which they sadly contrasted with their own
reduced circumstances. In their attempt to preserve the culture of their
ancestors, these nobles consecrated themselves to waka poetry with such
fervor that it became all but a religion. But it was in the fiction, rather
than the poetry, that the pervasive decadence is most clearly revealed.
With a very few exceptions, the writers of the Kamakura courtly
fiction are unknown, but we know from the example of Fujiwara Teika
that men not only read but composed monogatari. The intended readers,
however, were probably still ladies of the court, and the loving evocations
of the Heian past were for their delectation. Repetitions of thematic
materials from The Tale ofGenji would not have distressed such readers;
on the contrary, they probably gave the kind of pleasure they knew in
poetry from honka-dori. One critic wrote of the Kamakura period
monogatari Koke no Koromo (The Moss-Colored Robe), a work usually
dismissed as being wholly derivative, "It was definitely not that the
author of this monogatari copied earlier monogatari in the hope of giving
form to his work; rather, it is clear that he strongly hoped that readers
would, as they read, perceive both the links with and the differences
that separated it from the existing body of rnonogatari.!" The same is
true of many other monogatari of the period, notably Teika's.

THE TALE OF THE MATSURA PALACE

Teika's sole surviving work of fiction is the unfinished Matsuranomiya

Monogatari (The Tale of the Matsura Palace), though he probably wrote
others. Our best clues to the authorship and dating come from a brief
passage in Story Without a Name, where it states, "The many works
composed by Teika, the lesser captain, are so exclusively concerned with
creating atmosphere that they are utterly lacking in verisimilitude. The
poems in The Tale of the Matsura Palace are exactly like those in the
Man'yoshu, and the plot brings to mind The Hollow Trec"? We know
that Story Without a Name was written in 1200 or 1201, and Teika held
the office of shosho (lesser captain) from 1189 to 1202, strong evidence
that he wrote The Tale of the Matsura Palace between 1189 and 120I,H
It might seem that an extended work by a recognized, even wor-
792 The Middle Ages

shiped master of Japanese poetry would command wide attention, but

The Tale of the Matsura Palace has been little studied. The unfinished
state of the work undoubtedly has contributed to the neglect, but interest
in Teika's writings is largely restricted to his poetry and criticism, and
his novel has therefore been as little read as the plays of Browning or
Tennyson. The work has been described as an exercise in literary com-
position: the poems (as the lady of Story Without a Name stated) recall
those in the Man'yoshii, at least in the first book, though elsewhere Teika
experimented with later styles of waka. He borrowed directly from The
Tale of the Hollow Tree when creating his hero and in the emphasis he
gave to music as a central element of the plot. He was probably indebted
also to The Tale of the Hamamatsu Middle Counselor for setting much
of the story in China. It is clear that Teika was not merely recounting
an entertaining tale but demonstrating his familiarity with the literature
of the past and his ability to write in a variety of styles.
One influence is conspicuous by its absence-that of The Tale of
Genii. Teika deliberately set his work in the distant past, before the
capital was established at Nara (and, naturally, before The Tale of Genii).
It opens, "Long ago, when the capital was at Fujiwara, Tachibana no
Fuyuaki, a major counselor of the Senior Third Rank who also served
as general of the Palace Guards, had an only son by the Imperial Princess
Asuka."? The Fujiwara capital lasted for three reigns, from 694 to 710,
immediately before Nara was made the first permanent capital. The
title chii« no taishii (rendered here as "general of the Palace Guards") is
found in the Man'yoshii and other early documents, but no longer existed
in the Heian period; it served to confirm the period of the work. III
Teika, by going back to the Man'yoshi; and The Tale of the Hollow
Tree, was in effect refusing the possibility of influence from the later
Tale of Genii. Perhaps Teika was attempting to return in his work to
a more vigorous period of Japanese history; it certainly stands apart
from more typical examples of archaic fiction which insist on the beauty
and sensitivity of the heroes to the exclusion of specifically masculine
traits. But, of course, even the act of refusing influence revealed how
profoundly conscious Teika was of The Tale of Genii at every stage of
writing his book.
Ben no Shosho, the hero of The Tale ofthe Matsura Palace, displayed
outstanding qualities even as a small boy. We are told that he excelled
others in his looks and, as he grew up, it became apparent that he was
no less remarkable in intelligence and disposition. When the boy was
seven, he demonstrated his proficiency at composing poetry in Chinese.
The emperor, hearing of this prodigy, summoned him and set a topic
Courtly Fiction of the Ka m aleura Period 793
for a poem as a test of his ability; the boy, without the least hesitation,
composed a splendid poem on the assigned topic. He later studied
stringed and wind instruments, and soon was able to play even the most
difficult pieces better than his teacher.
Thus far, we have been given more or less the standard description
of the hero of a Heian monogatari. The first departure from convention
comes with the statement that Ben no Shosho, unlike most young men,
was severely disciplined in his habits and seemed uninterested in ro-
mance. The self-discipline would serve him well later in the novel, when
he (in contrast to the heroes of Heian court fiction) is required to
demonstrate his prowess on the battlefield; but the lack of interest in
romance is only apparent. As a matter of fact, he is deeply in love with
the Princess Kannabi, and desperately wants to make her his wife. The
princess offers no encouragement. When he summons up the courage
to reach inside her screen-of-state and take her hand, she tries to escape,
and to the poem he sends describing his burning love she sends a frosty
reply in which she expresses doubt that he is really consumed in the
flames of passion for her.
Soon afterward Shosho is ordered by the emperor to proceed to
China as second in command of an embassy. (This has the effect of
confirming that the tale took place prior to 838, when the last embassy
to China was sent.) His parents worry about the dangerous journey, but
are aware also that it is a signal honor that their son has been chosen.
Sh6sh6 is unhappy because Princess Kannabi has been taken into the
palace, and has quickly become the emperor's favorite; but at the farewell
banquet for members of the embassy, he receives a poem from Kannabi
urging him to return safely to Japan. She says her heart will go with
him, the first kind words he has received.
He departs for the "border"-the harbor of Matsura in Kyushu
from which the embassy is to sail for China. His mother insists on
accompanying him, and declares that she will stay there until he returns.
Although the mother's decision to remain in Matsura is not one of the
central incidents of the work, for some reason the palace (miya) she built
at Matsura appears in the title.
After a voyage lasting just a week, the ship bearing the Japanese
embassy arrives at Ningpo;" the traditional port through which Japanese
visitors entered China. They are welcomed by local officials with whom
they exchange poems in Chinese. Apart from poetry, everything in China
is unfamiliar, but the Japanese are impressed by the quality of the officials
even in a place so remote from the capital; China is evidently a country
of great culture."
794 The Middle Ages

When the Japanese reach the capital, they are granted an audience
by the emperor. The members of the Japanese embassy join their hosts
in making music and composing poetry. The emperor is pleased with
Shosho, and insists that the young man (he was then seventeen) remain
by his side. Some at the court are annoyed by Shosho's mastery of every
art, which quite puts the Chinese to shame, and others remonstrate with
the emperor, pointing out how unusual it is for a foreigner, especially
one so young, to be admitted to the presence of the emperor; but the
emperor puts an end to the discussion by citing the instance of a foreigner
favored by the ancient Emperor Han Wu-ti,
No less than The Hamamatsu Middle Counselor, this tale insists on
the Japanese mastery of Chinese culture: there was no diminution of
Japanese esteem for China as the source of their higher culture, even
though diplomatic contacts had long been broken, but they evidently
liked to believe (at this time as much later) that they, rather than
the Chinese themselves, were the heirs to the great traditions of the
past.
Shosho also reveals his moral superiority. The emperor arranges for
beautiful dancing girls to entertain Shosho, but the latter, showing no
sign of being tempted, spends his nights alone. The emperor is impressed:
he had not expected a Japanese to display such self-control."
Although Shosho is resolved not to commit any lapses while in China,
he is finally led into temptation, not by a beautiful face but by music.
He hears the sound of a kin (Chinese zither) being played, so magnif-
icently that he searches until he finds the player, an old man of eighty.
The old man expresses joy over seeing a Japanese, and in a scene that
recalls Kukai's account of his first meeting with Hui-kuo, his teacher,
declares that he knew Shosho would visit him that night." He also
reveals that there is a kin player even superior to himself, the Princess
Hua-yang, and he urges Shosho to study with her.
Shosho finds his way to the princess's mountain retreat, guided by
the sound of her music. He is dazzled by his first glimpse; compared
to her, the dancing girls who had entertained him look like so many
clay dolls, and even Princess Kannabi seems no more than a country
wench." Princess Hua-yang teaches him a secret piece, and they com-
memorate the occasion by exchanging poems, both in Chinese (not
quoted) and Japanese. Her waka is:

kumo nifuk u That man who has come

kaze mo oyabanu To visit over the waves
namlJl yon U nreached even by
Courtly Fiction of the Kam aleu ra Period 795

toileon hito wa The winds that blow in the clouds-

sora ni shirinihi I knew of him in heaven.

Ben no Shosho replies:

kuma no holea Did I ever know

to tsu saleai no Parting of such great sorrow
kunibito mo Even when I left
mata ka baleari no Someone from that far-off land
ioakarc ya wa seshi" Far beyond the realm of clouds?

The princess tells Shosho how she was taught to play the kin by an
immortal who descended from heaven the night of the harvest moon.
At their second meeting she teaches him the remainder of the secret
pieces, but reveals she has not long to live. In the meantime, the emperor
falls ill. He predicts his own death and unrest in the country, but takes
comfort from Shosho's physiognomy, which bears the signs of one who
will calm disorder in the country. He also foresees Shosho's safe return
to Japan. Shosho has a final meeting with Princess Hua-yang. She
promises that if he really loves her and never forgets her she will join
him in her next life. She gives him a crystal bead, urging him never to
let it out of his possession. Once back in Japan, he should go to the
Hatsuse Temple and for twenty-one days perform the customary ob-
servances before the statue of Kannon. If he does exactly as she describes,
they will be reunited.
Soon afterward the princess dies. Her kin soars into the sky, re-
turning to its source. The death of the emperor follows the princess's.
The country is grief-stricken, but soon a quarrel breaks out over the
succession to the throne between adherents of the infant crown prince
and those of Prince Yen, the younger brother of the late emperor. The
forces of Prince Yen are so much stronger that many at the court desert
the crown prince. Various plotters are exposed and executed. (This may
be another attempt on Teika's part to confirm the period of the tale;
no one is put to death in a Heian monogatari.) The empress mother
flees with the crown prince, but desertions swell the forces of Prince
Yen day by day, and there is nowhere to hide but an abandoned temple.
Teika's experiences during the fighting of the 1180s may have inspired
these descriptions of warfare, but it has been suggested that he was also
influenced by accounts he had read of the rebellion of An Lu-shan in
756,'1
The empress mother assembles the few ministers who are still loyal
 The Middle Ages
and asks for their counsels, but they are all terrified by the prospect of
encountering the enemy general, Yu-wen Hui," who is described as
looking like a man but having the heart of a tiger. In desperation, the
empress asks the help of Ben no Shosho: she has heard that although
Japan is a small country its men are brave and it enjoys the protection
of the gods. 19 Shosho has had absolutely no experience of war, but he
cannot abandon the empress; he agrees to defend China.
Shosho's army numbers only some fifty or sixty men, but he prays
for help to the buddhas and gods of his country. He really needs help:
the enemy numbers some thirty thousand men. There follows an account
of the fighting quite without precedent in courtly fiction. Shosho orders
his men to set fires on all sides of the enemy; caught by surprise, the
traitors flee toward the sea, where Shosho confronts the enemy general.
He fires an arrow that passes through Yu-wen Hui's armor, but this
tiger of a man not only continues to fight but surrounds Shosho with
his men. It seems as if the Japanese will surely perish, but suddenly four
men who look exactly like Shosho and are mounted on identical horses
with identical fittings come to protect him. Yu-wen Hui falls back only
to be surrounded by five more identical men who slash him down."
His army of thirty thousand men, intimidated by this prodigy, loses its
will to fight.
Several other battles, described in some detail, bring complete victory
to the loyalist forces. Shosho, having accomplished his mission, defer-
entially returns to the empress his office of commanding general, saying
he is young, inexperienced, and a foreigner." The empress refuses his
resignation. The whole country is now at peace. The traitors have been
punished and prosperity has returned. The empress feels that she should
really turn over state affairs to Shosho, but she knows that he desires
to return to Japan. He agrees to allow the empress, who is most reluctant
to let him go, to fix the time of his departure.
At first the empress makes Shosho nostalgic for his mother, but their
relationship imperceptibly changes. She sings him a Japanese poem about
the moon, eliciting from the author the query, "Granted she was very
intelligent, how did she happen to learn an old Japanese poem? He
must have only thought he heard the words."22 This curious aside seems
to anticipate a question from the reader, but it also enhances the mys-
terious charm of the empress.
It does not come as a surprise that at the outset of Shosho's next
affair, with a mysterious woman who lives in the mountains, music once
again serves as a go-between, but even more than music, her marvelous
fragrance characterizes the woman. He spends the night with her, but
Courtly Fiction of the Ka m aleura Period 797

she does not vouchsafe a word, and she will not permit him to see her
clearly. The only clue is her fragrance, which reminds him of the em-
press's. Shortly before he is to return to Japan, the lady explains the
mystery: all that has happened, including the revolt of Yu-wen Hui,
was foreordained in heaven. She herself was sent from heaven, charged
with reestablishing peace, but she could not do this unaided. It was
arranged in heaven that a martial man, born in Japan, and protected
by the god Sumiyoshi, would come to her rescue. All went well, she
says, until she fell in love with Shosho, with whom she had been intimate
in a previous life. Now she not only resembled a mortal woman but
shared a mortal woman's feelings. Her lapse would surely be punished
when she returned to heaven."
Soon afterward Shosho takes a tearful leave of the empress. Teika,
having decided perhaps that he had written long enough in this vein,
resorted to a device familiar to him from his work as the editor of old
manuscripts: he provided a note, supposedly in the original manuscript,
to the effect that at this point some pages had been lost because the
string of the binding got broken." The homeward journey is briefly
described. True to her word, Shosho's mother is still waiting for him
at Matsura. The Japanese emperor is overjoyed to have Shosho back,
and bestows on him a title equivalent to the one he received in China.
Shosho hurries to the Hatsuse Temple, fulfilling his promise to
Princess Hua-yang. She reappears, and his love is rekindled. He does
not forget the empress, but he has unfortunately lost all interest in
Princess Kannabi, who is puzzled by his lack of ardor. He and Hua-
yang are happily joined in love, but the empress makes another ap-
pearance, and one day Hua-yang not only catches a whiff of the empress's
scent but notices his eyes are red with weeping. Her suspicions are
aroused. He attempts to reassure her, but she seems inconsolable.
At this point the novel ends. Teika appended an additional note
explaining that pages had been lost, and two false postscripts, one dating
the manuscript the third year of [okan (A.D. 861) and quoting a poem
by Po Chu-i, the second (supposedly by a later person) questioning the
authenticity of the poem. These pedantic touches are not without interest
in themselves, but, more than anything else, they suggest that Teika
was at a loss how to finish his story. Ben no Shosho has three women
in his life, and it is clear that each expects to be his only love. How will
he console poor Kannabi? Will Hua-yang settle down in Japan? Is the
empress waiting for him in heaven? These questions were fated never
to be answered.
Teika's work in its unfinished state cannot be called a success, but
 The Middle Ages

he was able to write a monogatari that avoided influence from The Tale
of Genji. It is not clear, however, why he was so determined to escape
this influence. Perhaps an aggressively masculine temperament made
him impatient with the delicacy of Murasaki Shikibu. Perhaps also
distaste for the prevailing ways of the aristocracy of his day made him
nostalgic for the distant past when courtiers excelled not only with their
writing brushes but with bows and arrows. The Tale of the Matsura
Palace stands outside the mainstream of Kamakura court fiction. The
style is that of the Heian monogatari, an impression strengthened by
the many poems scattered through the text, but the story itself provides
incontestable proof that not all monogatari written after The Tale of
Genji conformed to its manner or contents.

PARTING AT DAWN

Ariake no Wakare (Parting at Dawn) seems a more typical example of

court fiction of the Kamakura period, but perhaps it belongs to the late
Heian rather than the Kamakura period: we have virtually no infor-
mation concerning either the time of composition or the author. It is
discussed in Story Without a Name as a "contemporary tale" (ima no yo
no monogatari), suggesting that it had been written not long before 1200.
The same work praised the easy-to-read style, but disapproved of the
supernatural events in the narration." The high regard for Parting at
Dawn in the eyes of the thirteenth-century critics is indicated by the
inclusion in the Fuyoshu of twenty of its poems, next in number after
Wakefulness at Night. A modern critic praised its "fresh, literary fra-
grance," which he contrasted with the "lifeless imitations" found in
other monogatari of the period."
The title of the work is derived from the celebrated waka by Mibu
no Tadamine (fl. 898-920) in the Kokinshu (and in the popular collection
Hyahunin Isshu):

ariake no Ever since parting

tsure naleu mieshi When the daybreak moon appeared
u/aleare yori Heartless in the sk y,
akatsuki bahan Nothing has been so gloomy
uki mono a/a nashi As the hour before the dawn.

This poem is quoted five times in the course of the work, but it is not
clear to which parting it refers." One commentator, on the basis of the
Courtly Fiction of the Kam aleura Period 799

quotation of a poem as the title, suggested that the unknown author

was someone close to Teika." Mention in the text of "somebody who
climbed a mountain in the moonlight'?" in order to obtain instruction
in secret works of music may be a reference to Ben no Shosho in The
Tale of the Matsura Palace, a further link to Teika. Connections also
suggest themselves with If I Could Only Change Them; both works have
for the central character a person who pretends to be of the opposite
sex. But Parting at Dawn also contains supernatural elements-the ones
criticized in Story Without a Name-that seem to belong to folk traditions
rather than those of the court.
The story opens in a manner familiar ever since The Tale of the
Bamboo Cutter: a husband and wife, long childless, pray to the gods
(and consult doctors of yin-yang divination) in the hopes that a child
will be born to them. Their prayers are answered, but a daughter, rather
than a son, is born, and this is a disappointment because a daughter
cannot continue the family line. The couple decides, in response to an
oracle sent by the gods, to raise the daughter as a son. As the story
opens the "son" is sixteen or seventeen and has just been promoted to
the position of udaisho ; or general of the Right, and is known by that
name. Like the other heroes of court romances, he is extremely beautiful
and plays various musical instruments superbly. His only fault (apart
from his rather short stature) is his apparent lack of interest in women.
His father, Sadaijin, gives out that Udaisho has a younger sister who
remains at home because she is too shy to appear before people. The
emperor, though he has a consort and various concubines, has not had
a child. He thinks that perhaps another wife is needed, and asks Sadaijin
to send his daughter to court. Sadaijin refuses, alleging the extreme
shyness of the girl.
Thus far we have the making of a court romance along the lines of
If I Could Only Change Them, and it does not require a literary detective
to predict that sooner or later Udaisho will resume his rightful sex and
become his own sister. But we are at this point confronted with an
unfamiliar element: the young general is gifted with the power to make
himself invisible, and has a habit of visiting people without their knowl-
edge." His ability to pass freely into other people's bedrooms leads to
the discovery that his uncle, Sadaisho, has conceived an improper love
for his stepdaughter. Udaisho also peeps in on several other bedrooms.
In one he sees a repulsive old prince who has been admitted by the
father of the young lady whose favors he craves, in another bedroom
the same prince's wife is lying with the profligate Sammi no Chujo.
Udaisho also takes advantage of his invisibility to eavesdrop on a
800 The Middle Ages
conversation of some women who are gossiping about him. They blame
his failure to marry on excessive religious piety, and wonder if he is
waiting for an angel to appear before he consents to marry." One senses
a ripe corruption in the sexual mores of these court dignitaries.
Sadaisho's wife is not aware that her husband is having an affair
with her daughter, so it comes as a shock to learn that the daughter is
pregnant. The girl, deeply ashamed, wants to die, and her parents are
alarmed to think of the gossip that will surely spread concerning this
unexampled case of a woman having a child by her stepfather. Udaisho,
once again slipping unobserved into someone else's house, offers to lead
the unhappy girl to a safe place. Having nowhere else to turn, she
accepts, though she does not know who he might be. Udaisho takes her
home and explains the situation to his father, who agrees to allow the
girl to become Udaishos wife.
The wife, who has been given the name Tai no Ue, gives birth to
a son. This means that Sadaijin now has a male heir who can succeed
as head of the family. Udaisho wants to reveal his true sex, but his father
fears that this will annul the benefit of at last having a successor. Udaisho
is naturally unable to consummate the marriage, but explains to Tai no
Ue that this is because he does not propose to remain long in this world.
For all his masculine ways, however, Udaisho must disappear for several
days each month during his period. The promiscuous Sammi no Chujo
takes advantage of Udaisho's absence to seduce Tai no Ue. When
Udaisho returns he notices Tai no Ue is disturbingly distant. He suspects
something has happened and, making himself invisible, reads the letter
Sammi no Chujo sent Tai no Ue after their night together. She is
pregnant once again, but Udaisho is ready to forgive her. His parents
still refuse to allow him either to reveal his sex or enter Buddhist orders.
Soon afterward the emperor has a strange dream in which he learns
that the son born to Sadaijin after years of childlessness is really a
daughter. He summons Udaisho, intending to ask about the meaning
of the dream, and is struck for the first time by the young man's
incomparable beauty. He takes Udaisho's hand and pulls him down
beside him. The emperor unties the knots in Udaishc's clothes. Udaisho
weeps, but this only excites the emperor the more. Only then does he
make the discovery that Udaisho is a woman. After they have lain
together Udaisho puts on men's robes and is once again masculine in
manner.
He begs his parents to let him live as a woman, but they are reluctant
to lose the privileges they have enjoyed thanks to the position of their
"son." Udaisho can wait no longer. He informs his wife of his decision
Courtly Fiction of the Kam alrura Period 801

to "leave the world," and soon afterward his death is reported. Everyone
grieves. The emperor even considers abdicating, but he remembers the
younger sister of Udaisho and commands that she be brought to the
palace. After a bare four or five months since the announcement of "his"
death Udaisho's hair has grown so much it is now the same length as
his height.
Udaisho, renamed Himegimi (the princess), must lead a totally dif-
ferent life. She may no longer play the flute, an instrument reserved for
men, but she now is at liberty to read fiction (soshi), formerly beneath
her dignity. Her knowledge of Chinese is no longer of use, composing
poetry in Chinese being considered unladylike. Himegimi is proclaimed
as empress, but she indicates in a waka that becoming empress means
nothing to someone who has already known high office as a man. The
narrator, in an aside, asks why she should have thought so little of the
honor of becoming empress."
The second book of Parting at Dawn is devoted mainly to Sadaijin,
the supposed son of Udaisho and Tai no Ue. He is of an irogonomi
(sensual) nature, seeking sexual gratification everywhere, even among
women of the lower classes. The one woman before whom he feels any
constraint is the now-retired empress, who arouses his passionate at-
tachment though he supposes she is his aunt. One ofSadaijin's adventures
takes him to the house of the old prince whose lovemaking had been
observed by Udaisho, The prince's wife has been jilted by her lover,
leaving her with a daughter who is now about fifteen. Sadaijin is attracted
initially to the girl, but he happens to see the mother, who looks young
for her age, and she attracts him even more. He debates with himself
whether to marry the girl or become the mother's lover, and decides in
favor of the latter. He spends the night with the mother and has a
parting at dawn which is not marked by the usual tender regrets but
by the question he puts himself: "Why did I do it?" (Ika ni shitsuru koto
zoo )33
The affair drags on. He dutifully writes day-after letters, but she
cannot help fearing she will be deserted. She no longer worries about
gossip, but he does, and always arranges to depart before dawn. Her
husband, the prince, pays her a visit, but she detests him and pulls her
clothes over her head, refusing to utter a word. At this point the author
describes the faces of the prince and his wife, a rare instance in classical
Japanese literature:

The prince's complexion, as one might expect of one of his birth,

was extremely fair. His eyes, nose, mouth, and high cheekbones were
802 The Middle Ages
massive in the old style, and he had a splendid beard. His long chin
and imposing features were rather flushed, no doubt because he had
been weeping with rage. One glance at his wife served to increase
his rage, and he wept all the more bitterly. The woman, looking
not in the least her great age," was very elegant, quite short but
rather plump, and her hair hung most attractively over the forehead,
framing her eyebrows delightfully. Her mouth had charm, and her
whole appearance was such that any man would have been delighted
to be with her."

The prince manages to keep Sadaijin's letters from reaching his wife,
inducing an aversion to her husband so intense that she refuses food or
drink, preferring death to life with her husband. Sadaijin, still hopelessly
in love with the retired empress, visits her. He finds her looking at some
pictures, and her ladies have scattered storybooks around the room. The
description gives a vivid though momentary glimpse of what it was like
in the women's quarters of the palace. The empress chides Sadaijin for
his fail ure to marry, suggesting the da ughter of the minister of the Right
as a suitable wife, and warning him that he will acquire a bad reputation
unless he marries. Sadaijin replies that he does not think he has long
to live, and that he would feel sorry for any woman who married him.
He is unable to confess that the cause of his unhappiness is his hopeless
love for the empress herself.
Sadaijin has another romance (which is developed later in the work)
before he meets Oigimi, the daughter of the minister of the Right. He
is attracted to her beauty, but there is something cold and reserved about
her that makes him think that she would be unlikely to comfort him
when he was depressed. He yields nevertheless to pressure, especially
from his grandfather (the father of Udaisho), and the marriage is an-
nounced. Only then does he learn that his mistress, the prince's wife, is
the aunt of the bride. She is enraged that Sadaijin has been so insensitive
as to choose for his bride someone so closely related.
Soon afterward a mono no ke (evil spirit) attacks the retired empress,
and is subdued by a holy man from Mount Hiei with the greatest
difficulty. Sadaijin takes another bride, this one the daughter of the
minister of the Center; the empress, who had long worried about his
celibate state, is delighted that he should now have two such distin-
guished wives, but the prince's wife is distraught with rage. Sadaijin's
first wife is attacked by the mono no ke. She is no longer haughty but
gentle in the face of this affliction. She falls into a coma and her face,
altered by pain, now looks exactly like that of the prince's wife. The
Courtly Fiction of the Ka m aleur a Period

mono no ke, speaking through a child, declares that she will kill everyone
loved by Sadaijin and, true to her word, now afflicts Sadaijin's second
wife as well as the first. They are saved only by the death of the prince's
wife. Still further complications, mainly involving the secret of Sadaijin's
birth, prolong the work before it breaks off, either not quite finished
or with the original ending lost.
It is easy to trace influences from earlier literature, especially The
Tale of Genii, on Parting at Dawn. For example, the aloof daughter of
the minister of the Right, Sadaijin's first wife, inevitably recalls Aoi,
and the vengeful mono no ke who possesses the wife is similar to Lady
Rokujo. But the portrayal of the prince's wife is strikingly unlike that
of the aristocratic Rokujo; she is promiscuous, a harridan, and (unlike
Rokujo whose "living ghost" unwittingly torments Aoi) she consciously
resolves to wreak vengeance on anyone with whom Sadaijin has become
intimate. It is possible to feel sorry for Rokujo, as anyone who has seen
the No play Nonomiya knows, but the prince's wife is beyond redemp-
tion. The other resemblances to The Tale of Genii are similarly undercut
by jarring elements that make one wonder if the intent might not have
been parody rather than imitation. One senses everywhere in the work
a corruption of the spirit that makes these aristocrats seem both familiar
and contemptible, though occasionally, as in the domestic scene between
the former Udaisho and her husband the emperor, when she pinches
him in the course of a little tiff, the familiarity may be rather endearing.
But, no matter how indulgently read, this is a far cry from the world
of The Tale of Genii.
The pretense of Udaisho that she is a man recalls not The Tale of
Genii but If I Could Only Change Them. Here again, however, there is
an important difference. Udaisho is neither temperamentally nor sexually
inclined to be a man, but is brought up as one by her parents for their
own motives. She excels in arts specifically associated with men, like
playing the flute or composing poems in Chinese, but this is the result
of her education, not of her own tastes. When it finally seems possible
for her to resume her true sex, her parents object because this will cost
them the special privileges they enjoy thanks to their high-ranking son.
The motivation for changing sex in If I Could Only Change Them, at
least in its present version, is ludicrously weak, as one realizes from the
ease with which the brother and sister adapt to their new roles, but it
is plausible in Parting at Daion,"
One source for Parting at Dawn may have been a monogatari of the
eleventh century, the lost Kakurcmino (The Invisible-Making Cape).
Udaishos ability to pass unperceived into people's houses probably owed
 The Middle Ages

much to the magic cape of the earlier work, but all that remains of The
Invisible-Making Cape is the severe judgment passed on the work by the
ladies of Story Without a Name" and the prefatory note to a poem in
the Fuyoshu stating that it was composed when the hero "concealing his
appearance went around to various places."?" The childishness of the
invisible man/woman is at once a throwback to the past and a foretaste
of the fantasy typical of medieval fiction.
Although it undoubtedly reflects a more decadent society than that
portrayed in the fiction of the mid-Heian period, Parting at Dawn is
consistently of interest, and even promises at times to become an im-
portant work of literature. The characters, particularly the disagreeable
ones like Sadaijin, come alive, and their base motives and actions contrast
so strongly with those of characters in the mid-Heian monogatari as
to send a thrill of recognition through modern readers. The promise
of literary distinction is not fulfilled, largely because of the inadequacy
of the central character, U daisho, but Parting at Dawn nevertheless
lingers in the memory as a most distinctive example of archaistic
fiction.

THE PRINCESS IN SEARCH OF HERSELF

The decadence apparent in such works as Parting at Dawn is given even

more explicit statement in Wagami ni tadoru Himegimi (The Princess in
Search of Herself). This work, unusually long for courtly fiction of its
time, has about sixty characters, and the action takes place over a period
of some forty-five years. It was unknown until 1933 when the first article
describing its contents was published in a scholarly journal. The text
was not printed until 1956 and even then, because of the unusual dif-
ficulty in making sense of the vaguely worded, stylistically unattractive
sentences, it was known only to a handful of scholars. Two annotated
editions" appeared in the 1980s, and some enthusiasts now claim that
it is the finest of all the pseudoclassical tales."
The cumbersome title originates in a waka composed by a lady,"
the account of whose life was intended to unify the story. Soon after
the work begins we are told of her determination to uncover the secret
of her birth, epitomized in this waka:

ika ni shite By what trick of fate

arishi yukue wo Am I obliged to search for
sazo to dani Even the faintest
Courtly Fiction of the Kam aleura Period

wagami ni tadoru Clues into the vanished past

chigiri narikrn" To discover who I am?

Clues to the date of composition are the usual ones: it is not men-
tioned in Story Without a Name, evidence that it was written after 1200,
but seven waka are quoted in the Fuyoshu, proof that it existed prior
to 1271. There is a special problem, however: all of the quoted waka
occur in the first four of the eight books, suggesting either that the work
had not yet been completed or else that the editors of the Fuyoshu did
not have access to the full text. In either case, it seems possible the work
was written at about this time." No strong candidate has emerged as
the author of The Princess, but it is generally agreed that it was probably
a woman. Tokumitsu Sumio listed five necessary qualifications of the
author: (I) she must have been in a position to write a work of fiction
between 1245 and 1271; (2) she must have been well versed in palace
ceremonies and usages and have personally experienced life at the court;
(3) she must have been thoroughly acquainted with The Tale of Genji
and The Tale of Sagoromo; (4) she must have been an accomplished poet
though an inexperienced writer of prose; and (5) she must have desired
the realization of the ideal of monarchical rule based on cooperation of
the imperial family with the Fujiwara regents." After examining, in the
light of these qualifications, the credentials of four outstanding women
writers of the thirteenth century, he came to the conclusion that Ben
no Naishi, a court lady known chiefly for her diary, was the most likely
author, but he put forward her name without much confidence." In
short, the author of the story is unknown.
Another problem in the composition is the total blank of seventeen
years between Books III and IV, suggesting that part of the text may
be missing. Furthermore, Book VI is chronologically unrelated to the
surrounding chapters, recalling the "parallel" (narabi) chapters of The
Tale of Genji, and inducing some scholars to believe that it may have
been written later. However, it is now generally believed that one person
wrote the entire work, in its present order, and that no large sections
of the manuscript have been lost.
The Princess as a whole is difficult to summarize. Although one
expects that the Otowa princess and her search for her identity will be
the main subject, she is not a central figure, and we learn her secret in
the course of the very first book: she is the child born of the illicit union
between the kampaku and the empress, and at the end of the first book,
after the death of the empress, the kampaku invites the princess to live
at one of his houses. This would seem to solve all the problems posed
806 The Middle Ages
by the uncertainty of the princess about her birth, but many new com-
plications occur, notably the various liaisons formed by men and women
of the court.
Book VI is undoubtedly the most interesting section of the work.
Laborious efforts have been given to tracing the influence of The Tale
of Genji on other parts of the work, but this section stands apart from
any other surviving example of court fiction. It is the story of the former
saigic, or high priestess of Ise. As Book VI opens there is a change of
reign in the capital. This automatically involved a change also in the
high priestess, and the princess who had been serving in this capacity
returns to the capital. She discovers that she has nowhere to go: her
mother is dead and her house is occupied by the mother's younger sister,
Dainagon no Kimi, who has become a nun. The priestess's father, the
Cloistered Emperor Saga, now living outside the city in a remote place,
does not like the idea of sharing his house with someone he hardly
knows. The cloistered emperor asks Dainagon no Kimi to take her in,
and she does so with evident reluctance, fearing that the wayward
behavior of the high priestess (of which she has had a glimpse) will
reflect on her own reputation. Her house is in a bad state of repairs and
remote from the city.
We learn that Japan is now ruled by an empress, the half-sister of
the high priestess. No empress had ruled in her own right since the end
of the N ara period, over four hundred years before. Was this an
archaic touch, similar to those in The Tale of the Matsura Palace, and
intended to indicate that this was not a tale about the Heian period?
Or was the author, a woman, merely engaging in a bit of fantasy about
a time when women wielded the highest power? In any case, the empress
is portrayed as an ideal ruler-learned in the classics of both Japan and
China," artistic, compassionate, and always fair in her governing of the
nation.
Udaisho, a high-ranking official whose love for the empress (who
has not married) was rebuffed, thinks he will divert himself with the
former high priestess, reasoning that she probably resembles her half-
sister. One rainy night he goes to her house and peeps in through the
dilapidated screens. Four or five young women are flushed with
the game they are playing, but no one looking like the mistress of the
household is to be seen. Finally Udaisho makes out two women in the
adjoining room. Although it is summer, the women have pulled their
robes over their heads, and they are lying there, embraced so tightly he
wonders that they can breathe. He hears their groans and supposes
something extremely sad afflicts them, only for them to burst into seem-
Courtly Fiction of the Kam ak ura Period

ingly uncontrollable laughter. Udaisho is baffled: the women are clearly

doing something, but he cannot tell what it is. This should at least have
aroused his curiosity but, not wishing to become involved in other
people's affairs, he leaves without pursuing the matter."
The story goes back to the time when the high priestess was still at
Ise. She doted on a certain lady named Chujo, and the two women
were inseparable, day and night, laughing and crying together. After
the high priestess returned to the capital another young woman, Ko-
zaisho, was attracted to her service, and soon she received the passionate
attentions of the high priestess.
Soon after discovering that the high priestess has a new favorite,
Chujo startles people by shrieking and throwing herself on the ground,
crying that she is afraid of a mono no ke. Kozaisho, recognizing that
jealousy has caused Chujo's outburst, tries to calm Chujo by assuring
her that she does not intend to serve the high priestess any longer. She
declares, "I am I!" (ware wa ware ),4K meaning, it would seem, that she
intends to look out for her own interests, a most individualistic utterance
for a character in a work of courtly fiction. Despite this reassurance, the
mono no ke invariably makes an appearance whenever Kozaisho goes
to the high priestess's room.
One day her brother, Hyoe no Suke, calls. He peeps under the
curtained enclosure and sees two women locked in an embrace. He gives
up his attempts to help her, henceforth sending only letters. Evidently,
Kozaisho found it more difficult than she had anticipated to break
relations with the high priestess.
A lady named Shindayu in the high priestess's entourage, envious
of the attentions other women receive, attempts to ingratiate herself. As
she is praying for divine assistance, the high priestess suddenly rouses
herself from sleep and sends a maid to Chujo's room to ascertain what
she is wearing. The maid reports that Chujo is dressed in pale blue, at
which the high priestess cries out, "How horrible! It's just what I thought
she would be wearing!" She has dreamed that a woman dressed in blue
was tormenting her. We have already been told that Chujo has begun
to practice black magic."
Shindayu, finding the opportunity she has been waiting for, offers
to get a medium to interpret the dream. She soon returns with one who
declares that a woman in blue has driven seven nails into a doll; the
nails must be removed or the high priestess is doomed." Shindayu finds
the doll and removes the nails; the high priestess at once recovers.
Shindayu is rewarded for her quick work by being chosen as her mis-
tress's constant companion.
808 The Middle Ages

The book concludes with the former high priestess living in comfort
and enjoying great prestige by favor of her half-sister, the empress. Her
house is now so impressive that nobody rides past it without dismounting,
and pedestrians carry their footwear as they go by. Guards throw stones
at people who do not show proper respect.
In a rare aside (soshiji) the author tells us why she wrote about these
women: it was to show how their own natures, but also the force of
circumstances, determined their fates. If Chujo hadn't revealed her jeal-
ousy, she might have lived happily with the high priestess. All the other
characters live to a ripe old age."
There could hardly be a more unexpected conclusion to the account
of the doings in the former high priestess's house; it strains the imag-
ination to conceive of the people involved living happily ever after. One
thing is certain: their story owes very little to the tale of the Shining
Prince. The only time Genji's name appears is by way of contrast with
an indescribably stupid, conceited dwarf who was formerly Chujo's
lover: the narrator remarks, "I pity poor Genji being made the subject
of such a comparison!"?
Everything in this section of The Princess in Search of Herself is so
described that we are likely to find the events not only decadent but
ugly. Much as the empress is praised, we might admire her more if she
chastised rather than rewarded her wayward half-sister. The whole of
the work is not in this vein, but the story of the former high priestess
of Ise reveals how far the monogatari had wandered from the path of
The Tale of Genji.

A TALE OF UNSPOKEN YEARNING

Iwade Shinobu Monogatari (A Tale of Unspoken Yearning) is one of the

most impressive works of Kamakura period courtly fiction. Unfortu-
nately, only the first two of the eight books have survived intact, and
we know the rest of the story from extracts from the text that were
included in a later book by way of providing background for the quoted
382 poems. The work seems to have enjoyed a considerable reputation
in its day, as we can judge from the inclusion in the Fuyoshu of thirty-
four of its poems, the fifth-largest total from any monogatari." The date
of composition has not been determined, but various clues suggest that
Unspoken Yearning was written between 1235 and 1251.54 Virtually noth-
ing is known about the author, but for various reasons it has tentatively
been suggested that the work was written by a woman, possibly the
Courtly Fiction of the Kam aliur a Period 80g

granddaughter of Shunzei." The title seems to refer to the secret love

of Nii no Chujo for the empress.
As usual, resemblances to The Tale of Genii have been discovered.
First of all, there is obviously close similarity between the elderly prince
in Unspoken Yearning, who has entered Buddhist orders and lives in
Fushimi with his two daughters, and Prince Hachi and his two daughters
at Uji in The Tale of Genii. The visits of Naidaijin, the chief male
character, to the princesses at Fushimi also recall those of Kaoru to Uji.
One can only assume this was deliberate; the author of Unspoken Yearning
recreated a familiar situation only to give it an entirely new meaning.
The prince in Fushimi, sensing that he has not much longer to live,
begs Naidaijin to take the older daughter as one of his wives, and
Naidaijin, who has been living quite happily with his wife, the First
Princess, reluctantly complies, seemingly out of pity for the old man.
The girl, 6igimi, is beautiful, and Naidaijin, who at first could not
muster much interest in her, on occasion toys with the thought of
bringing her to his palace; but in the end she is taken by the emperor
himself. The surface resemblances between the Fushimi princesses and
the Uji princesses become ironic; unlike Oigimi in The Tale of Genii
who rebuffs all attempts to win her, this 6igimi is passed from man to
man. The other similarities between the two works are confined mainly
to the surface, as if the author of Unspoken Yearning borrowed materials
from Murasaki Shikibu mainly as themes on which to create her new
variations.
One of the rare scholars who have devoted much attention to Un-
spoken Yearning wrote, "It has often been said that monogatari of this
kind written in the Heian and Kamakura periods did not venture one
step beyond imitation of The Tale of Genii, and the present monogatari
is no exception. However, in the precision of the descriptions and the
elegant flow of the language, the exactness of the correspondence between
what has gone before and what happens afterward, and in the smooth
development of the plot, it is one of the outstanding examples of the
novel (shOsetsu). I wonder if it does not rank first among the monogatari
composed from the late Heian period into the Kamakura periodr""
Unspoken Yearning is a memorable example of courtly fiction. One
is tempted to call it a novel if only because the author's control of the
materials goes beyond what one expects of a mere storyteller. The su-
pernatural is not a conspicuous element in the narration 57 and the most
important incident, the false rumor that Naidaijin is neglecting his wife
in favor of another woman, requires no suspension of disbelief. The
characters are all unmistakable human beings, and there is little doubt
8ID The Middle Ages
that this would rank among the major achievements of Japanese tra-
ditional fiction if the entire text had survived.
The work opens with a description of the beauty of the garden at
Ichijo-in, the palace of Naidaijin." His wife, the First Princess (Ippon-
norniya), looks out on the garden without much pleasure, remembering
the past when she lived in the Imperial Palace and could admire the
cherry blossoms there. At that moment a messenger arrives from the
palace. It is Nii no Chlij6, a boy of fourteen or fifteen whose unspoken
love for the princess runs through the work. He catches a glimpse of
her face, normally hidden behind curtains, and feels great perturbation,
but controls his feelings long enough to say that the flowers are a gift
from the crown prince. A letter from the prince is attached to the spray
of cherry blossoms. Even as the princess examines the letter, her husband,
Naidaijin, enters. He cuts a splendid figure, a worthy match for the
princess in his appearance. He asks about the letter, an invitation to the
palace from the crown prince to see the cherry blossoms. Although the
princess would like nothing better than to go to the palace, she shrugs
off the letter with a few words: "What a bore! "59
The characters of the principal figures in the book have been pre-
sented in a few paragraphs: the princess has never forgotten her life in
the palace and regrets her marriage to a commoner, no matter how
splendid; her husband, Naidaijin, loves her and fears no rivals; and the
youthful Chujo, unable to voice his love for the princess, is filled with
envy of Naidaijin.
The story then reverts to a description of Naidaijin's antecedents.
His father, the former emperor, had had many children, but some died
young, others took Buddhist vows, and there was no one to succeed
him on the throne. He abdicated in favor of his brother, at the same
time taking as his concubine a lady-in-waiting whom he loved. Shortly
before their union was blessed by a child, he fell mortally ill. Realizing
that he would not live long enough to see the child, he asked the
kampaku to marry the lady-in-waiting and to raise the child as his own.
The kampaku agreed, and soon afterward the emperor died."
The lady-in-waiting was extremely grieved, but (as the text informs
us) one does not die of grief." She vowed to become a nun as soon as
her child was born, but this wish was also frustrated, and in the end
she became, as the emperor had wished, the wife of the kampaku, who
treated her with every kindness. The child she bore was the future
Naidaijin. Although his real father was an emperor, he was the ac-
knowledged son of the kampaku and as such was a commoner.
The First Princess, the daughter of the reigning emperor, was in-
Courtly Fiction of the Kam aleura Period 8II

comparably beautiful and gifted. She was raised by her doting parents
with the utmost care, but somehow (not explained in the text) Naidaijin
found a crack in the defenses surrounding her bedroom. After one
meeting, both the princess and Naidaijin fell into a wasting ailment
stemming from their love. Eventually the cause was discovered, and the
emperor reluctantly agreed to their marriage. After the wedding, the
princess moved from the palace to Naidaijin's house, the Ichijo-in.
The narration now shifts to the subject of Chujo, whom we have
seen as the youthful bearer of a branch of cherry blossoms from the
palace. His mother was born while her father, the present emperor, was
still crown prince and only fourteen years old; the baby's mother was
sixteen. Both of Chujo's parents died within a short time, and the
orphaned boy grew up in the palace where he distinguished himself in
all the standard artistic accomplishments of a courtier.
These pedigrees, though not without interest in themselves, are nec-
essary above all as underpinning for the developments that ensue, and
represent a departure from the casual character introductions more usual
in a monogatari. One is tempted to interpret them as explanations of
the temperaments inherited by Naidaijin and Chujo from their different
parents; in any case, we understand their characters better because of
what we know of their antecedents, and the failures of their marriages
echo their parents' failures. We are clearly meant to be interested in
these characters as individuals and not merely as figures in a romance.
Because the First Princess is the wife of Naidaijin, there is no pos-
sibility that Chujo's secret love will ever be fulfilled, and in his dejection
he prays the gods to free him from this attachment. He is consoled by
another woman.v who, though the daughter of a prince, has none of
the demure modesty associated with women of her class; she has in fact
had relations with Naidaijin, the emperor, and various other dignitaries.
One night when Chujo is with this lady, Naidaijin passes her house
and recalls his visits before his marriage. He notices through a break
in the crumbling wall around the old house a man's carriage and, out
of curiosity, he goes in, wondering who the visitor might be. He over-
hears voices, and recognizes Chujo's, Thinking it would be fun to catch
him in this compromising situation, Naidaijin lingers. The woman does
not wish to let Chuj6 go, but finally he makes his escape, only for
Naidaijin to grasp his arm as if he were apprehending a criminal. Chujo
explains that he stopped at the house to see the tinted autumn leaves.
Naidaijin teases him, "The two of you were so closely pressed together
there was no chance any autumn leaves would come between yoU."63
Chujo is provoked into taunting Naidaijin for his philandering, to which
812 The Middle Ages
Naidaijin truthfully replies that since his marriage he has not been
interested in any woman except his wife. What began as a prank on
Naidaijin's part develops into an unpleasant quarrel.
Naidaijin loves his wife, but he does not really understand her. He
is not aware, for example, how much she misses her old life. She muses
to herself that if only she had married as her father intended she need
never have left the palace. Not being able to see the emperor whenever
she chooses makes her feel as if she now inhabits a totally different
realm." Chujo's infatuation with the First Princess is such that he cannot
seriously consider marrying anyone else, though every person of con-
sequence would like nothing better than to have him as a son-in-law.
He maintains so gloomy a mien that, in the hope of cheering him, the
retired emperor offers him the use of a charming little house where he
can entertain lady friends in privacy, but Chujo rarely stays there. Indeed,
he outwardly seems to have lost interest in women.
The birth of a baby boy to the First Princess crowns Naidaijin's
happiness. But one day he catches her as she is writing a letter that she
hides as soon as she sees him. It is not a letter to a lover, as at first he
fears, but to her father, in response to one he sent her describing his
loneliness in the palace without her. Her reply relates her unhappiness
in two poems, of which the second is: "At first I grieved and lamented,
supposing it must be an unhappy dream, but I doubt I would be so
wretched, even if I had died within that dream.?"
Naidaijin is stunned by this revelation. At first he blames himself
for not having noticed anything, then he expresses anger at the emperor's
words, citing instances of happy marriages between members of the
imperial family and commoners. He wonders if she ever loved him,
supposes she finds it painful even to think that their relations as man
and wife will last through two lifetimes. He is all but carried away by
his arguments, only to break down into tears as he looks at the incredibly
lovely woman who is his wife. She first murmurs that she never intended
him to see the letter, but finally becomes so exasperated with his rhetoric
that she says with venom in her voice, "How happy I would be if you
would kindly shut Up!"66 He offers to stop the argument if she will
promise never to write such things again, and the scene ends with his
saying, "I'm sure you must be sleepy," and inviting her to bed.
The argument has a curiously modern flavor. The resolution is what
one would expect, but the fact remains that the First Princess is not
happy in her husband's house. When the occasion comes for her to
return to the palace she does not hesitate. The occasion is provided by
a rumor that reaches the ears of the retired emperor that Naidaijin has
Courtly Fiction of the Kam aleu ra Period 8I3

fallen in love with another woman whom he treats with greater care
than his wife. The woman in question is the older of two sisters whose
mother has died and who live with their father, a lay priest, in Fushimi,
as described above. Naidaijin, in the course of a visit to the father, peeps
in on the sisters. The younger sister, a girl of thirteen or fourteen, looks
as if she would one day make a fine wife for somebody, but the older
sister is enchanting. She even resembles the First Princess.
Naidaijin's second visit to Fushimi is undoubtedly inspired by at-
traction for Oigimi, the older sister, but it does not occur to him anything
serious might come of his visit. However, no sooner does he arrive than
the girls' father asks bluntly, "If it's all the same to you, how about
tonight? I gather it's marked a lucky day in the calendar.l'" Naidaijin
is persuaded. That night when he gets back home, contrary to his normal
practice he does not hurry to the room of the First Princess. The next
day, however, he decides to tell her what happened the previous night,
reasoning that if he does not tell her somebody else will. He hides
nothing, but insists that he has made a clean break with his past and
that what happened in Fushimi was only a momentary aberration.
As if to prove his contention, Naidaijin does not go back to Fushimi,
much to the distress of Oigimi and her father. The First Princess is not
bitter over what has happened; indeed, she shows no reaction whatso-
ever. Her only conscious wish is to be back in the palace. A heavy
snowfall on the night that Naidaijin is making one of his infrequent
visits to Fushimi makes the princess long for the shelter provided by
her parents. When Naidaijin returns, he explains his absence in terms
of worry over the health of the old prince-priest (who dies soon
afterward).
At this time the First Princess is expecting another baby. In the
midst of the delivery, which is delayed and difficult, a mono no ke
makes its presence felt. The First Princess, terribly afflicted by the evil
spirit, loses consciousness and finally stops breathing, but is revived by
the prayers of a holy man. The mono no ke identifies herself as the
deceased mother of Oigimi, come to wreak vengeance for the unkind
treatment her daughter has received. She is eventually driven away and
a baby girl is safely born.
Soon afterward rumors reach the ears of the retired emperor to the
effect that Naidaijin has not only been unfaithful to the First Princess
but has grossly neglected her. His first thought is to take his daughter
back. He decides that her son should stay with Naidaijin but that she
should take the daughter with her to his palace. The First Princess
accepts this command with no show of hesitation or resistance. She is
 The Middle Ages

sure she must not disobey her father; even if he commanded her to go
and live among savages on the frontier she would have no choice but
to obey. Naidaijin returns just as she is about to leave for the palace.
He accepts her statement that she is going only for a short visit. He has
no idea why the retired emperor has sent for his daughter, but when
she fails to answer his letters he realizes that something must have gone
wrong. He reasons that somebody must have lied about his actions, for
he can find no fault in himself that would have occasioned this step.
When he goes to the palace to see his wife his request is refused, but
in a touching scene his infant daughter is brought to him.
This is more or less where the text of the two surviving books of
Unspoken Yearning ends, though we have summaries of the rest. Even
in its unfinished state it is a particularly affecting tale with many mo-
ments that strike a contemporary reader by the realism of the details.
Of particular interest is the account of the terrible effects of a false
rumor. Courtly fiction abounds in mentions of the obsessive dread of
what people might think, even on the part of characters whose social
position should make them indifferent to common gossip. But here the
retired emperor not only believes the rumor but takes back his daughter
and prevents her husband from seeing her. The compliance of the First
Princess, even though it destroys her marriage, suggests that her love
for Naidaijin was never strong enough to cause her to forget the priv-
ileged life she once led. Naidaijin is helpless to combat the rumor and
will eventually take up with some other woman.
Unlike those monogatari of the Kamakura period that startle by the
unconventionality of the actions of the characters, Unspoken Yearning
describes people of the court society who suffer not because of the
ambivalence of their sexual relations nor because of the machinations
of evil adversaries but because the author believed that suffering is the
normal condition of sensitive human beings. Even though the author
borrowed little from The Tale of Genji, she seems to have shared the
sensibilities of Murasaki Shikibu.

THE TALE OF SUMIYOSHI

One last work of Kamakura fiction, the only one that was ever widely
read, presents special problems of dating. There are over one hundred
variant texts of the present version of Sumiyoshi Monogatari (The Tale
of Sumiyoshi)," and strong evidence indicates that the monogatari of
Courtly Fiction of the Karn ak ura Period

the same name mentioned in The Tale of Genji was still a different
work, probably dating back to the end of the tenth century. The present
Tale of Sumiyoshi undoubtedly has links with the earlier work of that
name, but it is even more closely associated with the many later stories
on the theme of the suffering of a young girl at the hands of her wicked
stepmother. This theme was treated in the early monogatari The Tale
of Ochikubo, and presumably there are connections, though very remote,
to the body of similar stories in other countries, notably Cinderella. The
cruel stepmother figures in the literature of almost every country. Some
have suggested that Cinderella is a nature myth, Cinderella being the
dawn oppressed by the night clouds (the cruel stepmother) who is finally
rescued by the sun (the prince who marries her). But others claim that
the suffering undergone by a girl at the hands of a stepmother and her
eventual triumph is a rite of passage, the feminine equivalent of the
exile of the prince who returns to triumph over his foes. 69
The present version of The Tale of Sumiyoshi probably dates from
the second or third decade of the thirteenth century." Perhaps, as has
been claimed, there was not much basic difference between the earlier
and later versions of the tale," but details had to be modified in response
to the changes in marriage customs among the nobility. As long as a
man (in the Heian manner) maintained wives in separate establishments
there was not much likelihood of stepmothers inflicting hardships on
the man's children by another wife. This fact of Heian marital life
persuaded various eminent scholars that stories of cruel stepmothers
attributed to the Heian period must have been forgeries, composed at
a later time when, monogamy having become usual, the possibility of
a cruel stepmother became much stronger." The largest number of
stepchild stories dates from the Muromachi period."
The Tale of Sumiyoshi is unusual in that the two daughters of the
wicked stepmother are on good terms with Himegimi, the stepchild.
But the attempt of the stepmother to discredit the girl in the eyes of
her father (and of the world) by introducing a man-a dissolute priest-
into her room recalls a similar scene in The Tale of Ochikubo.74
The Tale of Sumiyoshi is given what literary interest it possesses by
the account of the efforts of Chujo, the officer who has fallen in love
with Himegimi, to marry her. His first attempt is frustrated by the
stepmother, who tricks him into marrying one of her own daughters.
The stepmother decides to have Himegimi marry an elderly gentleman,
but the girl escapes, taking refuge in Sumiyoshi where she hides and
plans to become a nun. Chujo prays at the Hase Temple for a divine
816 The Middle Ages
revelation of her whereabouts and learns that she is in Sumiyoshi. He
tracks her down with great effort, and at last finds and weds her. Before
long he is promoted to be kampaku, and he and his bride flourish. The
stepmother dies in disgrace, mourned by no one.
Perhaps the most effective passage in the work is the description of
Chujo's journey to Sumiyoshi in search of Himegimi. He goes on foot,
dressed in white like a pilgrim, accompanied by only a single retainer.
That night Himegimi sees him in a dream, struggling over the moun-
tains, sleeping in the fields. She tells [iju, her confidante, about the
dream, which Jijii at once recognizes as a "true dream," and we learn,

Chujo was not accustomed to such exertions, and blood oozed

from his beautiful, white feet. It seemed so unlikely he would ever
reach his destination that even passersby stared at him. Toward dusk
he reached a place where he could see, through breaks in the pines
on the shore, waves rising in the distant sea. Here and there were
reed-thatched cottages, and boats trolling along the coast cutting
seaweed, and to his surprise he saw smoke rising from salt kilns.
Even when he had come up quite close he still did not know where
he was. Dejected, he threw himself under a pine and was resting
there when he noticed a boy of about ten gathering dried pine
branches.
He called to the boy, "Where do you live? And what is this
place called?" The boy answered, "This is Sumiyoshi. I live very
near here." "I am delighted to hear it," said Chiijo. "Are there
people of consequence living around here?" The boy answered,
"There's the chief priest of the shrine." Chujo asked, "Is there
anywhere around here where people from the capital are living?"
"Some nuns from the capital live at a place called Suminoe."
Chiijo asked detailed questions about Suminoe, but when he got
there he found only a lonely-looking hut built by an inlet of the sea.
The moon shone faintly through the trees. He could not see anyone
likely to respond to his questions, and the whole place looked ex-
ceedingly forlorn. The sun had already gone down, and he stood
dejectedly under a pine which he addressed in tears, "If you were
only a human being, there are things I would ask yoU."75

The passage is memorable because of such effective touches as Chu-

jo's feet bleeding because he is not accustomed to wearing straw sandals
or the boy's thinking first of the priest of the shrine when asked if any
people of consequence are living nearby. The descriptions of the coast
Courtly Fiction of the Kam akura Period BIJ
along the Inland Sea, though not romanticized, are appealing; a little
later in the story Chujo admires the scenery because it is so unlike the
landscapes near the capital. But for readers of the time the most note-
worthy element in this passage was probably the boy, who (as com-
mentators inform us) was not simply a local child but a messenger sent
by the Kannon of the Hase Temple to guide Chujo, or perhaps even
the god of the Sumiyoshi Shrine himself. Versions of the tale composed
in the Muromachi period were likely to contain religious elements absent
from the original stepmother stories and only first adumbrated at this
time. The Tale of Sumiyoshi in its present version suggests how the
tradition of court fiction would imperceptibly give way to the popular
fiction of a later age.
It is difficult, however, to generalize about possible trends in the
fiction of the Kamakura period if only because the dating of the texts
is so uncertain. We cannot even be sure that the best works have survived
from the period; indeed, the mutilated Unspoken Yearning is unques-
tionably superior to the Heian romance If I Could Only Change Them,
which survives more or less intact; and more poems from Kaze ni
tsurenaki Monogatari (The Pitiless Winds), which survives only in frag-
ments, were included in the Fuyoshu than from Wakefulness at Night or
from The Hamamatsu Middle Counselor," Again, we also have only vague
indications about the readership of the surviving texts, and this means
that the apparent changes-such as an increase in religious elements-
may equally well have represented a response to the changed tastes of
the same audience or else an attempt to appeal to a new audience by
including such themes.
Whatever our conclusions may be about the value of the works
produced during the last stage in the development of courtly fiction, it
is difficult to concur in the judgment that they were little more than
imitations of The Tale of Genji or that they betrayed a want of creative
imagination." None of the later works of courtly fiction compares with
The Tale of Genji, but this may be rather like saying that no later British
writer of tragedies can compare with Shakespeare. The Kamakura ex-
amples of courtly fiction are worth reading because their memorable
parts so little resemble The Tale ofGenji. Their attraction is intermittent,
and we must sometimes put up with tedious passages of conventional
description that imitated the least attractive features of the Heian mono-
gatari, but at their best they give startling insights into the life of a court
that had passed the zenith of its glory.
 The Middle Ages

Notes
This chapter is a somewhat revised version of an article that originally appeared
in Monumenta Nipponica 44:1 (1989), under the title "A Neglected Chapter:
Courtly Fiction of the Kamakura Period."

I. For Story Without a Name, see above, pp. 517-18. The compilation of the
Fuyo Waka Shu (to give the work its full title) was ordered in 1271 by the
consort of the Emperor Gosaga, and was probably completed not long
afterward. It consists of 1,410 poems, all drawn from monogatari. Of the
two hundred monogatari from which it quotes poems, only about twenty
survive. (For more information in English, see Earl Miner, Hiroko Odagiri,
and Robert E. Morell, The Princeton Companion to ClassicalJapanese Lit-
erature, p. 156.)
2. See, for example, Ogi Takashi, Kamakura Jidai Monogatari no KenkYu, p.
51, where he insists that the term giko monogatari is used properly only of
works written in archaic language by scholars of National Learning during
the Tokugawa period. Ogi quotes on the same page Kazamaki Keijiro's
statement that it is impossible to distinguish between monogatari of the
Heian and Kamakura periods.
3. Imai Geri'e (in "Qcho Monogatari no Shuen," pp. 20-21) cited various
scholars who had expressed the belief that Fujiwara Teika's novel The Tale
of the Matsura Palace contained political criticism, the result of his experi-
ences during the warfare of the 1180s; but Imai considered that such pas-
sages were incidental to the basic mugen (dream-fantasy) tone of the work.
4. Ogi (Kamakura, pp. 54-55) quotes Hara Katsuro's description of the real
appearance of the city of Heian. Robbers roamed the street not only at
night but in broad daylight and sometimes penetrated even into the Imperial
Palace.
S. See above, pp. 515- 16.
6. Kannoto Akio, "Karnakura Jidai no Monogatari," in Nihon Bungaku Kyo-
kai (ed.), Nihon Bungaku Kssa, IV, p. 17I.
7. Kuwabara Hiroshi, Mumyo Zoshi, p. 98. See also Michele Marra, "Mum-
yozoshi," p. 418. The statement that the poems were "exactly like" those
in the Man'yoshu is evidence that the author of Story Without a Name
thought the poems did not resemble those in The Tale of Genii; similarly,
the resemblances noted with The Tale of the Hollow Tree meant that the
plot seemed unlike that of Genii. The Tale of the Matsura Palace is the only
work so clearly differentiated from Genii.
8. At one time doubts were expressed about the authorship, but it is not
seriously questioned any longer. See Hagitani Boku, Matsuranomiya Mo-
nogatari, p. 293.
9· Ibid., p. 9·
Courtly Fiction of the Ka m aleura Period 819
10. Ibid. Hagitani states that this title was in fact not used during the Fujiwara
period; but in any case it suggested a bureaucracy unlike that of the Heian
period. The other indications of when the work took place are vague and
sometimes contradictory, but they always point to a period prior to the
beginning of the tenth century.
1 I. Teika, once again insisting on the antiquity of his tale, uses the old name

for the port, Ming-chou.

12. Hagitani, Matsuranomiya, P: 23.
13. Ibid., p. 26. The original reads: "Kano kuni no hito wa omoishi yori mo
marne narikeri"
14. It is unlikely Teika had read Kukai's Shi5rai Mokuroeu, in which the meeting
is described, but he was surely aware that other Japanese priests (including
Jojin) had so favorably impressed the Chinese that they were never allowed
to return to Japan.
15. Hagitani, Matsuranomiya, P: 32.
16. Ibid., p. 33.
17· Ibid., p. 45·
18. Ibid., p. 48. Yu-wen Hui is not a historical personage but, as Hagitani
points out, several men with the same surname appear in Chinese histories.
All of them were foreigners who were naturalized as Chinese; this may
be an indication that the intended model was An Lu-shan.
19. Needless to say, the Chinese in real life (or in their own literature) did not
often praise the Japanese in these terms.
20. We later learn that Shosho's mysterious clones have been sent by the
Japanese gods.
21. Hagitani, Matsuranomiya, P: 62.
22. Ibid., p. 71.
23· Ibid., pp. 10 7- 9.
24. Ibid., p. 115·
25. Kuwabara, Mumyi5 Zi5shi, pp. 98-99' The ladies of Story Without a Name
consistently found fault with works that contained supernatural or im-
plausible events. They also disapproved of scenes of violence, discussions
of political matters, or inelegant language.
26. Ishikawa Toru, quoted by Otsuki Osamu in Arialte no Wakare, p. 489.
27. See Otsuki, Ariak«, p. 491. He suggests it might refer to the parting of the
emperor and the lady general.
28. Ibid., p. 499.
29. Ibid., pp. 112-13.
30. For a brief study of the ability of characters in Heian fiction to make
themselves invisible or transform themselves, see Inaga Keiji, " 'Kakuremi'
to 'Henkei' [osetsu," in Chuko Bengaku Kenkyukai (ed.), Heian Ki5ki, pp.
1-16.
31. Otsuki, Ariak«, p. 69.
32. Ibid., p. 202.
820 The Middle Ages
33. Ibid., p. 2S6.
34. She was in her early forties.
3S. Otsuki, Ariake, pp. 262-64.
36. I am reminded of Arabella, the opera by Richard Strauss, in which the
younger sister is obliged to dress and act like a man in order to improve
her sister's chances of making an advantageous marriage.
37. See Kuwabara, Mumyo Zoshi, p. 82, where it says, "The materials of The
Invisible-Making Cape are so unusual, the book ought to be worth reading,
but there are just too many things that one wishes weren't there. The
language is exceedingly old-fashioned, and the poems are so bad that it is
quite put in the shade if it is compared to If I Could Only Change Them.
That is why so few people read it anymore."
38. Inaga Keiji, "San'itsu monogatari" in Ichiko Teiji (ed.), Nihon Bungaku
Zenshi: Chuko, p. 383.
39. Tokumitsu Sumio, Wagami ni tadoru Himegimi Monogatari Zcnchiishaleu,
and Imai Gen'e, Wagami ni tadoru Himegimi.
40. Imai Gen'e, Wagami, I, p. lSI.
4 I. I shall refer to her hereafter as the Otowa princess, one of her titles, rather
than "the Princess in search of her own identity," the nickname commonly
used by Japanese commentators.
42. My interpretation of this difficult poem mainly follows that given by Imai
Gen'e in Wagami, I, p. 38. Tokumitsu, Wagami, p. 19, scorns to explain
the poem. Imai (p. 40) cannot resist quoting a section of the "Niou" chapter
of The Tale of Genji which, he says, is being imitated in the poem. It
is the passage where Kaoru, tormented by doubts concerning his iden-
tity, asks himself, "Ika narikeru koto ni ka wa. Nan no chigiri nite, ko yasu-
karanu omoisoitaru mi ni shimo nariideteken." (Quoted from Ishida Joji
and Shimizu Yoshiko (eds.), Genji Monogatari, VI, p. 167.) Edward Sei-
densticker's translation renders this: "He could only brood in solitude and
ask what missteps in a former life could explain the painful doubts with
which he had grown up." Edward Seidensticker (trans.), The Tale ofGenji,
II, p. 737.
43. Imai Gen'e, Wagami, I, p. 17S, dates the work between 1268 and 1271.
Tokumitsu, Wagami, pp. 6-7, gives the various explanations of why the
quoted poems are from only the first four books.
44. Tokumitsu, Wagami, p. 10.
4S' Ibid., pp. 10-12.
46. Imai Gcn'e, Wagami, V, lOS.
47· Ibid., pp. 11-13·
48. Ibid., p. 44.
49. tu«, p. 80.
So. Ibid., p. S2.
SI. Ibid., pp. 127-28.
S2. Ibid., p. 127.
Courtly Fiction of the Kam aleur a Period 821

53. The four monogatari with the largest number of poems included in the
Fuyoshu are, in descending order, The Tale of Genji, The Tale ofthe Hollow
Tree, The Tale of Sagoromo, and The Pitiless Winds. Only the opening
chapters of the last-named work survive. See Ogi, Kamahura, pp. 292-312.
54. These are the dates of the submission to the emperor of the text of the
anthology Shin Chokuscnshi; (1235) and the completion of the Shoku Go-
senshii (1251). Poems from these collections are quoted in Unspoken Yearning.
See Ogi Takashi, Iwade Shinobu Monogatari Hombun to KenkYu, p. 39.
55· Ibid., p. 47·
56. Ogi, Kamakura, pp. 203-4·
57. It is true that Ipponnomiya seems to die in childbirth, the victim of a mono
no ke, only to be revived by the prayers of a holy man (Ogi, Iwade,
p. 355); but the reader is likely to obtain the impression that the resuscitation
was due to natural rather than supernatural means. The mono no ke, in
any case, was a familiar visitor, mentioned in almost every monogatari of
the period, and accepted as a reality.
58. I call him by this name throughout, though in fact this is a title by which
he is known only in part of the book; elsewhere his "name" changes as
he rises in the hierarchy. At this point in the narration he is actually called
Taisho.
59. Ogi, Iwade, p. 138.
60. Ibid., p. 143.
61. This surprisingly cool-headed statement is derived from Gyokuyoshu 1827
by Shunzei (but earlier found in his private collection). I have followed
Ogi's interpretation of uki ni kiesenu in Iwade, p. 146.
62. She is characterized by Ogi, in Iwade, p. 50, as a "flapper" ifurappii)!
63. Ibid., p. 218. There is a pun on hima, meaning the space between two
people but also leisure; the poem means that there was no hima between
the robes of Chl1jo and the woman, and there was also no hima for Chl1jo
to admire the red leaves.
64. Ibid., p. 224·
65· Ibid., p. 237·
66. Ibid., p. 243. The original IS: "lma a/a, notamaiyamitaraba, ika ni
ureshikaran. "
67· Ibid., p. 295·
68. There is a translation by Harold Parlett in "The Sumiyoshi Monogatari,"
PP·37- 123·
69. See Mitani Kuniaki, Monogatari Bungaet« no Hoho, I, pp. 373-91, for an
eloquent presentation of this interpretation of The Tale of Sumiyoshi. He
believed that Heian period stepmother stories were particularly rich in
elements connected with the rite of passage of a girl into womanhood (p.
378): for example, the cellar where Ochikubo is confined represents the
chamber where a girl was kept during her first menstruation.
70. Takeyama Takaaki in Sumiyoshi Monogatari, p. lOI, gives several theories
822 The Middle Ages
of dating, including one that dates the revised version of the tale between
1219 and 1221, and another between 1202 and I2sL Inaga Keiji in Fujii
Sadakazu and Inaga Keiji, Ochikubo Monogatari, Sumiyoshi Monogatari, p.
447ff, considered the work in three stages: the old text (kohon), the new
edition (shimpan), and the revised edition (kaisaku). The old text would
have been written at some time during the second half of the tenth century;
the new edition at the end of the tenth century; and the revised edition at
the end of the Heian or beginning of the Kamakura period.
71. Inaga suggested that revisions to the original version of The Tale of Su-
miyoshi were made as early as 985-987; but even if some revisions go back
to that time, others surely were made much later. For a brief discussion
of the question, see Yoshiyama Hiroki, "Monogatari no Kaisaku," in Ii
Haruki, Monogatari Bungaleu no Keifu, pp. 164-66.
72. See Mitani, Monogatari, I, p. 380. The eminent scholar Origuchi Shinobu
was one among those who considered The Tale of Ochilrubo, The Tale of
Sumiyoshi, and all other Heian stories of cruel stepmothers to be forgeries
of the Kamakura period. For an excellent discussion of Heian marital life,
see William H. McCullough, "Japanese Marriage Institutions in the Heian
Period."
73. See Ikeda Yasaburo, Bungaku to Minzokugaku, pp. 42-189, for a compre-
hensive account of the theme of the mistreated stepchild in Japanese
literature.
74. Takeyama, Sumiyoshi, pp. 40-41. See also Fujii and Inaga, Ochileubo Mo-
nogatari, Sumiyoshi Monogatari, pp. 316ff. For the Ochileubo reference, see
above, p. 447.
75. Takeyama, Sumiyoshi, pp. 70-72. For a different text of the work, see Fujii
and Inaga, Ochieubo, pp. 334-35. Chujo's remark addressed to the pine is
an altered version of Kokinshi; 906: "Princess pine [himematsu 1on the shore
at Sumiyoshi, if you were only a human being I would ask you just how
old you are."
76. For a good account of what is known about The Pitiless Winds, see Ogi,
Kamakura, pp. 292-312.
77. This thesis is developed by Ichiko Teiji in Chusei Shosetsu to sono Shahen,
pp. rzff

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Chuko Bungaku Kenkyiikai (ed.) Heian Koki: Monogatari to Rekishi Monogatari.

Kasama Shoin, 1982.
Fujii Sadakazu and Inaga Keiji. Ochilrabo Monogatari, Sumiyoshi Monogatari,
in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1989.
Courtly Fiction of the Kam aleura Period
Hagitani Boku. Matsuranomiya Monogatari. Kadokawa Shoten, 1970.
Ichiko Teiji. Chiisei Shosetsu to sono Shiihen. Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 198r.
- - - . Nihon Bungaleu Zenshi: Chiiko. Gakutosha, 1978.
Ii Haruki. Monogatari Bungaku no Keifu. Kyoto: Sekai Shisosha, 1986.
Ikeda Yasaburo, Bungaku to Minzokugaku. Iwasaki Bijutsusha, 1966.
Imai Gen'e. "Ocho Monogatari no Shuen," Kokugo to Kokubungaku 31:10,
1954·
- - - . Wagami ni tadoru Himegimi, 7 vols. Ofusha, 1983.
Imai Takuji. Monogatari Bungaku no KenkYii: Koki Monogatari. Waseda Dai-
gaku Shuppanbu, 1977.
Ishida Joji and Shimizu Yoshiko (eds.). Genji Monogatari, in Shincho Nihon
Koten Bungaku Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1982.
Kannoto Akio. "Karnakura [idai no Monogatari: 'Koke no Koromo' no Hoho
to Tokushitsu," in Nihon Bungaku Kyokai (ed.), Nihon Bungaku Koza, IV.
Kuwabara Hiroshi. Chiisei Monogatari no Kisotelei Kenky«. Kazama Shobe, 1969.
- - - . Mumyo Zoshi, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha,
1976.
Kyusojin Hitaku. Koke no Koromo, 2 vols., in Koten Bunko series. Koten
Bunko, 1954.
Lammers, Wayne P. The Tale ofMatsura: Fujiwara Tcilia's Experiment in Fiction.
Ann Arbor, Mich.: Center for Japanese Studies, University of Michigan,
1992.
Marra, Michele. "Mumyozoshi." Monumenta Nipponica 39:2-4, 1984.
McCullough, William H. "Japanese Marriage Institutions in the Heian Period,"
Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 27, 1967.
Miner, Earl, Hiroko Odagiri, and Robert E. Morrell. The Princeton Companion
to Classical Japanese Literature. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
1985.
Mitani Eiichi and Imai Gen'e. Tsutsumi Chiinagon Monogatari, Torikaebaya
Monogatari, in Kansho Nihon Koten Bungaku series. Kadokawa Shoten,
1976.
Mitani Kuniaki. Monogatari Bungaku no Hoho, 2 vols. Yuseido, 1989.
Mulhern, Chieko Irie. "Cinderella and the Jesuits: An Otogi-ziishi Cycle as
Christian Literature," Monumenta Nipponica 34:4, 1979.
Nihon Bungaku Kyokai (ed.). Nihon Bungaeu Koza, IV. Taishukan Shoten,
1987.
Ogi Takashi. Iwade Shinobu Monogatari: Hombun to KenkYii. Kasama Shoin,
1977-
- - - . Kamakura Jidai Monogatari no KenkYii. Yuseido, 1984.
Otsuki Osamu. Ariake no Wakare no KenkYii. Ofusha, 1969.
Parlett, Harold. "The Sumiyoshi Monogatari," Transactions ofthe Asiatic Society
of Japan 29:1, 190r.
Raz, Jacob. "Popular Entertainment and Politics," Monumenta Nipponica 4°:3,
1985.
 The Middle Ages
Seidensticker, Edward. The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1976.
Seki Tsunenobu. Ama no Karu Mo. Yubun Shain, 1991.
Takeyama Takaaki. Sumiyoshi Monogatari. Yuseido, 1987.
Tokumitsu Sumio. Wagami ni tadoru Himegimi Monogatari Zcnchiishabu, Yu-
seido, 1980.
Tsunoda, Ryusaku, Wm. Theodore de Bary, and Donald Keene. Sources of
Japanese Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1958.
 21.
DIARIES OF THE
KAMAKURA PERIOD

hte tradition of keeping diaries, begun in the Heian period, was main-
tained during the following centuries even after the emperor's court in
Kyoto, the locus of most Heian diaries, had lost much of its authority.
Some diaries, like those typical of the Heian period, were occupied
mainly with descriptions of life at the court, but there were also many
Kamakura-period diaries devoted to travel, either by pilgrims making
their way to sacred sites or by litigants journeying from Kyoto to Ka-
makura to place petitions for the recovery of property and other suits
before the law courts of the shogun.
No sharp line of demarcation can be drawn, however, between Heian
and Kamakura diaries; some of the best-known examples from the late
twelfth and early thirteenth centuries straddle both periods. As before,
men tended to keep their diaries in Chinese, though diaries written by
men in Japanese became more numerous; and the diaries of greatest
literary interest continued to be those by women of the court.
One can easily form the impression on reading histories of the period
that with the establishment of the shogunate in Kamakura the court in
Kyoto suffered a mortal wound that left it with only a semblance of its
former glory; but the diaries of the court ladies do not confirm this
impression. Their descriptions of days filled with poetry-making and
music seldom suggest that any diminution had occurred in the amenities
enjoyed by the aristocrats. On the contrary, the diary entries maintain
an air of such unruffled elegance that it is hard to remember that the
years between the victory of the Minamoto in I 185 and the overthrow
of the shogunate by the Emperor Godaigo in 1333 were troubled by
rebellions, famine, earthquakes, and other calamities. The two abortive
invasions by the Mongols in 1274 and 1281 were the worst but by no
means the only perils that people at the court experienced. It is hard to
imagine how they could have been so unaffected by these events that
 The Middle Ages

the pages of their diaries are devoted mainly to descriptions of the

exquisite shadings of the robes worn by the ladies and gentlemen. Only
those accounts kept at the very beginning and end of the period reveal
how warfare affected the lives of the aristocrats.

THE POETIC MEMOIRS OF LADY DAIBU

Kenreimon'in Ukyo no Daibu no ssa: (The Poetic Memoirs of Lady

Daibu), the most affecting of the diaries that treat the end of the Heian
and the beginning of the Kamakura periods, opens in 1174, when the
Emperor Takakura is on the throne and the Taira family is in its heyday;
it ends almost fifty years later with the poems she exchanged with Teika
in 1232. On that occasion Teika informed her that he was compiling a
new imperially sponsored collection of poetry (the Shin Chokusenshu)
and asked if she had anything suitable to be included. He also asked
under what name she would like to be known, to which she answered,
"Just as I was known in the old days.": Her reply indicated that, despite
all the time that had elapsed since the downfall of the Taira, she still
considered that she was in their service.
Although the literary interest lies almost entirely in the prose sections,
where Lady Daibu relates the backgrounds of her poems, she probably
thought of the work as a collection of poetry. The poems are not of
first quality, but they are nevertheless moving because of the circum-
stances under which they were composed. The Poetic Memoirs opens
with an evocation of the brilliance of the court of the Emperor Takakura
and his Empress Tokuko on the first day of the new year, 1174. "The
two of them were, of course, always imposing, but on that day he in
his formal attire and she in full court dress seemed to me quite dazzling,
and as I watched from a passageway I felt in my heart:

kumo no ue ni Here above the clouds

kakaru tsuhihi no I gaze upon the brilliance
hikari miru Of such a sun and such a moon,
mi no chigiri sae And I can only feel
ureshi to zo omou How blissful is this fate of mine."!

This poem of unclouded joy has painfully ironic overtones: Takakura

would die seven years later at the age of twenty, and his empress, the
future Kenreimon'in, rescued against her will from the sea at Dannoura
Diaries of the Kam a leu ra Period

where her son, the boy Emperor Antoku, drowned, would end her days
at the lonely convent [akko-in.
At first Lady Daibu observed the splendor of the court without
becoming involved in the flirtations that formed the principal subject
of gossip but, quite contrary to her intentions, she too acquired a lover:
"Among the many men who used to mingle with us at all times of day
and night, just like other ladies-in-waiting, there was one in particular
who made approaches to me, though after seeing and hearing of other
people's unhappy love affairs I felt I ought not to let anything of the
sort happen to me. Destiny, however, is not to be avoided, and in spite
of my resolve, I also came to know love's miseries.":
Lady Daibu's first affair was with Taira no Sukemori (II61 ?-II8S),
a son of Taira no Shigemori and grandson of Kiyomori. Sukemori was
married and probably younger than Lady Daibu. From the commence-
ment of their affair, her poems acquire a depth, a tragic dimension quite
lacking in her earlier poetry. She did not disclose her lover's identity in
the diary, but she supplied unmistakable clues, naming his father and
the places he visited in his official capacity. She obviously fell deeply in
love with Sukemori. She recalled, "One morning at my own home, as
the snow lay thick, I was looking out at the unkempt garden and
distractedly murmuring the lines 'The person who will come today,'
when [Sukemori] appeared, unannounced, through the garden
gate .... He looked so much smarter than I did, so splendid, that I can
never forget it. Though the years and months have gone by, it seems
so recent in my heart that the pain still haunts me.'"
These words not only suggest the depth of her love for Sukemori
but make it clear that she wrote this "diary" entry years after the events
she described, perhaps as late as 1232, the year of the last datable entry."
Lady Daibu's love for Sukemori colored the rest of her life, but before
long she acquired a new lover, Fujiwara no Takanobu (I 142-I20S), a
poet and painter who is rememberd today especially for his superb
portraits of Minamoto no Yoritomo and Taira no Shigemori. Her new
lover may have been chiefly an agreeable companion; he certainly does
not seem to have caused any change in her relations with Sukemori.
The second half of The Poetic Memoirs opens in an entirely different
manner from the first half. In II83 the Taira forces abandoned the
capital after being defeated by Kiso no Yoshinaka. Sukemori had to
leave with the other Taira supporters; before he left, he told her, "I
have renounced all attachments to this world."? In the past this probably
would have meant that he had decided to become a monk, but the new
meaning was that he was sure he would be killed in battle and had
 The Middle Ages

prepared himself spiritually. She herself considered taking a nun's vows,

or even committing suicide, but decided against such precipitate actions.
However, in the next spring she heard terrible reports after the battle
of Ichinotani that "great numbers of my friends had been killed, and
that their heads were being paraded through the streets of the capital.?'
Taira no Shigemori, the father of her lover, had earlier figured in the
diary as an amusing man who entertained the ladies of the palace with
his stories. Now he had been taken prisoner at Ichinotani and brought
back to the capital, to be turned over to the Nara monks for execution
as punishment for having led the forces that burned the Todai-ji, One
after another the Taira perished in the warfare. She wrote, "Whenever
I meet anyone these days, I can only think what truly superior figures
the Taira were."? Finally, in the spring of 1185, she learned that Su-
kemori was dead.
Several years later Lady Daibu, who had left the court after the
defeat of the Taira, was persuaded to return, though it was now dom-
inated by the Minamoto family, who had killed the Taira men she loved.
She could not keep from contrasting unfavorably the Minamoto nobles
to the Taira nobles she remembered: "Those whom I had known in
the old days as courtiers of no great eminence were now in the highest
ranks, and I could not help imagining how things might have been if
Sukemori had only Iived."!"
The Poetic Memoirs of Lady Daibu conveys more poignantly than
any other work of its period the pathos of defeat. The reader may find
himself skipping the rather conventional waka to reach the continuation
of the narrative, but the work as a whole lingers in the memory.

CHRONICLE OF THE BRIGHT MOON

No diary of the late Heian and early Kamakura periods is as rich in

literary and historical materials as Meigetsule: (Chronicle of the Bright
Moon), kept by Fujiwara Teika between the years 1180 and 1235.11 Even
in its present state, marred by many gaps in the entries, some extending
for years, it is an invaluable day-to-day account of life at the court during
a period of dramatic changes in some of which Teika himself partici-
pated. Teika kept the diary in Chinese, as we might expect of a courtier,
though perhaps not of one whose life was so closely involved with
Japanese poetry. The original text is not easy to read, and many entries
are of little interest except to those especially intrigued by matters of
court routine; this adverse combination oflanguage and content no doubt
Diaries of the Kam a eura Period

explains why such an important work has been so little studied." A few
oft-quoted entries are all that most readers know about the diary, despite
Teika's exalted reputation as a poet and arbiter of poetic taste.
The literary value of Chronicle of the Bright Moon is impaired by
the same factors that account for the restricted interest of the work.
Teika's Chinese is not only difficult but is likely to cause the reader to
imagine with irritation how much more enjoyable as literature the diary
would have been if only Teika had kept it in Japanese. Occasionally,
when he is particularly irritated over some rebuff or pleased by some
gesture of recognition of his talent, Teika's emotions are so powerful
that they transcend the barrier of the artificial language with its special
rhetoric. It sometimes happens, too, that an entry which is as a whole
of considerable interest may be weakened by unnecessary information.
Teika was clearly not attempting to achieve literary elegance when he
set down his account of each day.
Perhaps the worst fault of his diary as far as a modern reader is
concerned is that Teika tells us so little about his private life. Unlike
the court ladies who described their emotions so poignantly that we
have no trouble in empathizing with them, or unlike Teika himself in
his poetry, he is niggardly of words when it comes to feelings other than
rage or satisfaction. We know from historical sources the name of his
official consort, and we know also that he had twenty-seven children,
but the various women in his life-the mothers of all those children-
are not mentioned in his diary.
The nature of his relations with the celebrated poet Princess Sho-
kushi, the relationship we would most like to know about, is never
disclosed. In an entry for the third day of the first month of 1181 he
mentions in the course of an account of people he called on that day,
"I visited the former high priestess at Sanjo. (Today was my first visit.
It was at her request. The fragrance of incense was pervasive.)"13 Princess
Shokushi had served as the high priestess of the Kamo Shrine, and it
is clear that she was the person Teika visited. But only the mention of
the fragrance suggests that it might have been more than a formal visit.
Most of his subsequent visits to Princess Shokushi over the following
years state no more than that he called at her residence. But in 1200,
the year before Shokushi died, he visited her thirty-six times, and on
two occasions noted in his diary that he did not leave until late at night."
It is tempting to imagine that, as in the No play Teilea, these two great
poets were lovers, but if they were, it makes it all the more disappointing
that Teika had not a word to say about their affair. Perhaps he feared
that others might read the diary; an affair between a noble not of the
 The Middle Ages

highest rank and an imperial princess might have reflected adversely

on her virtue. On the other hand, Teika's utter recklessness when de-
nouncing his enemies among the powerful statesmen makes it seem
improbable he would have exercised such caution in the case of a love
affair. We shall probably never know much more about Teika's personal
life than what he chose to describe in Chronicle of the Bright Moon.
By far the best-known passage in the entire diary occurs in an entry
dated the fourth year of the [isho era (1180), when Teika was eighteen:
"Reports of disturbances and punitive expeditions fill one's ears, but I
pay them no attention. The red banners and the expeditions against the
traitors are no concern of mine."!' Even if, as has been suggested, this
entry was actually written many years later, it reflects Teika's chosen
indifference to the mundane matters that occupy most men. This, inev-
itably, was something of a pose: he could not escape involvement in the
power struggles at the court, as we know from his relations with the
Cloistered Emperor Gotoba.
Teika's diary covering the period when the two men saw each other
regularly declared in unconditional superlatives his high opinion of the
quality of Gotoba's poetry, though of course his praise must have been
affected in some degree by the poet's exalted station. But for a rank
amateur-unlike Teika, a professional poet who had been composing
waka ever since he was a child-Gotoba was extraordinarily talented,
and Teika in his diary again and again expressed his admiration: "Sum-
moned early this morning, I entered His Majesty's presence, where I
was commanded to examine his recent poetic compositions. When I
opened the manuscript, it brought me a voice of gold and jade. At
present there is absolutely nobody, high or low, who can touch him.
Each and every poem is astonishing. I could not hold back the tears of
joy."l"
In 1201 Gotoba asked Teika to accompany him on a pilgrimage to
Kumano. Teika was ecstatic that of all the many courtiers he had been
selected to accompany the former sovereign. He declared in his diary
that this was an honor beyond his deserts, though he also worried that
his physical condition might not be equal to the difficult journey. (Two
years earlier, when Gotoba had made one of his over thirty pilgrimages
to Kumano, many of those in his party had fallen ill on the way, and
courtiers were wary of invitations to accompany Gotoba, who seems to
have had an unusually robust constitution, on subsequent pilgrrmages.)"
The journey involved not only worship at Kumano, at the time more
favored even than Ise as a destination for an imperial pilgrimage, but
at the many small shrines on the way. The party set out at dawn each
Diaries of the Ka m ak ura Period

day and traveled all day long for some twenty days. At some places the
pilgrims were entertained by biwa hoshi, by bouts of sumo, and by
shirabyoshi, There were many occasions for composing poems, as we
know from the quotations in Teika's diary.
Teika described the same journey in another diary, Gotoba-in Ku-
mana Goko Ki (Account of the Visit of the Cloistered Emperor Gotoba
to Kumano), also written in Chinese. This diary lacks the numerous
outbursts of admiration for Gotoba's poems found in Chronicle of the
Bright Moon, and Teika expressed no pleasure in the sights along the
way, suggesting that the hardships of the journey had affected his spirits.
Or perhaps the diary was composed later, after relations between the
two men had cooled. They seem to have been on excellent terms at the
time of the journey, despite Teika's silence; and in 1203, on the occasion
of the ninetieth birthday" of Teika's father, Shunzei, Gotoba staged a
huge birthday party at the Poetry Bureau he had established by way of
preparation for compiling the Shin Kokinshu. This event is described in
various other diaries," but Teika wrote nothing in his diary that day,
perhaps because he found the sight of his tottering old father too painful
to describe. All the same, the lavishness of the celebration was proof of
Gotoba's special respect not only for Shunzei but for Teika.
The first signs of a break between Gotoba and Teika did not surface
until 1207, when Gotoba rejected one of the poems Teika had composed
to be inscribed on a screen. By this time Teika had become fully aware
of his own importance as a poet, and he was not accustomed to having
his poems rejected. Years later Gotoba, after explaining why he had
rejected the poem, mentioned that T eika had gone about mocking his
judgment. From this point on their once-cordial relations continued to
deteriorate until the final break in 1220, when (as we have seen) Teika,
in response to importunate demands that he appear at court on the
anniversary of his mother's death, composed two waka that indirectly
expressed his resentment."
There is a gap in the extant text of Chronicle of the Bright Moon
between 1219 and 1225. This means we lack Teika's account of his break
with Gotoba. We also lack his account of an even more important event,
the [okyu Rebellion of 1221, when Gotoba and his son [untoku unsuc-
cessfully attempted to overthrow the Hojo regents." Gotoba was sub-
sequently exiled to the Oki islands. Teika, who enjoyed friendly relations
with the shogunate, had at one time served as a tutor in poetry to the
third shogun, Sanetomo. When the extant diary resumes in 1225, Teika
was back in the imperial favor, but the emperor this time was a prince
chosen by the shogunate to replace Gotoba and his sons. On New Year's
 The Middle Ages

Day of 1225 Teika joyfully wrote that "ignorant monarchs had been
succeeded by a sage king," referring to an example in ancient China."
But if he expected peace and prosperity would follow, he was sadly
deceived. The next years were marked instead by epidemics and famine.
In 1230, after a summer so cold that snow fell in several provinces,
Teika wrote in his diary, "Today I had my servants dig up the garden
(the north one) and plant wheat. Even if we only grow a little, it will
sustain our hunger in a bad year. Don't make fun of me! What other
stratagem does a poor old man have?"?'
The famine continued into the next year. Teika's diary mentions
the dead bodies that filled the streets, and the stench that had gradually
reached his house. It is small wonder that he wrote little poetry, but
writing the diary must have been his most important activity. He no-
where stated why he kept writing day after day, despite his many
ailments, but presumably it was to benefit his descendants by providing
them with a detailed record of what happened in the past, and enabling
them in this way to serve with authority at the court. The title Chronicle
of the Bright Moon is something of a puzzle, considering the generally
dark tone of the diary. The word meigetsu (bright moon) appears again
and again in the entries for 1180 and 1181. 24 If these were in fact added
much later, as scholars have suggested, mentions of the bright moon
may have been intended to explain the title. However, in his Maigetsusho
(Monthly Notes) Teika mentioned having given the same title, Meige-
tsulei, to a work of poetic criticism inspired by an auspicious dream he
had of the spring moon while staying at the shrine of Sumiyoshi, the
god of poetry." Such a title would serve equally well for this diary in
which he recorded the experiences of a lifetime of poetry.

JOURNEY ALONG THE SEACOAST ROAD

Of the other surviving diaries by men of the Kamakura period, whether

written in Chinese or Japanese, only one is of such exceptional literary
value that it must be discussed, though the others all contain at least a
few passages of interest." The exception is Kaidoki (Journey Along the
Seacoast Road), the account by an unknown man of his journey from
Kyoto to Kamakura in 1223. The author states at the outset why he
decided to make the journey: he had heard many glowing reports of
the wonders of the new city of Kamakura, and he decided, when a
favorable opportunity arose, to see the sights for himself. Although he
tells us that he became a Buddhist priest shortly before leaving Kyoto,
Diaries of the Kam aleura Period

his motivation in traveling to Kamakura was by no means as serious as

that of people of the same era who, as acts of penance or thanksgiving,
made journeys to distant places that could be reached only after expe-
riencing many hardships on the way." All the same, this was no mere
excursion: the author confesses that his despair over the failure of his
life (he was about fifty at the time) had been so intense that he had
considered suicide, and only his inability to throw himself into a pond
had kept him from dying. Travel in his case was not a diversion, but
an escape.
He was eager to get away from Kyoto not merely because he was
curious about Kamakura but because his mother had lapsed into second
childhood. It must have been painful to be with her, but hardly had he
reached Kamakura than he felt obliged to rush back to Kyoto. He wrote,
"I have an old mother in the capital. She has returned to infancy and
longs for her foolish son.":" His relations with his mother constantly
preyed on his mind. He wondered if his neglect of his mother was the
result of some sin committed in a previous existence: "Long ago, in my
prime, I trusted in the future and prayed to heaven, but now, in my
declining years, I think of the retribution from former lives and I hate
myself.'?" He seems to have made the journey to escape for a while the
heartrending spectacle of his mother reduced to senescence, but his
conscience woud not let him remain in the city that was the object of
his journey.
The most striking feature of Journey Along the Seacoast Road is its
style. It is a new kind of Japanese known as u/alian konko, or "mixed
Japanese and Chinese."30 Although the language is basically Japanese, a
large proportion of the words are of Chinese origin, and sometimes the
sentence structure also shows marked Chinese influence. This gives a
ponderous tone to the sentences, rather like English written with a heavy
admixture of words of Latin origin; but the tone is appropriate to the
somber content. The most affecting parts of the narrative refer to places
along the way to Kamakura associated with the ill-fated [okyu Rebellion
of 1221. The author professed admiration for the victors, the Hojo
regents, but he commiserated with those who had died in the effort to
overthrow the rule of the regents, especially Nakamikado Muneyuki,
the most brilliant member of Gotoba's entourage, who was captured
and carried off toward Kamakura. At various stops he expected to be
killed, and he composed a poem at each that he left on a pillar of the
house where he stayed. The author of the diary, following Muneyuki's
path, imagined his agony at each stop, until at last he reached the place
where Muneyuki was actually put to death.
 t

The Middle Ages

Journey Along the Seacoast Road, though it contains some lovely pas-
sages of description, is a thorny work. The style reflects the turbulence
in the author's thoughts as he attempted to understand who he was and
why he existed in a world in which he seemed to have no place. Unlike
most travelers of this time or later, he did not repeat the cliches about
the "famous places" he passed on his journey, but instead commented
ironically, "Places one has often heard about do not necessarily appeal
to the eye." He made no attempt to ingratiate himself with the readers-
whoever they may have been-he anticipated for his diary, but his
honesty and the seriousness with which he faced the world compel our
admiration.
Toltan Kika (A Journey East of the Barrier) has often been paired
with Journey Along the Seacoast Road, and some scholars have suggested
that both diaries were composed by the same man. The resemblances,
however, are slight. A Journey East ofthe Barrier is notable for its graceful
Japanese prose, unencumbered by the Chinese rhetoric of the earlier
work. The author, not at all like his tormented predecessor, was a
gentleman of leisure who lived in the capital and followed "a path of
life like most other people." For unknown reasons, he set out on a
journey to the east in the autumn of 1242. He informs us that he kept
his diary because "I thought that if I set down the various sights that
had struck my eyes and the experiences that lingered in my memory,
if anybody in the future still remembered such things with nostalgia,
my account would of itself provide them with a memento.'?' It is baffling
why this charmingly written though lightweight work has been tradi-
tionally associated with the dark Journey Along the Seacoast Road, but it
is not difficult to imagine why its style and manner should have influ-
enced the writing of similar diaries during the centuries to come.

THE DIARIES OF ABUTSU

The diaries of the nun Abutsu (d. 1283) seem to represent two ages of
this literary form: Utatane (Fitful Slumbers), written when she was
seventeen or eighteen, is in the tradition of the diary of the Heian court
lady, but Izayoi Nikki (The Diary of the Waning Moon), the description
of a journey from Kyoto to Kamakura taken late in her life, belongs to
the new tradition of the Kamakura travel account. Of the two, Fitful
Slumbers is literarily superior, at least when judged by our standards,
but The Diary of the Waning Moon has attracted far more scholarly
attention over the centuries.
Diaries of the Kam aleura Period

Fitful Slumbers is the story of an unhappy love affair. The writer

had her first affair with a man in the spring of a certain year (possibly
1240), but it is now the autumn, and his visits have become infrequent.
As she lies awake at night she broods over her unhappiness, though she
knows that brooding can do her no good. Perhaps, she thinks, writing
a diary will bring relief.
Abutsu's lover was a married man and belonged to a class so much
superior to her own that she could not hope, even after his wife died,
that he would marry her. Like the author of The Sarashina Diary, Abutsu
lived in two worlds, one of reality and the other of The Tale of Genji.
Her intensely romantic feelings for a man who probably considered her
to be only of passing interest probably reflected an unconscious hope
that he would be like Genji, who never forgot or deserted a woman he
had once loved. However, at the end of the year, Abutsu's lover ceased
altogether to visit her.
Abutsu related in the diary that one night, as she sat in the moonlight
thinking of him, tears came into her eyes, blotting out the moonlight,
and at that moment she had a vision of Buddha. She thought for the
first time that perhaps becoming a nun might bring her comfort. A
month or so later, one night when everyone was asleep, she cut her hair,
a gesture symbolizing her entering into Buddhist orders, and set out in
the dark for a convent in a distant part of the capital. It started to rain,
and soon her clothes, which were not intended for such excursions, were
soaking wet, but Abutsu, with the determination she would reveal later
in life, trudged on until the dawn. Two young women-country girls,
as she inferred from their accents-found her and took her to the
convent.
At first, the regular activities of the convent took her mind off her
own misfortunes, but it was not long before she started to think of her
lover again. She had taken refuge in the convent not to find Buddha
but to forget the lover, and in this she failed. She wrote him, but his
reply, alluding to his fear of what people might think, was cold. A poem
she composed at the time indicates that her love for the man was tinged
with contempt.
Not long afterward Abutsu left the convent, saying she was unwell
and did not wish to cause any trouble. As she left the convent, by an
extraordinary coincidence, her lover's carriage passed. She recognized
his outriders, but made no sign. She never saw him again. Later, she
went to live in the country at the house of her foster father, but she
could not bear the place, and soon found an excuse to return to the
capital. The diary concludes with a poem:
 The Middle Ages

ware yon wa Though these words are sure

hisashikarubeki To last longer than myself,
ato naredo Even if he sees them,
shinobanu hito wa The man who has no love for me
aware to rna rnieji Is not likely to be moved."

The details of Abutsu's life after she returned to the capital are not
clear, but she seems to have married twice. Her second husband was
Fujiwara Tameie, Teika's son, with whom she had three sons. When
Tameie died in 1275, there was uncertainty about which of his sons-
Tameuji, his eldest son by an earlier marriage, or Tamesuke, Abutsu's
second son-would succeed to his estate. Tarneie's last will and testa-
ment named Tamesuke as his successor, but Tameuji, disregarding the
will, took possession of the estate for himself. Abutsu decided to seek
justice in the courts at Kamakura. The Diary of the Waning Moon is the
account of her journey. n
One's opinion of the literary worth of the diary is likely to depend
on one's evaluation of the eighty-eight waka and one choka contained
in the text. Each sight along the way inspired a poem that is generally
marked by proficiency in such techniques of the waka as kakekotoba,
engo, and honka-dori. The prose is also highly involved, as the opening
words will suggest:

Children today never dream that the title of the book discovered
long ago in a wall has anything to do with them. Although what
was written down by his brush, "from the hillside fields of arrow-
root," is absolutely definite, the admonitions of a parent have been
to no avail."

In this passage Abutsu is complaining that Tameuji has disobeyed

his father's instructions. He ignores the Classic of Filial Piety (the book
found in a wall after the literary persecution of the first emperor of the
Ch'in dynasty in the third century B.C.), acting as if its teachings were
no concern of his, and has appropriated the estate his father meant to
leave to Tamesuke. The phrase "from the hillside fields of arrowroot"
is mainly decorative, though it is connected to the main text by poetic
allusions. This kind of writing appealed to Japanese who could easily
recognize the meanings hidden behind the involuted language, but a
reader today might read the entire text of The Diary ofthe Waning Moon
Diaries of the Ka m aleura Period

without becoming aware of the central theme, Abutsu's determination

to secure the disputed manor at Hosokawa for her son Tamesuke.
At only one point in the narration do we sense behind the armor
in which Abutsu now clad herself that there was still something of the
girl who had written Fitful Slumbers. When she reached Hamamatsu,
where she had spent an unhappy month at the home of her foster father
after leaving the convent, she remembered the place with a nostalgia
we might not expect of the mature Abutsu, and sent for the children
and grandchildren of the people she knew in Hamamatsu so many years
before." She reached Kamakura without further incident, only to wait
there fruitlessly for a favorable verdict. Thirty years after her death
Tamasuke was at last awarded the disputed estate.
Abutsu also appears in the diary of Asukai Masaari (1241-1301), the
fifth-generation descendant of a family that had continuously served the
court as masters of kemari. He himself attained high rank at the court,
mainly because of his proficiency at kemari, but he was also a scholar
of Japanese poetry and prose. A diary entry for 1269, written while he
was recuperating from an illness at Saga (northwest of Kyoto), states
that he had made the acquaintance of Abutsu's husband, Tameie. He
wrote, "His family and mine had known each other for generations, so
we came to meet from time to time in a friendly way. He lent me The
Tosa Diary, The Murasaki Shikibu Diary, The Sarashina Diary, The Gos-
samer Years, and other books. The authors being women, they wrote in
kana .. . . Though I am a man, I intend to use kana, because there are
precedents in this country. Even The Tales ofIse was written in Japanese
script. Of course, when one is writing about formal matters, Chinese is
to be preferred, and for this reason, I myself have used Chinese when
writing in that vein. But when writing about poetry and suchlike matters,
I have thought it preferable to use kana, and I shall continue to do so,
adding to my account events of the past as I remember them."36
This passage provides invaluable information about two aspects of
diary literature: the first is Masaari's statement that he borrowed the
manuscripts of four diaries, firm evidence that the Heian diaries by this
time circulated as works of literature and were consulted by persons
intending to write literary diaries of their own, much as prospective
novelists prepared themselves by reading The Tale of Genji; the second
gives the justification for men keeping diaries in Japanese during the
Kamakura period. The four diaries Masaari mentioned are the very
ones that a modern reader would most likely choose among the Heian
diaries, further evidence that they had attained the status of classics.
 The Middle Ages
Masaari mentions later on that, when he paid a visit to the Cloistered
Emperor Gofukakusa, the latter, "unlocking his storeroom, took out a
number of old diaries written in kana and, since he knew I had long
wanted to see them, he urged me to do SO."37
Manuscripts were valuable possessions. Quite apart from their ex-
trinsic value, those of the kind Teika's sons inherited contained priceless
revelations of the secret teachings of the masters of the past, and were
treasured by the possessors as proof they had special qualifications for
teaching others." Masaari was probably given access to these manuscripts
because of the prestige of his family; but his diary provides evidence
that he was passionately devoted to Heian literature. Tameie, impressed
by the devotion to his studies of a man better known as an expert kemari
player, inducted him into the secret traditions of the Kokinshu.
Masaari also studied The Tale of Genji with Abutsu in 1269. They
read together the entire work in twenty-six sessions that extended for
somewhat over two months. After each session sake was served, and a
more informal atmosphere prevailed. On one occasion Abutsu called
Masaari close to her curtained enclosure, and told him about the love
of poetry that was shared by her own and her husband's ancestors. She
continued, "It was wonderful how they used to enjoy themselves by
indulging this way in conversations about the charm of the old novels.
People nowadays are not like that any more, but you make me feel you
are a person of long ago.'?"
The trembling girl who had written Fitful Slumbers was hard to
recognize in the resolutely determined woman who went to do battle
for her son at the courts in Kamakura, and the devil-may-care young
man whose earlier diaries told of spending the night drinking with
friends or disporting himself with prostitutes does not resemble the
scholar who regularly went to Abutsu's house to hear her lectures; but
somewhere deep within them a mutual love for the poetry and prose
of the Heian past had brought together even such dissimiliar diarists.

THE DIARY OF LADY BEN

Ben no Naishi Nikki (The Diary of Lady Ben) was probably written by
a court lady soon after she retired from service in 1259. We do not know
how old she was at this time, nor her reasons for giving up her life at
the court (though the abdication of the Emperor Gofukakusa in that
year may have been a contributing cause), but her diary is unusual in
the precision with which she dated the entries. The prevailingly cheerful
Diaries of the Kam aleura Period

tone also sets off this diary from most diaries kept by court ladies, written
in moods of bittersweet nostalgia. Lady Ben rarely looked back at the
past: she was interested in whatever was new and in fashion. She de-
scribed the latest dances and songs and even (in gory detail) a cock-
fight.
Perhaps the most typical entry in the diary relates how, after she
had served as a court emissary to a festival, she suddenly felt an urge
to see her sister at the Women's Ceremonial Office, and asked that her
carriage be driven there. Her escort refused, saying it was too late to
take such a roundabout route, but she insisted, saying it was the custom
for the emissary to call at that place after the festival. Obviously, she
had invented the" custom" on the spur of the moment, but she convinced
the man, who yielded, saying, "Well, if there really is such a prece-
dent ..." When the carriage reached the office it was so late that the
gatekeeper was reluctant to let them in. This time Lady Ben's escort,
by now persuaded that there really was such a custom, scolded the
gatekeeper for his ignorance, much to Lady Ben's amusement. The
Japanese fondness for citing precedents has seldom been mocked with
such charm."
Perhaps the best-known episode in the diary occurred in the first
month of 1251, on the day when Full Moon rice gruel was served in
the palace. One element in the festivities consisted in hitting people on
the behind with sticks. The emperor commanded the ladies of the court
to watch for a chance to hit Tameuji (Abutsu's stepson), but Tameuji
got in the first blow, whacking Lady Shosho when she moved her
curtains a bit. Two days later Shosho got her revenge with the assistance
of the retired emperor, who kept the stick hidden under his cloak.
Shosho sprang on the unsuspecting Tameuji as he was bowing respect-
fully to the retired emperor, and she hit him so hard that the stick
nearly broke."
The element of fun in this and other passages in the diary is typical
of Lady Ben. Her diary lacks the intensity we find in the other diaries
of court ladies, but the humor is welcome because it is so rare. There
must have been other ladies at the court who were as charmingly friv-
olous as Lady Ben, but they seem not to have kept diaries.

THE DIARY OF LADY NAKATSUKASA

Nahatsuhasa no Naishi no Nikki (The Diary of Lady Nakatsukasa) has

often been discussed by critics in terms of its gloomy atmosphere. In
 The Middle Ages

comparison to the frivolous Lady Ben, with whom she is frequently

paired, Lady Nakatsukasa may indeed seem in her diary to reflect a
tragic awareness of the passing of beauty, but there is no gloom; her
delight in the world around her is what makes the diary memorable.
An early entry in this diary (which describes life at the court between
1280 and 1292) suggests its characteristic tone:

The rain, which had fallen since dusk, cleared up as it grew late,
and the moonlight, shining so brightly that the sky itself seemed
different, was lovely. People came from the crown prince's palace
to enjoy the moon. The enchanting mist in the air, the dew still
sparkling unclouded, and the cries of the insects, singing in their
different voices, all combined to produce an unforgettable impres-
sion. Drops of dew, shivering heartbreakingly as the wind caught
them, gave a special light to the pine branches. They looked like
precious jewels of the Buddha, and I thought that not even the jewel
of the Buddha at Sagano could be more beautiful.

onozuhara It did not take long

shibashi mo kienu For them to vanish of themselves.
tanomi ka wa Can one depend on them?
nohibc no matsu ni The drops of white dew hanging
kakaru shiratsuyu On the pine trees by the eaves."

There is perhaps nothing remarkable about this passage, but it per-

fectly conveys the emotions evoked by an autumn evening. The poem
reveals Lady Nakatsukasa's poignant awareness of the transitory nature
of such beauty, but this is not a rejection of the ephemeral charms of
this world in the manner of Buddhist writers who spurned it because
their hearts were set on the eternal beauty of the world to come. Lady
Nakatsukasa loved the beautiful things of this world, though their per-
ishability induced tears. Yet perishability itself was a necessary condition
of beauty, as the priest Kenko would write about fifty years later."
The prevailing impression one receives from Nakatsukasa's diary is
of an exquisitely refined court whose members delighted in playing and
listening to music, especially music heard while in a boat in the moon-
light. It is tempting to quote passage after passage: her descriptions of
evenings spent making music are without exception lovely. The problem
is not that the diary is despondent but that it presents so attractive a
picture of court life that the reader may wonder: were there no instances
of rivalry among the courtiers? no harsh exchanges of words? no women
Diaries of the Ka m a eura Period

seduced against their will? We know, as a matter of fact, from The

Confessions of Lady Nijo that all these ugly elements were present, but
Nakatsukasa did not wish to write about such matters. She was not
making a confession and had no intention of exposing the seamier side
of court life. But she could not bear the thought that the beauty she
had witnessed might someday be forgotten.
Nakatsukasa was not interested in politics. She did not even mention
the abortive Mongol invasion of 1281, and paid no attention to court
gossip. She seems to have sensed, however, that the world she had known
would not last much longer, and in her diary she preserved it for all
time.

THE CONFESSIONS OF LADY NIJo

Towazugatari, the title of the diary in which Lady Nijo recorded events
from 1271 to 1306, means literally "A Tale Nobody Asked For." This
unpromising title has been more happily rendered by the translator as
The Confessions of Lady Nijo.44 The unique manuscript of the work was
discovered in 194°,45 but since then it has gained recognition as one of
the major works of Japanese literature.
The diary opens on New Year's Day of 1271. That day Koga Ma-
satada, a distinguished official and poet, served the traditional spiced
wine to the Retired Emperor Gofukakusa." After he had become quite
inebriated, the retired emperor murmured to Masatada, "Let the wild
goose of the fields come to me this spring." This allusion to a poem in
Tales of Ise meant that the retired emperor wanted Masatada to send
him his daughter, Nijo, who would be fourteen (thirteen by Western
reckoning) that spring. Masatada was far from being insulted by this
proposal; in fact, he was absolutely delighted at the prospect of forming
such a connection with the imperial family.
Ten days later, Nijo was summoned home by her father's command.
She was surprised to see how lavishly the house had been decorated
and asked the reason. Her father told her that the retired emperor would
be stopping here in order to avoid travel in a prohibited direction, and
he urged her to do exactly what he would ask of her. Nijo fell asleep,
and when she opened her eyes the retired emperor was lying beside
her. He told her he had loved her ever since she was a small child, but
she could only weep by way of response. He did not attempt to force
her that night, but the next night he came to her room again, and this
time he treated her so mercilessly that her gowns were torn to shreds.
 The Middle Ages
She wrote, "By the time I had nothing more to lose I despised my own
existence.?"
She had been raped with the connivance of her own father by a
man she trusted. The rape may have been less upsetting to people at
the court in Nijo's day than it is to us. Had not the peerless Genji done
much the same to his young ward, Murasaki? And did not Murasaki's
resentment soon give way to love for Genji? Genji's behavior probably
seemed to most readers to be not only forgivable but inevitable. The
shock to Nijo was real, but by the time she was seeing off the retired
emperor after their night together, she discovered that her indignation
had dissipated. She wrote, "I felt more attracted to him than ever before,
and I wondered uneasily where these new feelings had come from.":"
She would make similar comments after several other encounters with
men, each time expressing surprise that her feelings of revulsion had
inexplicably changed into something like affection.
Nij6 had four children, one by Gofukakusa, another by the first of
her two main lovers (the one she referred to in the diary as "Snow at
Daybreak"), and the remaining two by the man she loved most of all,
an eminent priest whom she gave the nickname of "Moon at Dawn."
The acquisition of these lovers did not cause any crisis in her relations
with Gofukakusa; in fact, they became more intimate than ever, though
each was fully aware of the infidelities of the other. Gofukakusa at times
even arranged for Nijo to give herself to men. In the most shocking
incident of the diary, a man seized Nijo's sleeve in the dark. She managed
to escape, but the next night, while she was massaging Gofukakusa, the
same man called through the door that he would like to see her for a
moment. She continues, "The Retired Emperor then whispered to me,
'Hurry up, go. You have nothing to worry about.' I was so embarrassed
I wanted to die. Then His Majesty reached out, and seizing my hand,
he pulled me up. Without intending it, I was compelled to gO."49
Nijo and the man made love in the next room, separated from the
retired emperor only by a paper partition. "Though he feigned sleep I
was wretchedly aware that he was listening," she commented. The next
night the same man returned, and the retired emperor again urged Nij6
to go to him. His action suggests not so much generosity as contempt
for her as a woman (as well as his own voyeurism), but Nijo, with her
incredible candor, concluded this chapter of the diary with a description
of the departure of the lover of the previous nights in these terms: "For
some reason I gazed after my visitor's carriage as though I regretted
our parting. When, I wonder, did such feelings arise in my own heart? "50
Nijo's deepest emotions were aroused by the priest she called "Moon
Diaries of the Ka m ak ura Period

at Dawn." He was a half-brother of Gofukakusa, and was otherwise

known as the Cloistered Prince Shojo. One evening, after he had been
praying at the palace for Gofukakusa's recovery from illness, he followed
Nija into a small room, where he told her, "Even when we walk in
paths of darkness we are guided by the Lord Buddha.?" He embraced
her, and insisted that she come to him after the final service that night.
She recalled, "My heart was not entirely possessed by love, and yet late
that night, seen by no one, I slipped out and went to him." From then
on they met almost every night.
One day, after Gofukakusa had summoned the priest, he was called
away, and "Moon at Dawn" seized the opportunity to tell Nijo how
much he yearned for her. The retired emperor returned unexpectedly
soon and stood behind a partition, listening to the complaints of "Moon
at Dawn," who thought Nijo did not return his love. Far from being
upset to hear these protestations, Gofukakusa urged Nija to be kinder
to his half-brother and in this way to free him of his attachment. She
remarked, "I wonder why he was not feeling aggrieved."s2
The fourth of the five books of The Confessions of Lady Mja opens
with the abrupt disclosure that Nijo had become a nun and was about
to leave the capital on a pilgrimage. Even after putting on a nun's somber
habit, she continued to think of the past, especially of the love Gofu-
kakusa had shown her. Unable to keep these memories to herself, she
decided to write what she called itazuragoto, "a piece of mischief."
The style of Nijo's diary on the surface resembles that of the diaries
kept by women of the Heian court three hundred years before. The
text opens with a makuraltotoba that leads into mention of the rising of
the spring mists, as in countless other examples of poetry and prose; but
it does not take Nijo long to leave behind these conventional flourishes
and to enter into her startlingly frank account of her life. On occasion
she quotes lines from the Kokinshu and other imperial collections, and
her diary is interspersed with poems of her own composition, but these
touches of elegance are not what make her confessions memorable. No
doubt there is artistry in the presentation of her experiences, but it is
the experiences themselves and the candor with which she relates them
that give The Confessions of Lady Mja its unique appeal. For example,
after she has been raped by Gofukakusa, she composed this poem:

kokoro yori It was not my wish

holta ni tokenuru That he should untie the strings
shita hibo no Of my underclothes.
 The Middle Ages

ika naru fushi ni On what occasions will this

ukina nagasan Stir up rumors I am wanton?

The subject matter is unconventional, but the poem itself is hardly

beautiful. Even more striking than the poem is her appended comment
(presumably written years later): "I continued to brood in this manner,
but it is most surprising I still maintained such composure."53 Her ability
to see herself objectively is one of the most memorable features of the
work.
The immediate impulse for writing these confessions may have been
the need Nijo felt to record her pilgrimages to the various holy sites
described in the last two books, but the first three books do not suggest
she repented of her sins. She seems to hide nothing, and this induces
us to accept without question her account not only of herself but of life
at the court, especially the amorous intrigues in which emperors, chan-
cellors, high-ranking courtiers, and priests all participated. She also
mentions (but in parts of the diary one tends to forget) evenings of
music-making and composing poetry, the aspect of court life Lady Naka-
tsukasa so beautifully evoked. Neither she nor Nijo can be trusted fully
as a court chronicler, but each provides an unforgettable portrait of the
author.

ACCOUNT OF THE TAKEMUKI PALACE

Takemuki ga Ki (Account of the Takemuki Palace) is the diary kept

between 1329 and 1349 by the court lady Hino N ako.54 It is not as
artistically satisfying as the diaries of other court ladies, but it has the
melancholy importance of being the last of a tradition begun with The
Gossamer Years. The name refers to the palace where Nako lived when
she wrote the latter half of the work.
The first of the two books of the diary is devoted mainly to the love
shared by Nako and Saionji Kimmune before they were torn apart by
the warfare waged by adherents of the Southern Court and the Northern
Court. After the rather stiffly written opening, a highly dramatic incident
is reported: the disappearance from his palace of the Emperor Godaigo,
taking with him the imperial regalia. It will be recalled that this action,
which took place in the eighth month of 133 I, initiated the bitter conflict
between the Southern Court (Godaigo's adherents) and the Northern
Court (the faction of the Emperor Kogon, placed on the throne by the
shogunate). Nako's family was deeply involved in the conflict: one uncle,
Diaries of the Ka m aleu ra Period

Hino Suketomo, colluded with Godaigo and was executed by the sho-
gunate, but Nako's husband and most of her family were supporters of
the Northern Court.
The first book of the diary contains detailed descriptions of festivals
and entertainments at the palace. Her account of the coronation of the
Emperor Kogon in 1332, probably written years after the event, recalled
the splendor of the occasion:" "The sight of His Majesty in his formal
robes and jeweled headdress, his sceptre held at precisely the right angle,
added an extraordinary dignity.... The smoke rising from the incense
burners seemed to be the same color as the clouds, and I thought I heard
someone say that even in China they would be able to tell that a new
reign had begun in [apan."" Nako had an extraordinary memory for
precisely what each person had worn on this occasion. One may gather
from the diary with what mixed emotions she recalled in later years the
magnificence of the coronation, with its exotic "Chinese" decorations,
persuading her that even in China people would learn of so auspicious
an event; but by the time she wrote these words, she knew how turbulent
the new reign would be.
Soon afterward, Nako met Saionji Kimmune, and from then on
there are mentions in the diary of seeing him "at the usual place,"
presumably somewhere away from the court. Their happiness was in-
terrupted early in 1333 when news reached them that Godaigo had
escaped from his place of exile in the Oki islands and was on his way
to the capital. People flocked to the court to hear the latest rumors, and
the streets were so jammed that the lovers were unable to meet. The
Emperor Kogon and the two retired emperors moved to the head-
quarters of the shogunate at Rokuhara, to be under the protection of
the military. Nako went there because she was reluctant to leave the
emperor without any ladies-in-waiting to serve him.
Nako was appalled by what she saw at Rokuhara, especially "to see
savages so close at hand." The word "savages" (ebisu) referred not to
foreign barbarians but to armed warriors from Kamakura; it suggests
how frightening she found their military attire. Kimmune sent her a
message saying he had managed to arrange a meeting. They spent the
night together, and were loth to admit that daybreak had come:

The sight of the dawn brightening the sky surely would have been
moving even if today had not had any special significance, but at
the thought that this was our last time, as we confusedly sensed the
terrible pathos of love, we knew that whether we left or stayed there
we could only be all the more forlorn. 57
 The Middle Ages

On the seventh day of the fifth month the Southern Court army
surrounded Rokuhara and set the place afire. Nako's house was nearby,
and she could all but see her lover trying to escape in the smoke. She
learned that he had succeeded in making his way to the east. Two weeks
later the Emperor Kogon and the others of the Northern Court were
brought back to Kyoto. Nako discovered that her father and eldest
brother were now wearing priests' robes. Kimmune also wished to
become a priest, but the retired emperors ordered him to abandon this
thought. At the end of the first book Nako and Kimmune are at a loss
what to do. She wrote, "I wonder if there is still anything left for me
to relate in this pointless account that nobody asked to hear.?"
The second volume opens with a description of the ceremony during
which her son, Sanetoshi, ate fish for the first time. He was two years
old, and the diary takes him up to the age of fourteen, when he had
already received the title of middle captain and middle counselor of the
Third Rank. The second volume is far less dramatic than the first.
Kimmune is already dead, but the manner of his death, related in the
Taiheiki, is not given in the diary, understandably, considering the dread-
ful circumstances. Kimmune was betrayed by his younger brother and
arrested in the sixth month of 1335. The Southern Court officials decided
to exile him to the province of Izurno. The night before his departure
Nako secretly went to his place of confinement. She found him in a
tiny cell, trussed and unable to move. He gave her for their unborn
child, as a memento of the father the child would never see, some secret
pieces for the biwa and an amulet. Kimmune was then turned over to
Nawa Nagatoshi, the governor of Hoki, in preparation for his departure
the next morning at dawn. Nako watched from behind a fence as
Kimmune was dragged to the central gate. Just as he was about to be
shoved into a palanquin, an official called out, "Quickly [haya]!" and
Nagatoshi, supposing this meant he should dispose ofKimmune quickly,
forced him to the ground, drew his sword, and cut off Kimmune's head,
all within sight of Nako."
We are likely to regret that N ako in her diary did not describe this
and other tragic sights she witnessed, but perhaps the vocabulary and
manner she inherited from the Heian diarists did not permit her to
describe such violence. Probably she wrote the diary not for posterity
but for her son Sanetoshi, to tell him about his parents before he was
born. Regardless of the literary value of this diary, it powerfully suggests
what it was like to live in an age of great turbulence. But the absence
of diaries by women of the following two centuries suggests that worse
was yet to come. The kind of education and leisure that even an unhappy
Diaries of the Kam aleura Period

woman like Nako enjoyed would be denied to most women during the
age of warfare.

Notes
I. The title means literally, "Collection of the Kenreimon'in Superintendent
of the Right-hand Half of the Capital." Kenreimon'in was the name given
to the Empress Tokuko, the consort of the Emperor Takakura, after she
entered Buddhist orders; the author of the diary served Kenreimon'in
and was therefore known by her name. It has been suggested that her
father was the superintendent of the Right-hand Half of the Capital, and
she took his title, a not uncommon practice, but there is no record of his
ever having held this office.
2. Translation by Phillip Tudor Harries in The Poetic Memoirs of Lady
Daibu, p. 285; text in Itoga Kimie, Kenreimon'in Uky6 no Daibu no Shu,
p. 16.
3. Translation by Harries, Poetic Memoirs, p. 79; text in Itoga, Kenreimon'in,
PP·9- IO
4. Harries, Poetic Memoirs, p. I I I ; Itoga, Kenreimon'in, p. 33.
5. Harries, Poetic Memoirs, p. 141; Itoga, Kenreimon'in, p. 57.
6. For further information on dating (and on many other matters concerning
the work), see the introduction by Harries to Poetic Memoirs. The dating
of the diary is discussed on pages 20-27 of the introduction.
7. Harries, Poetic Memoirs, p. 191; Itoga, Kenreimon'in, p. 98.
8. Harries, Poetic Memoirs, p. 197; Itoga, Kenreimon'in, p. 103.
9. Harries, Poetic Memoirs, p. 199; Itoga, Kenreimon'in, p. 105.
10. Harries, Poetic Memoirs, p. 261; Itoga, Kenreimon'in, p. 151.
I I. The authenticity of the early entries was questioned by Tsuji Hikosaburo

who, on the basis of the study of the handwriting, concluded that Teika
added these entries late in life. See Tsuji Hikosaburo, Fujiwara Teilta
Meigetsuki no Kenkyu, pp. 94-99. If this opinion is accepted, the earliest
entries date from I 188.
12. Two volumes of a more or less popular nature have appeared in recent
years, Teilta Meigetsuki Shish6 and Teiea Meigetsuki Shisho Zokuhen, both
by Hotta Yoshie. (I shall refer to these books as Hotta I and Hotta II.)
Hotta, in I, p. IS, gave a typical entry from Chronicle of the Bright Moon
(for the eleventh day of the third month of 1202) and followed it with the
comment (p. 16) that except for the mention of the bright moonlight at
the opening, the entry is unmitigatedly dreary and prolix. But even such
an entry, for all its lack of literary interest, effectively conveys how fran-
tically busy Teika was that day, and his detailed descriptions of costumes
suggest the brightness of colors at the court.
 The Middle Ages
13. Imagawa Fumio, Kundoeu Meigetsuki, I, 21. See also Hotta I, pp. 29-51.
This entry is from the period whose dating Tsuji Hikosaburo found suspect;
but it is perhaps even more affecting if Teika in old age recalled his first
meeting with Shokushi in these terms.
14. See Hotta I, p. 153. Shokushi died in the first month of 1201, but this
month is missing from the present text of Chronicle of the Bright Moon and
Teika did not later refer to her death.
15. Text in Imagawa, Kundoku , I, p. 19. For further discussion of this passage,
see Keene, Travelers of a Hundred Ages, p. 95.
16. Imagawa, Kundoku, I, p. 263. See also Hotta I, p. 154.
17. See Hotta I, p. 160. Text in Imagawa, Kundohu, I, pp. 144, 267.
18. Only eighty-nine by Western count; Shunzei was born in I I 14.
19. For example, the diary of Minamoto Ienaga. See my Travelers, p. 106.
20. See above, pp. 670-71. Hotta II, pp. 112-15, gives a good explanation of
why Gotoba was so annoyed with the poems.
21. See above, p. 672.
22. Imagawa, Kundohu, IV, p. 73.
23. Ibid., V, p. 192.
24. Hotta I, p. 38, considers the title, but comes to no conclusion as to why
Teika called his diary by that name.
25. For a translation, see Robert H. Brower, "Fujiwara Teika's Maigetsusha,"
p. 422. Brower translated meigetsu as "full moon." See also Brower's com-
ments (p. 405) on the poetic treatise Meigctsuk], Text of Monthly Notes in
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi and Nishio Minoru. Karon Shu, Nogakuron Shu, p. 136.
See also ibid., p. 258.
26. The diaries in Japanese are discussed in my Travelers, pp. 1°3-28 and
141-44-
27. Interesting European parallels to the medieval Japanese pilgrimages are
described in Donald R. Howard's Writers & Pilgrims. There was, however,
no Japanese holy site that had quite the authority of Jerusalem as a des-
tination for a pilgrimage.
28. Quoted in my Travelers, pp. I 16- I 7. Text in N oro Tadasu, Kaidaki Shinchu,
p.208.
29. Keene, Travelers, p. 117. Text in Noro, Kaidaki Shinchu, p. 205.
30. A detailed discussion of the style, especially its indebtedness to the Chinese
shiroeu benreitai or "parallel prose" of the Six Dynasties, is given by Tarnai
Kosuke in Nikki Bungaku no KenkYu, pp. 460-65.
31. Keene, Travelers, p. 127. Text in Kasamatsu Yoshio, Takan Kika Shinshaleu,
pp. 5-6
32. Translation in Keene, Travelers, p. 135. Text in Tsugita Kasumi, Utatane
Zenchiahali«, p. 121.
33. There is a complete translation of the diary by Edwin O. Reischauer in
Edwin O. Reischauer and Joseph K. Yamagiwa, Translations from Early
Japanese Literature.
Diaries of the Karn aleu ra Period

34- Translation in Keene, Travelers, p. 138. Text in Morimoto Motoko, Izayoi

Nikkz~ Yoru no Tsuru, p. 15.
35. Text in Morimoto, Izayoi, p. 73. See Reischauer and Yamagiwa, Translations,
P·74·
36. Translation in Keene, Travelers, pp. 141-42. Text in Mizukawa Yoshio in
Asukaz Masaan Nikki Zenshaeu, pp. 43-48.
37· Keene, Travelers, p. 142; Mizukawa, Asukai, pp. 44-49.
38. The possession of scrolls that reveal secret information on techniques of
performance still contributes to the authority of the iemoto (head) of some
schools of No.
39. Translation from Keene, Travelers, p. 144- Text in Mizukawa, Asukai, pp.
61-65.
40. See Keene, Travelers, p. 146. Text in Tarnai Kosuke, Ben no Naishi Nikki
Shinchu, p. 24.
41. Keene, Travelers, p. 148. Tarnai, Ben no Naishi, pp. 23°-32.
42. Keene, Travelers, pp. 149-50; original text in Tarnai Kosuke, Nakatsukasa
no Naishi Nikki Shlnchu, p. 8. The statue of Shakyamuni Buddha at a
temple in Saga (or Saga no), to the northwest of Kyoto, was believed to be
of Indian origin and the closest approximation of the historical Buddha's
appearance. The jewel, here called nyoihoju, could bring the possessor
whatever he desired.
43. See below, pp. 859-60.
44. This is the name Karen Brazell gave her translation, first published in
1973. The translation by Wilfrid Whitehouse and Eizo Yanagisawa is
equally free: Lady Nijo's Own Story.
45. It was discovered by Yamagishi Tokuhei, a scholar of Japanese literature.
The stringencies of wartime publication delayed the appearance of a printed
version of the text until 1950, and an annotated edition was not published
until 1966.
46. Gofukakusa (1243-13°4; reigned 1246-59) abdicated in favor of his brother
Kameyama (1249-13°5; reigned 1259-74). In 1271, when the work opens,
Gofukakusa was twenty-eight.
47. Brazell, Confessions, p. 8; text in Tomikura Tokujira, To u/azugatari, p. 210.
48. Brazell, Confessions, p. 9; Tomikura, Towazugatari, p. 210.
49. Brazell, Confessions, p. 118; Tomikura, Towazugatari, p. 284.
So. Brazell, Confessions, p. 120; Tomikura, Towazugatari, p. 284.
51. Brazell, Confessions, p. 80; Tomikura, Totoazugatari, p. 258.
52. Brazell, Confessions, p. 124; Tomikura, Towazugatari, p. 287.
53. Tomikura, Toioazugatari, p. 210. See also Brazell, Confessions, pp. 8-9.
54. The reading of her name is not certain. Scholars tend to call her Meishi,
using the Sino-Japanese pronunciation of the characters; but we can be
quite sure she was not called Meishi, and she might have been called Nako.
55. The occasion is described in quite other terms in The Clear Mirror; see
below, pp. 902-3.
 The Middle Ages
56. Mizukawa Yoshio, Takemuki ga Ki Zcnshalru, p. 55.
57· Ibid., p. 12 5.
58. Ibid., p. 140.
59. Yamashita Hiroaki, Taihcilti, II, p. 280.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Brazell, Karen. The Confessions of Lady Nijo. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday,
1973·
Brower, Robert H. Fujiwara Teilea's Hundred-Poem Sequence of the Shoji Era,
1200. Tokyo: Sophia University, 1978.

- - - . "Fujiwara Teika's Maigetsusho" Monumenta Nipponica 40:4, Winter

1985.
Fukuda Hideichi. Towazugatari, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shin-
chosha, 1978.
Fukuda Hideichi and H. E. Plutschow. Nihon Kika Bungaleu Benran. Musashino
Shoin, 1975.
Harries, Phillip Tudor. The Poetic Memoirs of Lady Daibu. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1980.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi and Nishio Minoru. Karon Shu, Nogaleuron Shu, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Hotta Yoshie. Teika Meigetsuki Shisho, Shinshosha, 1986.
- - - . Teilta Meigetsuki Shisho Zoltuhcn, Shinchosha, 1988.
Howard, Donald R. Writers & Pilgrims. Berkeley: University of California Press,
1980.
Imagawa Fumio. Kundoku Mcigetsule), 6 vols. Kawade Shobe Shinsha,
1977-79·
Itoga Kimie. Kenreimon'in UkYo no Daibu no Shu, in Shincho Nihon Koten
Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1979.
Kasamatsu Yoshio. Tokan Kika Shinshalru, Daidokan Shoten, 1940.
Keene, Donald. Travelers of a Hundred Ages. New York: Henry Holt, 1989.
Mizukawa Yoshio. Asukai Masaari Nikki Zenshaltu. Kazama Shobo, 1985.
- - - . Takemuki ga Ki Zcnshahu. Kazama Shobe, 1972.
Morimoto Motoko. Izayoi Nikki, Yoru no Tsuru, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko
series. Kodansha, 1979.
Murayama Shuichi, Meigetsuh]. Kyoto: Koto Shoin, 1947.
Noro Tadasu. Kaidoki Shinchu, Ikuei Shoin, 1935. (Reprint published by Gei-
rinsha in 1977')
Plutschow, Herbert Eugen. Four Japanese Travel Diaries of the Middle Ages.
Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University East Asia Papers, 1981.
Diaries of the Ka m aleu ra Period
- - - . Tabi sum Nihonjin. Musashino Shoin, 1983.
Reischauer, Edwin 0., and Joseph K. Yamagiwa. Translations from Early Jap-
anese Literature. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1951.
Tarnai Kosuke. Ben no Naishi Nikki Shinchu, Taishukan Shoten, 1966.
- - - . Nakatsuleasa no Naishi Nikki Shinchii, Taishukan Shoten, 1958.
- - - . Nikki Bungaleu no KenkYu. Hanawa Shobe, 1971.
- - - . Towazugatari KenkYu Taisei. Meiji Shoin, 1971.
Tomikura Tokujiro. Towazugatari. Chi kuma Shobe, 1966.
Tsugita Kasumi. Utatane Zenchushaku, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansha, 1978.
Tsuji Hikosaburo, Fujiwara Teilea Meigetsuki no KenkYu. Yoshikawa Kobun-
kan, 1977.
Whitehouse, Wilfrid, and Eizo Yanagisawa. Lady Nijo's Own Story. Tokyo:
Charles E. Tuttle, 1974.
Yamashita Hiroaki. Taiheiki, II, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shin-
chosha, 1980.
 22.
ESSAYS IN IDLENESS

Turezuregusa (Essays in Idleness) is a zuihitsu collection-essays that

range in length from a single sentence to a few pages. The dating of
the work poses problems, but it is generally believed that it was written
between 1329 and 1331. 1 This was not a propitious time for a work of
reflection and comment. In 133 I the Emperor Godaigo staged a revolt
against the Hojo family, the de facto rulers ofJapan, and in the following
year he was exiled, only to return in 1333 and overthrow the Hojo rule.
These events and the many incidents that presaged them created great
anxiety among the educated classes, but they hardly ruffle the surface
of Essays in Idleness. It is an expression neither of sorrow over troubled
times nor of joy over the temporary successes of one or another party;
it is instead a work of timeless relevance, a splendid example of Japanese
meditative style.
The author is known by his Buddhist name, Kenko, but sometimes
also by his lay name of U rabe Kaneyoshi or else as Yoshida Kaneyoshi,
from the associations of his family with the Yoshida Shrine in Kyoto.'
Kenko lived from 1283 to about 1352.3 He came from a long line of
Shinto officials,' but the Shinto connections were broken in the time of
his grandfather. His father was a court official, as was one elder brother;
another brother was a high-ranking Buddhist priest (daisojo). Kenko
himself as a young man served at the court of the Emperor Gonijo
(1285-1308). He became a priest after the death of this emperor, but
nothing suggests Gonijo's death was the cause; dissatisfaction with
worldly life had probably accumulated within him and led to his decision.
He took the tonsure in 1313 on Mount Hiei and spent some years there
before returning to Kyoto.'
During his lifetime Kenko was known as a poet of the conservative
Nijo school. Nijo Yoshimoto, the chief Nijo poet of the next generation,
wrote that Kenko was one of the three outstanding poets of the Teiwa
Essays in Idleness

era (1345-1350).6 He added that "people considered him somewhat in-

ferior to the others, but his poems were widely quoted."? Kenko spent
most of his life in the capital, where he took part in poetry gatherings
regularly, even though the times were hardly conducive ito ,poetry-
making. His indifference to politics is suggested by the readiness with
which he shifted allegiance fr'om regime to regime-from Godaigo to
'}.
". .
Kogon, the emperormstalled by the Hojo regents in 1331; then back
to Godaigo when he returned in triumph from Oki in 1333; then from
Godaigo to the Ashikaga shoguns in 1336, when Godaigo was again
driven into exile. He associated with the new overlords, notably Ko no
Moronao (d. 1351), a violent warrior who desired the tr~ppings of culture.
A passage in the Taiheiki relates that Kenko even wrote love letters for
Moronao." Kenko lived for a time in the Kanto region (in the present
Kanagawa Prefecture), a fact that explains the surprising number of
episodes in Essays in Idleness set in that part of [apan.?
Kenko would probably not be remembered at all ifhe had not written
Essays in Idleness, but the work seems to have been little known during
his lifetime. For many years the account given by Sanjonishi Saneeda
(1511- 1579) of the discovery of the text was generally accepted. This
stated that Kenko had from time to time written down his thoughts on
scraps of paper that he pasted to the walls of his cottage. The poet and
general Imagawa Ryoshun, learning of this after Kenko's death, carefully
removed the many scraps and arranged them in their present order."
Nobody believes this anymore, but the story suggests that Essays in
Idleness was unknown for some years and had to be rediscovered. The
oldest surviving text, dated 1431, is in the hand of Shotetsu, a disciple
of Ryoshun." Variant texts exist, but the differences are not major, and
it is now generally agreed that the work was composed in the present
order." The title, derived from words in the brief introductory passage,
also seems to date from Shotetsu's time, but the present division of the
text into a preface and 243 numbered episodes can be traced back only
to the seventeenth century.
Essays in Idleness is now almost universally accepted as one of two
Japanese masterpieces of the zuihitsu genre, along with The Pillow Book
ofSei Shonagon, The two works treat a wide variety of subjects, seemingly
in no particular order, and both are distinguished by the unusual clarity
of the author's observations. There are also many obvious differences:
The Pillow Book was written by a court lady who delighted in every
piece of gossip that came her way, but Essays in Idleness was by a Buddhist
priest who, though much concerned with things of this world, was
ultimately devoted to religious truth. Sei Shonagon is often cruelly witty
 The Middle Ages

and delights in exposing the ridiculous; Kenko has humor, but it is

not so much the flashing repartee that might be exchanged by men
and women at the court as the amusing anecdotes old cronies might
relate to one another. Her perceptions are sharp if not profound;
his are generally linked with some statement of Buddhist belief. Yet
it is clear that Kenko knew The Pillow Book and in a few places imi-
tated it,u
One important strain in Essays in Idleness, entirely absent from The
Pillow Book, is the conviction that the world is steadily growing worse.
Sei Shonagon, scorning the crudities of the past, desired above all to be
informed of the latest fashions, sure that such knowledge was more
important than being an expert on precedents; but for Kenko, writing
in an age that saw itself as doomed to undergo the misery of mappo,
when men could no longer hope to save themselves, the least important
tradition of the past was a precious survival that had to be preserved,
regardless of its intrinsic merits. He wrote,

In all things I yearn for the past. Modern fashions seem to keep
growing more and more debased. I find that even among the splendid
pieces of furniture built by our master cabinetmakers, those in the
old forms are the most pleasing. And as for writing letters, surviving
scraps from the past reveal how superb the phrasing used to be. The
ordinary spoken language has also steadily coarsened. People used
to say "raise the carriage shafts" or "trim the lamp wick," but people
today say "raise it" or "trim it."14

Kenko at times more specifically referred to the widespread belief

in mappo: "They speak of the degenerate, final phase of the world, yet
how splendid is the ancient atmosphere, uncontaminated by the world,
that still prevails within the palace walls.':"
The Imperial Palace was splendid to the degree that it had remained
untouched by change:

When construction of the present palace had been completed, the

buildings were inspected by experts on court usage, who pronounced
them free of faults anywhere. The day for the emperor to move to
the new palace was already near when the Abbess Genki examined
it and declared, "The half-moon window in the Kari'in palace was
rounder and without a frame." This was an impressive feat of mem-
ory. The window in the new palace, peaked at the top, had a wooden
border. This mistake was later corrected."
Essays in Idleness

We may wonder why it was felt necessary to go to all the trouble

and expense of replacing an unimportant window, but for Kenko, as
for the Abbess Genki, a window whose shape was at variance, however
slightly, with the old traditions reflected the degeneracy of the age; it
certainly was not a sign of progress. Kenko was equally unhappy when
punishments meted out to offenders varied with tradition: "Nobody is
left who knows the proper manner of hanging a quiver before the house
of a man in disgrace with His Majesty."17 Again, he lamented, "A
criminal being flogged with rods is placed on a torture rack. Today no
one knows the shape of the rack nor the manner of attaching the
criminal.":"
Kenko's clinging to tradition is likely to suggest an attachment to
the things of this world unbecoming a true monk. At the time he made
the decision to "leave the world" he was writing poems that reveal a
disenchantment commonly found in the writings ofthe medieval monks.
Unlike Saigy6 and the other hermit-poets, however, he left his retreat
on Mount Hiei to resume his life in the city, and became deeply involved
with its activities. Although he often describes the pleasures of solitude,
he does not seem to have courted it assiduously, and only five of his
243 episodes are devoted to nature, the traditional solace of the hermit.
Instead, he displayed unflagging interest in whatever was happening in
the world around him:

Along about the Ocho era l I 3 I I - I 3 I 21 there was a rumor that a

man from Ise had brought to the capital a woman who had turned
into a demon, and for twenty days or more people of the downtown
and Shirakawa areas wandered here and there day after day, hoping
for a glimpse of the demon.... One day, as I was on my way from
Higashiyama to the neighborhood of Agui, I saw a crowd of people
running from Shijo and above, all headed north. They were shouting
that the demon had been seen at the corner of Ichijo and Muromachi.
I looked off in that direction from where I was, near Imadegawa.... I
thought it unlikely the rumor could be completely groundless, and
sent a man to investigate, but he could find nobody who had actually
seen the demon.... Some time afterward, people in all walks of life
came down with an illness that lasted two or three days, and some
wondered if the false rumors about the demons had been a portent
of the epidemic."

As this passage reveals, Kenko's daily round of activities took him

into the city, where he mingled with the crowds, and to some degree
 The Middle Ages

shared their emotions. When, for example, he says, "I thought it unlikely
the rumor could be completely groundless ..." we may be surprised that
this man, whose voice usually seems so modern, should have accepted
as truth an implausible rumor. But if at such moments we sense the
distance in time separating us from Kenko, they make the immediacy
of the rest of his views all the more astonishing.
Despite his daily contacts with the world, and despite the interest
he displayed in secular behavior and secular aesthetics, Kenko has often
been treated as a recluse in the tradition of the medieval monks who
turned their backs on the world. Ishida Yoshisada, an authority on the
subject of hermits and recluses, declared that if one confined oneself to
Essays in Idleness, Kenko's life provided a perfect example of what it
meant to be a recluse." He analyzed Kenko's qualifications in these
terms:

The first requirement of the recluse is a fundamental realization

of the transience (muja) of life; Kenkos awareness of transience
might even be said to have been excessive. Faith and a sense of
beauty are the second requirement of the aesthetic recluse, and Kenko
was completely possessed of both. It was normal for the recluse not
to draw his faith from the established Buddhist sects, but to consider
that it was sufficient to have Buddhist religious aspirations; in this
respect as well Kenko entirely lived up to the requirement. The
third requirement of the recluse was that he love solitude and seek
tranquility, and Kenko more than amply fulfilled this requirement
too."

Ishida had no trouble in finding passages in Essays in Idleness to

confirm this analysis, but the reader is likely to receive a quite different
impression from the work. It is true that from time to time Kenko states
with conviction his belief that the world is mutable and not to be
depended on-"The world is as unstable as the pools and shallows of
Asuka River. Times change and things disappear: joy and sorrow come
and go; a place that once thrived turns into an uninhabited moor; a
house may remain unaltered, but its occupants will have changed."22
But Kenko was far from being a recluse in the manner of Saigyo or of
Kamo no Chornei, and he was much too involved with this world to
renounce it for a hermitage. Unlike Chomei, who wondered apprehen-
sively if his fondness for his hut, simple though it was, was not a sin
and ifhis attachment to its solitude might not be a hindrance to salvation,
Essays in Idleness

Kenko devoted considerable attention to what makes for a comfortable

house:

A house should be built with the summer in mind. In winter it is

possible to live anywhere, but a badly made house is unbearable
when it gets hot.... People agree that a house which has plenty of
spare room is attractive to look at and may be put to many different
uses."

Kenko did not forget the principle of impermanence when he dis-

cussed what made for an agreeable place to live, but the focus of his
attention was the house itself rather than its ephemeral nature:

A house, I know, is but a temporary abode, but how delightful it

is to find one that has harmonious proportions and a pleasant at-
mosphere. One feels somehow that even moonlight, when it shines
into the quiet domicile of a person of taste, is more affecting than
elsewhere. A house, though it may not be in the current fashion or
elaborately decorated, will appeal to us by its unassuming beauty-
a grove of trees with an indefinably ancient look; a garden where
plants, growing of their own accord, have a special charm; a verandah
and an open-work wooden fence of interesting construction; and a
few personal effects left carelessly lying about, giving the place an
air of having been lived in. A house which multitudes of workmen
have polished with every care, where strange and rare Chinese and
Japanese furnishings are displayed, and even the grasses and trees
of the garden have been trained unnaturally, is ugly to look at and
most depressing. How could anyone live for long in such a place?
The most casual glance will suggest how likely such a house is to
turn in a moment to smoke."

The last sentence reflects Kenko's Buddhist conviction that the things
of this world do not last, but the emphasis is on the futility of overly
decorating one's house, not on the transitory nature of all dwellings.
This episode of Essays in Idleness is important also for its statement
of aesthetic preferences that were formulated by Kenko but have been
true of the best Japanese taste over the centuries. The richly appointed
house has usually been considered in the West to be both beautiful and
agreeable to live in, and gardens where "the grasses and trees ... have
been trained unnaturally" still draw visitors to the stately houses of
 The Middle Ages

Europe. Even in Japan, the polychromed carvings of the Tokugawa

mausoleum at Nikko are evidence that the West has enjoyed no mo-
nopoly of garish decoration. But, Kenko asked rhetorically, who could
live for long in such a place? '
Simplicity was not the only aesthetic ideal put forward by Kenko
in Essays in Idleness. His preference for irregularity (as opposed to uni-
formity or symmetry) is even more striking:

People often say that a set of books looks ugly if all volumes are not
in the same format, but I was impressed to hear the Abbot Koyu
say, "It is typical of the unintelligent man to insist on assembling
complete sets of everything. Imperfect sets are better."
In everything, no matter what it may be, uniformity is undesir-
able. Leaving something incomplete makes it interesting, and gives
one the feeling that there is room for growth. Someone once told
me, "Even when building an imperial palace, they always leave one
place unfinished. "25

Irregularity seems to have been an unconscious preference of the

Japanese from early in their history, as we can deduce from the waka
(five lines in either five or seven syllables each) and from the asymmetrical
paintings and pottery especially prized by the Japanese-though most
other peoples have delighted in symmetry, parallelism, and other devices
for achieving aesthetic balance."
But perhaps the most striking aesthetic preference voiced by Kenko
in Essays in Idleness was his advocacy of suggestion, as opposed to cli-
mactic expression:

Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, the moon

only when it is cloudless? To long for the moon while looking on
the rain, to lower the blinds and be unaware of the passing of
spring-these are even more deeply moving. Branches about to
blossom or gardens strewn with faded flowers are worthier of our
admiration....
In all things, it is the beginnings and ends that are interesting.
Does the love between men and women refer only to the moments
when they are in each other's arms? The man who grieves over a
love affair broken off before it was fulfilled, who bewails empty
vows, who spends long autumn nights alone, who lets his thoughts
wander to distant skies, who yearns for the past in a dilapidated
house-such a man truly knows what love means.
Essays in Idleness

The moon that appears close to dawn after we have long waited
for it moves us more profoundly than the full moon shining cloudless
over a thousand leagues....
And are we to look at the moon and the cherry blossoms with
our eyes alone? How much more evocative and pleasing it is to
think about the spring without stirring from the house, to dream
of the moonlight though we remain in our room 12 7

Suggestion that can convey more than what is visible or otherwise

apprehended isa conspicuous feature not only of Japanese literature but
of all the Japanese arts. Not very much can be stated in the bare thirty-
one syllables of a waka (or the even shorter haiku), but suggestion can
expand the content to encompass a whole world; similarly, the N6 actor,
who performs on a stage without scenery, is able, merely by taking a
few steps, to suggest that he is on a long journey, though this would
be unconvincing in a more realistic theater. It was not only because the
forms of expression were restricted that the Japanese turned to sugges-
tion; as Kenko indicated in the passage cited above, suggestion was
preferred to a faithful approximation of actual experience, which is
bound to be finite; and perhaps there really were people who shut
themselves up in their rooms in order to savor in their imaginations
beauty beyond that of the reality of the spring or of the moon.
Similarly, Kenko's preference for beginnings and ends stems from
an awareness that they can evoke more than the central experience.
"Branches about to blossom or gardens strewn with fallen flowers"
suggest what is to come or what has been, but cherry blossoms in full
bloom leave nothing to the imagination; they are splendidly and uniquely
themselves. There is a limit also to the variety of expressions of joy that
happily united lovers might utter, but the hopes of anticipated love or
regret over a love affair that has ended are without limits; this may be
why so few of the innumerable love poems in the Japanese anthologies
of waka describe fulfilled 10ve.28
The point where Kenko's religious and aesthetic views came clos-
est together was his insistence on impermanence as an essential element
of beauty. Certain passages from Essays in Idleness help to make this
clear:

If man were never to fade away like the dews of Adashino, never
to vanish like the smoke over Toribeyarna," but lingered on forever
in this world, how things would lose their power to move us! The
most precious thing in life is its uncertainty."
860 The Middle Ages

The uncertainty of life has often been bewailed by poets, whether

in East or West. When Buddhists spoke of mujo, It was usually with a
sigh. Perhaps Kenko was the first to express the conviction that perish-
ability was a necessary element of beauty; but earlier Japanese, even if
they never formulated this principle in words, prized the quickly scat-
tered cherry blossoms more than hardier flowers and sensed the poi-
gnance that impermanence imparted to beauty. The passage of time,
though inevitably regretted by once beautiful women as they looked
into their mirrors, could also impart beauty to objects from the past:

Somebody once remarked that thin silk was not satisfactory as a

scroll wrapping because it was so easily torn. Ton'a" replied, "It is
only after the silk wrapper has frayed at top and bottom, and the
mother-of-pearl has fallen from the roller that a scroll looks beau-
tiful." This demonstrated the excellent taste of the man."

It is for such observations that we turn to Essays in Idleness. Some

of the episodes are trivial or fussily pedantic, others are mutually con-
tradictory, but the impression left by the whole is of a wonderfully
civilized, extremely perceptive man, who did not feel it was beneath
him to offer practical advice from time to time. Although he lived in
an age of violent changes, he chose not to describe any of the political
developments or even how his own way of life might have been affected
by them. His book has been read in many ways ever since its redis-
covery," but perhaps it is best read as a guide to Japanese taste as Kenko
understood its traditions and formed its future. It can also be read as a
manual of gentlemanly conduct. Again and again Kenko describes how
he thinks a gentleman should behave:

When a person who has always been extremely close appears on a

particular occasion reserved and formal toward you, some people
undoubtedly will say, "Why act that way now, after all these years?"
But I feel sure that such behavior shows sincerity and breeding.
On the other hand, I am sure I should feel equally attracted if
someone with whom I am on distant terms should choose on some
occasion to speak to me with utter [rankness."

How boring it is when you meet a man after a long separation and
he insists on relating at interminable length everything that has
happened to him in the meantime. Even if the man is an intimate,
somebody you know extremely well, how can you but feel a certain
Essays in Idleness 86r

reserve on meeting him again after a time? The vulgar sort of person,
even if he goes on a brief excursion somewhere, is breathless with
excitement as he relates as matters of great interest everything that
has happened to him. When the well-bred man tells a story he
addresses himself to one person, even if many people are present,
though the others, too, listen, naturally.... You can judge a person's
breeding by whether he is quite impassive even when he tells an
amusing story, or laughs a great deal when relating a matter of no
interest."

A man should avoid displaying deep familiarity with any subject.

Can one imagine a well-bred man talking with the air of a know-
it-all, even about a matter with which he is in fact familiar? ... It
is impressive when a man is always slow to speak, even on subjects
that he knows thoroughly, and does not speak at all unless
questioned."

Kenko's concern with gentlemanly behavior may seem inappropriate

in one who has "renounced the world," but since he had chosen to live
among other people, rather than on some lonely m~untainside, his as-
sociation with others formed tastes within him as strong as those of a
purely aesthetic nature. He obviously did not hate society-it is not
difficult to imagine him in the role of a French or Italian abbe at some
eighteenth-century court-but in the end a social life, however engaging,
was not enough. For all his involvement with other people, he was
sincere in his professions of Buddhist belief as well as in his fundamental
solitude:

The pleasantest of all diversions is to sit alone under the lamp, a

book spread out before you, and to make friends with people of a
distant past you have never known."

I wonder what feelings inspire a man to complain of "having nothing

to do." I am happiest when I have nothing to distract me and I am
completely alone."

Kenko's pleasure in solitude was not necessarily because it gave him

time to immerse himself in the sacred texts of Buddhism. None of the
books he chose as his companions in the lamplight was specifically
Buddhist in content, and two-the sayings of Lao Tzu and the writings
of Chuang Tzu-were Taoist, rather than Buddhist. He also mentioned
862 The Middle Ages
his pleasure in reading waka poetry. For Kenko a man's most important
act was to take the Great Step and become a priest, but this did not
signify that the man was henceforth td consecrate himself solely to
reading Buddhist texts. He must be aware that the impermanence of
the world is a source of beauty, though it also bnngs death.

A man should bear firmly in mind that death is always threaten-

ing, and never for an instant forget it. If he does this, why should
the impurities bred in him by this world not grow lighter, and his
heart not develop an earnest resolve to cultivate the Way of the
Buddha?"

Again,

A man who has determined to take the Great Step should leave
unresolved all plans for disposing of urgent or worrisome business.
Some men think, "I'll wait a bit longer, until I take care of this
matter," or "I might as well dispose of that business first," or "People
will surely laugh at me if I leave such and such as it stands. I'll
arrange things now so that there won't be any future criticism," or
"I've managed to survive all these years. I'll wait till that matter is
cleared up. It won't take long. I mustn't be hasty." But if you think
in such terms the day for taking the Great Step will never come,
for you will keep discovering more and more unavoidable problems,
and there never will be a time when you run out of unfinished
business."

There was a categorical difference between the man who had taken
the Great Step and one who, though his heart was set on obtaining
enlightenment, went on living with his family and mingling in society:

Once a man has entered the Way of the Buddha and turned his
back on the world, even supposing he has desires, they cannot possibly
resemble the deep-seated cravings of men in power. How much
expense to society are his paper bedclothes, his hempen robe, a bowl
of food, and some millet broth? His wants are easily met, his heart
quickly satisfied.... It is desirable somehow to make a break from
this world so that one may benefit from having been born a man.
The man who surrenders himself to his desires and neglects the path
of enlightenment is hardly any different from the brute beasts."
Essays in Idleness

Kenko, even after entering Buddhist orders, maintained his affection

for the deluded creature called man; but in his heart he knew that this
step was of paramount significance, and counted far more than any
momentary diversion. All the same, we cannot but rejoice that he com-
mitted to paper not only his religious convictions but his undiminished
affection for the world around him.

Notes
1. The generally accepted dates are those proposed by Tachibana [uri'ichi in
1947. He offered two hypotheses, the first dating the work 1330-1331, the
second dating it 1329-1331. He arrived at these dates by tracing every
historical event mentioned in the work and by determining exactly when
people mentioned in the work by their titles actually held those titles. Mi-
tsutada, the major counselor and chief of the board of censors mentioned
in section I02, was appointed to this post in 1330; the section must there-
fore have been written after that date. The Muryoju Hall which, accord-
ing to section 25, was still standing, was destroyed by a fire in 133 I; the
work must have been completed before that happened. The whole of
the work, then, would have been written while Godaigo was emperor, be-
tween 1330 and 1331. Tachibana later responded to criticism that one
year was too short a time to have composed Essays in Idleness by allowing
the possibility that Kenko began writing in 1329. However, in section 103
Saionji Kin'akira is described as being a major counselor, an office he did
not attain until 1336. This fact encouraged other scholars to attempt to
disprove Tachibana's chronology. Yasuraoka Kosaku believed that Essays
in Idleness was written in two parts, the first corresponding to the intro-
duction and thirty-two sections, the second the remainder of the work. The
first part would have been written in 1319, the second part from 1330
to 133I; then, at some time after 1336, when Kenko put the two parts to-
gether, he made corrections and additions. See Kubota [un, "Tsurezu-
regusa, sono Sakusha to [idai," in Satake Akihiro and Kubota [un, Hi5ji5ki,
Tsurezuregusa, pp. 394-95. Nagazumi Yasuaki, rejecting Tachibana's
theory, spoke of the great strides made in scholarship of Essays in Idleness
since the war, and declared that "it has now become clear that Essays
in Idleness was not written in the brief space of a year, but that it was
written and augmented over a period of at least a dozen, but perhaps
even more years after 1330-31." (Nagazumi Yasuaki, "Kaisetsu," in
Kanda Hideo and Nagazumi Yasuaki, Hi5joki, Tsurezuregusa, p. 364') Ku-
bota Jun, writing after Nagazumi, obviously did not consider the matter
settled.
 The Middle Ages
2. The first person to identify Kenko as the author was the priest Shotetsu in
his Tales of Shotetsu. (See Hisamatsu Seri'ichi and Nishio Minoru, Karon
Shu, Nogakuron Shu, pp. 187-88, where Shotetsu identifies a well-known
passage from Essays in Idleness as being by Kenko.) Shotetsu also called
attention to the fact that Kenko, contrary to usual practice, kept his lay
name Kaneyoshi when he became a priest, though he gave the characters
their Sino-Japanese reading of Kenko. See ibid. See also the translation by
Robert H. Brower, Conversations with Shotetsu, pp. 95-96. An excellent short
account of the known biographical data of Kenko is found in Fukuda
Hideichi, Chiisei Bungaku Ronko, pp. 248-5°.
3. The date of his death was usually given as 1350, but documents have been
discovered that prove he was alive as late as 1352. See Kubota, "Tsurezu-
regusa, p. 393.
4. A genealogy, derived from Urabc-ke Keizu and Sompi Bummyahu, is given
by Nagazumi in his "Kaisetsu" to Kanda and Nagazumi, Hojoki, Tsure-
zuregusa, p. 375.
5. It was traditionally believed that Kenko became a priest after the death of
the Emperor Gouda, whom he also served, but this theory is even less
plausible: it is now clear that Kenko entered orders eleven years before the
death of Gouda in 1324. Kubota, in "Tsurezuregusa," pp. 379-80, gave further
evidence why this view is unacceptable; but in 1967, when I wrote the
introduction to my translation of Essays in Idleness, I repeated the traditional
account, first presented by Shotetsu in Tales of Shotets«. (See Hisamatsu and
Nishio, Karon Shu, p. 188). Saito Kiyoe in Namboeu-cho ]idai Bungaku Tsush:
also gave this account, but noted (p. 2 I) that it was "not necessarily"
established.
6. Translations of fourteen poems by Kenko are given in Steven D. Carter,
Waiting for the Wind, pp. 176-83.
7. Quoted by Kubota in "Tsurczuregusa," p. 387. Shotetsu called him one of
the "four heavenly kings" (shitenno) among the disciples of Nijo Tameyo,
along with Ton'a, Keiun, and [oben, (See Hisamatsu and Nishio, Karon
Shu, p. 188.)
8. Kubota believed that this anecdote should not be dismissed out of hand as
fiction: Kenko's collected poems include some written on behalf of other
people. See Kubota, "Tsurczuregusa," p. 391.
9. Carter (in Waiting, p. 178) gives a translation of a poem written by Kenko
while living within sight of Mount Fuji.
10. Sugimoto Hidetaro in Tsurezuregusa was at special pains to trace the con-
tinuity from one episode to the next. It had long been recognized that
certain groups of episodes had mutual connections, and it was argued that
no one except the author could have arranged the work in the present
order, but Sugimoto was exceptional in the rigorousness with which he
demonstrated the links between successive episodes.
I I. This text is the one used by Kubota Jun in his annotated edition of the
Essays in Idleness
Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. He notes in "Tsurczuregusa,"
p. 398 of Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, that all other commentated editions
have used the later text of Karasumaru Mitsuhiro (1579-1638).
12. See Fukuda, Chusei, p. 251.
13. Ibid., p. 246.
14. From section 22. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 100. Translation
is from my Essays in Idleness, p. 23.
IS. From section 23. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 101. Translation
in Essays in Idleness, p. 23.
16. Section 33. Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. I I 1. Translation from Essays in
Idleness, pp. 32-33. Sugimoto in Tsurezuregusa, pp. 77-82, discusses the
function of this window, which served as a kind of peephole, and gives
photographs of the window in the present Kyoto Gosho. Its shape was
called kushigata, or "comb shape," because it looked like an old-fashioned
Japanese comb, which resembles a half-moon.
17. Section 203. Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 276. Translation in Essays in
Idleness, p. 170.
18. Section 204. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 276-77. Translation
in Essays in Idleness, p. 171.
19. Section So. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 126-27, except for the
place-name Agui, which they render as Ago. Agui is given by Miki Sumito
in Tsurezuregusa, II, p. 37. Translation from Essays in Idleness, pp. 43-44.
20. Ishida Yoshisada, Inja no Bungaku, p. 164.
21. Ibid.
22. Section 25. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 103. Translation from
Essays in Idleness, p. 25.
23. Section 55. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 133. Translation from
Essays in Idleness, pp. 5°-51.
24. Section 10. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 86-87. Translation
from Essays in Idleness, p. 10.
25. Section 82. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 158-59. Text in Essays
in Idleness, pp. 70-71.
26. For a further discussion of this point, see my Landscapes and Portraits, pp.
18-20; also, my Pleasures of Japanese Literature, pp. 10-13.
27. Section 137. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 212-24. Translation
from Essays in Idleness, pp. 115-18.
28. For further meditations on this theme, see my Pleasures, pp. 8-IO.
29. Adashino was the name of a graveyard in Kyoto. The word adashi (im-
permanent) contained in the place-name accounted for the frequent men-
tion of Adashino in poetry as a symbol of impermanence. The dew was
also used with that meaning. Toribeyama is still the chief graveyard of
Kyoto. Mention of smoke indicates that bodies were cremated there.
30. Section 7. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 83. Translation from
Essays in Idleness, p. 7.
866 The Middle Ages
31. Tori'a was a distinguished poet as well as a monk of the [ishu sect of [odo
Buddhism.
32. Section 82. Text in Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 158. Translation from
Essays in Idleness, p. 70.
33. The haiku poet Matsunaga Teitoku (1571-1653) offered a public lecture
on Essays in Idleness in 1603, and his commentary on the work, called
Nagusamigusa, though prepared largely at this time, was published in 1652.
Until the time of Teitoku Essays in Idleness had been read only by a
comparatively few specialists, but it became one of the most important
works in education during the Tokugawa period. See Shigematsu No-
buhiro, "Tsurezuregusa Kenkyushi," pp. 63-1 I 1.
34- Section 37· Text in Sataka and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 113. Translation from
Essays in Idleness, p. 34.
35. Section 56. Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 133-34. Essays in Idleness, p.
51.
36. Section 79. Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 156. Essays in Idleness, pp. 68-
69·
37. Section 13· Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 90. Essays in Idleness, p. 12.
38. Section 75. Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 152-53. Essays in Idleness, p.
66.
39. Section 49· Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 125-26. Essays in Idleness, p.
43·
40. Section 59. Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, p. 137· Essays in Idleness, pp. 53-
54·
41. Section 58. Satake and Kubota, Hojoki, pp. 136-37. Essays in Idleness, p.
53·

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Brower, Robert H. Conversations with Shotetsu. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese
Studies, University of Michigan, 1992.
Carter, Steven D. Waitingfor the Wind. New York: Columbia University Press,
1989.
Fukuda Hideichi. Chiisei Bunealeu Ronko. Meiji Shoin, 1975.
Hisamatsu Sen'ichi and Nishio Minoru. Karon Shii, Nogakuron Shu, in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Ishida Mizumaro. Nihon Katen Bungaleu to BukkYo. Chikuma Shobe, 1988.
Ishida Yoshisada. Chusei Soan no Bungaeu. Kitazawa Tosho Shuppan, 1970.
- - - . Inja no Bungak«, Hanawa Shobo, 1969.
Kanda Hideo and Nagazumi Yasuaki. Hojoki, Tsurezuregusa, in Kan'yaku
Nihon no Koten series. Shogakukan, 1986.
Essays in Idleness 867

Keene, Donald. Landscapes and Portraits. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 197I.

- - - . The Pleasures of Japanese Literature. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1988.
- - - (trans). Essays in Idleness. New York: Columbia University Press, 1967.
Kido Saizo. Chusei Bungaleu Shiron . Meiji Shoin, 1984.
Miki Sumito. Tsurezuregusa, 4 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansha, 1982.
Saito Kiyoe. Nambolru-cho Jidai Bungaku Tsiishi, Furukawa Shobe, 1972.
Satake Akihiro and Kubota Jun. Hojoki, Tsurezuregusa, in Shin Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1989.
Shigematsu Nobuhiro. "Tsurezuregusa Kenkyiishi," Kokugo to Kokubungaku
6:6, June 1929.
Sugimoto Hidetaro, Tsurezuregusa. Iwanami Shoten, 1987.
 23.
MEDlEV AL WAR TALES

The darkness of the Japanese middle ages is most perfectly conveyed

by war tales that describe the battles fought during the Kamakura and
Muromachi periods. The styles of these accounts vary greatly, from stiff
compositions in kambun to graceful, even poetic writings in the manner
of the "mirrors" of history; but regardless of the style, they are tragic
evocations of the misery of defeat, rather than paeans to victory. The
events are narrated not in terms of the sweep of battle scenes but in the
details of individuals entrapped in circumstances that they are powerless
to alter; the tales tend to be remembered as stories of people, good and
bad, rather than as accounts of dynastic struggles. Even the most factual
tales contain passages that were seemingly intended to enhance their
appeal for readers or possibly for people who listened to sung or de-
claimed recitations of the texts.'
Some tales are so fanciful as to read like works of fiction rather than
of history, and the delineation of the historical figures in others antic-
ipates the dramas of later times in which they would appear; but the
war tales were probably accepted as historical fact by all except the most
scholarly. Undoubtedly The Tale ofthe Heik« influenced the composition
of these later works, and though none of them matched its grandeur,
the Taiheilti rivals The Tale of the Heike in its success in creating heroes
for the Japanese people.
The term "medieval war tales," as used here, refers to works written
between the thirteenth and early fifteenth centuries.' Among them, the
chronicles depict, more or less faithfully, the events of warfare, and the
historical romances freely mix fiction with the facts, introduce the su-
pernatural, or enter into the thoughts of the characters in the manner
of fiction rather than of history.
Medieval War Tales 869

CHRONICLES

J 6 ky_~k i
The rebellion that began in the third year of [okyu (1221), when the
Retired Emperor Gotoba attempted to assert his supremacy over the
Kamakura shogunate, is described injOkyuki (Record of Iokyu). Various
accounts known by this title were set down during the thirteenth century
and later, but neither their authors nor the dates of composition are
known. The oldest text apparently dates from between 1230 and 1240,
and the more widely distributed rufubon (vulgate) text from about 125°.3
These different texts were not variants on any single original source;
although they bear the same title, each was independently composed
and the materials and manner of presentation are quite dissimilar one
from another; they are alike only in their main subject, the Jokyu
Rebellion. Variations on the rufubon text continued to be composed
until late in the sixteenth century.'
The immediate cause of the disturbance is generally said to have
been Gotoba's anger with the shogunate over two estates" that he wished
to give to his favorite, a shirabyoshi named Kamegiku. The steward (jita)
of the estates refused to turn them over to Gotoba, whereupon he ordered
Hojo Yoshitoki (II63-1224), the shogunal regent (shikken), to replace
the steward. Yoshitoki refused, and this was the signal for Gotoba to
begin preparations for an attack on Yoshitoki and the shogunate." Go-
toba's forces were from the outset greatly inferior in numbers to the
shogunate's, but Gotoba seemed confident of success. Probably he was
counting on there being confusion and disarray within the shogunate
following the assassination of Minamoto Sanetomo, the third shogun,
in 1219. But Gotoba underestimated the iron will of Hojo Masako (1157-
1225), the widow of Minamoto Yoritomo, and of her brother Yoshitoki,
who kept the shogunate forces under firm control.
The actual fighting began when Gotoba's men attacked the residence
of Iga Mitsusue, the constable (shugo) stationed in Kyoto by the shogunate
to keep an eye on the throne. Cotoba's forces were victorious in this
initial combat, but all the reader is likely to retain of this first of many
scenes of conflict in ]akyuki is the story of Mitsusue's son.
Once the fighting began, most of Mitsusue's men deserted him be-
cause in the capital (though nowhere else) Gotoba's forces were far
stronger than the shogunate's. He was finally left with only twenty-
seven men, one of them his fourteen-year-old son, who had only recently
 The Middle Ages

had his gembuku ceremony." Mitsusue urged the son to flee as quickly
as possible. "You are still a child, only fourteen. I don't know what
would happen if you got involved in the fighting. The best thing would
be for you to take advantage of your youth to make your escape. Have
seven or eight boys of your age who are familiar with the lay of the
land accompany you." Mitsusue himself was resolved to "expose his
corpse" in the capital. He urged the boy not to be impatient: when he
was seventeen or eighteen, there would be occasions enough to recall
what had happened and to demonstrate his mettle. The boy, however,
begged his father to allow him to stay by his side to the end, and Mitsusue,
gazing at his son in tears, reluctantly agreed.
The boy took an active part in the ensuing fight, even firing an
arrow at the man who at one time planned to take him as a son-in-
law; but when there seemed to be no sense in prolonging the struggle,
Mitsusue ordered his son to commit suicide. "I don't know how to
commit suicide," the boy said. "Just cut your belly," Mitsusue replied,
but the boy, after making several awkward attempts, seemed unlikely
to succeed. "Then, jump into the fire!" his father commanded. The boy
rushed toward the flames, but each time he felt the heat against his face,
he helplessly turned back. Mitsusue's eyes clouded over at the realization
that, for all his courage, the boy was incapable of killing himself. He
took the boy on his lap, and gazed with love at his brave and devoted
son, but the enemy kept coming closer. Finally, Mitsusue, unable to
delay any longer, cut off his son's head. He threw the head and the
boy's body into the flames. He then intoned the invocation to Amida,
and, slashing his belly, jumped into the flames after his son."
It is for such moments that we remember jokyuki. In this instance,
the author seems to be sympathizing with the forces of the shogunate,
but only because they are the victims; in later sections, when troops loyal
to Gotoba are hunted down by the overwhelmingly strong shogunate
forces, the author's sympathy shifts to the losing side.
Various of the battles described in jokyuki are made memorable by
poignant moments of individual tragedy, but the inevitable repetitious-
ness of the many combats makes for tedious reading, though less so in
the rufubon text than in the others. The long lists of the names of
warriors have a sonorous roll, but it is hard to remember more than a
few of the names, and those mainly because their owners performed
some deed that was distinctly not of valor.
The combatants included Buddhist monks from the Kofuku-ji in
Nara and from Mount Hiei, who apparently did not scruple about taking
life, provided it was human life. In one memorable moment of the
Medieval War Tales
warfare a warrior-priest armed with a spear was crossing a bridge when
an arrow passing through the big toe of his left foot nailed him to the
spot. He struggled to free himself but was unable to move until another
priest slashed off the toe." Kakushin, the Nara priest who cut off his
friend's toe, reappears later, after Cotoba's forces have been crushingly
defeated. The passage is an example of the ]okyuki at its most vivid:

Dogo Kakushin, a priest from Nara, after fighting furiously, seemed

to have decided that further struggle was useless, and fled the field
followed by some thirty mounted men. Kakushin, a fast man on the
ground, did not let the men on horses get close. He ran into the
priest's quarters of the Mimuroto Temple, and saw there a white-
haired priest who looked as if he might be the master of the temple.
Kakushin stripped off his armor and deposited it before the priest.
He found a razor, and taking a water jar out onto the verandah, he
shaved his head. When the enemy soldiers arrived presently, they
found the old priest standing vacantly beside the armor, and sup-
posing that he was the man they were looking for, forced him to
the floor and cut off his head. It was a heartless thing to have done.
Kakushin later made his escape to N ara.'?

Such moments are certainly more memorable than the repetitrous

scenes of battle, or the numerous accounts of suicides after the final
defeat, but the ]i5kyuki stands or falls as the account of Gotoba, a brilliant
but erratic man who attempted to behave as an absolute ruler though
he lacked the necessary military power. The rufubon text of ]okyuki
opens:

The eighty-second emperor was called Gotoba. Because he died in

the province of Oki, he was also known as the Oki emperor. He
was the grandson of Emperor Goshirakawa and the fourth son of
Emperor Takakura. On the twentieth day of the eighth month of
1183 he ascended the throne at the age of four, and no doubt because
he studied literature and music!' throughout the fifteen years of his
reign, his waka poetry blossomed and his compositions in Chinese
bore fruit.
However, he later abdicated in favor of his eldest son. From that
time on, he associated intimately with base-born persons, sitting
shoulder-to-shoulder with them, legs crossed. He neglected his con-
sort and the palace ladies of exalted birth, and frequented instead
women of the lowest class. He turned his back on the correct prin-
 The Middle Ages

ciples of government of the sage kings and the saintly rulers, and
indulged himself perversely in the martial arts."

The text says little about Gotoba's love of poetry, and nothing about
the poetry competitions he sponsored nor about his having commissioned
the compilation of the Shin Kokinshu; instead, it offers as the cause of
the ill-fated ]okyu Rebellion the undesirable relations he formed with
members of the lower classes, notably the dancer Kamegiku who, after
being mentioned as the immediate cause of the conflict, does not appear
again until the very end of the work, when she accompanies Gotoba
into exile in the Oki islands. Gotoba also figures mainly at the beginning
and end of jokyuki. His lapses from kingly rule, described at the very
opening, are the causes of his downfall and exile, much as the arrogance
of Kiyomori, evoked in the opening lines of The Tale of the Heike, has
its counterpart at the end in the humility of his daughter, the shabbily
dressed nun Kenreimon'in, the last of the Taira.
Gotoba is portrayed in jokyuki as a ruler who must pay the price of
unkingly behavior; but his suffering ultimately makes him worthy of
our compassion. After his total defeat, he was commanded by the sho-
gunate to shave his head and put on the dark robes of a priest; but as
a last memento of how he looked when he was the emperor, he had a
portrait painted that he sent to his aged mother." On the journey to
Oki he was accompanied by a handful of retainers and women, their
fewness of numbers making a painful contrast with his former excur-
sions. When they passed the Minase Palace, a place Gotoba had partic-
ularly loved, he thought, "If only this were my destination!" When they
reached Akashi, he asked where they were. Told the name of the place
(which means "bright"), he composed the poem:

mivako wo ba The capital, when

kurayami ni koso I left it, was enshrouded
idashilrado In the dark of night,
tsuki wa Akashi no But now the moon has come out
ura ni kinikeri14 On the Bay of Shining Light.

To this, his mistress Kamegiku replied:

tsukikage wa The light of the moon

sahoso Akashi no Is truly bright at the Bay
ura naredo Of Shining Light, but
Medieval War Tales

kumoi no aki zo I still feel a yearning

nao mo koishiki15 For autumn within the clouds.

From this point on, and especially after he reached Oki, Gotoba's
poems acquired an intensity not found in his earlier compositions," and
this capricious, cruel, ambitious man is transformed into a poet whose
griefs stir us so greatly as to make us forget he had only himself to
blame for his suffering. His son Juntoku was exiled to Sado under
circumstances that are almost equally tragic, and he too turned to poetry
for comfort. We are perhaps most likely to remember [untoku at the
moment when he must take leave of the people who have accompanied
him from the capital: it is a wrench for him to part even from the men
who have borne his palanquin, a recognition of the devotion of menials
that [untoku would probably not have displayed if he himself had not
suffered."
Gotoba's eldest son, Tsuchimikado, was not involved in the [okyu
Rebellion. The shogunate, aware of the bitter resentment he felt when
his father forced him to abdicate in order to put [untoku, his favorite
son, on the throne, did not intend to punish him. But Tsuchimikado
insisted on being exiled, so that he would not be guilty of a lack of filial
piety by remaining in the capital while his father suffered exile. He was
accordingly sent to the province of Tosa, but his quarters were so
wretched that he was allowed to move to neighboring Awa. 18
The shogunate was evidently reluctant to shed the blood of members
of the imperial family, but there was no such reluctance about killing
others, even if they had no part in the rebellion; the last pages of jokyaki
are filled with the accounts of small children who are put to death for
the sins of their fathers. jOkyaki concludes with a summation of the
authors' observations:

What kind of year was the third ofJokyu [1221] that three emperors
and two princes should have been sent into distant banishment, and
nobles and members of the imperial army should have suffered death
and exile? And what kind of place was our country that there were
no ministers who knew gratitude and no soldiers who knew shame?
Although the office of emperor of Japan was created by the Great
Goddess Amaterasu and the Great Bodhisattva Hachiman'? even a
wise ruler has difficulty maintaining himself if he employs traitorous
ministers; and even if wise ministers are in the service of a ruler
who is wicked, it is difficult to govern the country. When the emperor
was angry, he punished blameless persons. When the emperor was
 The Middle Ages

joyful, he rewarded even the disloyal. That is why heaven did not
side with him. He issued edicts to all corners of the land, and
dispatched envoys to the different provinces, but no one obeyed
him.... 20

The conclusion is Confucian in tone, and it can hardly be doubted

that the author believed Gotoba was responsible for the disasters that
befell not only himself but the whole country. Yet, whether or not this
was his intent, his evocation of the exile of three emperors creates 10
the reader a sense of tragedy that goes beyond Confucian lessons.

The Taiheiki

The lengthiest historical work of the Muromachi period-indeed, one

of the lengthiest of all Japanese literary works-is the Taihcihi (Record
of Great Peace) in forty books. Despite its title, the Taiheiki describes a
period of about fifty years of almost unbroken warfare." It has been
suggested" that the title may have meant "Chronicle of Great Pacifi-
cation," but even if the ultimate goal of the many people (over two
thousand) who appear in the pages of this work was pacification of the
country, extremely little space is devoted to the pursuit of peace. Probably
the title refers to the very last event described, the assumption by Ho-
sokawa Yoriyuki of the post of shogunate deputy (kanrei) in 1367, an
event that seemed to promise an end to the wars. If that was the author's
hope, he was sadly deluded-the fighting soon resumed-but he un-
questionably desired peace, and it would not have been unnatural to
express this desire in a title that implied peace had at last been achieved."
By an odd coincidence, this was just the time of the Hundred Years
War in Europe. For Japan, no less than for Europe, it was a "calamitous
century," to use Barbara Tuchman's phrase.
The Taihcilti, a chronicle of this period of warfare, is an important
historical document, but it is given literary quality by the style, the choice
of materials, and the characterization of the principal figures. Certain
sections of particular dramatic effectiveness are widely known anthology
pieces, while others make dull reading. It is remembered above all for
its heroes, especially Kusunoki Masashige and Nitta Yoshisada, both
paragons of devotion to the loyalist cause of the Emperor Godaigo
(reigned 13I 8- 1339). The key military figure, Ashikaga Takauji, is less
effectively portrayed, perhaps because the author could not make up his
Medieval War Tales
mind how to treat a man whose martial gemus was negated by his
betrayal of the imperial cause."
The Taiheiki opens with the steps taken by Godaigo to wrest control
of the country from the Hojo family, who had ruled since the death of
Sanetomo as regents for the shoguns in Kamakura. His first plot to
overthrow the shogunate and rule in his own right was uncovered in
1324, but he himself was not accused of complicity. In 1331 he instigated
a second plot, more serious than the first, but this too was unsuccessful,
and Godaigo was obliged to flee to N ara in order to escape the shogunate
troops. He held out for another year, but in the meantime the shogunate
set up a rival emperor in the capital. As we have seen, the division
between the Northern Court, supported by the shogunate, and the South-
ern Court of Godaigo and his successors would last (with brief inter-
missions) until the end of the century."
Godaigo was captured in 1332 and exiled by the shogunate to the
Oki islands, but his son, Prince Morinaga, managed to arouse loyalist
sentiment, and several heroes, notably Kusunoki Masashige (d. 1336),
fought for Godaigo, winning victories against great odds." In 1333
Godaigo escaped from Oki and landed in Honshu, the signal for the
commencement of a civil war. At this point Ashikaga Takauji (1305-
1358), the Kamakura general sent to suppress the rebellion, deserted to
Godaigo's side and captured Kyoto in Godaigo's name. Another loyalist
general, Nitta Yoshisada (13°1-1338), marched on Kamakura and de-
stroyed the shogunate. These events led to what is known as the Kemmu
Restoration of 1333, when Godaigo ruled without interference from
either a shogun or a retired emperor."
The Kemmu Restoration lasted only three years before Godaigo was
once again compelled to flee Kyoto, this time for the mountainous region
of Yoshino, where the Southern Court established its capital. The failure
of the Restoration is attributed from the opening paragraph of the
Taihciki to Godaigo's lapses from the kingly virtues, just as it attributed
the somewhat earlier downfall of the Hojo regents to Hojo Takatoki's
wanton behavior:"

During the reign of the Emperor Godaigo, the ninety-fifth of the

line of mortal emperors begun with the Emperor [imrnu, there was
a person called Taira no Takatoki," a military official who was
the governor of Sagami. At this time, he who was above disregarded
the sovereignly virtues, and he who was below was deficient in
decorum." From then on the land within the four seas was greatly
 The Middle Ages
disturbed, and not one day passed peacefully. It is now forty years
since watch fires obscured the heavens and war cries made the ground
tremble, and no one can enjoy a full span oflife. And there is nowhere
for the people to rest their limbs in peace."

The collapse of Godaigo's regime was brought about by various

causes, chief of which was Ashikaga Takauji's second change of alle-
giance; this time he deserted Godaigo with the intent of establishing
himself as the real ruler of the country. This act of treachery accounts
for the dismal reputation of Takauji over the centuries, despite his
undoubted ability and also despite the failure of Godaigo's policies. For
a time the loyalist armies under Kusunoki Masashige and Nitta Yoshi-
sada were able to hold their own against Takauji, and even forced him
to retreat to Kyushu, but he returned with an army that was vastly
superior in numbers to the loyalists' and defeated Masashige and Yoshi-
sada at Minatogawa, near the modern Kobe, in 1336. Masashige and his
brother perished by stabbing each other to death. Before he died, Ma-
sashige uttered words that became immortal, "I wish I could be reborn
seven times as the same human being so I could destroy the enemies of
the court.'!"
Nitta Yoshisada, driven from the field at Minatogawa, nevertheless
remained loyal to Godaigo until his death in battle in 1338. Masashige
and Yoshisada, especially the former, become known as models of ab-
solute loyalty, and the Taihciki has enjoyed great popularity over the
centuries, especially in times of upsurges of national feeling." The solemn
language lent itself to recitation, and the scenes of parting and death
especially have become part of the heritage of every Japanese, no matter
how resolutely opposed to martial display. Masashige, a steadfast loyalist
but in every other way, too, a truly admirable man, is one of the two
or three most famous Japanese heroes.
The reputation of Godaigo has varied more, ranging from the ad-
miration traditionally accorded to emperors who confronted subjects
who had dared to infringe royal authority, to criticism for his foolish
policies, especially during the period of the Kemmu Restoration. For
example, Godaigo chose for his new reign-name Kemmu, used in China
by the Emperor Kuang-wu (6 B.C.-A.D. 57) after crushing the rebel Wang
Mang and founding the Latter Han dynasty. The insistence on this
particular reign-name was typical of Godaigo's unrelenting desire to
restore the past glory of the imperial household (in the manner of Kuang-
wu); and he refused to take into consideration the complaint that reign-
names which included the word mu (military) presaged military dis-
Medieval War Tale:;

orders. (This particuliar belief proved to be no mere superstition.) Again,

in his eagerness to restore the Heian past, he decided to rebuild the
Imperial Palace, which had been destroyed by fire in 1177 and not since
rebuilt. The country was exhausted from long warfare and could not
afford such expenditure, but Godaigo was not to be swerved. The revolt
of Ashikaga Takauji prevented the realization of Godaigo's dream, but
this was not Godaigo's only extravagance, and his favorites lived in the
utmost luxury.
Perhaps his most serious fault, however, lay in not recognizing the
contribution of his son, Prince Morinaga, to the Restoration. Godaigo,
apparently fearing that Morinaga had ambitions of reigning in his place,
urged him to resume his life as a monk, which he had interrupted in
order to fight his father's battles. The Prince of the Great Pagoda, as
Morinaga was known, was eventually turned over to Takauji by Godaigo
and died a miserable death, hating his father even more than the enemy."
Such disastrous mistakes of judgment resulted in Godaigo's being
driven from the capital to his lonely mountain retreat at Yoshino. Go-
daigo in adversity again commands sympathy, though the hardships of
life as an exile seem not to have taught him humility: just before he
died he asked that he be known posthumously as Godaigo, or Daigo
the Second, in emulation of the first Daigo, an emperor of the Heian
period who had ruled without interference from his subjects." It is said
that he died with a copy of the Lotus Sutra in his left hand and a sword
in his right. His distrust of everything new and his incessant attempts
to move back the clock four hundred years kept him from benefiting
either himself or the country during his brief hour of triumph.
After the death of Godaigo in 1339, the fighting continued, as the
Taiheiki records. It may seem surprising that the Southern Court was
able to hold out so long against superior military forces, but there were
divisions among the leaders of the adherents of the Northern Court,
and at times the military advantage seemed to be turning in favor of
the Southern Court. In 1350 Ashikaga Tadayoshi (1306-1352), then
engaged in a bitter dispute with his brother Takauji, submitted to the
Southern Court, and in the next year Takauji did the same. This might
have ended the conflict (there was in fact a truce), but the chief ad-
ministrator of the Southern Court, Kitabatake Chikafusa (1293-1353)
was so insistent that only the emperors of the Southern Court should
be recognized as legitimate that there was no possibility of compromise.
The Southern Court unilaterally broke the truce by invading Kyoto and
capturing three Northern Court sovereigns." Chikafusa is remembered
today for his [inno Shotoki (A Chronicle of Gods and Sovereigns, 1339-
 The Middle Ages

1343), a work devoted to expounding the principles of legitimacy in the

imperial succession. He is critically described in the Taiheilii particularly
because of the airs of importance he gave himself," but he is perhaps
the last memorable figure in the long procession of warriors who appear
in the chronicle.
The Taihcihi was apparently written between 1371 and 1374. 38 Our
chief clue to the authorship is an entry in the diary of Toin Kinsada, a
nobleman who is known especially as the compiler of the important
genealogical work Sompi Bummyaeu," On the third day of the fifth
month of 1374, he wrote, "I understand that on the twenty-eighth of
last month Kojima hoshi passed away. He was the author of the Taihciki,
which has enjoyed such popularity throughout the country in recent
years. He was of humble birth, it is true, but he had the reputation of
being a master. Truly regrettable.":"
The meaning of these brief comments has been debated over the
years. The first problem is the significance of hoshi, a term that normally
designated a priest, but was also used for such persons as biwa hoshi,
Some recited The Tale ofthe Heilte, but others amused people who paid
them with tales of their own invention, songs, and other displays of
talent. Scholarly opinion is divided between those who believe Kojima
had actually taken priestly vows, and those who, giving emphasis to
Kinsada's words "he was of humble birth," assert that he was a menial,
perhaps little more than a slave, who eked out a living by amusing his
master." Still others insist that even if an entertainer known as Kojima
hoshi played an important role in the compilation of sections of the
Taihciki, such as the accounts of battles, he must have received help
when recounting Confucian doctrines and Chinese historical materials,
both prominent in the work.
Another clue to the authorship is found in Nan Taiheilti (Anti-
Taiheiki, 1402), a work by the soldier-scholar Imagawa Ryoshun in which
the following incident is related: "A long time ago Echin, the high priest
of the Hossho-ji, brought to the Toji-ji the thirty-odd volumes of this
chronicle that were ready, and showed them to Nishikikoji-dono [Ashi-
kaga Tadayoshi], who had them read by Gen'e hoin, There were so
many upsetting things and mistakes that he said, 'Even from my brief
acquaintance with the work, I can tell there are many errors, more than
I should have expected. Many things will have to be added or deleted,
and in the meantime, take care that the contents are not divulged.' Later,
the rewriting was suspended, but in recent times it has been resumed.??
This incident apparently took place about 1 350. It has been inter-
preted as meaning that Echin was in fact responsible for the compilation
Medieval War Tales

of the Taiheiki, This thesis is plausible, if only because the Hossho-ji,

the temple to which Echin belonged, was known as a place frequented
by entertainers, itinerant priests, intellectuals, and others who for some
reason were at odds with the government. 43 It is not clear from the
above passage what Ashikaga Tadayoshi found so objectionable in the
Taiheihi manuscript he was shown, but elsewhere Imagawa Ryoshun,
a partisan of the Ashikaga shoguns, accused the work of being prejudiced
in favor of the court-that is, the side of the Emperor Godaigo and his
successors." Ryoshun was moved to write Nan Taihciki out of indignation
over the treatment given his side. He objected specifically to the statement
in the Taiheiki that Ashikaga Takauji surrendered to the Emperor
Godaigo when it became evident that the cause of the Hojo regents was
doomed. Ryoshun insisted that this was untrue and demanded that the
statement be expunged from the Taihciki. As a matter of fact, it is not
found in any surviving text, evidence that it was at some stage pruned
of remarks that were offensive to the Ashikaga shoguns."
The unsatisfactory conclusion to the various attempts that have been
made to determine the author of the Taiheilti is that we still do not
know if one man-Kojima hoshi or Echin or someone else-or a large
number of people over a long period of time compiled the work. On
the whole, the style is consistent throughout, suggesting a single editor
if not a single author. The work is written in a mixed style, combining
Japanese syntax with a strongly Chinese vocabulary."
The philosophical background, however, is not uniform through-
out the Taiheik], Unlike The Tale of the Heilte, which begins with a
typically Buddhist evocation of the impermanence of all things, the
Taihciki opens with a passage in Chinese briefly setting forth the Con-
fucian theory of kingship, citing precedents from Chinese history to
illustrate the thesis that when a king (or emperor) lacks virtue he will
not be able to preserve his throne. The first eleven of the forty books
are Confucian also in their emphasis on the benefits or misfortunes that
accrue from actions in this world (and not in some previous existence),
and in their insistence on the importance of history as a guide to rulers.
The shift from a prevailingly Confucian to a Buddhist ideology becomes
conspicuous with the account of the death of Kusunoki Masashige, as
if the author was at a loss to explain, except in terms of causes over
which people in this life have no control, why a man who was blameless
should have been defeated in battle by moral inferiors. From this point
on the Taihcibi becomes increasingly Buddhist, invariably attributing
happiness or misery in this life to causes in previous lives. The change
of viewpoint does not necessarily mean that a different author is writing;
880 The Middle Ages

It IS more likely that the worsening situation demanded a different

philosophical attitude."
The narrative of the Taiheilti is again and again interrupted by
Chinese anecdotes that are in some way related to the Japanese events
being described. These confirm the thesis of the author that it is possible
to learn from history, providing evidence that similar events recur in
different countries. Early in the first book there is the account of a group
of conspirators, relaxing together in undress and sharing the pleasures
of liquor and female company. They send for the learned monk Gen'e
and ask him for a lecture on the Chinese philosopher Han Yu (768-
~h5) so that it will be supposed they have gathered for literary purposes.
Gen'e, who has not the least idea he is party to a conspiracy, chooses as
the subject of his lecture a section of Han Yii's writings describing how
he was sent into exile by an emperor whom he had angered with his
attacks on Buddhism. The account of someone driven into exile rings
inauspiciously in the ears of the conspirators, who no doubt secretly fear
this might be their own fate, and they interrupt Gen'e's lecture. They
ask him to lecture instead on one of the Chinese military classics."
Gen'e was prevented from lecturing on Han Yii's exile, but this did
not keep the author of the Taiheilti from launching into a long anecdote
about Han Yu and his nephew, a Taoist adept, and their sorrowful
parting when Han Yii went into exile. Usually the Chinese anecdotes
introduced into the text have greater relevance than in this instance,
but the reason for including them was essentially the same: to dig-
nify the events in Japan with Chinese antecedents, as the French revolu-
tionaries dignified themselves and their actions by references to Roman
antiquity.
The Taiheilti was long accepted as a factual description of stirring
events of the fourteenth century, but by the Meiji period some scholars
began to deny its value as history." The best-known passages provided
the easiest targets for the rationalists. For example, the Taihcihi relates
how Godaigo, at a time when he desperately needed someone who could
lead his forces against the shogunate, dreamed of a great tree with its
branches stretching to the south. A crowd of dignitaries had gathered,
but one seat that faced south was left empty. Two children who appeared
in the dream informed Godaigo that the seat was for him. (It was
traditional for the ruler to sit facing south.) Godaigo awakened at this
point and, mulling over the meaning of the dream, decided that the
tree must be a kusunoki (camphor tree) because the Chinese character for
that tree is written with a combination of elements meaning "tree" and
"south." He made inquiries and discovered there was someone named
Medieval War Tales 881

Kusunoki Masashige, as yet little known but imperially descended, and

born after his mother had an auspicious dream. Godaigo summoned
the man and appointed him commander of his forces."
It is easy to imagine the doubts that such a passage would arouse
in anyone who believed that history is a science. Not only is oneiromancy
suspect, but there is reason to believe that Godaigo was acquainted with
Masashige long before he had his prophetic dream. According to The
Clear Mirror, Godaigo had depended on Masashige from the very outset
of his struggle against the shogunate." Faced with such problems of
historiography, the Meiji rationalists rejected the Taiheiki altogether as
a source of information. Modern scholars, showing greater generosity,
believe that the Taiheiki possesses more of the characteristics of a work
of history than, say, The Tale of the Heili«, and that it is less prejudiced
than other histories of its time."
The main problem with interpreting the Taiheilii, at least before
1945, was that, for all its criticism of Godaigo, it obviously considers
that he, rather than the emperor chosen by Ashikaga Takauji, was the
rightful sovereign. Yet the later Japanese emperors were descended from
the emperors of the Northern and not the Southern Court. During the
Tokugawa period Dai Nihon 5hi (The History of Great Japan) declared
that only the Southern Court was legitimate. In the Meiji period it
became more common to recognize both courts, but, at the very end of
the Meiji period and continuing until 1945, the Southern Court was
once again treated by most historians as the sole legitimate line."
Regardless of such political problems, and regardless too of how
seriously the Taiheilt] should be taken as a work of history, its popularity
never waned, and there can hardly be a Japanese who does not know
something about the events depicted in its pages, whether Godaigo's
dream, Kusunoki Masashige's death at Minatogawa, or Nina Yoshisada's
prayer to the dragon god and his throwing of his gold-mounted sword
into the sea. Masashige especially has inspired affection and even
worship.
The Taiheihi is second only to The Tale of the Heih« as an evocation
of the martial ideals that long were central to Japanese tradition, but as
a work of literature it is not nearly so compelling. The innumerable
digressions, no doubt of greater interest to people of the fourteenth
century than to contemporary readers, tend to dampen whatever ex-
citement the main story may arouse. It is easy to accept the theory that,
unlike The Tale of the Heike, which was recited to musical accompan-
iment by blind storytellers, the Taihcihi was communicated mainly in
the form of sermons." The long interruptions to the narrative perhaps
882 The Middle Ages
represent preachers' attempts to drum home a lesson, even if this de-
prived the work of the lyrical quality found in The Tale of the Heilte.
Many passages in the Taiheiki have been traced to sources in The Tale
of the Heili«, but the effect is almost always different; a world of poetry
has been turned into prose. Perhaps the most important lesson is given
late in the work by an old priest:

In recent times control over the country was taken by the military,
and their rule lasted for eleven generations, from Yoritomo to Taka-
tokio It was not necessarily in keeping with basic principles that low-
born persons, no better than barbarians, should have been the chief
figures in the land, but in this age of deterioration, nothing can be
done to remedy the situation. The times and the events are not
governed solely by the assumptions of this world. Subjects killing
their lords and children killing their fathers are but aspects of a
world where disputes are settled by force, a world where those below
overturn those above (gekokujo). Even the nobles, the flowers of
society, and even the ruler, the emperor himself, have lost their
power, and lowly, base soldiers rule the land within the four seas."

The phrase gekokujo would be used to describe the whole of society

from this time until the establishment of peace under the Tokugawa
family in the seventeenth century. The idea of gekokujo-the overturn
of the social order-appeals to many readers today, especially those who
are not attracted by the haughty ways of the Heian aristocracy, but for
most people of the time gekokujo was not an embryonic stirring of
democracy but the cause of disorder, looting, and death. And to explain
this phenomenon the priests expounded the familiar doctrine that the
world had entered the period of mappo, when men are sunk in such
depravity that they can no longer benefit by the teachings of the Buddha.
A passage like the one quoted above, though in no way literary, conveys
much of what life was like in an age of perpetual warfare.
Though the Taihcile: has this interest, it suffers from the lack of a
single, controlling theme of the kind that joins the beginning and end
of The Tale of the Heikc. It might be argued that the failure to achieve
peace constitutes a central theme, but we do not remember this as we
read the Taiheiki, the way we remember that the theme of The Tale of
the Heili« is the fall of the Taira. We miss, too, the electrifying moments
in The Tale ofthe Heilie when a person suddenly comes alive, not simply
as a figure in a tapestry but as an individual-when, for example, Awa
no Naiji, who has given up the world to become a nun, weeps at the
Medieval War Tales

realization that she has become so old and ugly that her former lover,
Goshirakawa, no longer recognizes her.
The Taiheiki is a flawed work, but the survival of its heroes in the
memories of the Japanese, and the frequency with which later writers
turned to its pages for inspiration, make it clear that its reputation is
no accident. Its appeal is episodic, but it has proved to be unforgettable.

Meitokuki

None of the later Muromachi war chronicles approaches the Taiheiki in

scope or in fame, but Meitokuki, the account of a rebellion during the
Meitok u era by members of the Yamana family against the Ashikaga
shogunate, is far more than a bare chronicle of the events; among the
many accounts of warfare of the period it comes closest to matching the
literary quality of the Taiheilti, flawed though that is.
The rebellion that took place at the end of the twelfth month of the
second year of the Meitoku era" was one of many such incidents during
the turbulent course of the Muromachi period. The actual fighting lasted
only one day. Yamana Ujikiyo (1344-1391), the governor of Mutsu and
the central figure in the attempt to overthrow the rule of Ashikaga
Yoshimitsu, died in the fighting, and his son-in-law Yamana Mitsuyuki
(d. 1395), the governor of Harima, who had fled to the province of
Izumo after the failure of the rebellion, surrendered to the shogunate
in the spring of 1392. The total effect of the fighting was the consolidation
of power in the hands of Yoshimitsu, who had deliberately provoked
the powerful and troublesome Yamana family into staging the unsuc-
cessful revolt.
If Meitokuki had resembled the various other accounts of warfare
during the Muromachi period," the revolt of Yamana Ujikiyo against
the shogunate would surely have been totally forgotten; insofar as the
era-name Meitoku means anything to an educated Japanese, it is likely
to be because of this work of literature. The author of Meitokuki is not
known, but he was probably a priest, and the work itself seems to have
been originally written not long after the events it describes. An entry
for 1416 in Kammon Gyok], the diary kept between 1416 and 1448 by
Prince Sadafusa (1372-1456), states: "The other day a storytelling priest
(monogatari so) was summoned for a recitation. He narrated part of the
story of the rebellion of Yam ana Oshu. It was interesting.i'" The author
of Meitokuki was also likely to have been a "storytelling priest" who,
like other priests who recited the Taiheilti, made a living by giving
 The Middle Ages

dramatic recitations. An afterword to the manuscript, dated 1396, states

that the author revised and augmented his text.
Meitokuki was written mainly in the same mixture of Japanese and
Chinese as the Taiheilei, but the most lyrical sections, two michiyuln, are
in the gabun, or "elegant," style of pure Japanese. It is a curiously
affecting work whose interest far exceeds the historical importance of
the materials, and it deserves more extensive consideration than it has
received. One authority on medieval literature said of Meitokuki that it
combines the lyricism of The Tale of the Heike with the realistic tone
of the Taiheiki."
Meitokuki opens with an encomium of the glorious peace that the
Ashikaga shoguns had brought to Japan: ever since Takauji assumed
power some sixty years earlier, the world had relaxed under the benign
influence of his military virtue; the people rejoiced in his enlightened
rule; martial conflicts had ceased; the waves in the four seas had abated;
and the winds in all quarters were calm." It takes a moment for the
reader to realize that the author is describing the period of the division
of the country into the Northern and Southern courts, a time when
Japan was torn by almost constant warfare. The point of these intro-
ductory remarks is to establish a contrast between the tranquil rule of
the country by the Ashikaga family and the rude interruption in the
long-abiding peace aroused by the sinister plot of the Yamana family.
The author could not have been wholly sincere in his evocation of a
happy Japan during the second half of the fourteenth century, but he
unequivocably revealed himself as a partisan of the shogunate, and it
was in this capacity that he wrote his history.
The most moving sections of Meitokuki are, however, not those
acclaiming the victory of the shogunate but those describing the deaths
of the members of the Yamana family; we remember them as we
remember the chapters of The Tale of the Heilt« devoted to the deaths
of the Taira warriors. The account of the death of Yamana Kojiro recalls
the death of Atsumori:

Up until a little while before, Yamana Kojiro had been accompanied

by seven mounted warriors, but five of them had been killed and
the other two had disappeared. Now five enemy horsemen bore
down on him and in the clash his horse was shot from under him.
He fell from the horse on his left side, and it seemed as though he
would imminently be killed when Kana Heigo, the son of Kojiro's
wet nurse, rode up from somewhere, and jumping from his mount,
Medieval War Tales

called out, "Here, ride this horse!" No sooner had he seated Kojiro
on the horse than the enemy, not wasting a moment, came at him.
He cried out his name: "I am Kana Heigo Tokikazu. My master
lost his horse and would have been killed. To save him I let him
have mine. Now I am ready to die fighting. Please tell people later
on what happened."
He cut down two of the enemy horsemen only in turn to be
struck dead. Seeing what had happened, Kojiro galloped to the spot,
intending to fight to the death, when Oshu's voice, faintly intoning
his last nembutsu, reached his ears. After fending off the enemy
horsemen engaging him, Kojiro managed to get a good look at Oshu,
and saw that he had by this time been killed and his head cut off.
"This is the end," he thought. Still seated on the horse, he threw
away his broadsword and, unsheathing his dirk, leaped down onto
Oshii's corpse. "Kojiro is coming with you!" he cried, and clinging
to the sleeve of Oshu's armor, prepared to slash his own abdomen.
At this moment a man named Kawasaki Taita, a retainer of [Isshiki]
Sakyodayu [Akinori], threw himself on Kojiro, tore off his helmet,
unfastened the visor and, holding him by the hair, turned his face
upward. He saw then that Kojiro was a youth of fifteen or sixteen,
extremely handsome and noble of features. His sword was poised
for the kill, but he could not bring himself to take Kojiro's head.
"Who are you?" he asked. "Tell me your name. I would like to
save you, if I can." Kojiro responded, "Even if I told you my name,
I am so unimportant I am sure nobody would recognize it. But if
you take my head and tell people this is the head of someone who
died fighting and who never for a moment left the side of his general,
and then you ask who I am, someone surely will remember me."
The faint sound of his voice murmuring the nembutsu under his
breath could be heard. He said not another word.
Moved, Taita wanted somehow to take Kojiro alive, but on
second thought he realized that even if he saved the youth, there
was no telling what might happen later on, considering he was
obviously a person of rank. With feelings of helplessness, as if he
were regretting the fall of blossoms too weak to withstand the storm
wind, he cut off Kojiro's head. When he questioned people, they
told him the youth was Tatsufusa, the nephew of Oshu whom he
had adopted as his son and deeply loved. He could easily imagine
this might be so, recalling the manner of Kojiro's death and the
elegance of his appearance, and it made him feel all the sadder.v'
886 The Middle Ages
Kojiro makes a less striking figure than Atsumori who, lying on his
back under the point of Kumagai's sword, snarls back insolent rejoinders
to Kumagai's solicitous questions, but he is no less affecting. The loyalty
Kana Heigo displayed in yielding his horse to Kojiro, when he might
easily have galloped from the scene, is given a touchingly "human"
dimension when he asks the enemy who is about to kill him to tell
others how gallantly he died, and Kojiro, too, wants to be remembered
for his devotion to Oshu, the leader of the ill-fated rebellion.
The most memorable section of Meitokuki describes the last days of
Ujikiyo's widow. On learning that he died in battle, she decides to join
him. People urge her to become a nun instead, but she pays no attention
to them, awaiting only an opportunity to kill herself. She stabs herself
while on a journey. The wound is not fatal, and she can still be saved,
but she will not touch the medicine her attendants offer and refuses
even to drink water, determined to die. Two of her sons, learning of
the attempted suicide, go to see her. They have become priests, in this
way escaping punishment for their part in the rebellion.
The brothers meet the widow's attendant and tell her of their desire
to see their mother once again, even though they are aware their behavior
has been shameful. The attendant urges the mother to see her sons and
take the medicine, sure that this will make her feel better, but the old
woman is adamant:

The widow shut her eyes that had been opened a little, staring up
at the ceiling and, shaking her head, said in tears, "It is shameful
for them to ask such a thing. Just think! They, the sons of a man
who was a soldier by profession, sons over twenty years of age, went
to the battlefield with their father and then, after seeing him killed
before their eyes, ran away! Having nowhere else to turn, they
became priests. This was so appalling, on top of all the other grief
I have had to bear, that I tried to commit suicide, something no
woman has ever done before." How dare they ask to see their mother,
now when she is already on the point of death? This is too much
to ask of a mother, whose love should be stronger than a father's.
Even supposing they had not been born in such a house, they should
surely not have deserted an undoubted father. And they should each
of them reflect how much truer this is of the behavior of men who
are born into a family of soldiers. An adopted son would have
behaved better. Kojiro died in battle, loudly praised by friends and
foes alike. My joy over what he did is inseparable from my shame
over their behavior. Never again in this lifetime will I allow myself
Medieval War Tales 887

to be seen by such cowards, just because they are my sons. I am

much too agitated now to listen to anything more." So saying, she
pulled her robe over her head, and uttered not another word."

Oshu's widow, with a dignity and scorn worthy of a Roman matron,

refuses to see her sons. One can all but hear her command, "Come back
with your shields or on them!" Japanese women are usually depicted
in literature of this period or earlier as gentle but weak creatures, prey
to their emotions. A few women were strong-willed enough to take
their own lives, but not in the manner of Oshu's widow, who plunged
a dagger into herself as a man might. She is the emblematic samurai
wife, one of a number of wives and mothers who figure importantly in
the work."
Such moments establish the claims of Meitokuki to be recognized as
a work of literature, though the work as a whole is also of exceptional
interest among the many chronicles of warfare of the Muromachi
period."

HISTORICAL ROMANCES

The Tal e 0 f the S 0 ga B rot her s

A conspicuous feature of the literature of the middle ages was the
dissemination to the public of tales of warfare by men and women who
dressed in the habits of priests or nuns even if they had not entered
Buddhist orders. But the religious element in such recitations was prob-
ably greater than a modern reader would suspect from the texts. The
fear of goryi), vengeful spirits of the dead whose wrath could be appeased
only by recitation of their deeds, probably accounted for the popularity
enjoyed over the centuries by the same few tales about the warfare and
vendettas of the past, and may help to explain the continuing sympathy
for the losers." It was believed that if these spirits were neglected they
might wreak vengeance on the rice harvest.
The recitations were generally accompanied by a drum or the biwa
that not only commented on sung or declaimed passages but helped the
performers, many of whom were blind, to follow the written texts.
Entertainers ranged all over the country, performing at inns where they
diverted weary travelers, at local festivals, or wherever else they were
likely to be welcomed." A particular group of entertainers normally
recited only one text: Soga Monogatari (The Tale of the Soga Brothers),
888 The Middle Ages

for example, was recited by blind women (known as gaze) and for this
reason was known as "a work of literature related by women,"68 though
it is the story of a vendetta, far removed both in tone and content from
the typical women's literature of the Heian period. In the process of
narrating a work, entertainers often made variations on the original
text, to keep audiences from becoming bored with familiar tales; but it
should be remembered that the basis of the recitations was always a
written text. The recitations were not, as in some societies, the creations
of illiterates."
The oldest surviving text of The Tale of the Saga Brothers is in a
kind of Chinese: that is, a page of this text consists entirely of Chinese
characters, with none of the usual admixture of Japanese kana. If one
examines the text more closely, however, one will see many small mark-
ings next to the characters that make it possible to read it as Japanese.
The manabon, or "true-writing" (Chinese) text, as opposed to the kana-
bon, or Japanese text of the next century, is believed to have been set
down at the beginning of the fourteenth century. It seems to have been
preceded by a text, also in Chinese, composed early in the thirteenth
century. Before that was the first version, probably a bare narration in
Japanese of the vendetta, written only a short time after the events."
The oldest manabon was very likely written by priests of the area of
Hakone and Izu, and the emphasis on events that took place in the
Kanto (eastern) region around Hakone is characteristic of this text; it
contrasts with the many earlier writings set in or around the old capital.
The use of a mock-Chinese style is found in other works of the time,
even folktales that would more naturally have been composed in
japanese."
The kanabon is the best-known version. It seems to have been created
in Kyoto during the fifteenth century." Although much easier for a
contemporary Japanese to read than the manabon, the narration is fre-
quently (and irritatingly) interrupted by some forty long anecdotes from
Chinese, Japanese, or Buddhist sources that relate only tangentially to
the main story and take up about one quarter of the work. It is in twelve
books, as opposed to the ten books of the manabon.
The vendetta of the Soga brothers, Juro and Coro, carried out against
the man who slew their father, is known to almost every Japanese, but
from later versions of the tale or from the many adaptations for the
stage, rather than from the original Tale of the Saga Brothers. Kabuki
dramatists were traditionally expected to produce a new play each year
about the brothers, each with some novel twist or change of emphasis
that distinguished it from previous versions, and the theater season in
Medieval War Tales 889

Tokyo regularly opened with one of these plays. The personalities of

the brothers lent themselves to dramatization: Jura, the older, is fair-
complexioned, prudent, and susceptible to feminine charms; whereas
his brother Goro is ruddy-faced, impetuous, and powerful rather than
sensitive. Again and again the brothers, faced with the same predicament,
behave quite differently, in accordance with the inborn nature of each.
The plot is simple, though there are many ramifications of detail.
In the first book we learn of the bad relations that existed between
Kudo no Sukechika, the grandfather of the Soga brothers, and his cousin,
Kudo no Suketsugu." When their grandfather, Suketaka, died he left
one of his three estates to Suketsugu, officially an adopted son but in
fact Suketaka's illegitimate child with his daughter-in-law. Sukechika,
the son of Suketaka's eldest son, was enraged that Suketsugu should
inherit the estate, and attempted repeatedly but unsuccessfully to prevent
by legal means the execution of the will. When he failed, he turned to
magic, persuading a priest to place a curse on Suketsugu. The curse
was effective: Suketsugu fell ill and presently died. He was unaware to
the end of the cause of his illness, and trustingly asked his cousin,
Sukechika, to look after his sons. Sukechika gladly accepted, telling
himself that this was a magnificent opportunity to deprive the boys of
the estate their father inherited.
Anyone who has read only this much would be likely to suppose
that if there was to be a vendetta, it would be carried out by a son of
Suketsugu who wished to punish Sukechika, the agent of his father's
death. Nothing said about Sukechika commends him to us, whereas
Suketsune, the son of Suketsugu, is depicted as a man of taste and
elegance. Our sympathy with Suketsune increases: after he is grown
and marries Sukechika's daughter, he discovers for the first time that
he has been swindled out of his inheritance by Sukechika. He attempts
to recover the estate in court, but is foiled by Sukechika, who bribes
the magistrates. Eventually, however, the estate is divided between Su-
kechika and Suketsune.
Up until this point Suketsune has behaved with perfect decorum,
and one would hardly expect that such a man would be the object of
a vendetta, but the shock of being deprived of half of his rightful
inheritance causes him to think of revenge, even of killing Sukechika.
The latter, not the most amiable of men, exacerbates the situation by
taking back Suketsune's wife (his own daughter) and bestowing her on
another man. Sukechika also contrives successfully to keep Suketsune
from obtaining any of the income from his half of the estate. Suketsune,
who has lost his wife, house, and money, now seriously plots with his
 The Middle Ages
retainers to kill Sukechika. At this point the narrative is interrupted by
the story of Ch'u Chiu and Ch'eng Ying, two ancient Chinese friends
who contrived to restore the throne to the rightful king. This interlude
is followed by a lengthy account of sumo wrestling among participants
in a hunt, a section so rich in details that it has documentary importance
for the history of sumo, though hardly germane to the narrative. The
author at least seems ready to describe the chief incident of the hunt,
the murder of Sukeyasu, the son of Sukechika and father of Jura and
Goro, but not before he has told the story of the Chinese wizard Fei
Ch'ang-fang who ascended to heaven on a crane. Finally, the author
remembers he has a story to tell, and relates how Suketsune's men
ambushed and killed Sukeyasu, whose last words were the request that
those who hear his words will look after his two children, Jura and
GorD.
When word of Sukeyasu's death reaches his widow, she addresses
her two little sons in these words: "If a baby still in the womb can
understand its mother's words, how much more so should you boys,
being five and three, understand what I have to say. When you become
fifteen and thirteen years old, slay your father's enemy and show me
his head.'?' The younger son is too small to understand her words, but
Jura declares that when he has grown up he will indeed cut off the
head of his father's enemy.
Much of the remainder of the work is devoted to the unwavering
efforts of the two boys to avenge their father's death. In the third book
Minamoto Yoritomo, who has cause to hate Sukechika, the boys' grand-
father, is persuaded to order their execution, but they are spared after
Hatakeyama Shigetada argues in their defense. Yoritomo recalls that it
was because his own life was spared by the Taira that they were de-
stroyed, and fears that the same will happen to his family if he allows
the two grandsons of Sukechika to live. But Shigetada insists that it was
because the Taira were wicked, and not because they spared his life,
that they fell, and Yoritomo relents.
The boys are determined to avenge their father's death at all costs.
Their father, Sukeyasu, is hardly mentioned and we know little of his
character; but their grandfather was an unmitigated scoundrel. We
might suppose this fact would dampen their ardor when they were old
enough to understand the situation, but the obligation of loyalty was
absolute, transcending good or bad, and his sons would probably have
felt duty-bound to kill their father's enemy even if they realized the
father had been a fiend, thereby fulfilling the Confucian injunction that
one must not live under the same heaven as the enemy of one's father.
Medieval War Tales

It is notable also that the actions of Jura and Goro came to be held
up as unparalleled examples of filial behavior even though they, as former
adherents of the Taira family, were enemies of Yoritomo. In the ninth
book the Soga brothers finally succeed (with the help of a sympathetic
watchman) in penetrating Suketsune's quarters one night after a drink-
ing party and satisfy their long-cherished ambition by killing him. Oto-
nai, a retainer of Suketsune, awakens at this point and, in a revolting
scene, Gore cuts Otonai into four pieces. Then, we are told,

Goro looked at the remains of Otonai and composed this poem:

muma wa hoe Horses are mooing

ushi wa inanaku And oxen neigh in a world
saltasama ni Turned topsy-turvy;
shiju no atoka Here, a man of forty years
yotsu ni narikeri Has become a boy of four!

"A fine poem!" Jura exclaimed loudly. "I might have spent my
entire life composing poems, but never could I have produced a
poem like that! Such a fine poem deserves to be included in an
imperial anthology. Now that we have achieved our goal, we need
not feel constrained." They burst into raucous laughter as they left
Suketsune's quarters."

There is something nasty about the vendetta from beginning to end,

at least as it is described in the kanabon. Even if one feels vicarious
satisfaction when the brothers achieve their life's ambition, one might
also wish the occasion had been marked by a bit more solemnity. The
brutal poem Goro composed after slicing into quarters a man who is
not even his enemy, and the raucous laughter of the brothers, may have
been exactly true of soldiers of the age, but the manabon was surely
right in omitting the poem and the laughter. The manabon is indeed
exceptional in the dignity it imparts not only to the avenging brothers
but to their victims. For example, the grief of Suketsune's wife when
she receives her husband's mutilated corpse is fully conveyed, though it
is not even mentioned by the kanabon which, reducing everybody to
cardboard heroes and villains, deprives the characters of their humanity."
But this may be why the kanabon provided Kabuki with so many plays:"
there is no room in Kabuki for villains with whom one can sympathize;
a villain must be unconditionally hateful.
Perhaps the most attractive person in the story is Jura's mistress, the
 The Middle Ages
courtesan Tora, the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman and the pro-
prietress of a brothel in Oiso, She is described in terms that indicate the
old court culture still survived even in an age of warriors:

She applied herself to the study of poetry, following the traditions

of Hitomaro and Akahito. She was moved deeply by the tales of
Narihira and Prince Genji." In spring she was touched by the sight
of branches of cherries laden with blossoms, blending with the mist,
and by the call of wild geese hidden in the clouds. In autumn she
was saddened by the beauty of the moon, the violence of a stormy
night, and the sky at daybreak filled with billowing clouds. The
cries of deer and insects moved her, as did the forlorn sight of the
lonely hut of a guard watching over rice fields."

Tora's aesthetic preferences are so hackneyed as to approach parody,

but her true character is displayed not in her choice of reading matter
but in her devotion to her lover, [uro, Gor6 also has a lover, the courtesan
Shosho from Togeshi, but she is given far less attention than Tora. The
two women reveal the depth of their loyalty to the men they love by
becoming nuns after [uro dies fighting and Gor6 is executed. The last
two books of the kanabon are devoted to descriptions of the pilgrimages
the two former courtesans make to different parts of the country to
pray for the repose of the Soga brothers.
The Tale of the Saga Brothers is incompetently written and seriously
marred by the many digressions, but the story of the vendetta was
irresistible. Many adaptations were made for the No, Kabuki, and Bun-
raku theaters." The contrasting personalities of the two brothers lent
themselves to representation on the stage, and each of the main episodes
of the work, especially in the kanabon, possessed dramatic elements that
cried out for performance. The Tale of the Saga Brothers is not in itself
of much literary significance, but it would provide Japanese writers of
future centuries with material for innumerable adaptations.

Yoshitsune
The best known and most admired of all Japanese heroes is undoubtedly
Minamoto Yoshitsune (1159-1189), the younger brother of Minamoto
Yoritomo, the founder of the Kamakura shogunate. Ivan Morris, who
devoted a chapter to Yoshitsune in his book The Nobility of Failure,
wrote of him,
Medieval War Tales

Though Yoshitsune made not the slightest contribution to the ad-

vancement of society or culture, he is one of the most illustrious and
beloved personalities in Japanese history.... Yoshitsune's historical
fame is due mainly to his military achievements, but the real reason
for his lasting popularity as a hero is that his brief career was shaped
in a dramatic parabola of the type that most appeals to the Japanese
imagination: after suddenly soaring to success he was undone at the
very height of his glory and plummeted to total disaster, a victim
of his own sincerity, outwitted by men more worldly and politic
than himself and betrayed by those whom he had trusted."

Yoshitsune's brilliant victories during the fighting between the Mina-

moto and the Taira would have earned him an immortal reputation
even if he had done nothing else during his short life. But, as Morris
so effectively pointed out, he won a place in the hearts of Japanese by
being defeated and destroyed by his brother Yoritomo who, despite his
far more important and constructive role in Japanese history, has never
been an object of popular affection. Sympathy for the underdog in Japan
came to be called hogan-biiki, meaning "partiality to the hogan" (hogan
having been one of Yoshitsune's titles);" and the glorification of Yo-
shitsune, found in innumerable books and works for the theater, ex-
emplified this sympathy."
Probably the most famous of the romances associated with Yoshi-
tsune is the war tale Gikeiki (Yoshitsune)." The author is unknown, and
the time of composition, a subject of much speculation ever since To-
kugawa-period scholars of national literature first began to worry about
such matters, is now generally believed to have been the late fourteenth
or early fifteenth century." The disjointed nature of the narration makes
it seem probable that Yoshitsune was compiled over a period of years by
several authors or author-performers." The text is written in a style
similar to that of The Tale of the Heike-Japanese with many Chinese
loanwords. Although there is no documentary evidence that Yoshitsune
was "performed" in the manner of The Tale ofthe Heihe, scholars have
conjectured, in view of the generally colloquial nature of the text, that
it was recited if not actually chanted to musical accompaniment." It
would not be surprising if performers, hoping to please their patrons,
added materials that associated the patrons' ancestors with the heroes
of the past, but there are far fewer textual variants than for The Tale
of the Heilte."
The most striking feature of Yoshitsune is the almost total avoidance
of references to the historical parts of Yoshitsune's career. It has little
 The Middle Ages

more to say about his dazzling victories in the three major battles of
the war with the Taira than: "In the third year of Iuei [1I84J, Yoshitsune
went to the capital and drove out the Heike. By fighting valiantly at
Ichi-no-tani, Yashima, and Dan-no-uta, he crushed the enemy com-
pletely.?" The first three chapters of Yoshitsune are devoted instead to
the hero's youth, about which almost nothing factual is known, and the
last five chapters to his tragic end after his brother Yoritomo, heeding
the malicious gossip of his aide Kajiwara Kagetoki, decided that Yo-
shitsune was plotting to seize control of the government and therefore
had to be killed. Some authorities have suggested that the author of
Yoshitsune deliberately refrained from describing the central part of his
career because it had already been so well treated in The Tale of the
Hcik«. Be that as it may, there is almost nothing historically verifiable
in this seeming work of history.
The bulk of the work describes Yoshitsune' s narrow escapes from
assassins and other hostile persons suborned by his brother. His flight
from the capital took him to the Inland Sea, where a terrible storm
nearly destroyed him and his men, to the Yoshino mountains (and later
to Nara) where they were harassed by the armed monks of various
temples, and finally to Michinoku in the north where Yoshitsune sought
protection from the lord of the domain, Fujiwara Hidehira. During
these peregrinations Yoshitsune was accompanied by fewer than a dozen
retainers, headed by his lieutenant, Musashibo Benkei, a man of pro-
digious strength who served and revered Yoshitsune after having been
defeated in a duel by the seemingly frail youth. Again and again in
their flight Yoshitsune, Benkei, and the others of the little band were
confronted by enemies who had been warned of their approach, but
they always managed to overcome the superior numbers by the boldness
of their attacks or the ingenuity of their stratagems.
Eventually Yoshitsune and the others reached Hiraizumi, the chief
city of Hidehira's domain. After months of terrible hardships, they were
at last safe, but this respite did not last very long. Their protector,
Hidehira, died at the end of 1188. On his deathbed he predicted that
Yoritomo would attempt to win the support of his heirs by promising
them rich rewards in return for the head of Yoshitsune, but he com-
manded them not to waver in their protection. Soon afterward, however,
Yoritomo persuaded the Retired Emperor Goshirakawa to issue a com-
mand calling for the execution of Yoshitsune, and Hidehira's son Ya-
suhira, able to justify treachery as the duty of a loyal subject, gladly
obeyed.
Yasuhira with a force of some five hundred horsemen" attacked the
Medieval War Tales

stronghold at Takadachi held by Yoshitsune and ten followers. One by

one Yoshitsune's men were killed, but not before each had disposed of
five or ten of the enemy. Finally, only two of Yoshitsune's retainers were
left-Benkei, who, though mortally wounded, held off vast numbers
in order to give Yoshitsune time to commit suicide, and the aged Ka-
nefusa, who was entrusted with the heartrending task of killing Y0-
shitsune's wife and children and then setting fire to the building
containing the corpses of Yoshitsune and his family. Yoshitsune com-
mitted seppuku in a particularly spectacular and gory manner, and the
flames lit by Kanefusa cheated the enemy of his remains.
Yasuhira's treachery brought him none of the benefits he expected.
Yoritomo, who had often plotted Yoshitsune's death, now expressed
outrage that his brother had been treated in so unseemly a fashion, and
sent a punitive expedition to take Yasuhira's head. Yoshitsune concludes
with the warning that those who violate the deathbed commands of
their fathers will be punished by the gods."
The basic materials of Yoshitsune are exciting, and the text contains
passages of literary interest, but the work as a whole is curiously un-
moving because of its painful lack of artistry. The contrast with The
Tale ofthe Heike, the finest of the war tales, could not be more striking.
For all its episodic nature, the main theme of The Tale ofthe Heike, the
destruction of the overweening Taira family, is never forgotten; but
Yoshitsune is so disjointedly episodic as to lead the reader to suspect that
there was no editorial control over the whole. For example, we are told
that when Yoshitsune began his flight from his brother's forces,

[B]eing of a warmhearted nature he had been on intimate terms

with some twenty-four ladies during his sojourn in the capital, and
of these he had brought along a number of elegant beauties who
were his special favorites, including the daughters of the Taira Great
Counselor, the Koga Minister of State, the Karahashi Great Coun-
selor, and the Torikai Middle Counselor. The feminine party in the
ship numbered eleven in all, including Shizuka and four other shira-
byoshi dancers."

After the disastrous storm and the battle with enemy ships in the
Bay of Daimotsu, "the ladies were put ashore. All but one were sent
back-the daughter of the Taira Great Counselor of Second Rank with
Suruga [iro, the daughter of the Koga Minister of State with Kisanta,
and the rest with kinsmen or other connections. With Shizuka, his
 The Middle Ages
particular favorite, Yoshitsune journeyed from Daimotsu to
Watanabe.... "93
Shizuka is the only woman accorded special attention until (at the
end of the sixth chapter) she becomes a nun. It therefore comes as a
great surprise to the reader when, near the opening of the seventh
chapter, we are suddenly told of Yoshitsune's wife, the daughter of the
late Koga minister of state. She has twice been mentioned, but only just
barely and in connection with other favorites of Yoshitsune, and it is
not even remotely suggested that she was his kita no kata, or legal spouse.
Nothing prepares the reader for Yoshitsune's decision (which he passes
on to Benkei) to take the wife on the journey. Benkei is reluctant,
knowing that having a woman in the party will slow their flight, but
he finally consents, reasoning that if Yoshitsune is not permitted to take
his wife with him, he will have to make do with some coarse eastern
woman once they arrive in Michinoku. From this point on the wife
(disguised as a page) and her aged guardian, Gon-no-kami Kanefusa,
figure prominently in the narrative. (It has been suggested that stories
relating to the wife and Kanefusa were added to the existing Yoshitsune
legends by a storyteller in the service of the Koga family.)" Near the
end of the work, after Yoshitsune has committed seppuku, there is
another surprise: we are introduced for the first time to Yoshitsune's
five-year-old son, without any indication of the boy's mother, or expla-
nation of how he happened to be present with his nurse in Yoshitsune's
remote stronghold.
Such awkwardness in the narration was perhaps inevitable in a
sprawling work, but in the absence of an overarching theme that might
unify the disparate elements, the effect is a series of barely connected
events. Even the characters are inconsistently drawn: the charmingly
insolent, all-conquering Yoshitsune of the first three books gives way
without transition to the moody fugitive of the remainder of the work,
and sometimes his behavior undercuts what we are meant to believe is
the desperate urgency of his situation. For example, on their journey
north from the province of Echizen, the fugitives are faced with a serious
setback when they are unable to find a ship to take them to Dewa. This
is certainly no time for delay, but we are told:

"Even though it isn't quite on our way, I should like to see Heisenji
Temple. It is one of the most famous places in this province," said
Yoshitsune. His warriors did not welcome the excursion, but they
set off obediently, journeying monotonously through a dismal world
of rain and wind until they reached the temple's Kannon Hal1. 95
Medieval War Tales

In the process of expanding Yoshitsune's story the author seems to

have indiscriminately taken in originally unrelated materials, and he
lacked the literary skill to graft them successfully onto the body of the
work; they remain to the end digressions that cripple the narration.
One unusual feature of Yoshitsune is that it does not include the
many supernatural legends about Yoshitsune." The reader searches in
vain for the familiar tale of how Yoshitsune, when still a boy and known
as Ushiwaka, was instructed in the martial arts by the tengu of Kurama,
or for the weird happenings in the No plays, like the angry ghost of
Taira no Tomomori rising from the waves to hurl imprecations at
Yoshitsune's ship. It is not clear why the supernatural was excluded,
especially when one considers how importantly it figures in the No plays
of roughly the same period; it is a rare instance of consistency in a series
of basically unrelated anecdotes."
The chief literary importance of Yoshitsune is the influence it exerted
over works in various genres. It is difficult to be sure which way the
influence went in the case of No plays, the Kowaka 98 , and other literary
works of the same general period as Yoshitsune, but there can be no
doubt of its influence on the drama and historical fiction of the To-
kugawa period."
The most famous work for the theater based on the Yoshitsune
legends is probably Kanjincho (The Subscription List), a Kabuki play
derived from the No Atalea, Almost all the elements of this play can be
found in Yoshitsune, but anyone familiar with Kanjinchii who reads the
source passages in Yoshitsune is bound to be disappointed by the account,
at once meager and repetitious, of the same events. The climax of
Kanjincho is the moment when Benkei, in order to draw suspicion from
Yoshitsune (who is disguised as a porter), has no choice but to lift his
hand against his master. This action is superbly dramatic, and it is
echoed by an equally affecting moment when, after Yoshitsune's fol-
lowers have successfully passed through the barrier, Benkei bows in
profound apology for having struck Yoshitsune, to which the latter
responds by lifting his hand in a gesture that signifies he forgives what
under other circumstances would have been an impermissible breach of
feudal etiquette.
In Yoshitsune the fugitives pass without untoward incident through
the Ataka Barrier, but later are stopped twice. On the first occasion,
when a ferryman is suspicious of Yoshitsune, "Benkei leaped angrily
onto the gunwale of the boat, seized his master's arm, hoisted him over
his shoulder, and jumped to the beach. Then he dumped him roughly
onto the sand and with a fan which he pulled from his waist began to
 The Middle Ages

beat him so mercilessly that the onlookers averted their eyes."IOO There
is more than a hint of sadism in this description, and when Benkei later
begs pardon, crying, "I shall be punished by everybody-gods, bodhi-
sattvas, and men. Forgive me, Great Bodhisattva Hachiman!"!" he ex-
hibits none of the dignity of Benkei in the Kabuki play. Worse, a few
pages later, when the party reaches the heavily fortified Nenju Barrier,
Benkei once again beats Yoshitsune:

Benkei made up Yoshitsune to resemble a porter monk, loaded two

panniers on his back, and started forward, beating him smartly with
a big switch and shouting, "Get along, monk!"
"What has he done to make you treat him so harshly?" the
barrier guards asked.!"

One beating of his master, performed in KanjinchO with the greatest

reluctance by Benkei, is dramatically effective, but the two beatings in
Yoshitsune are less dramatic than brutal.
And yet if we decide that Yoshitsune is of negligible literary value
we shall be guilty of ignoring its importance for Japanese over the
centuries. When Basho and his companion Sora traveled to the north
on the journey described in The Narrow Road of 0ku, they again and
again recalled Yoshitsune and his men, most notably at Hiraizumi:

The three generations of glory of the Fujiwara ofHiraizumi vanished

in the space of a dream. The ruins of the Great Gate are two miles
this side of the castle; where once Hidehira's mansion stood are now
fields, and only the Golden Cockerel Mountain remains as in former
days.
We first climbed up to Takadachi, from where we could see the
Kitagami, a big river that flows down from Nambu.... Here Yo-
shitsune once fortified himself with some picked retainers, but his
great glory turned in a moment into this wilderness of grass. "Coun-
tries may fall, but their rivers and mountains remain. When spring
comes to the castle, the grass turns green again. "103 These lines went
through my head as 1 sat on the ground, my bamboo hat spread
under me. There 1 sat weeping, unaware of the passage of time.

natsukusa ya The summer grasses-

tsuwamonodomo ga For many brave warriors
yume no ato The aftermath of dreams.
BASHO
Medieval War Tales

unohana ni In the verbena

Kanefusa miyuru I can see Kanefusa-
shiraga kana Behold his white locks]!"
SORA

The legends of Yoshitsune still live in the hearts of Japanese and

provide materials for new works of literature. Yoshitsune is itself not of
great interest, despite the occasional exciting episode but, more than any
other literary work, it created the image of a national hero.

The Clear Mirror

Masukagami (The Clear Mirror), the fourth of the surviving "mirrors"
of Japanese history.!" is the most poetic. Each of the chapters bears a
title derived from the words of a poem, and the meaning of Masuhagami,
the intentionally ambiguous title of the whole, is explained by poems.
The first is spoken in the introductory chapter by the old nun whose
narration of her memories provides the material of the work:

oroka naru All that will appear

kokoro ya mien In the mirror's clarity
masukagami Is my foolish heart;
furuki sugata ni It adds to the old writings,
tachi wa oyobade But cannot touch their grandeur.

The word masu is used to mean both the verb "to add to" and the noun
masumi, or "perfect clarity." The nun promises that her tale, for all its
failings, will add to the earlier "mirrors," and will be clear and without
deceit.
The setting of the introductory chapter is the Seiryo-ji, a temple in
the Saga area of Kyoto famous for its statue of Shakyamuni Buddha.
An unidentified man, on a visit of worship, sees there an old nun leaning
on a stick who is having trouble making her way as far as the temple.
He approaches and, striking up a conversation with her, learns that she
is well over one hundred years old. He is a student of old poetry, and
has been yearning to meet someone who could tell him about the past.
The old nun, giving him a toothless smile, modestly replies that she
really does not remember anything worth transmitting to another person,
but he persists, reminding her that the recollections related by some old
people at the Urin Temple long ago had turned into a book that was
90 0 The Middle Ages

now widely read, "a Nihon Shoki in simple Japanese" (kana no Nihongi).106
He refers here specifically to The Great Mirror, but later mentions the
other "mirrors," all of which were written in kana, unlike the official
histories of Japan, composed in difficult-to-read Chinese.
The old nun is eventually persuaded, and she relates her reminis-
cences of the past, extending from the birth of the Emperor Gotoba in
1180 to the Emperor Godaigo's return from exile in 1333. Obviously,
not even a centenarian could have memories that encompass so long a
period, and at no point does the nun suggest how she happens to know
intimate details of the lives of the august personages she describes. No
doubt readers accepted such implausibilities in the narration as part of
the conventions of "mirrors" of history.
Once the narrator of the work has been established as an old nun,
the interlocutor virtually disappears from the work, and the nun herself
only rarely says anything that reminds us of her identity. The convention
of an old person's recalling the past was useful in that it allowed for a
conversational style,'?" for the inclusion of poetic episodes even if they
were not of historical importance, and for an essentially literary and
dramatic structure that gave greater shape to the materials than was
possible in more factual war chronicles such as the Taiheilti.
Scholars are now more or less agreed that Nijo Yoshimoto was the
author of The Clear Mirror'r' although he is not identified as such in
any document of the period. Yoshimoto was a noted renga poet and
edited Tsulruba Shu, the most important collection of renga; if he was
indeed the author of The Clear Mirror, this would explain the conspic-
uously poetic tone. Internal evidence concerning the date of composition
of the work is scanty. It must have been written after 1338, the year of
the last datable event in the text, and before 1376, the year of the oldest
manuscript. Most believe The Clear Mirror was written between 1368
and 1376, but dates as late as 1427 have been proposed.'?"
The Clear Mirror, unlike the Taiheiki, makes no pretense of impar-
tiality. The author is clearly on the side of the emperors and the nobles
whenever conflict arises between them and the military, and the work
contains none of the criticism of Gotoba and Godaigo found in other
sources. The author ended The Clear Mirror with Godaigo's return to
the capital from exile in Oki, sparing himself the necessity of enum-
erating the mistakes that would be made by Godaigo during the Kemmu
Restoration.
Although The Clear Mirror also treats the reigns of the emperors in
between Gotoba and Godaigo, including the profligate brothers Gofu-
kakusa and Kameyama, the heart of the work is surely the accounts of
Medieval War Tales 9° 1

the two exiled monarchs. Gotoba's arrival on the desolate island where
he would spend the last nineteen years of his life is described in these
terms:

The place where he was to live was in the interior of the island, far
from the village and other habitations. It was at some distance from
the sea. The house was in the shadow of a mountain, protected by
a towering great boulder. It was simply fashioned, the merest pretext
of a dwelling. Indeed, the place looked makeshift, reminiscent of
"even a brushwood hut is only for a little while"!" in its pinewood
pillars and corridor roofed with reeds. But, although it was severely
plain, the house had been built with a certain charm. Yet when he
recalled his Minase Palace, it seemed like a dream. The view over
the water, stretching out into the distance as far as his eyes could
see, made him feel that everything, even "more than two thousand
miles away,"!" was within his ken, and he realized the truth of the
Chinese poet's lines as never before. When he heard the roar of the
wind fiercely blowing in from the sea, he murmured the words.!"

ware koso u/a I am none other

niishimamori yo Than the new island guardian!
0ki no umi no You savage sea winds
araki namiltaze Over the waves at Oki,
kokoro shite Juke J 13 Have a heart and blow gently!

This passage, as numerous critics have pointed out, was derived from
the description of Genji's place of exile in the "Suma" chapter of The
Tale oJ Genji: "Looking back toward the city, he saw that the mountains
were enshrouded in mist. It was as though he had indeed come 'three
thousand leagues' .... Genji's new house was some distance from the
coast, in mountains utterly lonely and desolate.... The grass-roofed
cottages, the reed-roofed galleries-or so they seemed-were interesting
enough in their way. It was a dwelling proper to a remote littoral, and
different from any he had known."!" The author turned to The Tale
oj Genji in part because he knew the work extremely well and passages
came into his mind apropos of almost any experience; but it also provided
him with an evocative account of a prince's exile. Probably when he set
about writing this section of The Clear Mirror the only firm piece of
evidence available about Gotoba's place of exile was the poem; the rest
was invented or else borrowed from The Tale oj Genji.
The Tale oj Genji was not the only literary work borrowed by the
90 2 The Middle Ages

author of The Clear Mirror. The account of the birth in 1243 of the
future Emperor Gofukakusa was probably indebted to similar descrip-
tions in both the diary of Murasaki Shikibu and A Tale of Flowering
FortunesF' Paraphrases of passages found in other works of Heian and
Kamakura literature have been carefully traced. Perhaps the closest
examples of borrowing were from The Confessions of Lady Nijo, the
diary kept from 1271 to 1306 by the lover and accomplice of the Emperor
Gofukakusa. Although this diary survived for centuries in a single man-
uscript, it was probably available to someone of Nijo Yoshimoto's im-
portance.!" The borrowings from The Confessions of Lady Nijo are by
no means word for word, and the author of The Clear Mirror was far
more discreet than Lady Nij6 when it came to relating such matters as
Gofukakusa's affair with his half-sister, an affair in which Nijo was
obliged to serve as go-between."? (He chose not to include the ineffable
comment Gofukakusa made the morning after he had raped the former
high priestess: "The cherry blossoms were lovely, but the branch was
fragile and the flowers too easily picked," meaning that rape did not
give him much of a thrill unless his victim resisted.)!"
Such borrowings from primarily literary works suggest that the
author of The Clear Mirror aimed at effects of a kind not considered by
the author of, say, the Taihciki. The literarily most distinguished section
is the chapter "Kume no Sarayarna."!" It opens in this way:

The spring of 1332 had come.!" The beginning of the first year of
the new reign!" was surprisingly festive. The new emperor, being
young and handsome, lent a special brilliance to everything, and the
palace ceremonies were performed in exact observance of tradition.
On the occasions of official functions, and even on quite ordinary
days, there was so dense a press of carriages before the palace and
the residences of the cloistered sovereigns,':" which were situated
within the same area, that it was scarcely possible to move, but
among all those who thronged to the court, there was not a single
familiar face.
The former emperor!" was still held captive at Rokuhara. Along
about the second month, when the skies were serene and lightly
veiled in mist, and the gently blowing spring breezes brought from
the eaves the nostalgic fragrance of plum blossoms, so melancholy
was his cast of mind that even the clear notes of the song thrush
sounded harshly in his ears. The comparison is rather peculiar, but
one could not help thinking of some neglected court lady in the
women's palace at the Chinese court.!" Perhaps it was with the
Medieval War Tales

intent of consoling him, now that the lengthening of the days made
it all the harder for him to pass his time, that the empress sent him
his lute (biwa), together with this poem written on a scrap of paper:

omolyare Turn your thoughts to me,

chiri no mi tsumoru And behold these, my tears,
yotsu no 0 ni Too thick to brush away;
harai ni aezu They fell on the strings of the lute
kakaru namida wo When I saw how thick the dust lay.!"

The melancholy state of mind of the emperor was intensified by

thoughts of the fate suffered by Gotoba a little more than a century
earlier. He finally was informed that he would have to leave for Oki
on the seventh day of the third moon.

It may well be imagined how great was the emperor's consternation

when he learned that the dreaded moment was now at hand. Great
were the lamentations also of the empress and the princes, and those
who were in attendance on him could not conceal their grief. He
attempted to keep others from seeing how distressed he was, but in
spite of himself tears welled up, which he concealed as best he could.
Whenever he recollected what had happened to the former emperor,
he realized how unlikely it was that he himself would ever return
to govern the country again. He lived in the conviction that every-
thing had now come to an end, and he ceaselessly lamented that his
sorrows were due not to the wickedness of others, but had all been
imposed on him from a previous existence.!"

Godaigo's passage through the city of Kyoto is rendered the more

poignant for modern readers by the fact that the street names have not
changed, and one can follow his course step by step. The superb de-
scription makes it possible also to visualize the crowds along the way
watching as an emperor started his long journey into exile:

From Rokuhara they proceeded westward along Shichijo, and then

turned southward at Omiya, The imperial carriage halted before the
Eastern Temple, apparently to permit the emperor a brief moment
of prayer. The carriages of spectators jammed the streets. Even ladies
of quality, in wide-brimmed hats and tucked-up robes,"? mingled
with the pedestrians. Young and old, nuns, priests, and even
wretched woodcutters and hunters from the mountains thronged
 The Middle Ages
the place, as thick as bamboos in a forest. Just to see them all wiping
their eyes and sniffling made one feel that no worse calamity could
occur in this sorrowful world. It must have been the same when the
Emperor Sutoku was sent to Sanuki or when the Emperor Gotoba
was exiled to Oki, but those events I know of only by report, not
having witnessed them myself. It seemed to me that this was the
first time anything so appalling had occurred. Even insignificant or
base people who had never before looked upon the emperor were
bewildered and dumbfounded by the pathos of today's leave-taking.
The emperor lifted the blinds of his carriage a little and gazed
around him as though not to let a blade of grass or a tree escape
his eyes. The soldiers of the escort, not being made of stone or wood,
could be seen to wet the sleeves of their armor with their tears. The
emperor looked back until the treetops of the capital disappeared
from sight. He still wondered if it might after all be just a dream. liS

The vividness of the description suggests that the narrator actually

witnessed the scene, an impression confirmed by her admission that she
knows of the exile of two earlier sovereigns only by report. Much of
this account, however, could only be imagined, perhaps with the aid of
The Tale of Genji.129 Godaigo's journey undoubtedly took place, but it
was literature rather than the reports of witnesses that enabled the author
to know his emotions. Godaigo's dejection on reaching Oki moves us
by the details even more than the tragic situation:

Nothing remained in the way of relics of the former exile. There

was only a handful of houses and, in the distance, a village where
the fishermen burned seaweed for salt. When he cast his eyes over
this most miserable view, all thought of himself fled, and his mind
went back to long-ago events. Sympathy and indignation welled up
within him as he tried to imagine what it must have been like for
that emperor to have ended his days in such a place, and he realized
that his own exile stemmed from a desire to fulfill a few of the
aspirations of his ancestor. Countless thoughts pursued him: he won-
dered whether the former emperor in his grave was now taking pity
on him."?

In a brilliant dramatic touch, the author interrupts this account of

the gloom and the drabness ofGodaigo's place of exile with a description
of the festivities attending the coronation of the new emperor, only to
return to another aspect of his grief:
Medieval War Tales

On the twenty-second day of the third month the coronation proces-

sion took place in the capital, dazzling everyone by its splendor. The
cloistered soverigns, Gofushimi and Hanazono.!" who rode together,
stopped their carriage by the Taiken Gate to watch the procession.
Everything had been arranged with the greatest care and went off
beautifully.
But, if the truth be known, the Emperor Godaigo's consort was
sunken in grief, as she had been since their parting, and never raised
her head. Her grief was understandable: added to the unhappiness
caused by distant separation, pangs in her heart troubled her un-
remittingly. Without emotion, as if it were happening to someone
quite remote, she received the news that her title of empress had
been taken from her, and a name as a nun bestowed.!"

Once again, the pervading gloom is interrupted by a brief account

of festivity in the capital:

This year there was an imperial procession to the Kamo Festival,

which was so unusual that people devoted the utmost care to the
sightseeing carriages, and the stands along the way were built with
greater splendor than ever before. The deputies of the reigning and
cloistered sovereigns vied with one another as to who would present
the most stunning appearance.... The courtiers and the young men
of noble families-c-all those who were privileged to wear the for-
bidden colors-escorted their majesties in bright and elegant attire.
Even their attendants were so splendidly dressed as to suggest a
bouquet of flowers. From the carriages the sleeves of court ladies'
robes in every color-wisteria, azalea, verbena, carnation, and iris-
overflowed in a most gay and charming manner.
When the festival was over and things had quieted down, all
those nobles who had been seriously implicated as partisans of the
Emperor Godaigo were sent to distant exile.!"

The poetry of Godaigo, though not rated nearly so high as Gotoba's,

acquires a powerfully moving quality because of the circumstances it
reflects, and the portrait of the man that emerges from the pages of The
Clear Mirror is unforgettable. It is not necessary to admire Godaigo in
order to empathize with a monarch who is driven into lonely exile.
Read together with the last chapter in The Clear Mirror, which describes
his triumphant return to the capital, his sufferings seem mythic, the
trials a hero must undergo to prove himself worthy of final victory; and
 The Middle Ages

the readers' foreknowledge of this victory may give ironic overtones to

the celebrations in the capital of the regime of the rival emperor. But
readers will also know, though The Clear Mirror ends before this point,
that Godaigo's triumph in the Kemmu Restoration was short-lived, and
that he was doomed to die an exile. These different layers of time help
to give dramatic depth to The Clear Mirror. By no means an objective
history, it is nonetheless a masterpiece of reltishi monogatari (historical
tale), a genre that ever since The Story of Masasado has occupied an
important place in the imaginations of the Japanese.

Notes
I. There is reason to believe that some of the later war tales, notably the
Taiheilei, were recited (at least in excerpts) in the manner of The Tale of
the Heike, but there is extremely little documentary evidence. See Na-
gazumi Yasuaki, Chusei Bungaku no Kanosei, pp. 4°9-17.
2. I have confined my account to works of apparent literary intent; others,
though of historical importance, will not be discussed. Writings that
describe the warfare of the latter part of the sixteenth century are treated
in chapter 29. Mirror of the East, compiled in the second half of the
thirteenth century, contains some interesting parallels to the material in
this chapter, but the text as a whole possesses little literary value.
3. See Matsubayashi Yasuaki, Shintei fOkYuki, p. 26. Matsubayashi, quoting
the article by Masuda Shu, "[okyuki-s-Kaiko to Ternbo," states why
Masuda believed the rufubon text was composed after 1246. On the same
page he also quotes an article by Sugiyama Tsuguko in the 1970 issue of
Gunki to Katarimono, giving her reasons for believing that the [ikoji text
of fOkYuki, the oldest, dates from between 1230 and 1240. Matsubayashi
(in "Kobu no Kassenki," p. 114) states his own opinion: the [ikoji text
was originally written soon after the disturbance, but put into its present
form between 1230 and 1240.
4. Matsubayashi, Shintei, p. 29, gives the reason (the deferential attitude
toward the Ashikaga family) for believing that the Maeda text must date
from the fourteenth century. See also Matsubayashi, "Kobu no Kassenki,"
pp. 115-16. Matsubayashi (Shintei, p. 30) relates why !okYu Heiranhi, the
best-known version of the text, has been dated between 1590 and 1606.
5. The estates were at Nagae and Kurahashi in the province of Settsu. For
text, see Matsubayashi, Shintei, p. 55.
6. According to the rufubon text (Matsubayashi, Shintei, p. 57), Gotoba
summoned men from fourteen provinces in the Kinki and nearby regions,
ostensibly to take part in a mounted archery (yabusame) contest.
Medieval War Tales
7. He was fourteen by Japanese, but only thirteen by Western count. Before
the gembuku initiation ceremony he was known by the boy's name of
[uo, but afterward was usually called Mitsutsuna.
8. Matsubayashi, Shin tei, pp. 62-68.
9· Ibid., p. I09·
10. Ibid., p. 120.

11. The meaning of the term geino is uncertain. If the author's source was

the chronicle Roeudai Shoji Ki (c. 1224), the term, as used of Gotoba
in that work, meant the literary and martial arts; but Kimpisho ; the
study of court usages and precedents compiled about 1225 by Gotoba's
son [untoku, defined geino as the literary and musical arts. See ibid.,
p. 148.
12. Ibid., p. 46. It should be noted that the [ukoji text of fOkYaki, the oldest,

opens in a totally dissimilar manner, with a dreary account of the origins

of Buddhism and of the ancient history of Japan. See the English trans-
lation by William H. McCullough, "Shokyuki," pp. 169-175.
13. Matsubayashi, Shintei, p. 135. The portrait was painted by Fujiwara No-
buzane, the son of the even more celebrated portrait painter Takanobu.
14- Ibid., p. 137·
15. The word kumoi means literally "cloud dwelling," but it was used to
mean the palace, and the people who lived in the palace were similarly
referred to as kumo no ue bito ("people above the clouds"). Kamegiku is
saying that although the moonlight is bright over Akashi Bay, she still
yearns for the palace, where the moon was hidden by clouds.
16. For examples of these later poems, see chapter 17, p. 675.
17. Matsubayashi, Shintei, p. 138.
18. Ibid., pp. 144-45.
19. Two of the chief Shinto divinities, though Hachiman was given a Buddhist
title.
20. Matsubayashi, Shintei, p. 146.
2 I. The unsuitability of the title to the contents was noted as early as the

beginning of the Tokugawa period, when it was suggested that the title
was satirically applied or that calling things by their antonyms (for ex-
ample, referring to sickness as "pleasure") was a common play on words;
but the deadly seriousness of the work makes it unlikely that the compiler
jested when giving a title. See Hasegawa Tadashi, "Cekokujo no Sekai,"
PP·3 8-39·
22. For example, by Helen Craig McCullough in her translation, The Taiheihi,
p. XVII.
23. Fukuda Hideichi, in his Chusei Bungaleu Ronko, p. 419, reached the con-
clusion that the central theme (shudai) of the work was the author's desire
for peace, and that was why he gave the work its seemingly paradoxical
title.
24. In the 1930S, a period of militant nationalism, Takauji was "relegated to
908 The Middle Ages
the status of the most loathsome of traitors in Japanese history." See H.
Paul Varley, Imperial Restoration in Medieval Japan, p. 186
25. In 1392 Ashikaga Yoshimitsu persuaded the emperor of the Southern
Court to return to Kyoto, with the understanding that succession to the
throne would henceforth alternate between the Northern and Southern
courts. This in fact did not happen; succession to the throne was entirely
in the line of the Northern Court.
26. If we can believe the Taihcilei, Masashige had only some seven hundred
horeserncn against Ashikaga Tadayoshi's 500,000 at the battle of Mina-
togawa, where he met his end. Obviously, the numbers are exaggerated,
here and elsewhere in the Taihciki,
27. Varley's Imperial Restoration is a study of this period.
28. The insane fondness of Hojo Takatoki (1303-1333) for dogfights (he kept
thousands of dogs in Kamakura for this purpose) and for dengaleu, a form
of entertainment resembling No, was often given as the main cause of
his downfall.
29. Hojo Takatoki, called Taira here because his family stemmed from a
branch of the Taira family.
30. The commentated editions I have consulted all state that kami refers to
Godaigo, and I have accordingly translated the sentence in this matter.
However, Yamashita notes that although Godaigo is here taxed for his
"disregard of sovereignly virtues" (kami kimi no toku ni somuki), criticism
is leveled at Takatoki and not at Godaigo, certainly in what follows
immediately. Criticism of Godaigo does not really begin until the Kemmu
Restoration.
3 I. Yamashita Hiroaki (ed.), Taiheiki, I, p. 16. See also the translation by
Helen Craig McCullough, The Taiheihi, p. 3.
32. The statement was taken up by patriots over the centuries, often with
meanings rather different from Masashige's. The best-known version is
the phrase shichlsho hokoku ("l with] seven lives repay the country"), mean-
ing that it would take seven lives to repay adequately one's indebtedness
to Japan. This interpretation apparently goes back no further than the
Meiji period. See Uwayokote Masataka, "Taiheiki no Shiso," in Nagazumi
Yamaki, Taiheiki no Sehai, pp. I05-7.
33. For an extended (and well-written) account of Masashige's life and rep-
utation, see Ivan Morris, The Nobility of Failure, pp. 106-42.
34. See the account by Uwayokote Masataka, "Buke yori mo kimi ga ura-
meshi," in Nagazumi, Taiheiki, pp. 72-75. The statement that Morinaga
had "murmured to himself that he felt more bitter toward His Majesty
than toward the military" is found originally in Baishoron, (For this work,
see below, note 45')
35. Uwayokote Masataka, "Godaigo," in Nagazumi, Taiheiki, pp. 114-19. It
was customary for sovereigns who had died in distant places, especially
in exile, to have the character toku (virtue) in their posthumous names,
Medieval War Tales
as in the cases of Sutoku, Antoku, and ]untoku, but Godaigo preferred
to be known not as a victim but as an emulator of a great ancestor.
36. See H. Paul Varley, A Chronicle of Gods and Sovereigns: [inno Shotoki of
Kitabatake Chikafusa, pp. 6-7. See also Sakurai Yoshiro, "Taiheiki to [inno
Shotoki," in Nagazumi, Taiheihi, p. 264.
37. See Sakurai Yoshiro, "Taiheiki," p. 269. The passage occurs in Book XXX
of the Taihciki.
38. These are the figures given by Nagazumi in Taihciki, p. 328. Earlier in
the same book (p. 36) he more cautiously suggested the composition took
place between 1368 and 1374.
39. The title means something like "Ramifications of Noble and Base [Fam-
ilies]." The "noble" families are restricted to those directly descended from
the imperial family; the "base" families included the Minamoto, Taira,
Tachibana, and other exalted families with connections to the imperial
family, plus the various branches of the Fujiwara family that are said to
have descended from the gods.
40. See, for example, Nagazumi, Taiheiki, p. 319. See also the translation by
Helen Craig McCullough, The Taiheihi, pp. xvii-xviii. She cites the orig-
inal text, Toin Kinsada Nikki.
41. A summary of the different views on the identity of Kojima hiishi is given
in Yokoi Kiyoshi, Chusci wo ikita Hitobito, pp. 134-37. Wakamori Taro
was of the opinion that Kojima was a yamabushi (mountain priest) from
Kojima in Bizen (the modern Okayama Prefecture), an important center
of yamabushi activity. One problem with this explanation, as Yokoi points
out, is that if Kojima lived and died in Bizen, it would be most unlikely
that Toin Kinsada would have learned of his death so quickly. A second
theory, associated especially with Hayashiya Tatsusaburo, is that Kojima
hosh: was from the base class (semmin), condemned to live in ghettoes
known as sanjo, There were performers known variously as sanjo shomoji,
sanjo ommyoji, sanjo hoshi, and so on. The question here is whether Toin
Kinsada when he wrote "humble birth" (hisen no ki) meant someone of
the lowest social class, or merely someone of a class lower than his own.
42. Text and interpretation as given by Hasegawa in "Gekokujo," p. 36.
43· See ibid., p. 37·
44. See Uwayokote Masataka, "Rekishisho toshite no Taiheiki," in Nagazumi,
Taiheihi, p. 59. Also Uwayokote Masataka, "Okoreru Kokoro aredo, Reigi
midari narazu," in ibid., p. 127.
45. See Nagazumi Yasuaki, "Taiheiki no Seiritsu to Sakusha," in Nagazumi,
Taiheiei, pp. 321-22. The events of the period are otherwise described in
Baishoron, a historical tale written by an unknown author about 1350. It
is obviously prejudiced in favor of the Hosokawa family and therefore in
favor of the Ashikaga shoguns whom the Hosokawa served. This work,
of minor literary importance, is described in Nihon Koten Bungaia«Daijiten,
V, pp. 33-34.
9[0 The Middle Ages
46. Most modern texts, in order to make the Taihcilt, more accessible to readers
without special knowledge of the u/alean konko, rearrange the text (without
changing the words, however) in the normal order of Japanese. For a
better idea of the crowded look of the pages of the original, the reader
should consult Okarni Masao, Taiheik], 2 vols., in Kadokawa Bunko. This
text, with extraordinarily copious notes, unfortunately covers only the first
fourteen books of the Taihcilii.
47. Fukuda Hideichi, in Chusei, p. 436, expressed the view that the philo-
sophical background of the Taihciki was far less Buddhist than that of
The Tale of the Heike.
48. The four works they ask for, Wu-tzu, Sun-tea, Liu-t'ao, and San-liieh,
purported to be ancient writings by Chinese masters of military strategy,
but all four were forgeries. They were (not surprisingly) popular in an
age of warfare, and influenced the Taiheiki and other martial tales. See
Yamashita, Taiheihi, I, p. 3 I; also Helen Craig McCullough, The Taiheiki,
pp. 14- 18.
49. This view was first expounded in 1891 by Kume Kunitake in his article
"Taiheihi wa shigaku ni eki nashi" (The Taihcilei is of no use to the study
of history), published in the magazine Shigaku Zasshi. See Uwayokote
Masataka, "Rekishisho toshite no Taiheihi,' in Nagazumi, Taiheihi, pp.
50-54. Kume, whose diary Bcio Kairan ]ikki is the best of the early Meiji
period descriptions of travels in the West, seems to have drawn on his
experiences abroad when framing his attacks on the Taihcik], For example,
he declared that when he read the account of the gathering of the con-
spirators at which scantily clad women served, "It was exactly like a
brothel in Paris, and the obscenity of the naked women, lined up and
dressed in lace like the whores for sale, made me want to shut the book
after one reading." (Quoted by Uwayokote in "Rekishisho," p. 57,) In
1892 Kume lost his position as a professor at Tokyo University because
an article he wrote on the origins of Shinto had enraged devout believers.
50. The account is given in Book III. See Yamashita, Taiheihi, I, pp. I I I - I 14.
For a translation, see Helen Craig McCullough, The Taihciki, pp. 67-69.
51. See Oka Kazuo, Masuhagami, pp. 318-19, where it states, "Soldiers from
Yamato, Kawachi, Iga, Ise, and other places had gathered at Kasagi Castle.
Among them was a man named Kusunoki Hyoe Masashige, whom he
had depended on from the very beginning. A daring and bold-spirited
man, he had strongly fortified the area around his own castle in the
province of Kawachi, and was prepared to look after the emperor here
if his present residence became dangerous."
52. See Uwayokote, "Rekishisho," pp. 50, 62. See also Uwayokote Masataka,
"Nitta Yoshisada" (in Nagazumi, Taiheiki), p. 128. He states that Baishoron
and Nan Taiheihi, both Northern Court works, distort historical fact more
than the Taiheihi,
53. See Varley, Imperial Restoration, pp. 124-55, for an account of the changing
Medieval War Tales gIl
views of the past. Uwayokote, "Rekishisho,' pp. 58-59, also gives an
account of the shifts of opinions regarding legitimacy.
54. See Sugimoto Keizaburo, Gunki Monogatari no Sekai, pp. 147-49. But see
also Nagazumi, Chusei, p. 409, for musical notations found in sections of
certain versions of the text.
55. Quoted by Nagazumi Yasuaki, "Taihciki no Shiso," in Nagazumi, Tai-
heiki, pp. 339-40.
56. In 1391 according to the lunar calendar or 1392 according to the solar
calendar.
57. The best known is undoubtedly Oninki, the account of the Onin War. It
has been translated in part by H. Paul Varley in The Onin War. The
events described in this work are far more exciting and memorable than
those in Meitokuki, but it possesses no literary interest. The literary qualities
of Oninki and other diaries describing the warfare are discussed by Sugi-
moto in Gunki, pp. 385-405. The Kakitsu disturbance of 1441, during
which Akamatsu Mitsusuke killed the shogun Ashikaga Yoshinori, also
provided ample material for a historical tale, but Kaltitsu Monogatari is
disappointing, in part because it is so clearly an attempt to exonerate
Mitsusuke from blame. For a discussion of the text, see Wada Hidemichi,
"Kahitsu Monogatari no Keisei."
58. Quoted by Tomikura Tokujiro in his "Kaidai" to Meitokuki, p. 178. Prince
Sadafusa was also known as Gosuko-in. He was the grandson of the
Emperor Suko. Yamana osho refers to Yam ana Ujikiyo, a former gov-
ernor of Oshu. Oshu was otherwise known as Mutsu, and consisted of
the five provinces at the northern end of the island of Honshu.
59. Ibid., p. 180.
60. Ibid., p. 13.
61. Ibid., pp. 94-96. The text seems to be corrupt in places, but I believe that
the meaning is more or less as given.
62. Obviously, women had committed suicide, but not in the manner of a
man on the battlefield.
63. Tomikura, Meitokuki, pp. 120-21.
64. See Sugimoto, Gunki, p. 372. He lists the main characters of the different
episodes, including four women.
65. Meitokuki was the source of the No play Kobayashi, written not long after
the events described, probably by Miyamasu.
66. Takahashi Nobuyuki, "Sosetsu" in Okami Masao and Kadokawa
Gen'yoshi, Taihcihi, Soga Monogatari, Gikeiki, p. 188.
67. A stimulating account of the different types of performances is given by
Barbara Ruch in "Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a National
Literature."
68. See Takahashi, "Sosetsu," p. 188; also Thomas J. Cogan (trans.), The Tale
ofthe Soga Brothers, p. xxxviii. Fukuda Akira, in Chusei Katarimono Bungei,
pp. 48-60, terms this "literature recited by mediums" (fushuku).
912 The Middle Ages
69. This point is emphasized by Ruch in "Medieval Jongleurs," p. 286.
70. Takahashi, "Sosetsu," p. 184. Takahashi quotes a passage in the manabon
text of The Tale of the Soga Brothers stating that a copy of it was sent to
China along with one of The Tale of the Heike. The Chinese, reading it,
were so struck with admiration by the description of Hojo Masako that
they exclaimed, "We have heard Japan is a small country; is it possible
such a wise woman lives there?" It is most unlikely that these two works
were sent to China, and even more improbable that any Chinese praised
Masako in these terms; the passage was probably no more than a literary
flourish intended to persuade an audience that Masako was admired even
by the Chinese, but it strongly suggests that the two works were composed
in a language that the Chinese could understand.
71. Takahashi, "Sosetsu," p. 183, gives as examples of other works in this
style Shintosha, Gempei Toso-rohu, and Daito Monogatari.
72. The manabon version seems to have been virtually unknown in Kyoto,
as we can gather from the fact that it exercised extremely little influence
on such literary forms as the No plays and the kowaka dance recitations,
both products of the Kyoto culture. See Amano Fumio, "Denkiteki Sekai
e no Keisha," p. 144.
73. The relationship is unusually complicated. Officially, Suketsugu was the
son of Ito no Suketaka's stepdaughter, and Sukechika was the son of his
eldest son. This more or less makes them cousins. However, the text
informs us that Suketsugu was actually the son of Suketaka, who had
paid secret visits to his daughter-in-law. If this is accepted, Suketsugu
was the uncle, rather than the cousin, of Sukechika. For textual reference
in the kanabon to the irregular relations of Suketaka and his stepdaughter,
see Ichiko Teiji and Oshima Tatehiko, Soga Monogatari, p. 55; also Cogan,
The Tale, p. 8. The same relationship was reported in the manabon; see
Okami and Kadokawa, Taiheiki, p. 205.
74- Translation in Cogan, The Tale, p. 40; original text in Ichiko and Oshima,
Soga, p. 94. Sukeyasu is referred to in the latter text as Kawazu no Saburo
Sukeshige, and in the mana bon as Kawazu no Saburo Sukemichi. How-
ever, works of history give Sukeyasu, and that no doubt is why Cogan
rendered the name as Sukeyasu throughout.
75. Translation by Cogan (except for the poem which is my version) in The
Tale, p. 233. Original text in Ichiko and Oshima, Soga, p. 352. The
mana bon text does not specify Otonai was quartered and does not contain
the poem. (See Okami and Kadokawa, Taiheihi, p. 255,)
76. See Amano, "Denkiteki," pp. 145-46, for excerpts from the manabon that
illustrate this point.
77. Among the Kabuki plays Sukeroku Yuleari no Edozahura and Ya no Ne
are perhaps the best known. For the latter play, see Laurence Kominz,
"Ya no Ne; The Genesis of a Kabuki Aragoto Classic."
78. Hitomaro and Akahito were, of course, two leading Man'yosha poets;
Medieval War Tales
Narihira was the hero of Tales of Ise, and Genji of The Tale of Genjl.
There was nothing unorthodox about Tora's literary tastes.
79. Translation in Cogan, The Tale, p. I I 1. The translation is free-necessarily
so, because the text is highly poetic and elliptical. Original kanabon text
in Ichiko and Oshima, Soga, p. 194.
80. For a list of the nineteen No plays based on The Tale of the Soga Brothers,
together with brief summaries of each, see Cogan, The Tale, pp. xxxiii-
xxxv. Summaries of eight Kabuki and Bunraku plays with the name Soga
at the head of the title are found in Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijlten, IV,
pp. 37-4 I, and there are many other plays (such as Yotsugl Soga) that
were derived from The Tale of the Soga Brothers but are not given in this
entry of Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijlten because their titles begin with a
word other than Soga.
81. Morris, The Nobility, p. 67.
82. Hogan or hangan was a position of the third rank within the kebllshl, or
imperial police. In this instance (and in many others) it was purely an
honorary title and did not involve any duties.
83. The first known use of the term was in 1638, but it probably existed from
early in the sixteenth century. See Kajihara Masaaki, "Kaisetsu," in his
edition of Glkelkl, pp. 6-7.
84. Yoshitsune is the title of the complete translation of Glkelkl by Helen Craig
McCullough. G1ke1 is the Sino-Japanese rendering of the name Yoshitsune,
and k1 means "record." The use of the Sino-Japanese pronunciation of a
man's name is found as early as Shomonk1 (The Story of Masakado), and
(closer to Yoshitsune's time) there are the examples of Shunzei and Teika,
commonly used instead ofToshinari and Sadaie as pronunciations of these
poets' names.
85. For a summary of the various theories concerning the time of composition,
see Kajihara, "Kaisetsu," pp. 16-18. The most persuasive attempt to date
the play was probably that of Amano in "Denkiteki," pp. ISS-59. Amano
concluded, on the basis of the failure ofYoshltsune to include the Yoshitsune
legend found in the No play Settai, that it must have been compiled before
the play was first performed; Amano thought it was "highly probable"
the play was written before 1430, and this provides a date by which
Yoshltsune would have been compiled. The rufubon text of Yoshltsune,
compiled during the Tokugawa period, includes the Settai legend.
86. I shall refer below to "the author," even though I recognize the probability
that there was more than one author, in order to avoid the necessity of
saying each time "the author or authors." I should note, however, that
not all scholars are agreed that Yoshltsune was written by more than one
author, and some more recent authorities, such as Amano (in "Denkiteki,"
p. 159), accept the view that one author wrote the entire work.
By "author-performer" I mean someone-probably a zato (blind
priest) in the case of Yoshltsune-who recited the text before an audience and
914 The Middle Ages
in the process of reciting may have made additions of his own invention.
It was suggested by Kadokawa Gen'yoshi that the identification of Yoshi-
tsune's wife as a member of the Koga family, and the close association
of the Koga retainer Kanefusa with Yoshitsune at the end of his life,
neither supported by historical evidence, was owing to the patronage of
the storyteller by the Koga family. See Fukuda Akira, Chiisei, p. 66.
87. See Kajihara, Gikeiki, pp. 26-28.
88. Helen Craig McCullough, who used the text (based on a movable wooden
print edition of the early seventeenth century) given by Okami Masao in
Gikeiki, stated (p. 5): "All known texts of Yoshitsune (Gikeiki) are sub-
stantially the same; there are no important variants." This is a matter of
degree: although all texts are generally the same, there are many points
of difference, not all of them minor. The edition given by Kajiwara
Masaaki in the Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series is a text (the Tanaka-
bon) first given scholarly attention in 1947-48 but not printed until 1965.
Kajiwara believed that this text is the most complete and has the fewest
errors. See Kajihara, Gikeiki, pp. 31-35, for a discussion of the various
texts. It differs significantly from the text given by Okami, but was not
available at the time McCullough made her translation.
89. Translation by Helen Craig McCullough in Yoshitsune, p. 134. Text in
Kajihara, Gikeiki, p. 193.
90. Following the text in Kajihara, Gikeiki, p. 482. The text used by Me-
Cullough in her translation (Yoshitsune, p. 285) gives thirty thousand!
91. The text used by McCullough ends (Yoshitsune, p. 294) with an appro-
priately Confucian sentiment: "Nothing is so important in a warrior as
loyalty and filial piety."
92. Translation in Helen Craig McCullough, Yoshitsune, pp. 157-58. The text
given by Kajihara in Gikeiki, pp. 239-40, does not mention Shizuka's
name, but states that there were five shirabyoshi.
93. McCullough translation, Yoshitsune, p. 165. Text in Kajihara, Gikeiki,
P·253·
94. See above, note 86.
95. Translation by Helen Craig McCullough, Yoshitsune, p. 255. The text
given by Kajihara in Gikeiki, pp. 439-40, is rather different: 'They stayed
for three days in the capital, and he [Yoshitsune] thought he would like
to visit the Heisen-ji, a place famous in this province. The members of
the party were not pleased with this, but since it was his command, they
arrived that day at the Kannon Hall of the Heiscn-ji. The wind and rain
were fierce, and his wife was not feeling well."
96. There is one exception: in the sea of Dannoura, Benkei shoots down a
sinister cloud that is formed of the malevolent spirits of the Taira dead.
97. Every critic I have read has insisted that Yoshitsune is not merely a series
of tales about Yoshitsune; but there is a general reluctance to discuss the
clumsy transitions, repetitions, and inconsistencies in characterization that
Medieval War Tales
hopelessly mar the literary quality. See, for example, Sugimoto, Gunki,
pp. 266-67. Fukuda Akira in Chiisei, p. 63, suggested that the unsatis-
factory ending (at least for modern readers) was part of a consistent pattern
within the work of presenting comparatively raw materials leading to the
violent death of the hero without making any attempt to achieve literary
finish. Amano ("Denkiteki," p. 159-6I) found a unifying element in the
author's frequent use of proverbs and similes. It has no doubt proved
difficult to pass an unfavorable judgment on the literary merits of a work
that has enjoyed popularity over the centuries. Helen Craig McCullough
believed that "the work deserves kinder treatment than it ordinarily re-
ceives." Yoshitsune has certainly not lacked admirers among postwar schol-
ars, though I do not happen to be one of them.
98. See below, pp. I 153-55, for a treatment of these chanted and danced
playlets on martial themes.
99. For a comprehensive account of legends in the Muromachi period, see
Helen Craig McCullough, Yoshitsune, pp. 36-66. See also Kajihara, Gikeiki,
PP·29-3°·
roo. Helen Craig McCullough, Yoshitsune, pp. 262--63.
ro t , Ibid, p. 263
I02. Ibid, pp. 268-69.
I03. This is a quotation of two famous lines by Tu Fu.
I04. Text in Irnoto Noichi et al, Matsuo Basho Shu, pp. 364-65. Translation
adapted from my Anthology ofJapanese Literature, p. 369.
lOS. The three previous "mirrors" (kagami) were The Great Mirror, The New

Mirror, and The Water Mirror. For a description of these works, see chapter
14. One other mirror, Yayotsugi, preceded The Clear Mirror. It treated the
reigns of two sovereigns-c--Takakura (the eightieth) and Antoku (the
eighty-first), but this work was lost, presumably during the Muromachi
period. In the Tokugawa period Arakida Reijo (I732-1806) filled in the
gap in the chronology with her Tsuki no Yuleue (InI). She followed the
tradition of the various "mirrors" by inventing a centenarian who de-
scribed events of a past which by this time was exceedingly distant.
I06. Iwasa Tadashi, et al., [inno Shotoki, Masuleagami, p. 248. In this volume
Tokieda and Kido edited the section on Masuhagami. I shall refer to it
below as Tokieda and Kido, Masukagami.
I07. Although the text is entirely related in the words of the old nun, she
speaks not the colloquial language of the fourteenth century but a Heian-
style language reminiscent of The Tale of Genji.
I08. See Yamagishi Tokutei and Suzuki Kazuo, Okagami, Masakagami, pp.
186-88, for a discussion of the criteria used in determining the author,
such as the period when he was active, his prejudice in favor of the nobility
rather than the military, and his cultural background. The most unusual
qualification for the author was that he be a supporter of the Nortern
rather than the Southern Court; if he had been living in the Yoshino
9[6 The Middle Ages
mountains he would not have had access to the documents needed in
writing the work. In every respect Yoshimoto seems more likely to have
been the author than any other well-known figure of the period.
109. For a discussion of the various theories of the date of composition, see
Yamagishi and Suzuki, Okagami, Masukagami, pp. 185-86; also, the article
"Masukagami" by Kids Saizo in Nihon Koten Bungaeu Daijiten, V, p. 520.
Inoue Muneo, whose Masukagami Zen'yakuchu appeared the year before
the volume of Nihon Koten Bungaleu Daijiten containing Kido's article,
gave his reasons in II, pp. 389-94, for believing The Clear Mirror was
written between 1338 and 1358.
I ro. Quotation of part of the poem by Saigyo (Shin Kokinshi; 1778): "If there
is nowhere for me to live, I won't live anywhere; in this world even a
brushwood hut is only for a little while." Saigyo has found he can no
longer live even in the traditional brushwood hut of a hermit. He will
henceforth be without a dwelling; but, after all, one is not very long in
this world. The poem is quoted to suggest how frail and flimsy the house
on Oki seemed to one who had hitherto lived in palaces.
I I 1. An allusion to a famous poem by Po Chu-i that includes the lines, "On
the night of the fifteenth [of the eighth month], in the light of the moon
as it first appears, I long for old friends, more than two thousand miles
away." These lines move Gotoba as never before.
112. "Murmured the words" is my addition. The text gives only the poem,
without any indication of whether he wrote it down, recited it to someone
else, or murmured it to himself. I have chosen the last of these possibilities
because some verb is needed in English.
113. Tokieda and Kido, Masukagami, p. 279.
114. Translation by Edward G. Seiden sticker In The Tale of Genji, I, pp.
230-31.
115. See Tokieda and Kido, Masukagami, pp. 299-301; also Yamagishi and
Suzuki, Okagami, Masukagami, pp. 231-36.
116. Possibly there were other manuscripts that were destroyed during the
warfare.
117. The borrowings from The Confessions of Lady Nijo are the subject of the
article by Matsumoto Yasushi, "Masukagami to Towazugatari," in Ya-
magishi and Suzuki, Okagami, Masukagami, pp. 355-64. On pp. 358-59
Matsumoto gives parallel passages from the two works. The half-sister of
Gofukakusa was Gaishi, the daughter of the Emperor Gosaga and former
high priestess of Ise. She was also indirectly related to Nijo: her grand-
mother was at one time the wife of Nijo's grandfather, but later married
another man (Toshimori), and the daughter by the marriage was Nijo's
mother. The brief affair between Gofukakusa and Gaishi is described in
Fukuda Hideichi, Towazugatari, pp. 78-82. See also the English trans-
lation by Karen Brazell, The Confessions of Lady Nijo; pp. 56-61. Mu-
ramatsu Hiroshi in Rekishi Monogatari, pp. 274-82, discusses various
Medieval War Tales
sources of The Clear Mirror, including Godai Teia Monogatari, a fourteenth-
century historical tale that covers five reigns extending from 1221 to 1272,
and The Diary ofLady Ben, but concludes that the only irrefutable instance
of borrowing is from The Confessions of Lady Nt/a. 1 have treated that
work on pp. 841-44.
118. Fukuda Hideichi, Towazugatari, P: 81.
119. The sixteenth of the seventeen chapters. The title is derived from a poem
by the Emperor Godaigo: Kiki okishi / Kume no Sarayama / koeyukan /
michi to wa kanete / omoi yawa seshi. The meaning of the poem is: "I had
heard of Kume no Sarayama, but did 1 ever dream in the past that one
day 1 would take the road over the mountains?" Kume no Sarayama was
an utamakura in the province of Mimasaka (the modern Okayama Pre-
fecture). The chapter was no doubt given this name to convey Godaigo's
surprise and grief that he saw a place known to him from poetry but only
on the way to exile.
120. The text says "the second year of Genko." Genko was the reign-name
used at this time by Godaigo and his adherents. When Kogon was crowned
in the fourth month of that year his court began to use a different reign-
name, Shokei, The use of Godaigo's reign-name may suggest the author
belonged to his faction, but the year began as the second of Genko for
everyone. It is possible, too, as Tokieda and Kido suggest (Jinna Shatoki,
Masukagami, p. 227), that the author-assuming he was Nij« Yoshimoto-
was personally much attached to Godaigo even though he was a member
of the Northern Court. Certainly the portrait of Godaigo in this chapter
of The Clear Mirror must have been intended to arouse sympathy.
121. This refers to the reign of the Emperor Kogon (1331-1333). Kogon, a
descendant of the Emperor Gofukakusa, was a member of the [imyo-in
line of the imperial family. It was the policy of the Kamakura shogunate
to alternate succession to the throne between this line and the Daikaku-
ji line (of which Godaigo was a member), descended from Kameyama,
the younger brother of Gofukakusa. Kogon was crown prince at the time
of Godaigo's attempted coup. He was placed on the throne by Ashikaga
Takauji as Godaigo's successsor. Godaigo, however, did not abdicate, but
continued to consider himself the reigning sovereign. Kogon abdicated
when Godaigo returned from exile.
122. At the time two emperors who had abdicated and entered Buddhist orders
were living in the capital-Gofushimi (1288-1336) and Hanazono (1297-
1348).
123. Although the author clearly sympathized with Godaigo, who had not
abdicated, he evidently felt obliged to describe him as the "former em-
peror" because Kogon had officially ascended the throne.
124. fi5yajin probably refers to the court ladies who were neglected by the
Emperor Hsuan Tsung because of his infatuation with the celebrated
Yang Kuei-fei. "The White-haired Palace Lady," the poem by Po Chu-
 The Middle Ages
i, refers to the fate of these women doomed to wait for a summons from
the emperor until they were old and gray. See Tokieda and Kido, Ma-
sukag am i, p. 457.
125. My translation from Anthology ofJapanese Literature, pp. 242-43, slightly
modified. Text in Inoue, Masukagami, II, pp. 244-47.
126. Tokieda and Kido, Masuhagami, p. 458; also Inoue, Masuhagami, p. 249.
Translation from Keene, Anthology, p. 244.
127. Tsubo-sozoleu wa a traveling costume worn by women of the upper class
during the Heian and Kamakura periods. The basketlike hats covered
the head, and hems of the long robe were held up by a cord that kept
them from touching the ground. See Ivan Morris, The Pillow Book of Sei
Shonagon, II, p. 36, for his explanation of this costume.
128. Tokieda and Kido, Masukagami, 459-60; also Inoue, Masuhagami, II, pp.
252-55. Translation modified from Keene, Anthology, pp. 245-46.
129. See Yamagishi and Suzuki, Okagami, Masukagami, p. 275, where it is
suggested that the description ofGodaigo's exile owed much to the "Suma"
and "Akashi" chapters of The Tale of Genji.
130. Tokieda and Kido, Masultagami, p. 465; also Inoue, Masukagami, II, pp.
280-84. Translation adapted from Keene, Anthology, p. 250.
131. In the text they are in fact referred to by titles-hon'in (main retired sover-
eign) for Gofushimi, and shin'in (new retired sovereign) for Hanazono.
132. Tokieda and Kido, Masukagami, p. 466; also Inoue, Masaliagami, II, pp.
286-88. Translation adapted from Keene, Anthology, p. 250.
133. Tokieda and Kido, Masukagami, p. 469; also Inoue, Masukagami, II, pp.
300-2. Translation in Keene, Anthology, p. 252.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Amano Fumio. "Denkiteki na Sekai e no Keisha," in Kitagawa Tadahiko (ed.),

Gunki Monogatari no Keifu. Kyoto: Sekai Shisosha, 1985.
Brazell, Karen. The Confessions of Lady Nijo. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday,
1973·
Cogan, Thomas J. The Tale of the Soga Brothers. Tokyo: University of Tokyo
Press, 1987.
Fukuda Akira. Chusei Katarimono Bungei. Miyai Shoten, 1981.
Fukada Hideichi. Chusei Bungaeu Ronko. Meiji Shein, 1975.
- - - . Towazugatari, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1978.
Hasegawa Tadashi, "Gekokujo no Sekai," in Okami Masao and Hayashiya
Tatsusaburo, Bungaku no Gekokujo, in Nihon Bungaku no Rekishi series.
Kadokawa Shoten, 1967.
Medieval War Tales
Ichiko Teiji and Oshima Tatehiko. Saga Monogatari, in Nihon Koten Bungaku
Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1966.
Imoto Noichi, Hori Nobuo, and Muramatsu Tomotsugu. Matsuo Basho Shu,
in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series. Shogak uk an, 1972.
Inoue Muneo. Masukagarni Zen'yakuchu, 2 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko
series. Kodansha, 1983.
Iwasa Tadashi, Tokieda Motoki, and Kido Saizo. [inno Shotokz~ Masukagami,
in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1965.
Kajihara Masaaki (ed.). Gikeiki, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zen shu series. Sho-
gakukan, 1971.
Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
Kido Saizo, Chusei Bungaku Shiron. Meiji Shoin, 1984.
Kitagawa Tadahiko. Gunkimono no Keifu. Kyoto: Gendai Shiso Sha, 1985.
Kominz, Laurence. "Ya no Ne; The Genesis of a Kabuki Aragoto Classic,"
Monumenta Nipponica 38:4, 1983.
Masuda Shu. "[okyuki-s-Kaiko to Ternbo," Kokugo to Kokubungaku 37=4, April
1960.
Matsubayashi Yasuaki. "Kobu no Kassenki," in Kitagawa Tadahiko, Gunk]:
mono no Keifu.
- - - . Shintei fOkYiiki. Gendai Shicho Sha, 1982.
Matsumura Hiroshi. Rchishi Monogatari. Hanawa Shobe, 1979.
McCullough, Helen Craig. The Taiheiki. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1959.
- - - . Yoshitsune. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1966.
McCullough, William H. "ShokYiiki: An Account of the Shokyu War of 1221,"
Monumenta Nipponica 19:1-2, 3-4, 1964.
Mills, Douglas E. "Soga Monogatari, Shlntoshi; and the Taketori Legend,"
Monumenta Nipponica 3 0 : 1, 1975.
Morris, Ivan. The Nobility of Failure. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston,
1975·
Nagazumi Yasuaki. Chiisei Bungaku no Kanosei. Iwanami Shoten, 1977.
Nagazumi Yasuaki, Uwayokote Masataka, and Sakurai Yoshiro. Taiheik) no
Sckai. Nihon Hoso Shuppan Kyokai, 1987.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Oka Kazuo. Masukagami in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shimbun Sha, 1948.
Okami Masao (ed.). Taiheihi, 2 vols., in Kadokawa Bunko series. Kadokawa
Shoten, 1975-82.
Okami Masao and Kadokawa Gen'yoshi. Taiheiki, Soga Monogatari, Gikeiki,
in Kansho Nihon Koten Bungaku series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1976.
Ruch, Barbara. "Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a National Literature,"
in John Whitney Hall and Toyoda Takeshi, Japan in the Muromachi Age.
Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977.
Seidensticker, Edward G. The Tale of GenJi, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 1976.
 The Middle Ages
Sugimoto Keizaburo. Gunki Monogatari no Sekai. Meicho Kankokai, 1985.
Varley, H. Paul. A Chronicle of Gods and Sovereigns:[inno ShOtoki of Kitabatahe
Chikafusa. New York: Columbia University Press, 1980.
- - - . Imperial Restoration in Medieval Japan. New York: Columbia Uni-
versity Press, 197!.
- - - . The Onin War. New York: Columbia University Press, 1967.
Yamagishi Tokuhei and Suzuki Kazuo. Okagami, Masukagami, in Kansho
Nihon Koten Bungaku series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1976.
Yamashita Hiroaki (ed.) Taiheihi, 5 vols., in Shincho Nihon Katen Shusei series.
Shinchosha, 1977.
Yokoi Kiyoshi. Chusci wo ikita Hitobito. Kyoto: Minerva Shabo, 198!.
 24.
RENGA

~e Muromachi period is not known for its waka poetry, though (as
we have seen) Shotetsu gave it a sunset glow with his criticism as well
as his poetry. It is clear that, with rare exceptions, the waka did not
attract the best poets of the day. Renga (linked verse) was far more
important; indeed, it was the representative poetic form of the age.'
Renga did not originate at this time. Renga poets, in an effort to
impart dignity to a genre of humble origins, regularly traced the history
of renga all the way back to a passage in the Kojiki in which a poem
is composed by two persons, Prince Yarnato-takeru and an old man.
The prince asked,

Niibari How many nights

Tsukuba wo sugite Have I slept since passing
iku yo ka netsuru Niibari and Tsukuba?

To this the old man replied:

kaganabete Counted on my fingers,

yo ni wa kokonoyo The nights figure up as nine,
hi ni wa taka wo And the days amount to ten.'

The exchange is in the form of two kata-uta, each of three lines of

5,7, and 7 syllables, though the first line of the prince's poem is a syllable
short.' The two half-poems, put together, approximate a sedaka, but the
question and answer are so prosaic they can hardly be said to constitute
a poem. Renga poets of later centuries nevertheless revered this exchange
as the first ancestor of their art, and the mention of the place-name
Tsukuba in the prince's half-poem gave rise to the elegant circumlo-
cution of "the Way of Tsukuba" as a name for the art of renga.'
92 2 The Middle Ages

Other instances of a single poem composed by two people are found

in the Man'yoshu and in Tales of lse? The composition of short renga-
normally, a waka composed by two people-developed by the middle
of the Heian period into a social pastime. One person would present a
riddle in the form of a maeku (first half-poem), and another solved it
with a tsukeku (added half-poem). The more complicated or absurd the
premise of the maeku, the greater the achievement of anyone who could
make sense of it by appending two lines. Numerous anecdotes describe
how a particularly brilliant rejoinder impressed people at a gathering."
The wit displayed in the tsukeku often took the form of a pun or play
on words; mention, say, of a bow in the maeku all but invited a tsukeku
containing the noun ham (spring), a homonym of the verb ham, "to
draw a bow." Japanese lends itself easily to puns because of its many
homonyms.
Renga received its first official recognition when a renga section was
included in the Kin'yoshu, compiled between 1124 and 1127. The eigh-
teen pairs of half-poems constitute a representative selection of the worst
in short renga composition, as a sample may suggest. The maeku by
the priest Raikei bears the headnote:
"On seeing peach blossoms at Momozono [Peach Garden]."

Momozono no Look! the peach blossoms

momo no hana koso In the garden of peaches
sakinikere Have burst into bloom.

The tsukeku by Oe no Kin'yori" (d. 1040) accordingly refers to Umezu

(Plum Tree Ford):

Umezu no mume wa I wonder if the plum blossoms

chiri ya shinuran" At Plum Tree Ford have scattered.

The point of this exchange is that each of the place-names contains

the name of the blossom particularly associated with the place. Kin'yori's
query about the fate of the plum blossoms reveals he was aware that
peach blossoms open later than plum blossoms.
Another maeku (by one Tamesuke) bears the headnote: "On seeing
the island of Shika in Tsukushi."

tsurenahu tateru See the island of Shika

shika no shima kana That stands aloof like a deer.
Renga

The tsukeku (by Kunisada) is in 5, 7, and 5 syllables, an instance of the

longer "half' of the poem following the shorter "half" of 7 and 7
syllables.

yumihari no U muffled even

tsuki no iru ni mo By the crescent moon that drops
odorokade" Like a spent arrow.

These two "links" contain puns that expand their meaning. Shika is the
name of an island, known in poetry since the Man'yoshii, but is also a
homonym of the usual word for "deer." Yumihari, literally "bow drawn,"
refers to the bowlike shape of the crescent moon. This meaning occasions
the pun on iru, meaning (with reference to a bow) "to shoot an arrow,"
but (with reference to the moon) "to sink beyond the horizon."
Nothing is harder to appreciate in translation than a pun, and no
doubt it is unfair to subject the short renga, which so heavily depended
for effect on puns and similar witticisms, to the kind of explication
appropriate for the mature renga, but the impression of inanity given
by these verses is not misleading. Renga would probably have remained
at this level, of no more artistic significance than riddles or guessing
games, had it not been for two developments: the increase in the number
of "links" from the original two, in this way destroying the original
conception of renga as a single waka composed by two people; and the
adoption of the enlarged renga as a means of expression by poets and
scholars who had been stimulated by the possibilities of the new form.
The beginnings of the "chain renga" (kusari renga) is traditionally
traced back to an event recorded in the historical tale The New Mirror.
In an account of the pleasures of music and poetry at the court of Prince
Arihito (I I03-1 147), a man of such artistic talent and dazzling good
looks as to bring to mind Prince Genji, we are told:

On still another occasion, when someone!" came out with the fol-
lowing verse,

Nara no miyalo: wo Turn your thoughts for a moment

omoi koso yare To the capital at Nara-

the general [Arihito] responded,

yaczakura Yes, the double cherries

aki no momiji ya Are lovely, but tell me about
ika naran The red autumn leaves.
 The Middle Ages

When he had added this verse, Echigo no Menoto in turn added,

shigururu tabi ni Every time the rain sweeps down

ira ya kasanaru The colors grow the brighter.

Her rejoinder was praised long afterward. This kind of thing hap-
pened very often.!'

Once poets were no longer obliged to confine their linked verses to

the thirty-one syllables of a waka, there was no reason why they could
not prolong their renga-making to thirty or fifty or even a hundred
links. By the middle of the twelfth century renga in fifty links were
being regularly composed," but the standard number of links in a renga
sequence was eventually established at one hundred, probably on the
analogy of the hundred-poem sequences of waka or the hundred-round
uta-awase. By 1333, as we know from the description in the Taiheiki, a
renga sequence in ten thousand links had been composed." Initially at
least, the element of play remained the dominant factor even in the
expanded renga: the clever rejoinder, the play on words that gave a new
twist to the meaning of the previous verse, and the quickness to catch
an allusion were prized more than beauty of expression.
The situation changed when the court poets became actively inter-
ested in renga composition. By this time, elaborate rules for the com-
position of waka had been framed, and it was therefore natural for poets
to enhance the new art with equally demanding rules to be observed
by participants in renga sessions. The two most important rules were
the fushimono and sari-kirai.
The fushimono were set topics. At the beginning of a renga session
the topic would be announced in terms, for example, of "mountain
something" or else "something mountain." If the former, every verse,
regardless of its overall content, had to contain a word that could be
added to the word "mountain" and still make sense, such as "valley"
to form "mountain valley" or "spring" to form "mountain spring"; if
the latter, the word would precede mountain, on the lines of "snowy
mountain," "moonlit mountain," and the like. The necessity of observing
the fushimono made renga composition more interesting, as rules make
any game more interesting, and the fushimono also imparted a kind of
unity to the sequence; even if the successive links were otherwise un-
related, they all shared a connection (however remote) with the assigned
topic. By the beginning of the fourteenth century there were dictionaries
Renga

of fushimono vocabulary to help renga poets. As many as two hundred

examples of words that could be used before or after the thirty or so
recognized fushimono were listed." Long after their original purposes
had come to be fulfilled by more effective poetic means, a fushimono,
like the title of a poem, continued to head each renga sequence. Some-
times the fushimono was decided on after all the links had been com-
posed, more or less as an afterthought!"
The principle of san-kirai, literally "avoidance and dislike," had the
opposite purpose to the unifying function of the fushimono: it was
instituted in order to keep renga sequences from appearing like single,
uninterrupted poems that might have been written by one person." In
the case of the seasons, for example, it was decreed that spring and
autumn could be treated in as many as five successive links, but summer
and winter in no more than three. This meant that although the first
three links of a sequence might state directly or by metaphor that the
season described was spring, presently the season might shift to autumn
or winter. It might be imagined that an abrupt shifting of the seasons
would create contradictions that would destroy the unity of a renga
sequence; in fact, however, only the links immediately before and im-
mediately after a given link needed to be taken into consideration, and
when the season changed a "neutral" link between the two seasons kept
them from clashing, much as, in a horizontal scroll depicting different
seasons, golden clouds separate the seasonally changed vegetation. Renga
was a chain, each link of which fitted smoothly and strongly into the
link on either side, but connections between more remote links were
deliberately avoided. Observance of sari-kirai ensured that the content
of a renga sequence would shift in many directions and remain unpre-
dictable until the last link had been forged.
The principle of sari-kirai was also applied in forbidding the use of
synonyms or associated words. Poets of waka or haiku generally observed
the same rule, if only because the poems they wrote were so short they
could not waste any syllables with unnecessary repetitions. A renga
sequence was much longer, but any two links could be considered a
poem," and as such it was bound to obey the same rules as the waka
in avoiding verbal repetitions.
The manuscript of a renga session, recorded by a scribe, was written
on a fixed number of sheets of paper folded in a prescribed manner. In
the case of a sequence in one hundred links, four sheets were used, in
the following manner: Sheet One, 22 verses (8 on the front side and 14
on the back); Sheet Two, 28 verses (14 on each side); Sheet Three, 28
verses (14 on each side); and Sheet Four, 22 verses (14 on the front side
 The Middle Ages

and 8 on the back)." Some words could be mentioned only once on a

given side of a sheet, others not before the second or third side, still
others only once in the entire manuscript.
The rules kept multiplying until there were so many that poets had
trouble remembering them all. On one recorded occasion, newly framed
rules were hung on the wall to help the participants," but even that
proved insufficient, and eventually no renga session was complete with-
out a judge who was thoroughly versed in the rules and could instantly
point out transgressions.
We might suppose that the proliferation of rules would have made
spontaneous expression impossible, but as W ordswoth wrote of the
sonnet,

In truth the prison unto which we doom

Ourselves no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.

N 1p3 YOSHIMOTO (1320- I 388)

The chief figure in the elevation of renga from a game to a demanding

and artistically important art was Nijo Yoshimoto, a noble of the highest
rank who rose in 1346 to be kampaku and head of the Fujiwara clan."
Yoshimoto was a waka poet of some distinction. His early training was
in the conservative waka of the Nijo school, and at one time he studied
under Ton'a, the leading Nij« poet of the day. Yoshimoto did not neglect
waka composition, even after he became the preeminent theoretician of
renga. More than sixty of his waka were included in imperial collections,
and he also produced several treatises on the art of the waka. It is safe
to say, however, that he would be forgotten as a poet if he had not also
devoted himself to renga. He was a pupil of the renga master Kyusei"
(I282?-1376?), ajige (commoner) poet, and under Kyusei's tutelage he
acquired authority as an expert on renga. Yoshimoto saw no contradic-
tion in composing both waka and renga, believing that renga was a
"miscellaneous" form of wak a" and not an unrelated genre.
It is not clear just when Yoshimoto began the study of renga, but
Renga
probably it was while he was still in his teens, under the influence of
his father, an enthusiastic amateur practitioner. By the time he was in
his early twenties, Yoshimoto himself was sponsoring large-scale renga
sessions." In the meantime, in 1336, when he was sixteen, he had made
a critical decision of a nonliterary nature that affected the rest of his
life: he decided to remain in the capital rather than follow his former
master, the Emperor Godaigo, into the mountains of Yoshino. When
Ashikaga Takauji marched into Kyoto he brought with him the prince
he had decided to install as the new emperor. The enthronement cer-
emony of the Emperor K6my6 was carried out at Yoshimoto's residence,
and from this time on Yoshimoto's fortunes would be closely linked
with those of the Northern Court. He served six emperors of that court,
four times in the highest position of chancellor or regent, and he shared
its vicissitudes, fleeing or returning to the capital as the fortunes of the
war dictated.
In 1345, in his twenty-sixth year, Yoshimoto completed the oldest
surviving textbook of renga composition, Hckircnsho, better known in
the revised version called Renn Hishii." In an afterword Yoshimoto
stated that he had written the work in response to a query from someone
living in the country about the nature of renga. He modestly avowed
that (because of his ignorance) everything he had written was mistaken;
but he had been so moved by the devotion to renga of his interrogator
that he had willingly exposed himself to the ridicule of others by setting
forth his views on the subject. He hoped, however, that the man in the
country would soon find a master teacher and toss away these mistaken
opinions."
Yoshimoto here and elsewhere in Renri Hishii insisted that the ability
to compose renga successfully came from two factors: the poet's inborn
qualities, and the experience of composing renga with superior poets.
He continued,

Renga arises from within one's heart and must be learned for oneself.
There is absolutely no need to learn from master teachers. One should
constantly seek out occasions for composing renga with accomplished
poets.... To practice renga solely at gatherings of incompetent poets
is worse than not practicing at all. This is something one must be
careful about while one is a beginner. It is also why the renga of
even skilled poets suffers if they live in the hinterland, for however
short a time.... The only way to improve as a poet is to practice
with superior poets and acquire experience at attending sessions. In
addition, one should gain inspiration by perusing the three collec-
 The Middle Ages

tions," The Tale of Genji, Tales of Ise, books of utamakura," and

suchlike works."

Yoshimoto was especially concerned with the problems facing be-

ginners in renga composition:

While one is still a beginner one should not ponder too much one's
verses. As is true also for the other arts, it is better to express one's
first thoughts as they come, rather than mull over the pros and cons,
which can lead only to confusion. However, when a good many
outsiders and other accomplished poets are present at a session, the
beginner should hesitate somewhat to speak out. Even after he has
become skillful at composing renga, he will find it difficult to decide
on the spot whether a given verse of his own is good or bad. It
frequently happens that even when the poet himself thinks a verse
is poor, the judge may award it high marks for its skill. This is not
a sign of incompetence on the judge's part, nor is it proof that the
poet cannot tell his good from his bad verses. It occurs simply because
at a certain moment a particular verse just happens to have caught
the judge's fancy."

Advice to beginners in renga appears also in Yoshimoto's later works

of renga criticism. In Tsuhuba Mondo (Questions and Answers on Renga),
he recognized that poetic ability was likely to be inborn, quoting various
Chinese philosophers on the subject," but he was surprisingly open-
minded concerning what class of people might compose renga. He
himself, in a manner hardly typical of waka poets on the day, associated
with plebeian poets, notably his own teacher, Kyusei, whom he revered
despite his humble origins. Yoshimoto insisted that neither high birth
nor scholarship was necessary to an aspiring renga poet:

If a beginner's renga is bad, it will do him no good to worry himself

about scholarship or the regulations on words to be avoided. Practice
is the best way to improve one's renga. If a poet's renga is still not
interesting, even after he has memorized the Man'yoshu, the Kokin-
shu, and all the later collections, acquiring knowledge will be like
counting the jewels belonging to a neighbor. On the other hand,
even if a man cannot read a single character, ifhis renga is competent,
he will surely feel that he has obtained the jewels for himself." After
all, the poems of a dancer and a courtesan appear in the Man'yoshu
and the Kokinshu, and there are even beggar's songs among the old
Renga

verses. In all of these cases, recogruuon came about because their

poems were admired. After one's renga has become interesting is
the best time to acquire learning."

Such passages are the chief attraction for modern readers in Yoshi-
mote's critical works, but Renri Hisho was probably read in its time
mainly for its practical guidance, rather than for its philosophy. It opens
with a brief account of the history of renga, beginning with an example
from the Man'yoshi; of a waka composed jointly by a nun (the first
seventeen syllables) and Otomo no Yakamochi (the remaining fourteen
syllables)." This is followed by more general remarks on how one sets
about learning renga, points to be observed by beginners, the language
of renga, the technicalities of composition (such as the fushimono), the
conduct of renga sessions, and finally, a consideration of what constitutes
a link between one verse and the next. The second part of Renri Hishii
gives specific directions as to which words can be used only once in a
hundred-link session, which twice, which three times, and so on.
Yoshimoto's prescriptions would be followed by renga poets of even
much later times." A typical directive enumerates which words can be
used only once in a hundred-link sequence:

Young shoots, wisteria, kerria roses, azaleas, and irises in the category
of plants.
Deer, monkeys, song thrushes, cuckoos, fireflies, cicadas, evening
cicadas, cherry shells (but cherry blossoms can be used in addition),
and unknown insects in the category of animate things.
Long ago, ancient times, evening, yesterday, spring rains, evening
showers, passing showers, early rain, storm winds, hiding places,
water conduits, hanging bridges, morning sunlight, sunset, morning
moon, evening moon. These are all words of secondary significance
and should be used only once."

Even if one recognizes that the repeated use of certain words, es-
pecially unusual or particularly vivid words, would harm a poetic se-
quence (or, indeed, any literary composition), Yoshimoto's designation
of words that can be used only once in a hundred links is bound to
seem arbitrary. Perhaps the rules of any game are likely to seem arbitrary,
but Yoshimoto was clearly aiming at something more elevated than a
mere game. His prescriptions would be unquestioningly followed by
practitioners of renga of his day and altered in later times only after
much deliberation. Yoshimoto enhanced the artistic quality of renga by
93° The Middle Ages

the emphasis he gave to conscious artistic creation, as opposed to the

flashes of wit that had earlier passed for skill in renga.
Yoshimoto's later texts of renga composition are of even greater
interest. Tsultuba Mondo, written between 1357 and 1372, stands out
among Yoshimoto's critical works in its literary, almost novelistic quality,
both in the style and in having an old man narrate his views on renga
in a conversational manner, recalling the similar device in such historical
tales as The Great Mirror. Unlike his other discussions of renga, here
Yoshimoto, instead of responding to questions about renga, is asking
another person, an old man who knows more about renga than himself,
about the art.
Yoshimoto begins with the question of whether or not renga is
unique to Japan. The old man answers that it is not; the Buddhist hymns
(ge) provide an Indian example of the art, and in China there is lien-
chic (renku). The next questions concern the historical development of
renga in Japan, and the old man responds with the usual examples from
the Kojiki and the Man'voshu, as well as from more recent collections
of poetry. Another line of questioning relates to the uses of renga: does
it help to foster good government or to achieve salvation for the poet
in the world after death? As we might expect, the old man supplies
examples that demonstrate renga is indeed of great efficacy in promoting
both good government and salvation. He is sure that every syllable in
a renga sequence must conform to morality and cites the numbers of
holy men who devoted their lives to renga. Not only ordinary human
beings, but the buddhas of past and present have all composed poetry;
and of the different varieties of poetry, renga with its frequent shifts of
subject and mood most closely corresponds to the mortal world itself."
Another aspect of the religious significance of renga can be surmised
from the frequency with which sequences were offered to temples and
shrines. Renga manuscripts might bring recovery from illness or victory
in battle. In 1471 a hokku (opening verse) offered by Sogi to the Mishima
Shrine in Izu was credited with having effected the miraculous cure of
a child; and in 1504 Socho offered at the same shrine a renga sequence
in a thousand links to assure the victory of the daimyo he served." In
Tsukuba Mondo Yoshimoto mentioned that two of the great religious
leaders of recent times, Bukkoku Kokushi (1241-1316) and Muso Ko-
kushi (1275-1351), both composed renga "day and night" and no doubt
this was of benefit to them." Yoshimoto himself was not a priest, but
the prominence he gave in Tsukuba Mondo to the religious significance
of renga indicates that he shared a belief in its special powers."
The fact that one could offer renga to the Buddha or to a Shinto
Renga 931

divinity in the hopes of obtaining worldly benefits suggests the practical

value of renga composition. Yoshimoto, unlike the typical waka poets,
did not look back to some golden age of poetry; the present world was
his concern. As a member of the Nijo school, he was conservative when
it came to waka and followed its poetic diction, essentially the two
thousand words that occur in the poetry of the Kokinshii. On the whole,
Yoshimoto preferred the traditional vocabulary even in renga, but he
believed that renga should not be bound by the other conventions of
the waka (such as honka-dori): "As the times change, so styles also
change, and there is no need to defend the old ways. One should accept
the common preferences and, instead of insisting on narrow prejudices,
respect the leading poets of our time and current usage."40 He insisted
that a poem that was not of interest to the general public was worth-
less, regardless of how correctly orthodox it might be." Although he
does not say so in so many words, Yoshimoto was in effect encouraging
poets to take up renga, rather than waka with its constricting
conventions.
He turned his attention next in Tsultuba Mondo to the flow of a
renga sequence. The renga composed for the first sheet of the manuscript
should be marked by quiet beauty (yiigen), but from the second sheet
some liveliness was desirable, and the verses on the third and fourth
sheets should contain the most striking materials of the sequence. As in
Japanese music, a progression fromjo (slow introduction) to ha (devel-
opment) to kyii (climax) should be observed in renga; the first sheet of
manuscript corresponded to jo, the second to ha, and the third and
fourth to kyu.?
Yoshimoto shifted his discussion at this point to a basic aspect of
renga, the manner of combining striking verses with plainer ones within
a sequence." The compilers of the Shin Kokinshi; had believed it was
important to maintain a smooth flow of imagery, seasonal references,
and tone from one poem to the next in the collection, even though this
necessitated including quite ordinary poems to serve as bridges between
the indisputable masterpieces; if only masterpieces had been included,
they might not have fitted together as "links" in a chain of associations."
The Japanese language itself seems to have a preference for long
sentences that seem reluctant to end," and even when the sentences do
in fact end, there is usually a smooth transition to the next one, rather
than the beginning of a new paragraph. In renga, of course, transitions
from one link to the next are of crucial importance; one might call
renga an art of transitions. As Yoshimoto was aware, a verse that was
in itself brilliant might be undesirable from the point of view of an
932 The Middle Ages
entire sequence if, because of its brilliance, transition to the next verse
was made difficult. He wrote,

In general, it must be accounted a sign of superior renga when [only]

two or three striking verses are included in a session otherwise
consisting of ground verses of unobtrusive character. How could
every single verse be noteworthy? The people of the past used to
say that one should mix impressive poems only here and there among
the ground poems making up a sequence of one hundred waka."

Yoshimoto next considered the individual verses of a renga sequence.

The hokku, the opening verse, was by far the most important. If the
hokku was a failure, the whole sequence would be a failure, irrespective
of the quality of subsequent verses. Yoshimoto did not enter into details
on the desirable content of a hokku, but later men did. Mokujiki Ogo
(1536-1608) declared in his book of renga rules that the hokku should
not be at variance with the scenery of the place (whether mountains or
the sea dominated) and should convey its appearance at the time of
composition (whether cherry blossoms or autumn leaves were falling).
It should also allude to the prevailing atmospheric phenomena such as
the wind, clouds, mist, fog, rain, dew, frost, snow, heat, cold, and phase
of the moon. However, he added, the hokku must seem spontaneous;
"it is not interesting if it seems to have been prepared beforehand.':"
The wakiku, or second verse, echoed the season of the hokku and
matched it in meaning, but it had to advance the progress of the sequence.
The wakiku almost always ended with a noun, and if there was allusive
variation in the hokku, the wakiku also had to contain one. The daisan,
or third verse, marked a first shift away from the mood of the first two
verses. It normally concluded with -te, the participial form of a verb.
Later verses in a sequence were also governed by rules, notably that of
sari-kirai, but they were not quite so demanding as the first three verses.
Yoshimoto gave attention not only to the content of a renga sequence
but to the decorum that should be observed at a gathering:

Once the place of the gathering has been decided, the scribe first
comes forth, kneels beside the round mat, then (after obtaining the
host's permission) sits down on it, opens the writing set, takes out
the sheets of paper and folds them, places them before him, and
prepares the ink. Next, he takes up the brushes, examines them,
wets with the ink only two of them, moistens the brush he is to use,
removes the back of the brush stand, and puts it on the floor. He
Renga 933
waits for a signal from the host, at which he writes the first character
of the title. After the hokku has been produced, he should confer
with the most accomplished person present with respect to the fu-
shimono and then write it down. The scribe should begin writing
the first page with the hokku, read it aloud, then intone it. He should
be thoroughly informed on matters concerning things to be avoided
(kiraimono), and should explain them in the event of contraventions."

The elaborate etiquette of such a gathering was a far cry from the
renga sessions that had been popular before Yoshimoto's day, and which
continued to enjoy popularity away from the court. Such sessions were
apt to turn into gambling bouts at which participants bet on the number
of points the judge would award to successive verses. At times renga
gatherings were forbidden by local authorities because of the undesirable
riffraff they attracted. Even when the renga sessions did not lead to
open gambling, prizes were commonly awarded for the best verses." In
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when renga masters, driven from
the capital by warfare, traveled to distant parts of the country to receive
hospitality from local warlords, they normally followed a session of
serious renga (no doubt just as painful for the renga masters as for their
badly educated pupils) with more cheerful, often bawdy, renga helped
along by sake. Konishi [in'ichi commented on one session held at the
Imperial Palace in 1480 in the presence of the Emperor Gotsuchimikado,
the former Chancellor Ichijo Kaneyoshi, the then Chancellor Konoe
Masaie, and various other notables, that it is difficult to tell whether the
main object of the gathering was renga or sake."
Regardless of the nature of the poetry composed, however, renga
was by its very nature a group endeavor. It is tempting to imagine that
the possibility of joining with other people in making poetry, on whatever
level, was particularly appealing in an age of warfare when men more
commonly met to kill; but even if this cannot be proved, the composition
of poetry as a communal undertaking has without question continued
to exert a special attraction on the Japanese, as we know not only from
the haikai style of renga popular during the Tokugawa period but from
the many twentieth-century associations of tanka and haiku poets who
regularly meet to compose together under the supervision of an admired
poet, and who publish their poems in the magazine edited by the poet.
Indeed, it has been argued that all traditional Japanese literature is in
some sense the literature of a group, or at least of multiple authorship.
The waka addressed by a man to a woman who had attracted him was
indeed his own composition, but it generally included allusions to the
934 The Middle Ages

poetry of the past that he was sure she would recognize because she also
belonged to a za (or group) of poets, which composed poetry based on
a shared knowledge of that past. The woman's reply to the man's poem
would not only answer it in its own terms but match it, often in such
a way as to suggest a dialogue poem or even two stanzas of the same poem.
Prose was also communally shared. People in one romance were often com-
pared to those in another, and the diarists traveled mainly from one uta-
makura to another, associating themselves with the travelers of the past.
But of all the literary arts, the one most easily discussed as za no
bungaku,51 the literature of the group, is renga. It is true that some poets
composed whole renga sequences by themselves, but even when such
sequences were of high literary quality, a solo renga (dokugin) forfeited
the possibility of unexpected responses. 52 Yoshimoto believed that seven
or eight participants was an ideal number for renga; if too few people
took part the sequence was not likely to go well." Of course, the par-
ticipants could not be a random group of poets. A za was a group of
poets who shared a communality of spirit that was fostered by a respect
for the literature of the past. This did not necessarily involve any loss
of individuality on the part of the participants, though it is true that
nobody deliberately tried to be unlike the others. Yoshimoto compared
renga to No, another art carried on by a za.> The No actors who
performed a play belonged to the same za and were accustomed to
working together, but this did not eliminate their individual, though
usually unconscious, characteristics as actors; and the audiences for No
(now as in the past) consisted largely of people who themselves had
studied the singing of the texts and the performing of the dances,
establishing a far closer relationship between themselves and the actors
than is common in European theater. In the case of renga, too, the ideal
reader was one who had actually had the experience of creating renga;
only such a reader would be able to fully understand and (more im-
portant) enjoy the shifting associations.
Two styles of renga composition were practiced. The first and lit-
erarily far more important was the ushin, or serious renga, the second
the mushin, or comic renga. Few examples of mushin renga survive, no
doubt because the poets did not think it worth wasting paper and ink
to record the quips that passed for verse; but extant manuscripts of
thousands of ushin renga sessions have yet to be printed, and perhaps
never will be, considering the general lack of interest in renga today.
Yoshimoto's most important work was probably Tsuhuba Shu (Tsu-
kuba Collection), compiled in 1356 with Kyusei. It is in twenty books,
the standard number for imperially sponsored collections, and was ev-
Renga 935

idently intended to impart to renga the same kind of dignity that the
Koeinshi; had brought to the waka. He largely succeeded in this effort:
in the following year Tsuhuba Shu was honored by being classed as the
"next after" (jun) an imperial collection of waka. The Tsuleuba Shu
consists of 1,993 pairs of verses arranged so as to demonstrate how the
second verse successfully linked with the first. Only the authors of the
tsukeku are identified, a clear sign that skill in linking onto an existing
verse (of whatever quality) was more important than the intrinsic literary
value of the verses. Book XIX contains twenty-four examples of u/altan
(Japanese verse linked to five-character lines in Chinese), and various
miscellaneous poems. Book XX is devoted to hokku.
Kyusei, Yoshimoto's collaborator, is represented by 118 verses, the
largest number, followed by Yoshimoto himself with 79. The manner
of the collection may be suggested by a few examples. The first bears
the prefatory note, "Among the hundred links composed at a renga
session held in his house when he was minister of the Right.""

hana osoge naru Spring in a mountain village

yamazato no haru Where the blossoms seem so late.

kore u/o miyo But just look at this-

kasumi ni nokoru Lingering in vernal mist,
matsu no yuki56 Snow on the pine trees.

In response to the conventional maeku, which mentions the slowness

of spring flowers to reach the mountains, Yoshimoto points out the
beauty of a tardy spring, when early mist hovers over the winter's
lingering snow. The tsukeku shifts the mood from the forlorn aspect
of a village, forgotten by the spring, to the discovery of a beauty visible
nowhere else, a sight of such charm that cherry blossoms seem unnec-
essary. In another tsukeku Yoshimoto responded to an evocation of
particular phenomena with a conceptualization:

yama u/a shika no ne In the hills, the cries of deer,

no ni wa naleu mushi In the fields, the piping insects.

mono goto ni In every single thing

kanashiki ka na ya What sadness meets the senses
aki no kure57 This autumn evening!

Another, more complex linkage is found in Kyusei's tsukeku to a

spring maeku:
 The Middle Ages

inochi toa shirazu Human life is uncertain,

hi koso nagakere But how long the days in spring!

shiratsuyu no Rain is falling now

tama no 0 yanagi On the strings of white jewels-
ame furite 58 Dew on the willows.

The maeku is perhaps spoken by an old man, who contrasts the

uncertainty of his life, which may end at any moment, with the unhurried
calm of a spring day. In the tsukeku Kyusei responded to the uncertainty
of life by mention of tama no 0 (a string of jewels), a metaphor for the
easily broken thread of life, and to the length of the spring days by
mention of the willow, a tree whose twigs were often used by waka
poets as metaphors for great length. Kyusei's tsukeku not only continued
the description of a spring scene but responded to both elements of the
maeku.
In Renri Hishii Yoshimoto distinguished fifteen varieties of linkage-
simple meaning, overtones, language, allusion, place-names, and so on."
Tsukuba Shit is in a sense a series of demonstrations of exactly how these
different linkages were performed. Yoshimoto naturally could not fore-
see that a time would come when people would stop wanting to compose
renga. He was confident that Tsukuba Shit would serve as a model:
"This work has been selected as an imperial collection and includes
many different kinds of links. I am sure that people of future times will
for this reason regard the present with awe.?"
One does not often find in the history of Japanese literature such
confidence in the value of contemporary writings, but for Yoshimoto
the present moment was the most important. He insisted that renga did
not take into account the past or future, only the present and the chal-
lenge to compose a response to another's verse. Unlike the waka poets
who attached such importance to their art that they staked their life on
a single poem and were so wounded by criticism as to die of grief,61
renga poets were too absorbed with the task immediately before them
to think of anything else." Renga for Yoshimoto was a source of joy
untroubled by the bothersome traditions that had grown up around the
waka.
Nijo Yoshimoto was an extraordinary figure. Though he must have
been obliged to spend most of each day dealing with official business,
he somehow found time to devote long hours to poetry, especially renga.
Together with Kyusei, he compiled Dan Shinshiki (New Rules of the
Oan Era, 1372), which served for seventy years as the standard rulebook
Renga 937

for renga cornposition.v Yoshimoto's own renga did not rank with the
finest examples of this genre, but his successors, building on his work,
would make of renga one of the most distinctive genres of Japanese
literature.

Renga did not flourish during the years following Yoshimoto's death
in 1388. It has even been said that the twenty or thirty years afterward
are a blank in renga history. This does not mean that renga suffered
any drastic loss of popularity. On the contrary, many renga sessions
were held in the capital, and poets of the time did not doubt that they
were faithfully continuing the art developed by Yoshimoto and his
teachers. But there were no masters, and later generations of renga poets
considered that the renga composed at this time represented the deg-
radation of a once noble art. The blame for the decline in the quality
of renga was often placed on Shua (d. 1377?), a former pupil of Kyusei,
who was accused of having so completely forgotten the teachings of his
master as to be interested only in impressing people by his cleverness;
it was averred that the links he contributed to renga sequences dazzled
the ignorant but at the cost of destroying the harmony of the whole.
Shua was in fact a thoroughly competent poet, as we know from
his active participation in various important renga sessions;" and his
style enjoyed great popularity in the years after Kyusei's death. The
special appeal of his work lay in his skill in capturing every last asso-
ciation (yoriai) found in the preceding verses (rnaeku) with his continuing
links (tsukeku), The manner in which he and Kyiisei came to differ in
their styles is illustrated by the tsukeku they gave to the same maeku
by Nijo Yoshimoto;"

matsu am kata ni Are those cicadas singing

semi ya naleuran Off there where the pine trees grow?

Kyusei's tsukeku was:

yamamzzu no The sound of mountain

nagaruru oto wa Water flowing resembles
ame ni nite The sound of the rain.

Shua's tsukeku was:

 The Middle Ages

ame kaze wo In the mountain shade

morogoe ni kiku He hears the mingled voices
yamagahurc Of the rain and wind.

Shinkei, over a hundred years later (in 1468), added this verse:

ki naru ha wa The yellowing leaves

sono no kozue ni On treetops in the garden
saki ochite" Are the first to fall.

Kyusei's tsukeku is at once the simplest and the most effective of

the three. Mention of semi (cicadas) in the maeku evoked the association
of semi-shigure, a dinning of cicadas that was synesthetically compared
to a drizzling rain (shigure), and this led Kyusei to think of rain itself;
from rain his thoughts moved to mountain water. Together with the
maeku, Kyusei's tsukeku means something like: "Are those cicadas
singing off where the pine trees grow? No, it is a mountain stream
flowing through the pine forest, its sound like rain or perhaps like
'cicada rain.' "
Shua was even more ingenious. Mention of pines (matsu) in the
maeku evoked for him the association with pine wind (matsukaze), and
semi with semi-shigurc (as it did for Kyusei as well). But he added a new
subject to the sequence, someone living in solitude in the shade of a
mountain who listens to the varied "voices" of the rain and wind. Shua
managed to carryover in his tsukeku both images of the maeku-the
pines (represented by the pine wind) and the cicadas (represented by
the "cicada rain")-and even added a human element. Such virtuosity
appealed to his contemporaries, but it brought on him the charge of
superficial ingenuity from some modern commentators."
Shinkei's tsukeku was inspired by a phrase in a Chinese poem con-
tained in Wakan Riici Shu, "Cicadas sing in the yellow leaves.?" Shinkei
explained, however, "The cicadas had been singing in the leaves of the
autumn trees, but after the leaves fell, they moved to the pines." He
admitted that he was not entirely pleased with his own verse, but blamed
this on the maeku, saying it was so ungraceful he could not possibly
add a decent tsukeku.
It is not hard to imagine why ingenuity of Shua's kind should have
been popular in his day and afterward, or why more traditional renga
masters resented this popularity. His style was bitterly attacked years
later by Shinkei, the haughtiest of the renga masters, who likened the
debasement of the art of renga by Shua and his followers to the triumph
Renga 939

of the fiendish Chinese emperors Chieh and Chou over the virtuous
Yao and Shun."
During the transitional period from 1388 until the middle of the
fifteenth century, there were few poets of significance, and the art threat-
ened to revert to its origins as a literary game; but this long slump was
followed by an extraordinary revival of renga composition and works
of renga criticism. Perhaps the badness of the bad period was exaggerated
by the poets of the revival who, pleased with their own consecration to
the art of renga, were harsh when they discussed their predecessors.
Shinkei, for example, wrote of Bonta (1349-1425?)/1 a military man
who, though originally a pupil of Yoshimoto, had been much influenced
by Shua, "Bonta's verses overlook the heart of the preceding links; his
only concern is to make his own verses interesting."72
Shinkei's comment was surprising in view of Bonta's expressed views
on the subject: "The previous verse is to renga what the topic is to a
waka.... However hard one many try to compose a waka, if one has
a poor grasp of the topic, many errors will result, and what one writes
will not be a waka. With renga, too, if one does not have a good idea
how to attach one's link to the previous verse it will not be renga.'""
Bonta's chief fault in the eyes of his successors may have been that he
left the capital and the pursuit of renga for about twenty years, beginning
in his fifties when he took the tonsure as a Buddhist priest. During this
time he roamed in various parts of the country. When eventually he
returned to the capital about 1420 and attempted to resume his life as
a renga poet, his compositions were severely criticized, perhaps because
his style had remained intact while the style of poets in the capital had
undergone many changes." Shinkei again and again wrote in unfriendly
terms about "country people" (inaka hotori no hito), contrasting their
simplistic understanding of renga with his own profound commitment
to the art. Perhaps that was the reason why he wrote disparagingly of
Bonta, at least some of the time.
It is hard to date the revival of renga, but it could be argued that
it began in 1452 when Ichijo Kaneyoshi, the grandson ot Nijo Yoshimoto,
collaborated with the renga master Takayama Sozei (c. 1386-1455) to
produce Shinshiki Kon'an (New Views on the New Rules), a revision of
Yoshimoto's code of renga composition of 1372. In Steven D. Carter's
words, "These new rules became the basis for serious renga composition
throughout the latter part of the fifteenth century."?' Most of the new
rules consist of additions to the various categories established by Y0-
shimoto; for example, under the category of "Things That May Appear
as Many as Four Times in a Hundred-Link Sequence," Kaneyoshi
94° The Middle Ages
added: "Shrine (twice in the context of Shinto, twice meaning 'imperial
residence.' But one of these instances should involve a Famous Place).'?"
Such changes in the rules undoubtedly meant more to renga poets than
we can easily appreciate, but far more important than what Kaneyoshi
changed was the fact that the highest official in the country was actively
interested in renga composition. The patronage given to the art by such
a man earned for Kaneyoshi the reputation of being a second Yoshimoto,
though he was by no means so distinguished a poet, and renga com-
position again assumed a dominant role in the literary society of the
time.
Kaneyoshi's career in many ways parallels that of his grandfather.
Born into the highest rank of the aristocracy, he became minister of the
interior at the age of nineteen, minister of the Right at twenty-two, and
kampaku at forty-five. As a young man he displayed considerable talent
for waka composition, and his learning was also exceptional for the
time. He wrote both the Japanese and Chinese prefaces to the last
imperial collection of waka, Shin Shokukokinshu (1439). Kaneyoshi also
served many times as the judge of poem competitions, but none of his
own waka or his criticism of other people's is read today; his standard
of excellence was the work of Fujiwara Teika, and he was convinced
that any deviation from Teika's views was heresy. He is remembered
as a man of impressive scholarship, but not as a poet.
Kaneyoshi produced a large number of books, including important
studies of the Heian classics, most notably Kachii Yojo (Overtones of
Flowers and Birds, 1472), a commentary on The Tale of Genji. He
delivered lectures to the nobility at his house from 1444 on The Tale of
Genji and other Heian texts. Unlike earlier commentators, who had
confined their explanations to items of vocabulary, Kaneyoshi gave ample
consideration to the meaning of whole passages in the text, profiting by
his exceptional knowledge of court ceremonial and precedents to clarify
customs that had become obscure in the centuries since Murasaki's time.
His views on The Tale of Genji are no longer of much interest, but his
advocacy of the work greatly contributed to its popularity during the
Muromachi period.
It is not clear when Kaneyoshi first became interested in renga
composition, but probably it was after meeting Sozei, his future collab-
orator. Sozei, originally of the samurai class, had served the powerful
Yam ana family in the province of Tajima, and he maintained these
connections until the end of his life, even though in the meanwhile he
had become a priest on Mount Koya." He studied waka with Shotetsu
and renga with Bento, and demonstrated proficiency in both. In par-
Renga 94 1

ticular, the renga he composed during sessions held in 1445 attracted

such favorable attention that three years later the shogun, Ashikaga
Yoshinori, named him the "administrator of the renga meeting place"
(kaisho bugyo) at the Kitano Shrine," and also "renga teacher" (renga
sosho), the highest positions a renga poet could obtain." It was probably
after he received this recognition that Sozei went to visit Kaneyoshi.
The combination of these two men-a gifted poet and the outstand-
ing intellectual of the day-ensured that a revival of renga could occur
under the most favorable conditions, but they were not together for
long. Sozei left the capital in 1454 after Yam ana Sozen, whose troops
had fought against the shogun, was ordered to retire to his domain in
Tajima. Sozei followed his protector into exile, where he died the fol-
lowing year.
Sozei's renga, though enhanced by the yugen he had learned from
Shotetsu, is not so highly regarded today, mainly because of its ingenuity,
suggesting that renga was still something of a game for him. The
following tsukeku typifies his art:

ura ka omote ka Is it inside or outside?

koromo to mo nashi Maybe a cloak, perhaps not.

shinonome no In the faint glimmer

ashita no yama no As day breaks on the mountain,
usugasumi 80 A pale swathe of mist.

Sozei's tsukeku interprets the "cloak" of the maeku as mist that

seems to clothe the mountain at daybreak, when there is still not enough
light to discern whether one sees the outside or the lining of the "cloak."
The maeku is extremely vague, and it was clever of Sozei to make sense
of it by identifying the cloak as early morning mist, but there is little
depth in such a verse. All the same, Sozei supplied a necessary link in
the chain of poets from Kyusei to the masters of the 1460s and 1470S.
Shinkei praised Sozei, along with Chiun (d. 1448), as "masters the likes
of whom will probably not be born for another two or three hundred
years,"!' and credited the two men with the revival of renga in recent
years;" but he also criticized Sozei in these terms:

If one examines his poetry carefully, one will see that for all his
devotion to the art, he was a man of the mundane world through
and through. He was a warrior by disposition, and grew up sur-
rounded day and night by the crudities of the world of soldiers and
 The Middle Ages

weapons. He had absolutely no conception of the transience and

changes of the world, no inclination to study and practice the Bud-
dhist Law. Perhaps because he lacked even a particle of such interest,
his skill was entirely technical, and there is no imagination, no
overtones, no compassion in his verses. He composed not one decent
love poem, but only crude verses that are absolutely devoid of ushin
or yugen. Shotetsu frequently said the same thing."

Shinkei's feelings toward Sozei, a man who long had enjoyed the
protection of a warlord, may also have been influenced by the disgust
he felt on witnessing the destruction of the capital by the military during
the Onin War. Shinkei wrote the first of the three letters that make up
Tokorodokoro Hentii (Replies to This and That) in 1466, the year before
the war actually broke out, and the last in 1470, at the height of the
fighting. He fled the capital in 1468 and did not return until 1473.
The archetypal figure of the intellectual during the Onin War was
Ichijo Kaneyoshi. Although he had known only the privileged life of
an aristocrat until this time, he was suddenly faced with danger and
even, for a time, with starvation. In his Fude no Susabi (The Consolation
of the Brush), written in 1469 when he was living in Nara as a refugee
from the warfare with his son, the abbot of a temple, he described the
destruction of his most valuable possession, the library that had been
passed down in his family for generations:

Every single one of all the temples in the East Hills and West Hills
that had stood, a perfect beehive of rooftiles ranged alongside roof-
tiles, was set afire and destroyed, and now not a blade of green grass
was left, only clouds blotting out the whole. If one looks into the
cause of what has happened, it is clear that it was nothing that should
have developed into such a disturbance. People who yesterday were
as close as father and son today tried to kill each other, behaving as
if they were confronting tigers or wolves .... The time had come
for the destruction of the Buddhist Law and the temporal law, and
it seemed as though the merciful gods of the various heavens had
exhausted their power to help. Now that it had become a struggle
between dragons and tigers, the fighting would not quiet down until
both friends and enemies had perished.... For a time I found a
place to stay in the area of Kujo, where I pondered all that had
happened, but before long the place went up in smoke and was left
an ashen wasteland. My library, probably because the building was
roofed with tiles and had earthen walls, managed to escape the
Renga 943
flames, but bandits of the neighborhood, supposing that there must
be money inside, soon broke their way in. They scattered the
hundreds of boxes that had been the haunt of bookworms, and not
one volume was left of all the Japanese and Chinese works that had
been passed down in my family for over ten generations. I felt exactly
like an old crane forced to leave its nest, or a blind man who has
lost his stick. And as for renga, I had always regretted that no
collection preserved the works that had been composed since the
Tsukuba Shu, and I had made up my mind to collect as many
compositions of recent times as came to my attention. I gave this
manuscript the title of Shingyoeu Shu 84 and had begun to copy out
the text in twenty volumes. But this, too, was scattered somewhere,
and I have no idea where it might be now."

Kaneyoshi remained in exile a total of ten years, five of them in

Nara. He resigned as kampaku in 1470, and spent his time writing and
lecturing on the classics. This was his most productive period as a writer,
and because of his presence, Nara, which for centuries had been largely
deserted except by priests, became the cultural center of the whole
country. Many nobles, escaping from the war-torn capital, went to join
Kaneyoshi in Nara, and he, freed from his duties at court and enjoying
the comforts of the great monastery Kofuku-ji, devoted himself to the
study of The Tale ofGenji and other classics, corrected examples of renga
sent to him, wrote prefaces to other people's books, and kept up a lively
correspondence. During his years of exile he was helped materially by
the renga master Sogi, whom he had earlier befriended. It was ironic
that Kaneyoshi, a member of a most distinguished noble family, should
have depended on Sogi, a man of the humblest origins, but such shifts
in fortunes were not uncommon during an age characterized asgekokujo,
those underneath conquering those above.
It would be easier to sympathize with Kaneyoshi had he not been
such an extremely vain man. He compared himself to Sugawara no
Michizane, pointing out three respects in which he was superior to the
god of literature." His achievements did not confirm he was entitled to
such an honor, though he was clearly the outstanding scholar of the age
and, it might be argued, the last high-ranking aristocrat to contribute
significantly to the creation of Japanese literature.
944 The Middle Ages

Shinkei, though he has not enjoyed the fame of Sogi, his younger
contemporary, was one of the two or three finest renga poets of all time.
He came from samurai stock, but entered the Buddhist priesthood as a
small child and spent the rest of his life in orders, rising eventually to
the high rank of acting archbishop (gonsozu). His early literary training
was in the waka, which he studied with Shotetsu. He later recalled that
when Shotetsu died in 1459, "Although I had served him day and night
for thirty years, I could not remember a single thing he had said and
had never achieved the smallest degree of enlightenment. Now that my
teacher was no more, I felt like stamping my feet in vexation."87 This
statement was presumably an example of self-effacing modesty: Shinkei's
poetry, both waka and renga, showed how much he had in fact benefited
by Shotetsu's guidance." But the death of Shotetsu apparently convinced
Shinkei that the waka was also dead; he wrote,

In recent times the art of the waka has been completely abandoned,
and I therefore thought I would try to study and clarify this art of
the renga as sincerely as I could, in the hope that I might embody
in renga at least some fragments of the teachings of waka, soften
the hearts of soldiers and rustics, and transmit its feelings to people
of later ages. 89

It is not clear with whom Shinkei studied renga, but as early as 1433
he was taking part in such events as the ten-thousand-link renga offered
at the Kitano Shrine under the sponsorship of Ashikaga Yoshinori. In
1447 Shinkei, along with several outstanding renga poets of the day
(including Sozei and Chiun), composed the Anegakoji Imashimmei Hya-
kuin (One Hundred Verses Composed at the Imashimmei Shrine in
Anegakoji)."
There are gaps of many years separating the known events in Shin-
kei's poetic career. Perhaps they were occasioned by the ill health of
which he early complained, or it may be that his priestly duties kept
him from composing poetry. In 1463 Shinkei wrote his best-known work
of criticism, Sasamegoto (Whisperings)," which established his impor-
tance among the renga poets of the day. His chief contribution to renga
was the Buddhist religiosity that he brought to a previously secular art.
Sasamegoto is cast in a familiar form of renga criticism, the question
and answer. Probably Shinkei composed not only the answers but the
questions. A typical section discusses the importance of yugen, a critical
Renga 945
term in the appreciation of renga. The overall meaning of this difficult
section seems to be that true yugen-s-that is to say, true beauty of
expression-is not a surface manifestation, as people of Shinkei's day
supposed, but lies in the heart of the poet. It is difficult to find equivalents
for Shinkei's key terms, and in the following passage I have had to
translate certain Japanese words in several quite different ways:

Question. Is it correct to keep the style of yugen central in one's

mind as one cultivates this art?
Answer. People of the past used to say that yugen should pervade
the form [sugata] of every verse. It is the most essential thing for
anyone who practices the art. However, what people in the past
understood by yugen would seem to be far removed from what most
people today suppose it means. People of the past seem to have
considered that the heart was where the most important aspects of
yugen were to be found, but most people today think it refers to a
gentility of surface [sugata]. Perfect beauty [en] is difficult to achieve
within one's heart [kokoro]. Many people try to improve their external
appearance, but only the solitary individual can improve his mind
[kokoro]. That is why the poems which the people of the past con-
sidered to be in the yugen style are not easy to understand these
days."

The word kokoro, as always, is difficult, corresponding to both mind

and heart in English. Sugata usually means "form," but in poetic criticism
often is closer to "overall tone." Yugen varied in meaning with the time
and the person who used the term; the characters with which the word
is written literally mean "mysterious darkness," but often yugen meant
"charm" or "elegance" rather than anything more profound. Not all of
Shinkei's pronouncements are so hard to translate, but he was a difficult
poet and critic and demanded the most of all who practiced the art of
renga, as the following may suggest:

Question: Why is it that the verses by a poet who has attained the
highest realm of expression should become increasingly difficult to
understand?
Answer. Our predecessors have discussed this matter. It is to be
expected that ordinary people who have ears only for the verse that
has just been linked should find it difficult to understand the mind
of a man for whom the study and practice [of this art] involve not
disregarding the meaning of every previous verse and every single
 The Middle Ages

particle. He keeps the whole of the hundred links in mind, constantly

going back and forth, considering links that skip a verse luchikoshi]
or repeat an earlier theme ltorin'e], and he gives careful thought
even to the link that the next man is likely to append to his own
verse."

Obviously, it was beyond the average practitioner of renga to follow

the example of the master conjured up by Shinkei in this section of his
work. Only a person who devoted his every faculty to the art with a
consecration no less than that devoted to a religion could satisfy Shinkei's
description of a master of renga. His study of Zen philosophy led him
to demand exalted ideals for the art that went far beyond the lyrical
impulses of earlier masters or the pleasure in the game that probably
still induced people to take part in renga sessions. Shinkei often discussed
renga in Buddhist or Confucian terms, citing the "ten virtues" or the
"seven treasures" of the art, or tracing parallels between the three bodies
of the Buddha and the three kinds of understanding of renga.?'
The effect of such prescriptions was to impart to renga a forbidding
dignity and grandeur. It is unlikely that people of his time understood
his purpose. The renga composed at the court still contained a strong
element of play, and Shinkei seems not to have participated in more
than a handful of official sessions. Unlike Sozei, Shua, Sogi, and various
other renga masters, he was never appointed as the Kitano "adminis-
trator" of renga. In short, he seems to have been relatively little known
in his own time." For his part, Shinkei had only contempt for the rank
and file of amateur renga poets. In Sasamegoto he used the words "coun-
try people" as a term of abuse, and tomogara (the masses) was equally
pejorative. When queried about the belief, common in China (and in
Europe), that great poetry should be intelligible even to a peasant, his
answer was unambiguous:

Someone asked, "They say that a waka or renga accords with the
true way of poetry when it is enjoyable even to the humblest, most
barbarous peasant. What do you think of that?"
No art worthy of the name is intelligible to persons of shallow
understanding who have not mastered it. No doubt even the most
untalented and ignorant person may be pleased by closely related
verses?" and a banal style, but it is inconceivable that anyone only
vaguely familiar with the art could understand poetry of an elevated
and profoundly beautiful nature."
Renga 947
By Shinkei's time the history of renga was long enough for him to
be able, like Teika prescribing the correct way to learn waka, to urge
renga poets to learn from the masters of the past. Without study of the
old models, he asserted, it is impossible to become an accomplished poet.
On the other hand, study of the wrong models permanently impairs a
poet. Shinkei told the story of a man who asked a famous shaleuhach:
player to admit him as his pupil. "Can you already play the shakuhachi?"
the master asked. The would-be pupil replied, "I have practiced a little."
To this the master responded, "Then I can't teach you." Shinkei con-
cluded, "From this one may see that it is impossible to straighten a mind
that has once entered an incorrect path, however briefly."98
Shinkei's preference in waka was for the style of the Shin Kokinshu,
not too surprising in a pupil of Shotetsu's. He recalled that Shotetsu
had often said, "It is true that I studied with Lord [Reizei] Tamehide
and [Imagawa] Ryoshun, but in waka I look to the hearts of Teika and
[ichin for direct guidance. I feel no nostalgia for the worn-out remnants
of the Nijo and Reizei schools."99 Shinkei, looking back on the period
of the Shin Kokinshu, felt it was a time of prodigies, when waka poetry
"fell into place." "It was indeed an age when Buddha himself appeared
in the world of this art. [The poets included] the Emperor Gotoba,
Fujiwara no Yoshitsune, the priest Jichin, Shunzei, Teika, Ietaka, Saigyo,
[akuren. And among the poets of recent times, the 'bones' [jukotsu] of
Shotetsu provide the best model for the careful study and practice of
this art.?"?
Shinkei made little distinction between the waka and renga; his
reason for devoting himself mainly to renga was, he wrote on several
occasions, because the art of waka was neglected in his time. He con-
sidered renga not (as some renga poets did) as an independent art that
had its own ancient roots, but as the appropriate form of poetry for an
age that was sadly unlike the ages of the past when waka had flourished.
The qualities that most attracted Shinkei to the poetry of the Shin
Kokinshu or of the Chinese masters was what he called take takaku
hiekori, literally, "lofty and chilled to ice." Loftiness is an easily recog-
nized ideal, but the chill of poetry, as opposed to warmth, has not often
been espoused. Shinkei explained this conception in the following terms:

The greatest of the Chinese poets, Tu Fu, during the course of his
lifetime composed poems only about his grief, and it may be said
that his life was one of grief. Hsu Hun during his whole career
composed poems only about water, three thousand of them. Truly,
 The Middle Ages

there is nothing so deeply moving, so cool and refreshing as water.

At mention of "the waters of spring" one's heart becomes relaxed
and a vision comes before one's eyes, somehow moving. In summer
at the source of pure water, near a spring, the water is chilly and
cold. At the words "the waters of autumn" the heart becomes chilled
and clear. And nothing is so exquisite as ice. Again, is it not de-
lightful, exquisitely beautiful, when of a morning a harvested field
is coated with a thin sheet of ice, when icicles hang by cypress-bark
eaves, or when the dew and frost on the grasses and trees in a
withered field have turned to ice? 101

Shinkei's literary preferences are otherwise stated in Sasamegoto:

"This Way takes evanescence and lamentation as the aim of both word
and heart."102 Shinkei's poetry is prevailingly dark. The austerity of
expression-the iciness, to use his word-grew naturally from his love
of the poetry of the Shin Kokinshu and of Shotetsu. It reflected his
Buddhist conviction of the sadness and transience of the world, and may
also have been fostered by his dislike of the frivolous or overly ingenious
renga of his immediate predecessors; but increasingly it seemed to be a
judgment on the age in which he lived. In the fourth month of 1467,
shortly before the outbreak of the Onin War, he left the capital on what
he supposed would be a journey of a few months at most, but by the
time he reached Shinagawa, outside the newly created town of Edo, the
warfare in the capital had become so intense that he abandoned all
thought of returning. In the years that followed, up until his death in
1475, he lived mainly in the area of Edo. In 1468 he wrote Hitorigoto
(Talking to Myself), a book of renga criticism that is interesting for the
autobiographical elements, especially his account of the fighting he had
witnessed.
In Edo he continued to compose both waka and renga, participating
on several occasions in gatherings sponsored by the local military, in-
cluding Ota Dokan (1432-1486), whose castle at Edo, built in 1457, is
considered to have formed the nucleus of the city now called Tokyo.
Much of Shinkei's time seems to have been spent bringing the civilizing
art of poetry to the local warriors-soothing their fierce spirits, in the
old phrase. The terrible warfare of the period had at least this one
compensation: poets who were obliged to flee from the capital came to
make their living by teaching renga to uncultured military men, thereby
spreading to the provinces the culture that had been confined to the
capital. The craze for composing renga extended to every part of the
country; and even in the capital, where the emperor and the shogun
Renga 949

Ashikaga Yoshimasa did their best to forget that people were being
killed and houses destroyed a few steps away, the craze raged unabated
during the worst of the fighting. Most of the renga composed was of
the mushin, or unliterary, style. Shinkei did not relish this development:

The renga I have heard recently in country districts have none of

the earmarks of a disciplined, conscious art. The poets seem to be
in a state of utter confusion.
Yes, one might say that ever since such amateurs have grown so
numerous, the art of writing noble, deeply felt poetry seems to have
become extinct. Renga has become nothing more than a glib chat-
tering, and all mental discipline has vanished without a trace. That
is why when one passes along the roads or the marketplaces one's
ears are assailed by the sounds of thousand-verse or ten-thousand-
verse compositions, and even the rare persons who have some real
acquaintance with the art use this knowledge solely as a means of
earning a living. Day after day, night after night, they engage in
indiscriminate composition together. Our times would seem to cor-
respond to the age of stultification and final decline of the
art.... Renga is in such a state that neither Buddha nor Confucius
nor Hitomaro can save it. I03

Shinkei's contributions to renga stand apart from the mainstream

of fifteenth-century composition.!" Although he was devoted to the
principles of renga and did not consciously violate the rules, his verses
are marked by an individuality that is rare in renga. Konishi wrote that
in any renga sequence in which Shinkei took part, his verses stand out
and leave a special impression; if one concealed the names of the authors,
only Shinkei's verses would be identifiable. He stated, "I believe that
Shinkei's stanzas are of unmatched greatness. Sogi also writes outstand-
ing stanzas, but if one considers stanzas alone, it is Shinkei's that one
would judge to excel by the profound effect they have on US."105
Individuality was not prized as such by renga masters. Perfect con-
formity to the rules, grace of language, richness of overtones-the im-
portance of these and other qualities was stressed in contemporary
discussions of renga, but the renga masters seem never to have considered
it desirable for the participating poets to speak with distinctive voices.
Shinkei once stated, "The supreme renga is like a drink of plain boiled
water. It has no particular flavor, but one never wearies of it, no matter
when one tastes it."lo6 Surely he did not intend his verses to stand out
from the others, but his perceptions of the world had greater depth and
95° The Middle Ages

intensity than those of other renga masters, even the most distinguished,
and this difference revealed itself in his poetry.
Perhaps Shinkei's finest achievement as a renga poet is found in his
solo sequence Yama-nani Hyakuin.107 It opens:

hototogisu To have heard a cuckoo-

kikishi wa mono ka What's so special about that?
Fuji no yuki The snow on FUJi.

kumo mo tomaranu There is such cool in the sky

sora no suzushisa Not even the clouds linger.

tsuk i kiyoki In the purity

hikari ni yoru wa Of the light of the moon
kaze miete The wind can be seen.

The translation does not remotely suggest the beauty and grandeur
of these three verses. The season of the hokku is summer, as we know
from mention of the hototogisu, the bird most typically associated with
that season. It was so unusual to hear one in the capital that people
might boast of it, but the lingering snow on Fuji seems far more beautiful
to the poet. Within a mere seventeen syllables the imagery shifts from
sound to sight, from a bird so inconspicuous that it is rarely seen to the
towering mass of Fuji. The second verse moves laterally with the clouds
over the clear sky-itself a surprise in summer, when it so often rains.
The cool in the sky is of course welcome in this season. The third verse
shifts the season to autumn, as we know from mention of the moon,
and the cool of the second verse is no longer pleasant relief from the
summer heat but the cool brought by the first winds of autumn, which
are not only felt but seen in the movement of the clouds over the sky.!"
It is not surprising, in view ofShinkei's expressed disdain for catering
to popular tastes, that his renga is not so immediately appealing as Sogi's.
It tends to be admired by the few, those who can fully grasp the achieve-
ment made possible by his mastery of language and extraordinary sen-
sitivity to poetic beauty.

Shinkei's relations with Sogi are not entirely clear, but judging from
Shinkei's letter of 1470, Sogi must have been his pupil for years. In the
Renga 951
winter of 1468 they joined with several other poets in Shinagawa to
compose the sequence Nanibito Hyakuin,109 and they later met at the
same place a number of times. But the clearest evidence of Sogi's ad-
miration for Shinkei is found in the collection Shinsen Tsuhuba Shu
(New Tsukuba Collection) which Sogi (and Kensai) edited in 1495:
more verses by Shinkei than any other poet were included. Sogi singled
out one hokku by Shinkei for his highest praise:
"Among the poems in a thousand-verse sequence composed when
I visited the Great Shrine of Ise:"

hi no mikage Holy light of the sun-

hana ni nioeru A morning fragrant with
ashita kana l l O The scent of blossoms.

Sogi in his Azuma Mondo (Questions and Answers in the East, 1470?)
wrote of Shinkei's verse: "This hokku was apparently composed among
a thousand verses offered to the Great Shrine of Ise. This, I feel, is a
perfect poem. How many hokku have been composed since ancient
times before the Great Shrine! And how foolish it would be to compare
any of them to this masterpiece."!'! The generosity of the praise bespeaks
genuine admiration, but Sogi and Shinkei had basically different sen-
sibilities, no doubt because of their dissimilar backgrounds.
We have little information about Sogi before his fortieth year, despite
the efforts of biographers over the centuries. Neither his family name
nor his place of origin is known for certain, but it is generally believed
that he came from the lower classes, perhaps even from outcasts.!" In
earlier times it would have been virtually unthinkable for someone of
this background to rise in the world, but in an age of gekokujo, anything
was possible.
We can gather from bits of evidence in his later writings that in
his twenties Sogi entered the Shokoku-ji, a major Zen temple in the
capital. Probably he first became interested in renga while living at
the temple, and his adoption as a protege by Ichijo Kaneyoshi suggests
that he displayed unusual talent in this art.!" A fruitful relationship
between the two men continued until Kaneyoshi's death in 1482. Sogi
was tutored by Kaneyoshi in the traditions of the waka and of court
ritual, and he received special instruction in The Tale of Genji. He also
studied waka with Asukai Masachika (1416-1490) and To no Tsuneyori,
the latter revered as the founder of the Kokin Denju, or secret traditions
of the transmission of the Kokinshu. If one recalls the reluctance of the
court poets to admit Kamo no Chomei, a member of a rather distin-
952 The Middle Ages

guished family, to their number, it is striking that the humbly born

Sogi should have counted among his teachers the great nobles of the
country. In later years, when his reputation had been made, warlords
all over the country vied for the privilege of having Sogi stay at their
castles.
The training he received in the classics undoubtedly imparted au-
thority and fluency to his compositions, whether waka or renga, but it
also exerted a conservative, even inhibiting influence. Sogi's own selection
of his best work, the verses he included in Shinsen Tsulruba Shu, would
not be the ones a modern critic would choose; they show him at his
most ingenious, in the vein of the Koleinshii, rather than as deeply moving.
It seems likely that Sogi escaped the fate of becoming a conventionally
competent poet of the Nijo school mainly because so much of his life
was spent outside the capital. From 1466 to 1472, during the worst of
the Onin War, he traveled and lived mainly in the eastern region of
the country; it was there that he studied the Kohinshu with To no
Tsuneyori, then living at Mishima in Izu, and these studies were crowned
by Sogi's commentary on the Kokinshu, completed in 1471. While in
the east, Sogi associated with military leaders and joined with them in
renga composition. It was at this time that he wrote his first important
critical work on renga, Azuma Mondo. By the end of his stay in the east
he had emerged as a renga poet of the first order; clearly, prolonged
contacts with poets who were not of the court tradition had enriched
Sagi's work.
Sogi returned to Kyoto in the spring of 1472. His residence in the
capital, known as Shugyoku-an, became a center of literary activity and
remained such for about thirty years. Sagi conducted waka and renga
sessions, lectured on The Tale of Genji and other classics, compiled the
Shinsen Tsuhuba Shu, and gave training to his disciples, including Sho-
haku and Socha. His first important collection of renga, Wasuregusa
(Day Lilies), compiled about 1473, included verses composed while in
the east and some from even earlier.
Sagi was one of the great traveler-poets, like Saigyo before him and
Basho two hundred years later. His travels were in part inspired by the
desire to see with his own eyes the famous sites of poetry, and in his
critical works he devoted considerable attention to the importance of
verses on "famous places." During the course of his lifetime Sogi made
many lengthy journeys, seven times to the province of Echigo on the
Japan Sea coast (where he was the guest of the warlord Uesugi Fusasada),
twice to Yamaguchi at the western end of Honshu (at the invitation of
Renga 953

Ouchi Masahiro), and to Kyushu in 1480, a trip commemorated in his

travel diary Tsuhushi no Michi no Ki (Journey Along the Tsukushi
Road).114
Sogi's reason for traveling to distant Kyushu is succinctly stated in
the diary:

My decision to depend on a single, lofty tree proved to be efficacious:

from its shade the dew of generosity was shed abundantly on the
grasses below. The months and days passed quickly and, to my
heart's delight, in numerous sessions of poetry on many different
occasions, and soon it was the ninth month. Many invitations came
to visit the cedars of Kashii and the pines of Iki, and, moved by
gratitude, I made up my mind to undertake the journey.!"

The "lofty tree" upon whom Sagi depended was Ouchi Masahiro
(d. 1495), one of the most powerful warlords in the country; his kindness
("dew") enabled Sogi and various other refugee poets from the capital
to live comfortably in Yamaguchi, and he thereby transformed a cultural
desert into a center of literary and artistic creation. At the time Masahiro
controlled the Shimonoseki Strait, and one of his vassals made arrange-
ments with people in Kyushu (called Tsukushi, its old name, by Sogi)
for Sogi's travels to places of interest in the area.
These travels helped to establish his great renown, and Sagi became
the only renga poet whose name was known to the general public. At
one time "Sogi's mosquito netting" was as familiar a reference as the
beds in which Queen Elizabeth or George Washington are alleged to
have slept. In Saikaku Nagori no Torno (Saikaku's Parting With Friends,
1699) a renga teacher says, "I am of no importance myself, but one year,
when Sogi the renga master was traveling through the provinces in
search of truth, by a curious coincidence we stayed at the same inn in
Okabe on the Tokaido, and I slept under the same mosquito netting
with him."!"
Sogi's reputation as a poet is based mainly on two or three renga
sequences. The most famous ofall renga sequences, Minase Sangin (Three
Poets at Minase), was composed by Sagi with Shohaku and Socha on
the twenty-second day of the first month of 1488. Minase, a village west
of Kyoto, had been the site of a favorite palace of the Emperor Gotoba,
and the day on which the three poets gathered was the anniversary of
his death. The sequence in one hundred verses, offered to the memory
ofone of the great figures of Iapanese poetry, demonstrated Sogi's mastery
954 The Middle Ages

of the medium at the height of his powers. The sequence began with
Sagi:

yuki nagare Snow yet remaining,

yamamoto kasumu The mountain slopes are misty-
yube kana It is evening.

Direct reference is made to the well-known waka by Gotoba in the

Shin Kokinshu:

miwataseba When I gaze far off

yamamoto hasumu The mountain slopes are misty
Minasegawa Minase River-
yube wa aki to Why did I ever supoose
nani omoiken Evenings were best in autumn?

Sogi's hokku pays tribute to Gotoba the poet. At the same time, it reveals
by the allusion that the site of the compositon was the Minase River,
and satisfies the requirements of a hokku by indicating the season (early
spring, when the mountains still covered with snow turn misty in the
first warmth of the spring), the time of day (evening), the prevailing
aspect of the scene (mountains and river), and the mood (serenity and
majesty). The successive links also conformed to the renga code as
established at the time of Nija Yoshimoto, but are imbued with a
fresheness of expression. The second verse was by Shohaku:

yuku mizu toku Far away the water flows

ume niou sato Past the plum-scented village.

The second link, as prescribed, ends with a noun and continues the
mood and season of the first, but it also supplies additional details:
it tells us that the river, frozen during the winter, has melted, and
plum blossoms have opened on lower ground. Socha supplied the
third link:

kawakaze ni In the river breeze

hitomura yanagi A cluster of willow trees-
ham miete Spring reveals itself.

The season (spring) is continued, as required by the code, to a third

link, as is mention of water. The river breeze, stirring the willows, calls
Renga 955
attention to their springtime green. This link ends in -te, a participle,
also in keeping with the code. The fourth link was by Sogi:

June sasu oto mo The sound of a boat being poled,

shiruki akegata Clear in the early dawning.

Although the hokku stated that it was evening, the time has been
deliberately shifted to early morning, following the principle of change.
In renga composition only the verse immediately before needs to be
taken into consideration; a reference to an earlier link was in fact
undesirable. The fourth link changed the time of day, but did not suggest
any particular season, and it is therefore possible to combine the third
and fourth links to form a waka about the scenery of a spring dawn:

kawakaze ni In the river breeze

hitomura yanagi A cluster of willow trees-
haru miete Spring reveals itself.
June sasu oto mo The sound of a boat being poled
shiruki akegata Clear in the early dawning.

The seasonless fourth link, when joined to the following verse, could
equally well allow for a seasonal shift. The water imagery, however,
was continued. The fifth link was by Shohaku:

tsuki ya nao The moon-does it still

kiri wataru yo ni In the fog-enshrouded night
nobururan Hover in the sky?

The season has now been changed to autumn, as we know from mention
of the moon and fog, two phenomena conventionally associated with
autumn. The time of day is still dawn, as stated in the previous link,
but the meaning of the fourth link has changed when combined with
the fifth link from a spring to an autumn scene. The fourth and fifth
links together make a poem that tells of a foggy autumn morning when
one cannot even be sure the moon still lingers in the sky, and the only
clear thing is the sound of an invisible boat being poled in the river.
The shift of scenery and mood was prized by renga poets; it guaranteed
the freedom of associative references that is at the heart of the genre. ll7
The hundred links composed at Minase included some of Buddhist
content, others of love, others still on scenes of poverty and death. One
link by Sogi suggested the misery of Kyoto during the Onin War:
 The Middle Ages

kusaki sae Even plants and trees

furuki miyaleo no Share the bitter memories
urami ni te Of the old capital.

The note of despair makes this link more affecting than others that are
conventional in their evocations of nature. A series on poverty'!" has a
similar appeal though these verses are atypical, too, in that they lack
seasonal words or mention of features of the landscape. The hundredth
(and last) link of Three Poets at Minase, quiet in tone, has overtones of
an auspicious nature, suitable for a work that was dedicated to an
emperor, though rather incongruous in a time of terrible war."?
Three years later, in the winter of 1491, the same three poets met
at the hot springs of Arima in Settsu province where they composed
the hundred links of Yuyama Sangin (Three Poets at Yuyama)."? Some
critics admire this sequence even more than Three Poets at Minase, in
part because of the relaxed atmosphere induced in the poets by bathing
in the hot springs. Other critics believe that Sogi's solo renga sequences,
notably the one composed in 1492, represent the acme of his art.!"
Sogi's contributions to renga were not confined to his poetry. His
renga criticism, especially Oi no Susami (A Diversion of Old Age, 1479),122
provides practical discussion of the different techniques of linking verses;
but these works, like his renga, are impersonal!" and leave little impres-
sion of what Sogi was like as a human being. His emotions are revealed
only indirectly, as in his commentary on a link by Shinkei. Another
person had given the maeku:

u/a ga furusato to The birds are chirping as if

tori zo saezuru The old town belonged to them.

Shinkei added the verse:

ta ga ueshi Who planted these trees?

kozue no nobe ni In the fields, by the treetops,
kasumuran The spring mists hover.

Sogi commented:

The old town has been completely devastated. The only sign of
spring is the mist in the trees that somebody planted, but there is
no trace now in the fields of whoever it was, and only the birds
consider the treetops as home. He [Shinkei], surveying the scene,
Renga 957
imparted "feeling" to the previous verse. The effect of the link is
striking and deeply moving.!"

Sagi did not take the trouble to indicate that the "old town" (jurusato)
was the capital, or that mention of fields meant that where houses once
stood there were now open spaces. But the fact that he felt it necessary
to supply a commentary (and that almost every renga sequence of im-
portance has been provided with at least one old commentary and usually
more) suggests how difficult renga was to understand even for profes-
sionals. A twentieth-century reader may be intrigued by the possibility
in renga of multiple streams of consciousness creating a single literary
work.!" but it is not easy to feel poetic excitement when renga is read
in a modern commentated edition, much less in a translation. The
staggering skill displayed by Sogi and his colleagues will be apparent
to anyone who takes the trouble to follow a sequence link by link, but
unless the reader has had personal experience composing renga, the text
is likely to be an exhausting test of his attention.!"
Sogi's colleagues at Minase and Yuyama, Shohaku and Socha, were
both skilled poets. Apart from his poetry, not much is remembered
about the personality of Shohaku (1443-1527) except that he was so
fond of peonies that he took the name Botanka (Peony Flower) as his
sobriquet and that he enjoyed drinking sake;"? but Socha emerges quite
distinctly from his writings.

Commentators agree that Sacha, though a good poet, was the least
accomplished of the three who met at Minase.'" but by the time the
poets met again at Yuyama, Sacha had largely closed the gap separating
him from the other two men. After Sagi's death in 1502, he was probably
the most accomplished renga poet. Most of his poetry was in the manner
of his teacher, relying on suggestion and simplicity of expression, and
only occasionally revealing that he was more interested in human affairs
than in nature. Unlike Sagi, however, he did not compose waka, though
he was, of course, familiar with the standard collections.!" Sacha traveled
all over the country, in the tradition of Sogi, but the only places men-
tioned in his renga were those sanctioned by the old lists of utarnakura.!"
It might be imagined from the content of Sacha's renga that he
belonged to some conservative family of poets, but he was in fact the
son of a swordsmith from the province of Suruga. In 1467 he entered
 The Middle Ages
Buddhist orders. He described his ordination in terms that indicate his
sect of Buddhism was Shingon, but his notebooks are otherwise dotted
with references to the Daitoku-ji, a Zen monastery in Kyoto, and to the
Shuon-an, the hermitage where the Zen priest Ikkyu lived and died.
Socho does not mention when he first met Ikkyu, but from 1476, when
Ikkyu was eighty-two years old, until his death five years later, Sacha
spent as much time as possible with him. This influence dominated the
rest of Sacha's life, and showed itself in a defiance of convention that
contrasted with his orthodoxy in renga composition. Like Ikkyu, who
delighted in shocking his fellow priests with overt references to his
sexual exploits and who loathed above all the mealy-mouthed hypocrisy
of venal priests, Sacha openly admitted that he had had two children
by a washerwoman, and there was a salacious side to his writings,
especially the comic poetry of his late years. Sacha is important not only
as an adept follower of Sog: but as a predecessor of the haikai (comic)
style of renga that began in the sixteenth century. He and Yamazaki
Sokan, the traditional founder of haikai no renga as it was known, on
occasion composed poetry together,u'
Sacha emerges from his notebook Sacha Shuki as a far more distinct
personality than Sogi or Shohaku, but this involves a problem: how to
reconcile the uninhibited life Socha led with the formal correctness of
his renga. The explanation is undoubtedly that Sacha was a professional
who could compose to order. The military were an important source
of income through most of his life, and he was able to join with them
in renga sessions of the most orthodox variety or (after the formal session
was over and the drinks were served) of the most ribald variety, ac-
cording to their wishes.'? His notebook includes some of the mushin
(comic) renga Sacha and his associates composed. These are the only
surviving examples, but they provide a bridge to the haikai poetry of
the following century and even to the poetry of Basho.

Notes
1. I shall refer to renga by the Japanese term, rather than a translation,
because it is familiar outside Japan by that name.
2. Translation from Donald Keene, "The Comic Tradition in Renga," in
John Whitney Hall and Toyoda Takeshi, japan in the Muromachi Age, p.
243. See also Donald L. Philippi (trans.), Kojiki, p. 242.
3. The kata-uta, as its name "half-poem" suggests, could be either the first
Renga 959
half of a waka (5, 7, and 5 syllables) or the first half of a sedoka, an
archaic poetic form consisting of 5, 7, 7, plus 5, 7, 7 syllables. In the
eighteenth century Takebe Ayatari unsuccessfully attempted to revive the
kata-uta. See Keene, World Within Walls, p. 378.
4. The first important collection of renga (1356) was called Tsuhuba Shu,
and the next most important collection, Shinsen Tsuhuba Shu (1495).
5. See Keene, "Comic Tradition," pp. 244-45.
6. See, for example, Okuno Isao, Rengashi, pp. 12-18. These anecdotes are
related in such works as Toshiyori Zuino by Minamoto no Toshiyori,
Kikigakishu by Saigyo, and Shasceishi; by Muju Ichien.
7. The name looks as if it should be read Kinsuke, but I have adopted the
reading given in Nihon Katen Bungaeu Daijiten, I, p. 420.
8. Kawamura Teruo, Kashiwagi Yoshio, and Kudo Shigenori, Kin'yo Waka
Shu, Shika Waka Shu, p. 193.
9. Ibid., p. 196.
10. Identified as Fujiwara no Kinnori (1103-[160). See Okuno Isao,Rengashi,
P·23·
11. Text in Takehana Isao, Imakagami, III, pp. 259-60. I have based my
translation on his interpretation of the poetry, given on pp. 261-63. For
a quite different explanation, see Okuno Isao, Rengashi, p. 23. The puz-
zling mention of yaezahura (the double cherries) in Arihiro's verse is
explained by Takehana in terms of a poem by Ise no Taifu that praises
the cherry blossoms in Nara, Arihito rs saying that (because of the poem)
he already knows about the cherry blossoms in Nara, but he is wonder-
ing about the autumn leaves, the other conventionally admired sight
of nature. This seems a preferable interpretation to the more obvious
"How are the double cherry blossoms (of the spring) and the red leaves
of the autumn?"
Fujiwara no Kinnori was a high-ranking statesman, a few of whose
poems were included in the Kin'yoshu and later collections. The known
facts about Echigo no mcnoto are exhaustively presented by Takehana
on pp. 263-68. Kawamura (in Kinyo Waka Shu, p. xxvii) identifies her
simply as the daughter of Fujiwara no Suetsuna, the governor of Echigo,
who became the wife of Fujiwara no Sadayori and later the wet nurse
(menoto) of Prince Arihito, Five of her poems are included in the
Kin'yoshu.
12. See Ijichi Tetsuo, Renga no Seeai, pp. nO-II. Ijichi quotes from Kokon
Chomonju an anecdote datable about 1165 that gives one link from what
was apparently a series of forty-seven or possibly fifty links, each one
opening with a successive syllable of the i-ro-ha "alphabet."
13. This sequence in ten thousand links probably consisted of ten thousand-
link sessions. The participants, the defenders of Chihaya Castle, diverted
themselves in this way during the tedious days of a long siege. The number
of people who took part is not known, but there were presumably very
 The Middle Ages
many; the object was to cheer as many people as possible. According to
the Taiheiki, they were guided by professional renga masters brought in
from the capital. For the text, see Okami Masao (ed.), Taiheik], I, p. 241;
also Yamashita Hiroaki (ed.), Taiheiki, I, pp. 302-3. Translation by Helen
Craig McCullough in The Taihcihi, p. 184-
14. Okuno Isao, Rengashi, p. 26. He refers specifically to a book known as
Nosaka-bon Fushimono Shu, a section of which is reproduced on p. 27.
IS. So stated by Shinkei in his Hitorigoto (1468). Quoted by Okuno Isao,
Rengashi, p. 30.
16. The similar Chinese poetic form, the lien-chic, composed by several poets,
evolved in the direction of producing a poem that might have been the
work of a single person. For an example, see Cyril Birch, Anthology of
Chinese Literature, p. 265.
17· Either as a waka in the usual 5, 7, 5, 7, and 7 syllables, or else a poem
that otherwise did not exist in 7, 7, 5, 7, and 5 syllables. The translations
of renga in Earl Miner's Japanese Linked Poetry are all arranged in the
form of five-line verses.
18. This information is quoted from Steven D. Carter, The Road to Koma-
tsubara, p. 39.
19. This was at the Hase-dera, a temple in Yamato province, in 1468. See
Okuno Isao, Rengashi, p. 32.
20. For Yoshimoto's other literary activities, see pp. 974-76.
21. The name is more commonly read as Gusai, and Kyusai is also found,
but (as usual) I have followed Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten.
22. Text in Kido Saizo and Imoto Noichi, Rengaron Shu, Hairon Shu, p. 35.
Yoshimoto's words were Renga u/a uta no zattai nari. This has been
translated by Carter in The Road, p. 9, as "Linked verse is one of the
miscellaneous styles of uta." Reference was being made to a passage in
the Chinese preface to the Koeinshii. The translation by Leonard Grzanka
in Laurel Rasplica Rodd, Kokinshu, p. 380, rendered the word zattai as
"diverse forms." Yoshimoto, following the Koltinshu preface, considered
that renga, like the choka or scdoka, was a variant form of waka.
23. See Kido Saizo, NljO Yoshimoto no KenkYu, pp. 31-32. A headnote in
Tsukuba Shu, the collection of renga compiled by Yoshimoto, says of a
link by Kyusei, "Composed at a one-thousand-link session at the house
of the kampaku when he was minister of the interior." (See Ijichi Tetsuo,
Renga Shu, p. 124') Yoshimoto served as minister of the interior (naidaijin)
from 1340 to 1343.
24. Carter (The Road, p. 280) rendered Hekirensho as "Some Warped Ideas
on Linked Verse." Renri Hisho probably meant "A Secret Selection of
Renga Principles," but renri was also used of branches that twine together,
a metaphor for abiding love, and (in this context) perhaps also for the art
of renga itself.
25. Kido and Imoto, Rcngaron, p. 46.
Renga
26. The first three imperially sponsored collections of waka-the Kohinshu,
Gosenshu, and Shuishu.
27. Places that have inspired poets of the past.
28. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 37. In Tsuhuba Mondo Yoshimoto on the
one hand discouraged beginners from imitating the language or events
related in such ancient works as the Man'yoshu (p. 85); but he urged
advanced practitioners of renga to study the Man'yoshu as "the roots of
the uta" (p. 93).
29. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 38.
30. Ibid., p. 83. The Chinese philosophers included Mencius, Hsun Tzu, and
Yang Chu.
31. Yoshimoto seems to be referring to persons who compose poetry orally,
like the old man who composed the "first renga" with Yamato-takeru.
32. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 116. This quotation comes from [iimon
Saihisho (Most Secret Comments on Ten Questions), one of Nij« Yoshi-
moto's last works, written in 1383.
33. Man'yoshi; 1635. For a translation of this joint effort, together with com-
ments, see Keene, "Comic Tradition," p. 244.
34. Yoshimoto's directives for renga usage were quoted in Renga Shinshiki
Tsuika narabi ni Shinshiki Kin'an to (The New Rules of Linked Verse,
with Additions, New Ideas on the New Rules, and Other Comments)
compiled in 1501 by Shohaku (1443-1527). This work has been translated
by Carter in The Road, pp. 41-72. Shohaku's quotations from Yoshimoto's
writings are mainly from Renri Hishii.
35. Text in Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 57. The last phrase (mentioning
secondary words) seems to refer to words that, unlike "moon" (which can
be mentioned several times), are not of primary importance; this category
included such words as "morning moon" or "evening moon," which were
less important than the unqualified "moon." See also Carter, The Road,
PP·43-44·
36. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, pp. 81-83.
37. Konishi [in'ichi, Sogi, pp. 18, 21.
38. Ibid, p. 82.
39. The religious associations of renga were by no means confined to Bud-
dhism. Ise Jingu Shinkan Renga no KenkYu by Okuno [un'ichi is an im-
portant study of renga composed by Shinto priests at the Great Shrine of
Ise.
40. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 36. This quotation is from Renri Hish»,
41. Ibid., p. 113·
42. Ibid., p. 86. In a No play, however, the ha section is usually the longest,
often more than the jo and kyu combined. Other works of renga criticism
give different proportions for the three tempi. See Carter, The Road, p.
93·
43. Miner in Japanese, p. 362, following Konishi, distinguished four grades of
 The Middle Ages
impressiveness in renga verse: ji or Ground; jimon or Ground-Design;
monji or Design-Ground; and mon, Design. The four different varieties
are discussed more fully by Miner on pp. 72-76. Nijo Yoshimoto used
various terms in Tsukuba Mondo to designate the difference between verses
that create a stong impression and those that provide the fundamental
ground of the sequence. At this point in his discussion (p, 87) he used ji,
ji renga, and ji uta for the plain verses, and shiatsu for the striking ones.
44. This matter was discussed by Konishi [in'ichi in his article "Association
and Progression: Principles of Integration in Anthologies and Sequences
of Japanese Court Poetry, A.D. 900-1350'"
45. For a modern example of this tendency, see my Dawn to the West, II,
p. 976.
46. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 87. For a detailed discussion of "design"
and "ground" poems, see Carter, The Road, pp. 95-100.
47. From Mokujiki Ogo, Mugonsho (Wordless Notes, 1958), quoted by Ya-
mada Yoshio in Renga Gaisetsu, p. 49.
48. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 103.
49. The story is given in section 89 of Essays in Idleness of a priest who had
won prizes in renga. For a translation, see Keene, Essays in Idleness, pp.
75-7 6.
50. Konishi, Sogi, p. 76.
5r. For an excellent study of this activity, see Ogata Tsutomu, Za no Bungalru,
See also Tanaka Hiroshi, Chiisci Bungakuron KenkYu, pp. 393-415, for a
discussion of the formation of za. Hayashiya Tatsusaburo, "Za no
Kankyo," is especially valuable for the za of the performing arts.
52. For a discussion of solo renga, see Carter, The Road, p. ror .
53. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 92.
54. Ibid., p. 113· Konishi, in Sogi, pp. I05-7, called attention to the striking
similarity of vocabulary in criticism concerning the two arts.
55. Yoshimoto was minister of the Right (Udaijin) between 1343 and 1347.
56. Text in Ijichi, Renga Shu, p. 149. This text differs somewhat from that
given by Fukui Kyuzo in Tsukuba Shu, I, p. 40.
57. Ijichi, Renga Shu, p. 151; Fukui, Tsukuba, I, p. 116.
58. Ijichi, Renga Shu, pp. I IO-I t , The text given by Fukui in Tsukuba, I, p.
56, is somewhat different.
59. See Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 4r.
60. Ibid., p. 79. The quotation is from Tsultuba Mondo.
6r. These examples refer to Minamoto no Yorizane, who prayed for inspi-
ration in waka even at the cost of his life, and Fujiwara no Nagayoshi
who, when his poetry was criticized by Fujiwara no Kinto, took ill and
died. These anecdotes are related in Fuleuro Zoshi, See Kid6 and Imoto,
Rengaron, pp. 82-83, notes.
62. Ibid.
63. See Carter, The Road, pp. 33-34-
Renga
64. His personal name is more commonly read as Kanera, but Kaneyoshi is
preferred by Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten. Nagashima Fukutaro in Ichijo
Kanera, p. 26, noted that there was no documentary evidence for either
pronunciation, but he chose Kanera.
65. Shua was represented by only 22 verses in Tsukuba Shu, as compared to
126 by Kyusei, At the time of the Bunna Senku renga sequence, composed
at Yoshimoto's house in 1355, the year before the compilation of Tsuleuba
Shu, Shua contributed 56 verses to 104 by Kyusei, an indication that he
was catching up to his teacher; and fifteen years later 168 verses by Shua
to 178 by Kyusei were included in Murasakino Senleu, suggesting that by
1370 he had attained nearly equal standing. (See Ijichi, Renga no Seeai,
pp. 227-40, for an extended description of Shua's art.)
66. These are contained in Jiko Shua Hyaleuban Rcnga-au/asc (a later version
which included tsukeku by Shinkei is known as Kyiisei Shiia Shinkei Renga-
awase.) The examples I have chosen, however, come from Okuno Isao,
Rengashi.
67. Okuno Isao, Rengashi, pp. 80-81.
68. This comment is by Okuno Isao in Rengashi, p. 81.
69. The phrase is from selection 194 in the collection, two lines of a poem
by Hsli Hun. The full line (of which Shinkei quoted the first part) is:
"Cicadas are singing in the yellow leaves; it is autumn in the palace of
Han." See Kawaguchi Hisao, Wakan Roei Shu, p. 152.
70. Quoted by Araki Yoshio in Muromachi ]idai Bungaku Shi, I, pp. 557-58.
Shinkei's original work, Oi no Kurigoto, was written about 1475. Chieh
and Chou were the last rulers of the Hsia and Shang dynasties respectively.
Chiehs' cruelty disgusted his subjects, one of whom raised a successful
rebellion against him in c. 1776 B.C. Chou, even more tyrannical than
Chieh, was forced to commit suicide c. 1122 B.C. by nobles who could no
longer endure his misdeeds. Yao and his son-in-law Shun were legendary
rulers of the twenty-fourth century B.C. who served as models of kingly
virtue and wisdom over the centuries. Shinkei is saying that Shua was as
guilty as Chieh and Chou of corrupting the virtuous efforts of his pre-
decessors.
71. Bonte (or Bontoan) was his name as a Buddhist priest and renga master.
His lay name is generally given as Asayama Kojiro Morotsuna. After
studying waka composition with Reizei Tamehide, he turned to renga,
studying at first with Nijo Yoshimoto, later with Shua. Although his
military and political duties took up much of his time, he gained recog-
nition as a talented renga poet while still in his thirties. He was friendly
with Imagawa Ryoshun, one of Ashikaga Yoshimitsu's chief lieutenants,
who likewise studied both waka and renga. Ryoshun's activities as a renga
poet are discussed by Kawazoe Shoji in Imagawa Ryoshun, pp. 43-46,
188-96.
72. Quotation from Shinkei's "Tokorodokoro Hento." Text in Ijichi Tetsuo,
 The Middle Ages
Rengaron Shu, I, p. 327. Shinkei was not always so unkind to Bont6. In
his earliest and best-known work of renga criticism, Sasamegoto (1463),
he wrote, "From the Oei period [1394-14281 Bont6 seemed like the guiding
light [tomoshibi1 of this art." (Text in Kido and Imoto, Rcngaron, p. 163,)
73. Bont6an, "Chotansho" (1390), in Ijichi, Rengaron, I, p. 159.
74. This theory is advanced by Okuno Isao, Rengashi, p. 92.
75· Carter, The Road, p. 35·
76. Ibid., pp. 50-5!.
77. For a detailed study of Sozei, see Ijichi, Renga no Seltai, pp. 257-90. See
also Thomas W. Hare, "Linked Verse at Imashinmei Shrine," pp. 170-
72 .
78. The Kitano Shrine, also known as Kitano Temmangii, is sacred to the
memory of Sugawara no Michizane, the god of literature. Poetry was
regularly offered to Michizane when praying for divine favors. The annual
ceremony of offering renga to the shrine was known as horaku renga.
79. For a convenient explanation of renga sosho and related terms, see Okami
Masao and Hayashiya Tatsusabur6, Nihon Bungaku no Rekishi, VI, pp.
288-9°·
80. Ijichi, Renga Shu, p. In
8!. Shinkei, "Tokorodokoro Hent6," p. 314.
82. Ibid., p. 308.
83. Ibid., pp. 308-9' See Ijichi, Renga no Seleai, pp. 283-85 for more specific
criticism by Shinkei of Sozei's renga. See also Hare, "Linked Verse," p.
174·
84. New Jewels Collection.
85. Ichijo Kaneyoshi, "Fude no Susabi," in Ijichi, Rengaron Shu, I, pp. 283-
8{-
86. The three respects were (I) he had attained a higher court position; (2)
his family was superior; and (3) Michizane knew of Chinese literature
only that of the Han and Tang, and Japanese literature only before the
Engi era, whereas he knew much later writings! (See Nagashima Fu-
kutaro, Ichijo Kanera, p. 97')
87. From Hitorigoto (Soliloquy, 1468), quoted in Okuno Isao, Rengashi, p. 103.
88. For Shotetsu's contribution to the formation of Shinkei's poetic art, see
Miner, Japanese, pp. 23-26.
89. From Oi no Kurigoto (c. 1475), quoted in Okuno Isao, Rengashi, p. 103.
Mention of his desire to "soften (yawarageru) the hearts of soldiers" of
course is an allusion to Tsurayuki's preface to the Kokinshu.
90. The whole of this sequence has been translated by Hare in "Linked Verse,"
pp. 177-208. Text in Kaneko Kinjiro, Teruoka Yasutaka, and Nakamura
Toshisada, Renga Haihai Shu, p. 124-46.
9!. There is a partial translation of this work by Dennis Hirota, "In Practice
of the Way: Sasamegoto, An Instruction Book in Linked Verse."
Renga
92. Text in Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 126.
93. Ibid., p. ISO.
94. Ibid., p. 201. The three levels of renga were (I) verses that are so easily
intelligible that even the most stupid practitioner can understand them,
corresponding to the transformational body of the Buddha (nirmanakaya);
(2) those intelligible only to persons of intelligence and discrimination,
corresponding to the rewarding body (sambhogakaya); and (3) those that
are so mysterious and obscure as to be intelligible only to those deeply
immersed in the discipline of the art, corresponding to the body of principle
(dharmakaya ).
95. See Shimazu Tadao, Rengashi no KenkYa, p. ISO.
96. In the original, shinku ; a term meaning a verse that stems closely from
the previous verse. Shinkei thought such verses inferior to soku; verses
whose connections with the previous verses were indirect and not so easy
to appreciate.
97. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. I43.
98. Ibid., p. I42.
99. Shimazu Tadao (ed.), "Hitorigoto," In Hayashiya Tatsusaburo, Kodai
Chusei Geijutsuron, p. 4I7.
IOO. Ibid., p. 4I5.
IOI. From "Hitorigoto." Text edited by Shimazu in Hayashiya, Kodai, p. 469.

For a commentary on this passage, see Shinoda Hajime, Shinkei, p. 95.

I02. Translation by Carter in The Road, p. I74. Original text in Kido and
Imoto, Rengaron, p. I39. Shinkei goes on to say that it should be the
function of "this Way" (renga) for participants to discuss together the
deeply moving qualities of all things, to mollify the hearts of warriors,
no matter how savage, and to set forth the principles of a transient world.
I03. Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, pp. I62-63.
I04. It is not clear whether or not he ever met Ichijo Kaneyoshi, the guiding
spirit in the world of renga at the time. He did not participate in the
best-known renga sequences, but his solo sequences (dokugin), perhaps
Shinkei's finest compositions, fall into this category. A solo sequence was
private, rather than public, and in this sense it stood apart from the
conception of renga as za no bungak«.
I05. Konishi, Sogz, p. 52. I have given the quotation as translated by Miner in
Japanese, p. 29. The word translated as "stanza" is tsukeku.
I06. From Kensai, "Shinkei Sozu Teikun" (I488), quoted by Shimazu in Ren-
gashi no KenkYa, p. I46.
I07. The title means literally "One Hundred Verses on Mountain Something."
"Mountain Something" is, of course, a fushimono.
I08. The interpretation of these verses is derived largely from Shinoda, Shinlici,
pp. I I6-I7. Shinoda, a scholar primarily of English literature, expressed
the profoundest admiration for these opening lines of Shinkei's sequence.
 The Middle Ages
109. The title means literally "One Hundred Verses on Something Man,"
"something man" having been the fushimono of the hokku. The sequence
is discussed by Shinoda in Shinkei, pp. 189-213.
110. Text in Ijichi, Renga Shu, p. 259.
I I 1. Sogi, "Azuma Mondo," in Kido and Imoto, Rengaron, p. 220. Sogi's praise

is likely to seem excessive to a reader of the English translation, but the

original is indeed worthy of the highest praise. Hi no mikage refers to the
sunlight visible that morning, but also to the Sun Goddess, who is wor-
shiped at Ise. Reference is probably also made to Shin Kokinshu 1877, a
poem by Saigyo that concludes hi no mikage kana, evoking the splendor
of the Great Shrine. The "blossoms" of Shinkei's verse are, of course,
cherry blossoms, though they actually have no scent; the place is so holy
as to create the illusion of some wondrous fragrance. The verb nioeru can
also mean "to be bright," and that is probably intended, too; the blossoms
glow in the morning sunlight. The effect is one of brightness and cleanness
appropriate to the Great Shrine.
112. According to one theory he was the son of agigaku performer. His surname
is often given as lio.
I! 3. See Okuno Isao, Rengashi, p. 143. Okuno believed that it was through
Sozei that Sogi was first introduced to Kaneyoshi's "cultural sphere." The
adoption probably took place in Sogi's early thirties.
114. This diary has been translated by Eileen Kato under the title "Pilgrimage
to Dazaifu." I have described the work in Travelers of a Hundred Ages,
pp.223- 27·
I IS. From Keene, Travelers, p. 223. Text in Kaneko Kinjiro, Sogi Tabi no Ki
Shichic, p. 33.
I!6. See Imoto Noichi, Sogi, p. 1.
117. I have followed the text given in Konishi, Sogi, pp. 178-81, though I have
not translated all of his explanation. For more details, see Miner,japanese,
pp. 184- 87.
118. Links 31 to 34.
119. Konishi (in Sogi, p. 234) suggests that the auspicious note was intended
to evoke and praise not the reigning sovereign but Gotoba. The link,
which lends itself badly to translation, means something like "For all
human beings I There is a proper path to tread."
120. There is a complete translation by Steven D. Carter, Three Poets at Yuyama.
Carter and Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten give the reading Yuyama, but
Yunoyama is preferred by most scholars who have written on the subject.
121. The sequence of 1499, Sogi Dohugin Nanibito Hvakuin, is translated in
full with a commentary by Miner in Japanese, pp. 234-71. Konishi (Sogi,
p. 54) is among the critics who believe that the highest beauty of renga
is found in this sequence. Sogi's less-famous solo sequence of 1492, Entoku
Yonen Sogi Dokugin Nanimichi Hyaeuin, has been translated with an ex-
tensive commentary by Carter in The Road, pp. 117-65.
Renga
122. The complete text, together with a commentary, is given in Nose Asaji
Chosahushu, VII, pp. 379-559. Excerpts, with modern-language transla-
tions, are given in Fukuda Hideichi, Shimazu Tadao, and Ito Masayoshi,
Chusci Hyoron Shu, pp. 135-212.
123. The impersonality of renga is illuminatingly discussed by Konishi in Sogi,
p. 104ff.
124. Text in Fukuda et al., Chiisei, pp. 139-40. Also Nose Asaji Chosahushu,
VII, pp. 409-10.
125. The volume Renga published by Gallimard in 1971 contains poetry by
four poets-Octavio Paz (Mexican), Jacques Ribaud (French), Edoardo
Sanguineti (Italian), and Charles Tomlinson (English)-each composing
in his own language according to a code of renga invented by the four
men.
126. Anyone who wishes to test himself in this manner is urged to read Carter's
excellent translation and study of Sogi's solo sequence of 1492 in The
Road, pp. "7-79.
127. He is also remembered for his book of rules of renga, Renga Shinshiki
Tsuilia Narabi ni Shinshiki Kin 'anto , translated by Steven D. Carter as
"The New Rules of Linked Verse, With Additions, Suggestions for a
New Day, and Other Comments" (in "Rules, Rules, and more Rules:
Shohaku's Renga Rulebook of 1501," p. 587). Anyone who really wishes
to learn the rules of renga should consult Carter's article. The text trans-
lated by Carter was originally by Nijo Yoshimoto, with criticism by Ichijo
Kaneyoshi and comments by Shohaku. See also note 34.
128. See, for example, Miner, Japanese, pp. 46-47.
129. See ada Takuji, Renga Bungei Ron, p. 57ff, for an analysis of Socha's
renga in terms of their conformity not only to the rules of renga but to
the poetic diction of the waka.
130. See Oda, Renga, p. 60.
13I. See my World Within Walls, pp. 12-16; also "Comic Tradition," pp. 274-
77-
132. For Socha's associations with the kokujin (local warriors) in particular, see
H. Mack Horton, "Saiokuken Socho and the Linked-Verse Business," pp.
63-70. This article, based largely on Socha Shuki, provides a valuable
account of how renga masters made a living.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Araki Yoshio. Muromachi Jidai Bungaku Shi, 1. Kyoto: [imbun Shoin,

1944·
9 68 The Middle Ages
Birch, Cyril. Anthology of Chinese Literature. New York: Grove Press,
1965.
Carter, Steven D. The Road to Komatsubara. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Uni-
versity Press, 1987.
- - - . "Rules, Rules, and More Rules: Shohaku's Renga Rulebook of 1501,"
Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 43:2, 1983.
- - - . Three Poets at Yuyama. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies,
1983.
Fukuda Hideichi, Shimazu Tadao, and Ito Masayoshi. Chusei Hyoron Shu, in
Kansho Nihon Koten Bungaku series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1976.
Fukui Kyuzo. Minase Sangin Hyoshaleu, Kazama Shobo, 1954.
- - - . Tsulruba Shu, 2 vols., in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shimbun
Sha, 1951.
Hare, Thomas W. "Linked Verse at Imashinmei Shrine," Monumenta Nip-
ponica 34:2, 1979.
Hayashiya Tatsusaburo. Kodai Chusei Geijutsuron, in Nihon Shiso Taikei series.
Iwanami Shoten, 1973.
- - - . "Za no Kankyo," in Hayashiya Tatsusaburo (ed.), Nihon Geinoshi Ron.
Kyoto: Tankosha, 1986.
Hirota, Dennis. "In Practice of the Way: Sasamegoto, An Instruction Book in
Linked Verse," Chanoyu Quarterly, vol. 19 (1978).
Horton, H. Mack. "Saiokuken Socho and the Linked-Verse Business," The
Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, Fourth Series, I, 1986.
Ijichi Tetsuo. Renga no Sekai. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1967.
- - - . Rengaran Shu, 2 vols., in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten,
1953-5 6.
- - - . Renga Shu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten,
1960.
Imoto Noichi. Sogi, Kyoto: Tankosha, 1974.
Ito Kei. Shin Hokucho no Hita to Bungaku, Miyai Shoten, 1979.
Kaneko Kinjiro. Rengaron no Kenley«. Ofusha, 1984.
- - - . Rengashi Kensai Den Ko, Ofusha, 1962.
- - - . Sogi Saeuhin Shu. Ofusha, 1963.
- - - . Sogi Tabi no Ki Shichi«. Ofusha, 1970.
Kaneko Kinjiro, Teruoka Yasutaka, and Nakamura Toshisada. Renga Haikai
Shu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshu series. Shogakukan, 1974.
Kato, Eileen. "Pilgrimage to Dazaifu," Monumenta Nipponica 34:3, 1979.
Kawaguchi Hisao. Wakan Roei Shu, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansha, 1982.
Kawamura Teruo, Kashiwagi Yoshio, and Kudo Shigenori. Kin'yo Waka Shu,
Shika Waka Shu, in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami
Shoten, 1989.
Kawazoe Shoji. Imagawa Rvoshun, in [imbutsu Sosho series. Yoshikawa Ko-
bunkan, 1964.
Renga 9 69

Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
- - - . "The Comic Tradition in Renga," in John W. Hall and Toyoda
Takeshi, Japan in the Muromachi Age. Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1977.
- - - (trans.), Essays in Idleness. New York: Columbia University Press, 1967.
- - - . "[oha, a Sixteenth-Century Poet of Linked Verse," in George Elison
and Bardwell L. Smith (eds.), Warlords, Artists, and Commoners. Honolulu:
University of Hawaii Press, 1981.
- - - . Travelers of a Hundred Ages. New York: Henry Holt, 1989.
- - - . World Within Walls. New York: Henry Holt, 1976.
Kido Saizo. Chiis«! Bungaku Shiron, Meiji Shoin, 1984.
- - - . Ny/5 Yoshimoto no KenkYu. Ofusha, 1987.
- - - . Rengashi Ronka, 2 vols. Meiji Shoin, 1973.
Kido Saizo and Imoto Noichi, Rengaron Shu, Hairon Shu, in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1961.
Konishi [in'ichi, "Association and Progression: Principles of Integration in
Anthologies and Sequences of Japanese Court Poetry, A.D. 900-1350," Har-
vard Journal of Asiatic Studies 21 (1958).
- - - . Sog], Chikuma Shobe, 1971.
McCullough, Helen Craig (trans.). The Taiheiki. New York: Columbia Uni-
versity Press, 1959.
Miner, Earl. Japanese Linked Poetry. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
1979·
Nagafuji Yasushi. Chusei Nihon Bungaleu to Jikan Ishilt], Miraisha, 1984.
Nagashima Fukutaro. lchijo Kanera, in Jimbutsu Sosho series. Yoshikawa Ko-
bunkan, 1959.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijitcn, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Nose Asaji Chosakushu, VII. Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 1982.
Oda Takuji. Renga Bungei Ron. Kyoto: Koto Shoin, 1947.
Ogata Tsutomu. Za no Bungaku, Kadokawa Shoten, 1973.
Okami Masao (ed.). Taiheihi, 2 vols., in Kadokawa Bunko series. Kadokawa
Shoten, 1975-82.
Okami Masao and Hayashiya Tatsusaburo (eds.). Nihon Bungaku no Rekishi,
VI. Kadokawa Shoten, 1967.
Okuno Isao. Rengashi. Hyoronsha, 1986.
Okuno [un'ichi. Ise Jingu Shinkan Renga no KenkYu. Nihon Gakujutsu Shin-
kokai, 1975.
Ozaki Yujiro, Shimazu Tadao, and Satake Akihiro. Wago to Kango to no Aida.
Chikuma Shobe, 1985.
Philippi, Donald L. (trans.). Kojiki. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1968.
Ramirez-Christensen, Esperanza. "The Essential Parameters of Linked Verse,"
Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 4 I :2, 1981.
Rodd, Laurel Rasplica (trans.). Kokinshu. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University
Press, 1984.
97° The Middle Ages
Sasaki Nobutsuna. Nihon Kagaltu Shi. Hakubunkan, 1918.
Shimazu Tadao. Rengashi no Kenkyu. Kadokawa Shoten, 1969.
- - - . Rengashu, in Shincho Nihon Katen Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1979.
Shinoda Hajime. Shinkei. Chikuma Shabo, 1987.
Takehana Isao. Imakagami, 3 vols., in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko senes.
Kodansha, 1984.
Tanaka Hiroshi. Chusei Bungaleuron Kenkyu. Hanawa Shabo, 1980.
Yamada Yoshio. Renga Gaisetsu. Iwanami Shoten, 1937.
Yamashita Hiroaki (ed.). Taiheiki, 5 vols., in Shincho Nihon Katen Shusei
series. Shinchosha, 1977-88.
 25.
DIARIES AND OTHER PROSE
OF THE MUROMACHI PERIOD

h.te most memorable diaries of this period were written by priests and
soldiers. Courtiers also kept diaries, but most of them, though often of
historical interest, were composed in unliterary kambun. Women of the
court had dominated in creating and continuing the tradition of diary
literature ever since the Heian period, but that tradition came to an end
about 1350 with Account of the Takemulii Palace, and the subjectivity
that had been its chief distinction also disappeared. While male diarists
of the Heian and Kamakura periods who wrote in Japanese had usually
followed the introspective models established by the women, the Mu-
romachi diarists, though certainly not indifferent to literary expression,
rarely chose to reveal their innermost feelings. At best their diaries were
permeated by an elegiac tone occasioned by the contrast between the
sight of the desolate ruins of temples, put to the torch during the warfare,
and the magic of old names and places, familiar from poems celebrating
their glory.

DIARIES

Account of a Pilgrimage
to the Great Shrine at Ise

Ise Daijingii Sankeiki (Account of a Pilgrimage to the Great Shrine at

Ise) describes the visit of the priest Saka [ubutsu in 1342. It is not
surprising that [ubutsu, a Buddhist priest, should have made a pilgrim-
age to a Shinto shrine; at the time it was normal to believe simultaneously
in the two religions, though their tenets were contradictory. As early as
768 a Buddhist temple had been erected nearby the Great Shrine of Ise,
the holiest site of Shinto, and elsewhere in the country the same man
972 The Middle Ages
was often the resident priest of both a Shinto shrine and a Buddhist
temple, presiding over ceremonies held at each. The principle of honji
sUljaku ("original substances manifest their traces") fostered the belief
that the Shinto gods were manifestations in Japan of the original Bud-
dhist divinities.' The Japanese turned to the gods of Shinto for help in
their present lives, and to Buddhism for salvation after death.
Most of Account of a Pilgrimage to the Great Shrine at lse is devoted
to [ubutsu's conversations with Watarai Ieyuki, the chief priest of the
Outer Shrine. [ubutsu, far from voicing objections to Ieyuki's exposition
of Shinto doctrine, seems to have been unconditionally impressed. One
even senses a note of desperation in the readiness with which he accepts
the wisdom of Shinto, as explained by Ieyuki, and one wonders if he
will not in the end abandon his own religion in favor of Shinto. But
[ubutsu remained profoundly Buddhist in his outlook; what he sought
from Shinto was consolation for his griefs in this world. The most
affecting parts of the diary are his descriptions of the desolation of the
landscapes he saw on his journey to Ise:

After I passed the purification hall on the Kushida River, it became

apparent how terribly the southern part of this province has been
devastated ever since the country fell into disorder. Even in places
where bamboo groves or stands of shady trees grew thickly, one
could see on approaching that there were no houses. At breaks in
the susuki grass and lemongrass, a newly cut path was visible, with
many withered stumps along the way. When I asked a man I chanced
to meet about the place, he answered that this was what had hap-
pened to neglected rice fields. His words made me feel all the sadder
that the world should have changed so much.
I arrived at the residence of the High Priestess. There were what
looked like the remains of old earthen walls, and here and there
were tall bushes and trees. The torii had fallen over and the pillars
lying across the road were so completely rotted that, if a person did
not actually know what they were, he would pass them by without
a second glance, supposing they were merely fallen trees.'

This is the atmosphere characteristic of many Muromachi diaries.

[ubutsu's account is typical also in that it describes a journey. Travel
during the medieval period, though difficult because of the unsettled
state of the country, was undertaken for both religious and secular
motives. The belief that visiting holy places brought spiritual blessings
was as pervasive in Japan as in Europe of the same time. Some desti-
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 973

nations of pilgrimages, notably Ise and Izumo, were specifically Shinto

in character; others, such as Mount Kaya or the great temple Zenko-ji,
were Buddhist. To pray at one of these sites was believed to be more
efficacious than at shrines or temples that lacked their special aura, and
the hardships endured on the way also enhanced the merit that accrued
from the pilgrimage.

Travels to
--
Secular Sites
------------ --- ----- - - - - - - -

Shrines and temples were not the only destinations of travelers of this
time. Many went to secular sites, inspired chiefly by the desire to see
the places that had inspired the poetry of the past. When a diarist arrived,
say, at the site of the Fuwa Barrier, whose desolate remains had been
evoked by the poets of hundreds of years before, he could participate
in their experience and share their emotions. It did not much matter
whether or not anything was left of the Fuwa Barrier; to stand in the
place where the poets of the past had stood was sufficiently rewarding
and inspiring. Even if one arrived at the wrong season, when the flowers
associated with a particular place were not in bloom, one could imagine
how they must look in these surroundings, as someone arriving at a
time when poppies are not in bloom in Flanders fields can imagine
them.
The travels of the poet-priest Saigyo in particular inspired later men
to follow in his footsteps, seeking what he sought, to use Basho's phrase.
Kawabata Yasunari once explained this phenomenon in these terms: "It
is part of the discipline of the different arts of Iapan, as well as a guidepost
to the spirit, for a man to make his way in the footsteps of his prede-
cessors, journeying a hundred times to the famous places and old sites,
but not to waste time traipsing over unknown mountains and rivers."?
Sogi, some five hundred years before Kawabata, had said the same thing
more succinctly in a diary: "It was not a famous place, so I took no
special note of it.?"
An utamakura on inspection may prove to be highly disappointing
to the eye, but seen across the poetry written about the place it never
failed to stir poets oflater times. The Tama River at Noda, for example,
is an insignificant stream, but beside it stands a small forest of stone
monuments inscribed with poems about the river composed by men
who were attracted by its mention in a poem by Noin (another poet-
priest famous for his travels) included in the Shin Kokinshii. To visit
974 The Middle Ages

such a place was for a poet a means of drawing on the strength of

tradition to revitalize his own poetry.
The other secular attractions were headed by Mount Fuji. Everyone
knew about this mountain, the tallest and most beautiful in Japan, and
it was a common desire to see it at least once in a lifetime. When
someone of the exalted status of the shogun decided to visit Mount Fuji,
he naturally traveled with a large entourage that included poets who
would commemorate the journey in poetry and often in a diary. The
same was true of visits to Itsukushima, the island in the Inland Sea
where Taira no Kiyomori had built a magnificent shrine that is cele-
brated more for the beauty of the site than for its holiness. The cherry
blossoms at Yoshino attracted still other diarists.
Some destinations were imposed on the diarists by the urgencies of
war. The Onin War (1467-1477) in particular drove poets from the
capital to refuge in distant parts of the country, but again and again in
their diaries one finds wistful memories of the capital; the highest praise
they could give to a local site was to say that it resembled one in Kyoto.
The many diaries of the Kamakura period that describe travels on the
road between the capital and Kamakura had made the sights along the
way familiar, but diarists of the Muromachi period went much farther
afield, even as far as Kyushu, as is evidenced by Sogi's Journey Along
the Tsueushi Road.
The most affecting diaries of the Muromachi period, naturally
enough, are those written by unhappy men. Their unhappiness may
stem from the misery of living as a refugee in some mountain village
far from the capital, as in the case of Nijo Yoshimoto, or from the losses
suffered as the result of the warfare, as in the case of his grandson Ichijo
Kaneyoshi, or from purely personal causes, as in the case of the renga
master Sogi. None of these diaries was written from day to day in the
manner of the diaries in kambun written by members of the court; they
were composed after the experiences had been slowly filtered through
the diarist's literary sensibility, leaving only the matters oflasting interest.
No doubt if the entries were written at the close of each day there would
be much more about the routine of daily life and much less about the
author's reflections on the sad times in which he lived.

Reciting Poetry to Myself at Ojima

Ojima no Kuchizusami (Reciting Poetry to Myself at Ojima) is the account
by Nijo Yoshimoto of a journey from the capital to Ojima in the province
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 975

of Mino in 1353. The journey was definitely not inspired by any desire
to visit famous utamakura; Yoshimoto was summoned to Ojima where
the Emperor Gokogon and members of his court had temporarily es-
tablished themselves while waiting for the army of Ashikaga Takauji
to rescue them. The Japanese poets are deservedly famous for their
appreciation of nature, but it has generally been nature as seen in a
garden or in some suitably poetic spot not too far from the capital, but
Yoshimoto discovered what nature, uncultivated by human hands, was
really like:

I was unfamiliar with scenery of this kind. There was not a break
in the clouds that hung heavily over the mountains to left and right.
Truly, nothing is so heartrending as such a place as this. No words
can convey the look of these remote mountains, especially in autumn,
and the indescribable pathos of the landscape squashed in between
the hills.'

The language recalls another lonely place of exile, Genji's at Suma,

but Yoshimoto's description was no mere pastiche. It rained without
letup and the "temporary capital" was shut in by clouds and fog. Of
course, it rained in the capital, too, and clouds and fog were frequently
mentioned in poetry, but there was nothing poetic about rain or clouds
in the mountains.
It was not only the uncongenial weather that depressed Yoshimoto.
The enforced living in cramped quarters and the danger of enemy attack
had totally changed the appearance of the courtiers. Everyone was now
in "barbarian clothes" (Yoshimoto's term for military costume), and the
nobles looked more like soldiers than poets as they awaited the arrival
of Ashikaga Takauji. Under normal circumstances the men of the court
would not have deigned to associate with such a man, but when everyone
was dressed for combat, even a "barbarian" could be their savior. Takauji
has usually been portrayed in works of popular history as a most un-
attractive character, a villain who was responsible for the deaths of the
loyalist heroes Kusunoki Masashige and Nitta Yoshisada, but for
Yoshimoto and the others in the mountains he provided their only chance
of returning to the capital."
After many false rumors about his arrival, Takauji finally appeared
with his men, to the immense joy of Cokogon and his court. Yoshimoto,
despite himself, dwelt lovingly on details of Takauji's armor. Takauji
presented Gokogon with some horses, a gift that would not have made
much sense in the capital, where nobles traveled in carts pulled by oxen;
 The Middle Ages

yet now many nobles, if not the emperor himself, knew how to ride a
horse, and the gift was welcomed. But when Takauji's son captured the
capital and the members of the Northern Court were able to return,
they chose to dress themselves in their court finery, rather than armor,
and they were a great attraction for sightseers along the way.
Yoshimoto's diary concludes on a joyful note. He relates that the
emperor himself had inscribed the title for his diary, which he had kept
because he feared that, with the return to the capital and the restoration
of normal court life, people might forget the hardships suffered in the
mountains. But his optimism was misplaced. In the following year
Takauji's forces were driven from the capital by Southern Court armies,
and once again Gokogon and the others had to find a place of refuge.
A year later they recovered the capital, only to find it, after all the
fighting, in ruins. At this distance from the events it hardly matters
which side held the capital in a given year, but the repeated battles for
possession of the city destroyed much of the heritage from the past, and
these battles by no means ended with the reunification of the country
In 1392.

Account 0 (_ F u jik_<l w a
The most distinguished of the diarists who described the Onin War was
Yoshimoto's grandson Ichijo Kaneyoshi.? Fujikawa no Ki (Account of
Fujikawa), written in 1473, is only one of his depictions of the most
senseless war in Japanese history. The diary relates Kaneyoshi's journey
to the province ofMino to express his gratitude to the provincial constable
(shugo) for having supplied him with food during his years of privation.
He repeatedly refers to the changes that have been brought about by
the terrible war. When, for example, he reached the Fuwa Barrier, the
dilapidated state of which had been mourned by generations of diarists,
he followed tradition to the extent of meditating on the evanescence of
things; but he had actually seen with his own eyes far worse destruction
than any imagined by earlier poets who had visited this famous
utamakura.
The impression a modern reader is likely to receive from Kaneyoshi's
diary (as from his grandfather's) is of a civilized man bewildered by the
changes in society and the negation of the cultural values that had been
the foundation of his life. Modern critics often discuss with admiration
the vitality of those below in shaking off the domination of the upper
classes, and it is gratifying that from this time on commoners figure
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachl Period 977

importantly in the creation of literature;" but it is hard not to sympathize

with Kaneyoshi when he saw his library going up in flames and ignorant
soldiers (the most conspicuous practitioners of gekokujo) destroying the
accumulated learning of the past.
Kaneyoshi's diary covers a period of about three weeks, from his
departure to his return to his place of refuge in Nara. The form closely
follows that of his grandfather's Reciting Poetry to Myself. There are no
fewer than eighty-eight waka on the various utamakura along the way
and similar subjects. For example, on reaching the Ishiyama Temple,
sacred to Kannon of infinite mercy, he composed the poem:

sawagitatsu Even in times disturbed

yo ni mo ugoleanu As ours, Stone Mountain remains
Ishiyama wa Unmoving as stone-
ge ni aigataki How truly wonderful to find
chiltai narikeri The promise of salvation.

Here, Stone Mountain is not only the translation of the name Ishiyama
but stands for Kannon's promise, firm as stone, to save mankind.
The journey brought remembrances not only of the poets who had
traveled the same route but also of battles fought in the region both in
the distant past and, more recently, during the fighting between the
Northern and Southern courts. The journey did not lack amenities.
Kaneyoshi mentions waka and renga gatherings and a performance of
sarugaku by local actors that favorably impressed him." The poems of
the journey included not only waka but kanshi, composed in the com-
pany of Buddhist priests. He even had time to watch cormorant fishing.
The journey, despite frequent mentions of hardships, was clearly not
without consolations. But his stay in Mino was interrupted by news of
political significance:

Fourteenth [of the fifth month, 1473]' I returned to Kagamishima.

I had hoped to see all the famous places and old sites in the province,
taking advantage of this unexpected journey away from the capital,
but I have received word that Hosokawa Katsumoto" passed away
on the eleventh of this month. If this has indeed happened to the
chief of the Eastern Army, there are likely once again to be uprisings
on the frontier at this juncture. I doubt therefore I can carry out
my travels as planned, so although "our next meeting is far off,"
"the road ahead will surely be distant."!' I hastened to report the
news to the abbot and whipped my horse on the return journey."
 The Middle Ages

The appeal of Kaneyoshi's diary is mainly in the poetry. The ex-

periences of the journey were so unlike those known to the court poets
of the past, who rarely stirred from the capital, that they could not be
described in the customary poetic diction. The following poem, com-
posed at a place called Musa, a homonym of a word for soldier," is not
an example of Kaneyoshi's poetry at its best, but, coming from a member
of an ancient family, it is surprising:

mononofu no Before the gauntlet

yugake wa tate zo Of the warrior even
nabileu naru Shields bend in defeat:
mube koso Musa no How fitting the name Musa
na wa nokorikerel4 Still preserves the soldiers' fame!

Surely Kaneyoshi would never have written such a poem if not for
the warfare and if not, more specifically, for the experiences of his
Journey.

0l5gi's Diaries
Sogi's achievements as a renga master made him the outstanding literary
figure of the late fifteenth century. His diaries reflect the extent of his
celebrity.
In an age when renga masters were constantly on the move from
one part of the country to another, Sogi stands out as probably the most
given to travel." Only two of his many journeys were recorded in diaries.
The first, Shirakatoa Kika (Journey to Shirakawa), is devoted to the
relatively short journey he made toward the end of 1488 to Shirakawa
by way of Tsukuba and Nikko. In the following year he went to Ise
and then on to Nara where he visited Kaneyoshi.
It may be wondered why Sogi felt impelled to travel so much. One
reason is evident: the year of his journey to Shirakawa, 1482, was the
second year of the Onin War, the year when Kaneyoshi fled to Nara,
and a good time for anyone to be out of the capital. However, Sogi's
travels had begun long before this disaster. Under circumstances that
remain obscure, he became acquainted with various of the daimyos in
the east of the country, and spent seven years there, beginning in 1466,
making occasional journeys to Echigo and Shinano where he had other
patrons. It was safer to be in the provinces than in the capital and Sogi
Diaries and Other Prose of the M u ro m ac h i Period 979

could live more graciously in the castle of some daimyo than in his
thatch-covered retreat in Kyoto.
It was not only physical comfort that Sogi craved. Like every other
traveler of the age, he wanted to see the utamakura, and the main
purpose of his journey to Shirakawa was to climb Mount Tsukuba on
the way. As a renga poet he honored as the first manifestation of his
art the poem in the Kojiki in which Prince Yamato-takeru asked about
Tsukuba.
When Sogi reached the Shirakawa Barrier, his ultimate destination
on this journey, he was deeply moved by the solemn atmosphere that
pervaded the place, and described the dilapidated shrine at the barrier
in these terms:

Moss served for its eaves, and maples made its fence, and in place
of sacred streamers, ivy hung before the altar. At the thought that
now only cold winds came to make offerings here, I could not check
the tears of emotion. I imagined how deeply Kanemori and Noin
must have been moved and, although I hesitated to compose a poem
that would be so much rubble when compared with their master-
pieces, my thoughts were too many to keep to myself."

Sogi composed two waka on this occasion. The second was:

yuku sue no I do not expect

na woba tanomazu The future to bring me fame,
kokoro u/o ya But I hope to keep
yoyo ni todomen Future poets from forgetting
Shirakatoa no seki Shirakawa Barrier.

Sogi is saying here that although his own poem on the Shirakawa
Barrier cannot compare with those composed by the great poets of the
past, he hopes that it will help to keep poets of future ages from forgetting
the utamakura that had inspired so many poems. It is probably no
exaggeration to say that it was in order to compose this poem that Sogi
made a dangerous journey in time of war.
Journey Along the Tsuleushi Road is no less affecting as the poetic
account of a journey even though there were virtually no utamakura in
northern Kyushu for Sogi to admire. In place of utamakura, Sogi some-
times referred to evocations of the scenery in the Man'yoshu, sometimes
to historical personages (like Sugawara no Michizane) who lived for a
time in Kyushu, but most often by summoning up remembrances of
l·
9 80 The Middle Ages

similar places he himself had visited or knew through literature, espe-

cially The Tale of Genji. His greatest pleasure in travel came from the
recollections of the old writings that the places he passed stirred in him."
A passage such as the following suggests how he contrived to write a
literary diary without the convenient props of utamakura:

As we passed on by Utsura Hama, I could see the Cape of Kane

and Oshima; I remembered those olden days and the reciting of "I
shall not forget." I recalled to mind, too, the many interesting as-
sociations of the island of Shiga, and I thought sadly of the story of
Shoni's daughters and the poem with "Whom do they long for?"
said to have been composed by them at Oshima."

"I shall not forget" (ware u/a wasureji) comes from an anonymous
poem in the Man'yoshu that mentions the Cape of Kane (kane no misaki).
"Whom do they long for?" (tare wo kou to ka) was derived from a poem
in the "Tamakazura" chapter of The Tale of Genji,

To whom might it be that the thoughts of these sailors turn,

Sadly singing off the Oshima strandj'"

"Shorn's daughters" refers to two girls, one the daughter of Shoni, an

official, and the other Tamakazura, who had been left in the care of
Shoni's wife, her nurse.
Such allusive writing is tiresome to unravel and unlikely to add
much to the pleasure of a modern reader, but for Sogi it was essential
to give overtones and importance to every place mentioned; an associ-
ationless mountain was no more than one of innumerable such moun-
tains in Japan and hardly worth mentioning. He wrote elsewhere in the
diary, "The many hills, islands, and places within view seemed close
enough to touch and there was not one that was not famous."21
There are few personal thoughts expressed in the diary. For the
most part Sogi contented himself with describing what he observed.
Undoubtedly it saddened him to see the desolation that had been left
in the wake of warfare that had extended to Kyushu, but one does not
often receive the impression that a comment was either like or unlike
Sogi. The most affecting part of the work, however, gives us a sudden
unforgettable glimpse of a particular man:

The winds were rough and the waves billowed high. Disconsolately
I watched the little fishes gaily leaping out of the water. I realized
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 981

that even they must live in great fear of the bigger fishes that inhabit
the ocean depths, and so I did not envy them. Again, when I saw
a shell being carried to and fro by the waves, I observed that when
it approached the shore and was far from the great ocean it did not
grieve, nor did it rejoice when it was drawn back into the sea again.
All living species are of a sadness beyond compare. The world we
live in, whether in pleasure or in pain, is ultimately a place of
lamentation. Since I am one who understands this philosophy very
well, I reflected that the only thing to be envied was this empty
shell."

Sogi, the most famous poet of the age, feted wherever he went by
the great nobles and generals, says the only thing he envies is an empty
shell, indifferent to pleasure or pain. For a moment we see the man
himself. It is so startling in the light of the rest of the diary, or indeed
of all of Sogi's writings, including his renga, that we may wonder if he
was not in fact alluding to some text that has yet to be uncovered."
What made Sagi unhappy? Perhaps it was, as he says, his awareness
of the human condition: all of us live in sadness. If one searches for
something more concrete that might have depressed him, it too may be
found in Journey Along the Tsukushi Road: "It is useless to practice the
Way of japanese poetry unless one is born into one of the great families
of poets or else one is of noble birth."24 Sogi was acclaimed as a renga
poet, but he may have been resentful that his humble birth kept him
from gaining recognition as a master of the waka, the only poetic art
blessed by the Japanese gods. A lesser man might have been satisfied
with having been inducted into the mysteries of the Kokinshu, but Sagi
seems to have craved the supreme accolade of recognition as one of the
company ofTsurayuki, Shunzei, Teika, and the rest, and this was denied
him by his birth.

Socha's Notebook
Among Sogi's many disciples, the closest was probably Sacha. 25 Their
relations, begun in 1466, when Socha was only seventeen, lasted until
Sogi's death in 1502. Socha accompanied Sogi on his final journey and
was at his side when Sagi died. His account, Sogi Shuen no Ki, opens
as the two men start on another journey together. Sagi had no expectation
of returning to the capital alive, but was resolved to die on his travels,
like Saigyo in Japan or Tu Fu in China before him. Socha seems to
 The Middle Ages

have been reluctant to make one more journey; perhaps by this time he
had become weary of being the companion of anyone, even a revered
teacher, who was so obsessed with travel.
Sagi had always enjoyed robust good health, and this was what made
his incessant journeys possible. Ironically, his final, serious illness started
while he was taking a cure at the hot springs in Ikaho. He was unac-
customed to being ill and this seems to have made him a bad patient,
but the stops on the journey became more frequent and longer. His
physical condition, however, did not prevent Sogi from composing renga
wherever he and Sacha went, but a gloomy tone pervades many of his
verses.
In the seventh month of 1502 Sagi suffered a rheumatic seizure, and
the alarmed Sacha arranged for a palanquin to bear him to the next
inn. They continued their journey to Yumoto, at the foot of the Hakone
mountains. That night Sagi seemed to be suffering in his sleep, and
Sacha awakened him. Sogi said he had been dreaming of Teika. He
murmured a verse from a sequence composed not long before:

nagamuru tsuki ni Along with the moon I gaze on,

tachi zo ulearuru I rise and float in the sky.

Sogi then said, "I have trouble adding a link. All of you, try to supply
one." Sacha continued, "Even as he spoke in these jesting tones, his
breathing ceased, like a lamp that goes out.'?"
Sacha's most characteristic work is his diary Socha Shuki (Sacha's
Notebook), written between 1522 and 1527.17 It is obvious from its pages
how temperamentally dissimilar he and Sogi were. Sogi's humor, rarely
displayed in surviving texts, is not an important element in our appraisal
of the man, but of all the materials included in Sacha's grab bag of a
diary, those of greatest literary interest are the humorous poems com-
posed by himself and his friends." These verses have no merit if judged
by the lofty ideals of renga as expounded by Shinkei and Sagi; they are
entirely comic in conception, and rely for effect not on richness of
overtones but on the crude humor of the double entendre."
Socha's Notebook is by no means devoted solely to amusing poetry.
There are many descriptions of warfare and fortifications, some so de-
tailed as to suggest that Sacha may have taken advantage of the freedom
with which Buddhist priests could travel even in time of war to act as
a spy for the daimyo of his native province, Suruga. The style throughout
is resolutely prosaic in the manner of a real diary, rather than in the
literary manner more typical of the diaries of earlier poets. Sacha does
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 983

not seem to have had any particular readers in mind, and that may be
why he seldom indicates why a man of his age felt impelled to travel so
often in a country that was torn by warfare. Perhaps the simplest expla-
nation is that he never lost his interest in people and landscapes. He evinced
to the end a joy in living, despite his constant insistence that he longed
for death. Writing early in the sixteenth century, he anticipated the
writers of a hundred years later in his absorption with the floating world.

RELIGIOUS AND SECULAR TALES

The principal collection of religious tales of the Muromachi period was

the Shintoslu; (Collection of the Way of the Gods), compiled in the late
fourteenth century." One might expect from the title that these tales
would all deal with the Shinto gods, but in fact the prevailing religious
belief is the medieval fusion of Shinto and Buddhism. The earliest
mention of the Shinto gods being given titles as bosatsu (bodhisattvas)
goes back to 782 when the deity Hachiman acquired a "bosatsu name."
In 937 the deity of the Kasuga Shrine, speaking through an oracle,
declared, "I am already a bosatsu, but the Court has not yet given me
any bosatsu name." When asked what bosatsu name he should be given,
he replied, "[ihi Mangyo Bosatsu,' or "Bodhisattva Complete in Mercy's
Works."!' In this way he proclaimed himself to be a manifestation in
Japan of the "original substance" of a Buddhist divinity.
During the Kamakura period the identifications between Japanese
deities and their prototypes in India were carried out mainly by Shingon
priests. Sometimes the identifications were almost automatic: for ex-
ample, Dainichi (Vairochana Buddha), whose name is written with
characters meaning "great sun," was naturally associated with the sun
goddess Arnaterasu." The identification of Amida Buddha as the "orig-
inal substance" of the Shinto god of war Hachiman was not quite so
obvious, and the reasons for associating other Shinto deities with the
various bodhisattvas were often equally unconvincing." By the end of
the Kamakura period twelve Buddhist divinities" had been identified
as the "original substances" of the Shinto gods enshrined at such centers
of Shinto belief as Kumano, Usa, and Hiyoshi, and they became the
objects of popular worship."
The first important collection of tales based on the combined faith
of Shinto and Buddhism was Kasuga Gongen Genki (The Miracles of
the Kasuga Deity). It was compiled at the end of the Kamakura period
by Kakuen (1277- 1340), a monk at the Kofuku-ji, the great temple that
 The Middle Ages

from its foundation at the beginning of the eighth century was intimately
associated with the Kasuga Shrine. Although the work is better known
for the magnificent illustrations by Takashina Takakane (fl. 13°9-133°)
than for the text, it is not without literary interest, quite apart from its
importance as a document of syncretistic belief. Each of the episodes
relates some oracle or prodigy related to the Kasuga deity." Many of
these episodes are likely to strike a non-Japanese reader as lacking in
point, but the oracles of the Kasuga deity justify their being narrated,
regardless of whether or not they have the piquance of, say, Tales of
Times Now Past. The oracular message is sometimes conveyed in a
dream, sometimes by a medium, sometimes by an old man or child who
bears the divine words." Almost any episode will serve as well as another
to suggest the manner of The Miracles of the Kasuga Deity, but one
concerning Egyo, a monk at the Ichijo-in abbacy of the Kofuku-ji
monastery, is typical:

Hoin Egyo of Shunari'in [a temple founded by Egyo] had plumbed

the depths of the Two Wisdoms," and stood as a model for the
whole Temple. So fine a scholar was he that he had no need to
blush before the sages of the past.
Once Egyo lay as though dead from evening until the hour of
the Serpent the following morning. After he revived he was asked
what had happened. "I was summoned to the palace of King
Enrna,":" he replied, "and so I made my way there. King Enma
ordered me to read the Lotus Sutra, so I did."
In his youth, Egyo was disappointed in a little quarrel over an
estate, and secretly thought of leaving the Temple. Then the
Daimyojin told him in a dream, "I had planned to have you serve
Me as Deputy Superintendent. Why do I now hear that because of
some trifling difficulty you wish to leave the Temple?" Egyo com-
pletely gave up the idea after that, and did in the end come to serve
as Deputy Superintendent."

The episode as it stands is not satisfactory in literary terms. The last

paragraph explains why Egyo was asked to read the Lotus Sutra, but
what the reader expects is some overt reaction to his visit to the world
of the dead. The point of the episode is that it was thanks to the oracle
from the Kasuga deity that Egyo, abandoning his plan to leave the
temple, became so learned that he was asked by King Enma himself to
read the sutra. Some of the episodes, especially those devoted to Myoe,
are longer and have greater literary value, but the collection as a whole
is of interest chiefly to scholars of Japanese religion.
The Miracles of the Kasuga Deity is written throughout in Japanese,
as befitting a collection that describes a Shinto deity, but the Shintosiu;
is in kambun. The use of kambun suggests (as was true long ago of
Account of Miracles in Japan) that the texts were intended to be used in
proselytizing. The collection consists of fifty tales of short and medium
length, each beginning with a brief account of a certain divinity, followed
by a story that may at first seem unrelated to the opening, and ending
with a connection being established between the story and the divinity.
The story of the Kumano deity opens in this fashion:

I shall tell you about the Kumano deity (gongen). Both En no Gyoja
and Baramon Sojo4! believed in the honji of the Kumano deity.
According to the history of the Kumano shrine, the god descended
from the sky in the Year of the Tiger onto Ornine at Hikone in the
westerly province of Buzen in Japan, following the traces of the
prince who had come from the holy mountain in China. His ap-
pearance was that of an octagonal pillar of crystal, and he stood
three feet and six inches in height. Later, he wandered here and
there in quest of a place to settle, and after long months and years
spent in this manner he at last manifested himself as the Kumano
deity."

Following other details of the wonders of the deity, the author enters
into the story of King Zenzai, the ruler of an Indian kingdom, whose
palace was so extensive that it took seven days and nights to walk around
its periphery, and forty-two days to traverse all the corridors. Each of
his thousand consorts lived in a palace of her own. The least favored
in looks was the Lady of the Palace of Five Marks of Decline," and the
king so rarely visited her that her palace had fallen into ruin. But the
lady prayed fervently to a statue of the Thousand-Armed Kannon and
a miracle was granted: she was transformed into a woman of radiant
beauty.
The king, entranced by this metamorphosis, spent all of his time
with the lady, much to the annoyance of his 999 other consorts. The
king had never had a son, and he prayed that this lady would bear him
one. His prayers were heard, and she was soon great with child. But
(the narrator warns us with a quotation from the Flower Wreath Surra)
women are messengers from hell who have often destroyed the seed of
 The Middle Ages

the Buddha; though in appearance they resemble bodhisattvas, in their

hearts they are like Yasha (devils)."
The homily prepares us for the evil deeds of the spurned 999 consorts.
They suborn with rich gifts a physiognomist, directing him to predict
that the child born to the Lady of the Palace of Five Marks of Decline
will be a monster with nine legs and eight faces, and that his body will
emit flames that will consume the capital and all the rest of the realm.
The king is naturally perturbed, but he declares that he wants to
see his child anyway. The 999 ladies, disappointed in the king's tolerance,
adopt a second stratagem. They assemble 999 unusually tall old women
and dress them up so that they seem to have nine legs and eight faces,
and have them beat drums. This goes on for five nights. The palace
ladies say that the Lady of the Palace of Five Marks of Decline is the
cause of this unseemly noise and insist she must be moved from the
capital. The king weakly agrees.
Some brutal soldiers are deputized to escort the lady, supposedly to
a safe place; but actually, they are under orders from the unaccom-
modating 999 to take her to Devil's Ravine and kill her there. The lady,
whose feet had never before trodden the earth, is forced to walk barefoot.
When informed she must die, she prays to Kannon for a miraculous
delivery of her child, though she is only five months into pregnancy.
Kannon hears her prayer, and the lady gives birth to a marvelously
beautiful boy. Even as she is suckling the baby, a hard-hearted soldier
beheads her. The headless corpse continues to nurture the baby, her
love proving stronger than death.
Twelve tigers, attracted by the smell of fresh blood and eager for a
meal, approach the beheaded mother, but at the sight of the baby suckling
at her breast, they are struck with pity, and stand guard over them. In
the meantime, Kiken, a holy man who lives a long distance away, receives
a mysterious oracle to the effect that King Zenzai's son is being reared
by twelve tigers. He hurries to the spot indicated by the oracle and finds
the child playing with the tigers. The holy man addresses the tigers,
first praising them for their acuity (though they are brute beasts) in
having detected the ten marks of majesty in the child. He asks their
permission to take the child to the king, and the tigers graciously agree.
The holy man and the little prince travel through the air to the
palace of the king. He is surprised to see them drop from the sky, and
even more surprised when the saint tells him of the conspiracy of the
infamous 999 and the death of the Lady of the Palace of Five Marks
of Decline. The king declares that he had known all along of the
wickedness of women, but he never supposed they would be guilty of
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachl Period 987

anything quite so dreadful. He sends for his carriage, fashioned of solid

gold, and boards it together with the prince and the holy man. Not
knowing where to go, he resorts to divination. He throws five swords
into the air, resolved to go wherever they land. All five fall in Japan,
the first in the land of Kii, near the site of the Kumano Shrines, the
rest at strategically located places in Kyushu, Mutsu (at the northern
end of Honshu), the island of Awaji, and Mount Daisen near the Japan
Sea coast.
At this point the narrative returns to the Kumano deity. An account
is given of the principal shrines and of the Buddhist ancestry of each.
King Zenzai himself rules over the entire complex of shrines, but the
Lady of the Palace of Five Marks of Decline, their son, and the holy
man Kiken each becomes the guardian divinity of one of the shrines.
The wicked 999 ladies follow the king as far as Kumano, but he gives
them short shrift, and presently they turn into red bugs. The story
continues with a description of the connections between the Kumano
deity and the mandalas, and concludes with the statement that the
Kumano deity is first among the gods who protect the naishidokoro, the
sanctuary in the palace where the divine mirror, one of the three imperial
regalia, is enshrined.
Other stories in the Shintoshi; follow this pattern, presenting at the
beginning and end such theological matters as the relations between the
various gods and buddhas, but devoting most of the space to a tale of
general interest. This particular tale was closely derived from a surra,"
though the ending-the king and his entourage going to Kumano-
was obviously a Japanese addition.
Listening to or reading such a tale could bring great benefits. In
Kumano no Honji, an otogi-zoshi (tale of the Muromachi period) that
relates the same story in a more concentrated and artistic manner, we
are told, "If one hears this story once, it is the same as going to Kumano
once, and people who read this story twice receive the same benefits as
if they had visited the deity twice. If those who are prevented by cir-
cumstances from making the long journey read this story and listen to
the explanation of the sacred text (sekkyo), it will be the same as if they
had made the pilgrimage themselves. Their action will turn bad karma
into good, and the believer, escaping the pains of the Three Ways and
the Eight Obstacles, will without doubt find his way to the Pure Land.?"
It is easy to imagine the tales in the Shintoshu being delivered to an
audience of pious but badly educated people. The performer might be
either a man or a woman, though in the case of stories involving the
Kumano deity it was more likely to have been a woman, one of the
 The Middle Ages

Kumano bikuni (nuns) who figured prominently in the dissemination

of such tales." Because of the benefits that were believed to accrue from
listening to such recitations, some of the faithful would probably have
listened to even the most boring accounts, but the performers attempted
to reach as wide a public as possible. Often their recitations were en-
hanced by pictures, whether horizontal scrolls, hanging scrolls, or il-
lustrated books; e-tolti, or "explanation of pictures," was a favored means
of communicating Shinto or Buddhist beliefs during the medieval period,
and still survives vestigially. Stories about distant India or about events
of remote antiquity could be given immediacy by the vivid descriptions
of the storytellers and the visual presence of the divinities in the paintings
displayed.
The Shintoshu seems to have been compiled between 1352 and 1360,
as we can gather from various hints in the text. Probably, however, it
represents a final recension of stories that had been related orally in the
form of sermons for many years. At the head of each of the ten books
the words "Written by Agui" appear, but there is virtually nothing in
the text that suggests a connection with the Agui, a kind of dormitory
for Tendai priests in the city of Kyoto. Priests of the Agui were celebrated
for the dramatic nature of their preaching (shodo), and the texts they
used had literary quality." Kishi Shozo, an authority on literature of
this period, offered the suggestion that the Shintoshi; may have been
compiled from a much larger collection of sermon materials that had
been amassed over the years by the chief priests of the Agui. These
materials consisted of excerpts from the sutras, statements of Shinto
belief, histories of shrines and temples, and explanations of the Buddhist
divinities and their Shinto avatars. From among them (some in kambun
and others in Japanese) a priest of the Agui selected those with the best
literary style." Close resemblances in style and content with The Tale
of the Soga Brothers suggest that the author of the monogatari and of
some of the tales may have been the same man, possibly a priest from
Hakone, the geographical region common to both.
The literary value of these and similar works of religious inspiration
is not high, though they are certainly interesting for other reasons. But
every so often, in the midst of an improbable or even fantastic account
of a miraculous event, one's attention will be caught by a detail or a
phrase that startles by its "human" reality. It is not hard at such moments
to imagine the effects the recitations and the display of pictures might
have had on audiences all over Japan. Barbara Ruch wrote of the dis-
semination of these tales by itinerant performers as "the making of a
Diaries and Other Prose of the M uromach i Period 989

national literature," a literature known to everyone, learned or illiterate,

who had come within range of the narrators' voices or seen the crudely
illustrated pamphlets that communicated in writing and pictures the
tales of the two great religions miraculously fused into one.

COURTLY FICTION

The chief interest of the archaistic tales composed during the Muromachi
period is that the authors, indifferent to their own times, kept on writing
about the relatively short period in the past when the Heian aristocracy
flowered. The plots are by no means uniform, but the unvarying setting
and even the Heian titles (minister of the Left, middle counselor, lesser
general, and the like) by which the characters are known produce a
general impression of sameness. The repeated use of familiar patterns
in the characters and situations, the paucity of overt action, and above
all the bittersweet mood that pervades works of this genre no doubt
reflected the fondness of readers for variations on well-known themes.
The lovers portrayed in one of these tales of court life are rarely together
at the end of the work, and even if consolation is offered by a devoted
child or second spouse, the prevailing impression is of mono no aware.
The preference for a sad ending contrasts with the tastes of readers
elsewhere. Northrop Frye wrote, "One of the things that comedy and
romance as a whole are about, clearly, is the unending, irrational, absurd
persistence of the human impulse to struggle, survive, and where possible
escape. It is perhaps worth noting how intense is the desire of most
readers of romance for the happy ending."?" It is hard to think of anyone
who struggles to survive in a medieval Japanese romance, though an
escape (not, however, of the kind found in European romances) was
provided by Buddhist monasteries where the world and its preoccu-
pations could be forgotten.
Many Muromachi period romances were unknown until their dis-
covery in the twentieth century, and most of them have yet to be given
the benefit of an annotated edition. If the great classics of Heian literature
had perished in the warfare that ravaged the great collections of man-
uscripts and only these works survived, they would undoubtedly be
treated with much greater respect, for some have considerable merit;
but even their names are now unknown to all but a handful of specialists.
Perhaps the best known of the Murornachi" romances is Shinobine
Monogatari (The Tale of Shinobine). The original version, of which a
99° The Middle Ages

few poems are preserved in the collection Fuyoshu, " was probably written
toward the end of the Heian period. These poems do not appear in the
extant version, and there are various other indications that the reworking
of the text did not consist (as was often true of Muromachi adaptations
of Heian monogatari) merely of a condensation of the plot." The
Shinobine of the title is at once a poetic word for "silent weeping" and
the name of the heroine. In other monogatari a woman is known by
such a nickname only after it has appeared in one of her poems or the
author has used the word in describing the character, but there is no
antecedent for the nickname in the present Tale of Shinobine. Probably
the original text had one," and probably, too (judging from the prom-
inence of her name in the title), the heroine was of greater importance
to the whole story than in the existing version, where the hero, the
handsome and gifted Kintsune, is the central figure. The changes may
have been made to shorten a text that seemed excessively long-winded
to a later generation of readers, but it may also have been inspired by
a specifically medieval concern for Buddhist salvation.
The Tale of Shinobine opens in a manner familiar from The Tale of
Genji and other Heian romances. Kintsune, the hero, is the son of the
minister of the Center, who is among the most distinguished men of
the realm, and his younger sister is the consort of the crown prince.
One autumn day, having gone to see the colored leaves at Sagano, he
happens to hear the sounds of a koto being played most exquisitely. He
sends his companion to discover who might be playing, concealing him-
self behind a fence. Eventually he plucks up the courage to peep inside.
Kintsune sees several women looking at some picture books, a familiar
scene in early fiction. One of the women is revealed to be the koto
player, and Kintsune is attracted by her extraordinary beauty. His pres-
ence is detected by the rare perfume he uses (another echo of The Tale
of Genji), and he hastily beats a retreat, but he cannot endure the thought
of not meeting her. He asks his man to request lodgings for the night
from a nun, the companion of the lady, under the pretense that they
have lost their way. Once inside the house, Kintsune insists on being
presented. The nun, recognizing him as the peerless Shii no Shosho
(lesser captain of the Fourth Rank), is persuaded, and Kintsune even-
tually spends the night with the lady, who is henceforth referred to as
Shinobine, though up to this point she has not indulged in secret
weepmg.
Kintsune falls passionately in love. He arranges for Shinobine and
the nun to move to a house near his own, much to the disappointment
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 991

of his father, who has other, more ambitious plans for his son. In the
next year Shinobine gives birth to a boy, and the happiness of the couple
is at its height; but Kintsune's father, determined that his son will rise
in the world, commands him to marry the daughter of the powerful
Sadaisho. The father announces a wedding day and states his intention
of rearing Shinobine's child at his home. Kintsune breaks the news to
Shinobine, and with much grief on both sides, he takes the child away.
Kintsune's predicament is genuine. He loves Shinobine, but he can-
not bring himself to oppose his father. When the father urges him to
pay the ritual three visits to Sadaisho's daughter, as a sign that they are
married, he complies, but the first sight of the woman who is to be his
wife chills him: she has a broad forehead and big eyes and "though she
might appear beautiful to her own father, she was certainly no match
for the lady he had left behind." All the same, he goes through with
the visits; but these are the last attentions he pays his wife. Instead, he
secretly takes his child to see its mother, Shinobine, and discovers that
his love is in no way diminished.
Although he neglects his wife, his marital connection brings Kintsune
rapid advancement, as his father had hoped, and he is considered to be
the most promising young member of the court. But when he decides
to build a more suitable dwelling for Shinobine, his father, who considers
this a betrayal of Kintsunes wife, interferes. He intercepts a letter from
Kintsune to Shinobine, and substitutes a note which has the effect of
making her leave the vicinity. However, her companion, the nun, knows
a high-born lady who secures for Shinobine a place at the court. Before
long, she attracts the attention of the emperor, and he favors her with
his love. One day Kintsune, who has searched in vain for Shinobine,
plays his flute at court. Shinobine, recognizing his distinctive tone, is
unable to control her agitation. The emperor, guessing the cause, permits
her to meet Kintsune. He is still in love with Shinobine, but feels he
cannot stand in the way of the emperor, and announces his intention
of entering Buddhist orders. He returns to his house, bids farewell to
his wife and son, then goes to Mount Hiei where he is initiated as a
monk.
Shinobine in time gives birth to the emperor's son, who is at once
designated as the crown prince. Her son by Kintsune rises spectacularly,
but he never neglects to visit his father on Mount Hiei. The emperor
abdicates in favor of the crown prince, and Shinobine's son by Kintsune,
now a middle counselor, makes a happy marriage with a princess of
the highest rank.
992 The Middle Ages

The story ends happily, but the overall tone is melancholy. Perhaps
Kintsune has found peace and a kind of happiness in the monastery,
but the reader is likely to think of him with pity, a man torn from the
woman he loves. Shinobine is established as the empress, and her son
succeeds to the throne, but there is no indication that this brings her
joy. Most striking in terms of the narration is the absence of dreams or
fantasies, an almost inescapable plot device in tales of the period. The
story is related in believable, everyday detail, as if the author had invented
nothing but had merely recounted a quite ordinary series of events. The
only person who might be called a villain is Kintsune's father, but even
his disagreeable actions are inspired not by a craving for personal gain
but by anxiety over the welfare of his son. The story lacks the intensity
and dimensions of tragedy, but leaves a poignant aftertaste of sadness.
The Tale of Shinobine is moving not because of the novelistic ele-
ments-Kintsune's being attracted by the sounds of Shinobine's koto
or her recognizing his presence by his wondrous flute-playing-but
because of the understated portrayal of the characters. At the end of the
story nobody is happy, and yet each has achieved what under other
circumstances might be interpreted as fulfillment.
The otogi-zoshi Shigure, written later in the Muromachi period, is
very similar in plot," but there are differences in the narrative that
suggest how much time has elapsed between the two works. In The
Tale of Shinobine the lovers meet at Sagano, in the manner of a Heian
romance, after Kintsune has heard the sounds of Shinobine's koto; in
Shigure they meet by chance in the bustle of the crowd at the Kiyomizu
Temple when the heroine is caught in a sudden rainstorm, and the hero
lends her his umbrella." The transition from the monogatari to the
otogi-zoshi could hardly be more striking.
Despite the many changes in Japanese society between the eleventh
century, when the courtly romance was perfected, and the sixteenth
century, when it finally ceased to be of importance, it retained its hold
on members of the aristocracy, who sought to identify themselves with
people of the Heian past they knew from romances. But the endless
warfare and the general impoverishment of the aristocrats at the end
of the sixteenth century apparently had the effect of making it impossible
for them to bridge the widened gap between themselves and their
ancestors. The meeting of Chujo, the hero of Shigure, and the beautiful
daughter of the late Sanjo middle counselor at a popular place of worship,
rather than a mountain retreat, suggests that even the aristocrats had
come to feel that the world they lived in could no longer be ignored in
favor of the past. This change in the story would be developed even
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 993

more conspicuously in the literature of the seventeenth century: one of

the first kana zoshi (the characteristic tales of that era), and a forerunner
of the popular romance, also opens with the first meeting of lovers at
the Kiyomizu Temple. But this is not a tale of "once upon a time"-
we are informed that the meeting occurred in 1604, just eight years
before publication of the work." The traditions of the courtly romance
were in this way extended into the modern world.

Notes
1. For further discussion of the effect of the synthesis between Shinto and
Buddhism on literary composition, see H. E. Plutschow, Chaos and Cosmos,
pp. 145-99. The philosophical background of the synthesis is the subject
of The Buddhist Philosophy of Assimilation by Alicia Matsunaga. The union
of the two religions is embodied in the stories in the Shintoshu (see below,
pp. 985-88).
2. Quoted from the translation in my Travelers of a Hundred Ages, pp. 179-
80. The original text is found in Kato Genchi, Kenkyu Hyoshoh«: Saka-o
Daijingii Sankeiki, p. 3.
3. See Dawn to the West, I, p. 822. The original text is found in Kawabata
Yasunari Zenshu, XXIII, p. 407.
4. From his diary Journey Along the Tsuhushi Road (1480). In the original:
Meisho naraneba shiite kokol'O tomorazu. See Kaneko Kinjiro, Sogi Tabi no
Ki Shichii, p. 92; also the translation by Eileen Kato, "Pilgrimage to Da-
zaifu," p. 364.
5. Quoted in Keene, Travelers, p. 188. Text in Fukuda Hideichi et al., Chiisei
Nzkki Kika Shu, p. 370.
6. It may only be an accident of the transmission of texts, but the surviving
diaries that treat the era of the two courts were almost all by adherents of
the Northern Court.
7. He is also known as Kanera, but I have followed the reading preferred by
the Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten.
8. I am speaking, naturally, only of known authors; it is quite likely that
creators of the stories in Tales of Times Now Past and later collections of
setsuwa bungaku were commoners, but it is only from this time that we
know the names of commoners who wrote important works of poetry and
prose.
9. Fukuda Hideichi et al., Chusei, pp. 392-93.
10. The text gives his full name and title: Hosokawa Ukyo no Daibu Katsumoto
Ason.
I I. A quotation from a kanshi by Oe no Asatsuna, poem 632 in Wakan Roei
994 The Middle Ages
Shu. See Kawaguchi Hisao, Wakan Raei Shu, p. 475. The meaning here
seems to be that although Kaneyoshi realizes he may not have another
chance to visit the old sites, he was afraid of being caught up in the fighting
while he was sightseeing, far from his protectors.
12. Fukuda Hideichi et aI., Chusei, p. 394.
13. More commonly, musha.
14. Fukuda Hideichi et aI., Chusei, p. 400.
15. See above, pp. 950-57.
16. There is a book on the travels of renga poets at this time, Rengashi to Kika
by Kaneko Kinjiro. The frontispiece, appropriately, is a picture of Sogi
dressed for travel and riding a horse. Sogi's travels are specifically treated
on pp. 124-5°. See also above, pp. 952-53.
17. Translation from Keene, Travelers, p. 221. Both Kanemori and Noin were
well-known poets of the Heian period who composed poems on the subject
of Shirakawa Barrier.
18. Sogi says in the diary, "That is how it is on a journey. Even though the
affairs of the world are a source of grief, one consoles oneself recalling
the old poems that have come down through the generations." Transla-
tion in Eileen Kato, "Pilgrimage," p. 364. Original text in Kaneko, Sagi,
p. 91.
19. Translation by Eileen Kato in "Pilgrimage," pp. 363-64. Text in Kaneko,
Sogi, p. 91.
20. Translation by Edward G. Seidensticker in The Tale of Genji, I, p. 388.
21. Translation by Eileen Kato in "Pilgrimage," p. 360. Text in Kaneko, Sagi,
p.82-
22. Translation by Eileen Kato in "Pilgrimage," p. 362. Original text in Kaneko,
Sogi, p. 88.
23. Kaneko (in Sogi, p. 90) records his search for a source for the little fishes
fearing the big ones, as much as to indicate that every comment by Sogi
must have had a source.
24. Kaneko, Sogi, p. 92. See also Eileen Kato, "Pilgrimage," p. 364.
25. For further details concerning Socho, see above, pp. 957-58.
26. I have drawn this description of Sogi Shuen no Ki from my Travelers, pp.
228-32. The text is given in Kaneko, Sagi, pp. 103-25.
27. The notebook provided H. Mack Horton with the materials for his very
interesting article, "Saiokuken Socho and the Linked-Verse Business."
28. For more about Yamazaki Sokan, with whom Socho composed comic
renga, see World Within Walls, pp. 12-19. Little is known about Sokan's
life, but he is revered as the founder of haihai no renga, and his name is
associated with Inu Tsuleuba Shu, the first collection devoted to that genre.
29. For some examples in translation, see my article, "The Comic Tradition
in Renga," pp. 274-76.
30. Dates corresponding to 1354 and 1358 occur in the text, and it is believed
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 995

that the original version of the collection was compiled not long afterward,
but the extant text seems to have been compiled at the beginning of the
fifteenth century. The rufubon text probably dates to the late fifteenth
century. See the article by Murakami Manabu, "Shintoshu," in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Daijiten, III, p. 499.
3 I. This passage occurs in section 1.2 of Kasuga Gongen Gcnki, translated by
Royall Tyler in The Miracles of the Kasuga Deity, p. 165.
32. However, Amaterasu was also identified as the "manifested trace" of the
[Iiichimen (Eleven-headed) Kannon. See ibid., p. II7.
33. Sometimes it happened that religious factions made different identifications
of the honji of the Shinto gods. See ibid., p. 104.
34. These were (in Japanese pronunciation) Dainichi, Amida, Shaka, Yakushi,
Monju, Fugen, [izo, Miroku, Kannon, Seishi, Kokuzo, and Fudo. These
constitute twelve of the thirteen Buddhist divinities who "presided" over
the thirteen memorial services for the dead ranging in time from one week
to thirty-three years after the death.
35. See Kishi Shozo, "Kaisetsu," in his edition of Shintoshu, p. 295.
36. The number and sex of this deity (daimyojin) is by no means clear. At
times four (or five) different deities, one of them female, are distinguished,
but in general a single male deity seems to be intended. The Japanese
language does not distinguish singular from plural or masculine from
feminine, and it is only when translating into an Indo-European language
that it is necessary to decide on the number and sex of the deity. The four
"sanctuaries" and the Wakamiya Shrine all form part of the deity, but as
Tyler pointed out (pp. 112-13), "The Genki contains no hint that the various
aspects of Kasuga no Dairnyojin have a collective life apart from the di-
vinity's acts of communication with humans."
37. See Tyler, The Miracles, pp. 96-97, for a listing under various categories
of the different kinds of bearers of oracles.
38. Nimvo, the last of the gomyo ("five wisdoms"), which are: languages; the
arts and crafts including mathematics; medicine; logic; and Buddhist doc-
trine. The nimvo were essential fields of study at Kofuku-ji.
39. The reigning deity of the world of the dead. The romanization of the
name is often Emma.
40. Translation (including note 19) from Tyler, The Miracles, p. 205. This is
episode 1 I. 1 in Tyler's numbering. He divided (on the basis of content)
the ninety-three sections of text mentioned in the original table of contents
into seventy-two numbered tales.
41. En no Gyoja (634-?), a semilegendary figure, was traditionally considered
to have been the founder of shugendo, the mountain ascetic cult whose
members are known as yamabushi. The ascetic practices they performed
were in order to acquire magic powers that could aid the community.
Baramon Soja (704-760) was an Indian priest who came to Japan in
99 6 The Middle Ages
736 and subsequently took a leading role in the ceremonies attending the
dedication of the Great Buddha at the Todai-ji in 752.
42 . Kishi, Shintoshii, p. 3.
43. Gosuiden, the Palace of Five Marks of Decline, refers to the last incarnation
of a heavenly being, when sweat, bad odor, and so on mark its decline
from celestial status. It was not an auspicious name for a palace.
44. Kishi, Shlntoshu, p. 6.
45. Senda Okkoku-o Kyo, contained in vol. 14 of Taisho Shinshi; DaizokYo. See
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, II, pp. 297-98.
46. Quoted by Kishi in his "Kaisetsu" to Shintoshu, p. 293.
47. For an account in English of the Kumano bikuni, see Barbara Ruch,
"Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a National Literature," pp. 299-
304.
48. Kishi, "Kaisetsu," pp. 303-4.
49· Ibid., pp. 3°7- 8.
50. Northrop Frye, The Secular Scripture, p. 136.
51. Many Japanese scholars are careful to distinguish between writings of the
Namboku-cho-the period from 1336 to 1392 when the rule of the country
was divided between the Southern and Northern courts-and the Mu-
romachi period proper, from 1392 to 1573. There are legitimate reasons
for making this distinction, but I have preferred to follow the more tra-
ditional periodization according to which the Muromachi period began in
1333 with the fall of the Kamakura shogunate and ended in 1573 when
Oda Nobunaga expelled the last Ashikaga shogun from the capital.
52. For the importance of Fuyoshu in dating works of courtly fiction, see above,
P·789·
53. An example of a medieval "revision" (kaisaku) of a Heian text is the
Nakamura-bon text of Wakefulness at Night, a summary and adaptation
that has the special significance of enabling us to know what happened in
the missing volumes of the Heian text.
54. See Koyama Hiroshi (ed.), Nihon Bungaku Shinshi (Chum), p. 130; also
Kannoto Akio, "Shinobine Monogatari no Iso," p. I 18.
55. Kannoto in his "Shinobine" treats Shigure as no more than an adaptation
of The Tale of Shinobine, and traces the development of themes from the
lost Shinobine to the extant text of Shigure. But not all scholars have accepted
his thesis.
56. See the article by Kuwabara Hiroshi in Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, III,
p. 17°·
57. For further details, see World Within Walls, pp. 150-51.
Diaries and Other Prose of the Muromachi Period 997

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in
Tokyo.

Frye, Northrop. The Secular Scripture. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University

Press, 1976.
Fukuda Akira. Chusei Katarimono Bungei. Miyai Shoten, 1981.
Fukuda Hideichi. Chusei Bungaku Ronka. Meiji Shoin, 1975.
Fukuda Hideichi, Iwasa Miyoko, Kawazoe Shoji et al. Chiisei Nikki Kika Sha,
in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1990.
Horton, H. Mack. "Saiokuken Socho and the Linked-Verse Business," Trans-
actions of the Asiatic Society ofJapan, Fourth Series, I, 1986.
Imatani Akira. "Sengokuki Gunki Bungaku no Kyoko to [ijitsu," Bungaku
53: 10 , 1985.
Ito Kei. Shin Hokucha no Hito to Bungaku. Miyai Shoten, 1979.
Kaneko Kinjiro. Rengashi to Kika. Ofusha, 1990.
- - - . Sogi Tabi no ki Shichu. Ofusha, 1970.
Kannoto Akio. "Shinobine Monogatari no Iso," in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu
Shiryo Kankokai (ed.), Otogi Z05hi. Yuseido, 1985.
Kato, Eileen. "Pilgrimage to Dazaifu," Monumenta Nipponica 34:3, 1979.
Kato Genchi. KenkYa Hyashaku: Saka-o Daijinga Sankeiki. Fuzarnbo, 1939.
Kawabata Yasunari Zenshii, 35 vols. Shinchosha, 1980-83.
Kawaguchi Hisao. Wakan Roei Shu, in Kodansha Gakujutsu Bunko series.
Kodansha, 1982.
Keene, Donald. "The Comic Tradition in Renga," in John Whitney Hall and
Toyoda Takeshi (eds.), Japan In the Muromachi Age. Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1977.
- - - . Travelers of a Hundred Ages. New York: Henry Holt, 1989.
Kido Saizo. Chusei Bungaeu Shiron. Meiji Shoin, 1984.
Kishi Shozo (ed.) Shintoshu, in Toyo Bunko series. Heibonsha, 1967.
Koyama Hiroshi (ed.). Nihon Bungaleu Shinshi (Cham). Shibundo, 1990.
Kubota [un and Kitagawa Tadahiko. Chiise: no Bungaku. Yuhikaku, 1976.
Matsumura Yasushi. Chiisei [oryi; Nikki Bungaleu no KenkYa. Meiji Shoin, 1983.
Matsunaga, Alicia. The Buddhist Philosophy ofAssimilation-the Historical Devel-
opment of the Honji-Suijaku Theory. Tokyo: Sophia University Press, 1969.
Mitani Eiichi (ed.), Tailee: Monogatari Bungakushi, IV. Yuseido, 1989.
Murakami Manabu. "Shintoshu no Sekai," Kokubungaku Kaishaltu to Kansho
52:9, 1987.
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Plutschow, H. E. Chaos and Cosmos. Leiden: Brill, 1990.
Plutschow, Herbert, and Hideichi Fukuda. Four Japanese Travel Diaries of the
Middle Ages. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University East Asia Papers, 1981.
998 The Middle Ages
Ruch, Barbara. "Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a National Literature,"
in John Whitney Hall and Toyoda Takeshi (eds.) Japan in the Muromachi
Age. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977.
- - - . Mo Hitotsu no Chiiseizo. Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 1991.
Seidensticker, Edward. The Tale of Genji, 2 vols, New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1976.
Tomikura Tokujir6. Meitokuki, in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten,
1941.
Tyler, Royall. The Miracles ofthe Kasuga Deity. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1990.
Varley, H. Paul. A Chronicle of Gods and Sovereigns:[innii Shotoki of Kitabatahe
Chikafusa. New York: Columbia University Press, 1980.
 26.
NO AND KYOCEN
AS LITERATURE

The culture of the Muromachi period, as the activities of renga poets

and professional storytellers demonstrated, was by no means confined
to the capital or to the aristocracy. During the course of the warfare
that began in the 1330S and continued with few pauses until late in the
sixteenth century, almost everything that had survived in the capital of
the manuscripts, works of art, and architecture of the Heian period was
destroyed. The court nobles, the patrons of culture since its inception
in Japan, were reduced to powerlessness by the rise of the military, and
could contribute little to the new culture except the dignity of their
names and their special knowledge of old traditions. Their place as
patrons was taken partly by commoners in the villages who paid story-
tellers and other performers to entertain them, but principally by the
new aristocracy-the shogun and his court in the capital, and the dai-
myos in their castle towns throughout the country.
The movement of culture went in both directions: warfare drove
renga masters from the capital to the provinces where they taught their
art, but it also occasioned rustic entertainments in the capital-perhaps
brought back from temporary places of exile by men from the capital
who had enjoyed such performances. In whichever direction the move-
ment went, it was beneficial to the art-on the one hand, it freed renga
from excessive reliance on courtly traditions, and on the other, it helped
to purge the emerging No theater of the crudities of amateur theatricals.
The arts of the period were discrete, but there were resemblances
in their ideals and sometimes their realization. This was true even of
the nonliterary arts. The understatement (one is tempted to say sym-
bolism) in the gestures of No was echoed in the tea ceremony, the
monochrome landscape paintings, the rituals of Zen Buddhism. The
vocabulary is also similar: yugen, the mysterious depths sought by the
practitioners of renga, was equally an ideal of No; and hie (chill) defined
1000 The Middle Ages

Zeami's plays that treated old age as much as it did the renga of Shinkei.
The materials used by performing artists of the Muromachi period
were also similar. The principal sources of the No plays were incidents
related in The Tale of the Heilte, and this was true, of course, of the
professional storytellers who recited and sang the glory of the heroes of
the past. Though the No theater is likely to impress modern audiences
as a supremely aristocratic form of drama, many of the plays were based
on folktales or on the legends that had grown up around shrines and
temples in the countryside. Shinkei professed haughty contempt for
anything smelling of rusticity, but other renga masters (notably those
who took part in composing Three Poets at Minase) incorporated in their
verses their experiences when traveling across landscapes unmarked by
a single utamakura.

No

Of the literary arts of the Muromachi period, none is more impressive

than No; yet it has only been in the relatively recent past that these
plays have come to be considered works of literature. In terms of the
literature as a whole, plays of literary interest were a late development,'
and even after they had attained their full flowering, the texts were
seldom praised in terms of poetic beauty that might be appreciated by
a reader no less than by a spectator. Performance-whether by profes-
sionals on a stage or by amateurs intoning the texts for their own
pleasure-was the chief and virtually the only aspect of the plays to
elicit comment. The texts of the No plays, the oldest surviving form of
Japanese drama, tended to be dismissed as no more than patchworks of
quotations from the old poetry and romances; and the high reputation
of individual works was in recognition of their success on the stage,
rather than a tribute to the dramatists' understanding of the human
heart or to the magnificence of their poetry. The singing and the dancing
in No plays were of such importance that the texts were often considered
to be hardly more than libretti. This attitude stemmed from the older
traditions of nonliterary theater-performances that were either without
words or used them merely as props for the movements on stage.
Scholars have increasingly insisted that No cannot be understood
without reference to the music and dance, and considerable attention
has been devoted, especially in recent years, to the musical structure of
the plays.' This opinion is welcome: a full understanding of a No play
No and Kyiig cn as Literature IDOl

does indeed require an awareness of how song and choreography en-

hance its meaning. However, recognition of how much more there is
to a No play than the bare texts should not prevent us from considering
the plays as literature any more than the loss of the musical and dramatic
elements of the Greek dramas has prevented readers from being deeply
affected by these expressions of the human condition.' The discussion
here will be limited to an examination of the plays as literary texts.'

Historical Background
The oldest recorded Japanese entertainments were the gigaku dances
first imported from China in A.D. 612. Gigaku survives today only in
the vestigial form of the shishimai, or lion dance, a popular feature of
New Year celebrations, but over 220 gigaku masks have been preserved
from the seventh and eighth centuries, evidence of its variety and pop-
ularity. Fragmentary records indicate that a gigaku performance began
with a procession of the actors, some masked as birds and beasts, others
as barbarians with uri-japanese features, and they were accompanied by
musicians who played flutes, drums, and gongs. From time to time the
procession halted and dances were performed. These dances, ultimately
perhaps of Indian, or possibly even Greek origins,' contained mimetic
elements, some comic or even indecent, but there seems not to have
been any dialogue.
The Japanese court of the Nara period, eager to import and assimilate
anything produced by the great civilization of China, sponsored per-
formances of gigaku, and youths were commanded to perfect themselves
in the art. The high point in gigaku history occurred in 752, on the
occasion of the ceremonies marking the "opening of the eyes" of the
Great Buddha at the Todai-ji, when sixty gigaku artists performed. Half
a century later only two men were qualified as gigaku performers." In
the meantime, the court had learned of a more decorous Chinese en-
tertainment, the stately bugaku dances. Two varieties of bugaku were
introduced, the samai (or "left" dances) from China, and the umai (or
"right" dances) from Korea'? The bugaku dances depicted such scenes
as the triumphal return of a king from war or the effects of liquor on
a party of frolicsome demons, and they were accompanied by gagaku, a
beautiful and complex orchestral music." The samai and umai dances
were distinguished by the coloring of the costumes and the musical
instruments employed in the accompaniment. There was still no spoken
or sung dialogue, though kami-uta 9 (god songs) and other ancient songs
[002 The Middle Ages

accompanied some performances. Bugaku would influence No not so

much in its costumes, masks, or dances as in its organization into three
musical sections of increasingly rapid tempo--jo (introduction), ha (de-
velopment), and !ryu (fast conclusion). A few No plays include dances
in the bugaku style, usually to suggest the exotic world of China.
Bugaku was a fully mature art when first introduced to Japan, and
because its alien characteristics were faithfully preserved, it has survived
as ritual performances that can be repeated but not developed. By the
end of the twelfth century, the period when No was first emerging as
a theatrical art, bugaku had become established as part of the ceremonials
at the Imperial Palace and Shinto shrines.
Sangaku, a much humbler form of entertainment, was introduced
from China along with bugaku. It consisted of acrobatics, juggling,
sleight-of-hand, puppet-operating, and stunts of various kinds. A picture
of one stunt survives: a girl wearing high clogs crosses a rope strung
between poles balanced on the chins of two cavorting men, and the girl
juggles as she walks.'? There were also sangaku playlets whose subjects
were mentioned by Fujiwara no Akihira inA New Account ofSarugaku l 1
as part of his account of a day spent by a family watching a performance. I!
These may have been little more than brief skits, but they presumably
included dialogue.
There were mimetic elements also in the indigenous kagura dances
performed by miko (priestesses) at Shinto shrines, but the native enter-
tainment that contributed most to the formation of No was dengaku
(field music), originally the songs and dances peasants offered to the
gods as part of agricultural celebrations. The earliest mention of dengaku
goes back to 998, and there are scattered references to dengaku in diaries
and other documents from then until the middle of the fourteenth
century." Almost every mention, beginning with the first (in the official
history Nihon Kiryaku), is in connection with an account of disorder
that involved rioting and slaughter. Presumably dengaku was sometimes
performed without incidents of violence, but on such occasions it did
not attract the attention of historians. Surviving documents do not de-
scribe how dengaku was performed when it was first introduced to the
capital from the country, but its deleterious effects on public order
suggest that it consisted of dances that involved not only the performers
but the spectators in a kind of mass hysteria that tended to culminate
in bloodshed. The riots in 1096, at the time of dengaku performances,
were on such a scale as to cause some historians to describe them as a
turning point in the history of Japanese society." Virtually everyone,
No and Kvog en as Literature roo,

from the emperor on down, seems to have been infected with the
dengaku craze."
By Hojo Takatoki's time, however, dengaku had evolved beyond
the wild dances described in the early accounts. Elements of sangaku,
such as the juggling of balls and swords, enhanced the dengaku per-
formances, and a musical beat was provided by hip drums and rattles.
The costumes, formerly simple, became lavish, no doubt in keeping with
the tastes of audiences that included aristocrats.
No surviving evidence indicates whether or not the dengaku actors
of Takatoki's time performed texts that might be described as literary,
but by the end of the fourteenth century such texts certainly existed. In
1375 Zeami, then a boy of twelve, went to Nara to see a performance
of dengaku by the master actor Kiami. Even fifty years later he still
recalled how Kiami had delivered certain lines." Kiami has sometimes
been credited with having created Matsultaze, the most beautiful of the
No plays." It appears that dengaku (often called dengaku no) and
sarugaku" (or sarugaku no),19 the direct ancestor of the No, developed
along parallel lines and much influence passed between the two. Den-
gaku seems to have achieved artistic distinction more quickly, but failed
to keep pace with sarugaku, perhaps because of the historical accident
that it had no outstanding performers during the crucial period when
Kannami and Zeami were developing No into a great dramatic art.
Ennen was another early form of entertainment that influenced
sarugaku. The name ennen means "prolonging life," and the art probably
originated as ceremonies of prayer for the long life of some exalted
person; but as early as 1100 the ennen prayers were followed by dances,
and ennen" eventually came to mean an entertainment performed by
priests at the conclusion of a religious ceremony. At first, dances by boys
were the most characteristic feature of ennen," but gradually dramatic
elements were incorporated. For some years it was a matter of dispute
as to whether or not ennen was older than sarugaku, but it is now
generally agreed that it provided an important formative influence, and
that it was closer in structure to sarugaku no than any other performing
art of the time."
Not all aspects of ennen were taken over by No. An account of an
ennen performance at the Kofuku-ji in 1429 indicates that plays in highly
poetic language were staged with ornate sets. Ennen provided No with
models of how old poetry and quotations from religious and secular
literature, Chinese as well as Japanese, might impart dignity and beauty
to the language." Even if the language influenced No, the sets clearly
IO04 The Middle Ages
did not: No was performed on bare stages with only a pine painted on
the back wall for scenery.
It is not clear exactly when texts of indisputably literary value were
first performed. It is hard to imagine that the only predecessors of the
superb texts of Kannami and Zeami, early masters of the art, were plays
with dialogue improvised by the actors; but-with one exception-not
a single play or even line from a play can be shown to antedate the
works of these two men. The exception is the ritual play 0kina (The
Old Man), still performed, especially at New Year or at the beginning
of a festive season of plays.

Ok ina

0kina apparently dates from the late twelfth or early thirteenth century,
but it underwent various changes during the two centuries before it
reached its present form. Originally (as we know from the surviving
masks and other evidence), it consisted of a series of dances performed
by spell-working priests (shushi)24 of the Kofuku-ji in Nara taking the
roles of three old men, known as Chichi-no-jo, Okina, and Samban
Sarugaku." The Kofuku-ji, together with the associated Kasuga Shrine,
figured importantly in the early history of No, and the ancient ties with
the Kasuga Shrine are epitomized by the painting of a huge pine tree
on the wall at the back of every No stage, said to be the Yogo Pine at
the Kasuga Shrine before which the plays were originally presented.
Later, two dances were added to the original three of 0kina, one
called Tsuyu-harai (Brushing Off the Dew), danced by a boy, and the
other danced by Emmei Kaja, a youth." Still later, in Zeami's time, the
dances were reduced to three-Tsuyu-harai (later known as Senzai),
danced by a young No actor; Okina, danced by a senior No actor; and
Sambaso, danced by a Kyogen actor. A unique feature of 0kina is the
presence of the mask bearer, an actor who carries a box containing
the mask to be worn by the Okina actor, and who (in full view of the
audience) helps the actor to put on the mask.
0kina as currently performed is without a plot or specifically dramatic
elements, but it may originally have been a kind of Buddhist sermon."
The Okina mask, unique among those used in No, has a movable jaw,
and the expressivity of this mask, the face of a benevolent old man,
contributes to the festivity of a performance. The text, largely unintel-
ligible, begins with the intoned syllables to to tarari, words uttered by
a god that the actor, like a medium, pronounces but does not understand.
No and Kyogen as Literature IO05

Desperate scholars have attempted to trace these words even in unlikely

sources, but without success; probably they are corruptions of brief
passages from the sutras. At moments, though generally not for long,
the fog that obscures the text lifts and intelligible phrases are commu-
nicated in the form of kami-uta, cast roughly in the form of the four-
line imayii, or of the irregular lines of the even older saibara, folk songs
dating back to the Nara period or earlier."
0kina stands by itself among the plays of the No repertory. It does
not belong to any of the five categories into which the plays have been
divided, and the roles are not designated as shite, waki, and so on in the
usual manner. As currently performed, the play consists of five dances-
two by Senzai, a No actor, usually chosen for his good looks, who dances
without a mask; followed by Okina, who dances after first putting on
his mask, which he removes at the conclusion of the dance; and finally,
by the two dances of Sambaso, performed by a K yogen actor, first
without and later with a mask. The intelligible portions of the text are
typified by the words Senzai sings in his second dance: "May this place
last a thousand ages ! We shall serve you a thousand autumns. The roar
is the water from the falls. The sun shines but never ends. Totari arvii
dodo."
Sambaso's first dance is punctuated by the actor's meaningless cries
of yo, hon, ho, which contribute to the lively rhythms of the dance. The
second dance of Sambaso, performed while shaking a small bell that
accentuates the rhythm of his movements, is particularly effective." Nose
Asaji, the great historian of No, believed that when the shushi lost their
authority and the sarugaku players became more important, the latter
came to perform Sarnbaso's dance." At a still later stage, when the
dances of Chichi-no-jo and Okina were taken over by the sarugaku
(No) actors, they allowed Kyogen actors to perform Sambaso's dances.
There is obviously an immense gap between 0kina and even the
simplest of the No plays by Kannami. No doubt there were intermediate
developments-texts that marked a transition from the world of the
gods who appear in 0kina to the world of the mortals who appear in
Kannarni's most characteristic plays." These intermediate texts would
presumably have been of religious inspiration, intended to convey doc-
trinal truths in a form appealing even to illiterates.
The materials for the No plays, even from this early period, seem
to have been drawn from both literary and folk sources. It is not always
clear which was more important: a play like Kannarni's Motomezuba
(The Sought-for Grave), derived ultimately from a poem in the
Man'yoshu, may have been influenced by the telling of the same story
IOo6 The Middle Ages

in Tales of Yamato, but then again, it may have been directly inspired
by Kannami's hearing a local legend while his troupe was on tour."

Since so little is known about the earliest forms of what is now called
No, scholars usually trace the creation of this theater no farther back
than the realistic plays of Kannami, the first master of the art. He was
born in the province of Iga, but founded his troupe (za), at first known
as Yusaki but later as Kanze, in the area of Nara, where the troupe
participated in services at the Kasuga Shrine along with three other
companies of actors.
The nature of the repertory is not clear, but we know the names of
some dengaku masters whose works he adapted. His own surviving
plays are few in number, but they have been highly praised for reflecting
the new importance of the common people. It is assumed that it was to
please badly educated audiences in the countryside, rather than aristo-
crats in the capital, that Kannami composed these earliest extant No
plays. Judging from the name sarugaku , by which No was generally
known, a term written with characters meaning "monkey music," the
early repertory probably emphasized monomane (imitation) rather than
dramatic effect. "Monkey music" may have been an appropriate des-
ignation for the early skits, but not for Kannarni's plays, let alone those
of his son, Zeami."
Kannarni's texts are varied, ranging from the simple but dramatically
effective linen Koji (Jinen the Priest) to the superb Sotoba Komachi
(Komachi at the Stupa). In general, critics who discuss the works of
Kannami give greatest attention to the conflicts, scenes of madness, and
other specifically dramatic elements in his plays, contrasting them with
the remote, otherworldly plays of Zeami. Kannarni's typical works con-
tain few references to the literature of the past. In his later plays (as-
suming that the more literary works came later) he relies no less than
Zeami on allusions to enrich the text, but when writing for rustic au-
diences his aim was probably less elegance than intelligibility, even to
poorly educated audiences. Kannami's chief stylistic contribution to No
was the kuse, a section of the play sung by the chorus to irregular meter
during which the main subject of the play is narrated."
There is reason to believe that the plays were performed realistically
and rather briskly, taking no more than thirty to forty minutes, though
present-day performances of the same works require at least twice as
No and Kyogen as Literature 10°7
much time. The language was on the whole fairly close to the contem-
porary colloquial. Masks, props, and costumes were at once more realistic
and more elaborate than those used today, in order to persuade audiences
that the actors were really the people they portrayed. The purpose of
performing the plays was primarily not religious, even when staged
within the grounds of a temple, but economic-to provide a living for
the actors. By Kannarni's time the actors had banded into troupes, four
of which survive to this day."
Although linen Koji is considered to be by Kannami, there is evidence
that Zeami altered the text. Zeami in his critical writings expressed
unbounded admiration for every aspect of Kannami's art-as an actor,
playwright, and musician-but he also believed that it was necessary
to rewrite old plays in order to accord with the tastes of new audiences.
This process of adapting old plays continued long after Zeami's time,
probably until the plays were printed late in the sixteenth century." The
changes sometimes consisted of the addition of a single passage, but
might have been more extensive. Because Zeami's style was so much
more literary and involved than Kannami's, a section of a play by
Kannami that is noticeably literary in its allusions and contains word-
play and other rhetorical devices is apt to be by Zeami."
linen Koji clearly belongs to an earlier age than Zeami's but it exhibits
many of the characteristic features of No. The parts are known not by
the names of persons but by types. The chief character, called the shite
or "doer," in this play is [inen the Priest." The shite in many plays is
accompanied by a tsure (companion)." The secondary character, or waki
("man at the side"), is in linen Koji a slave trader. A waki can also be
accompanied by a tsure, called the waki-zure, a minor role. There is a
child actor (kokata),4! who in this play takes the part of a girl. Finally,
there is the ai, or Kyogen actor (designated as a "man before the gate"),
a commoner who lives near the temple where the action opens. In
addition, there is a chorus. Unlike the choruses in a Greek drama, which
are identified as "Elders of Thebes" or "Women of Troy" and so on,
the No chorus has no identity; it generally speaks for the shite, often
when the latter is performing a dance, but occasionally it also voices
comments, not in its own person but as disembodied truths.
linen Koji opens as the ai tells us who he is. He addresses an unseen
crowd, urging the people to be present on the final day of the week-long
sermons of Jinen the priest. The language used by the ai is known as
sorobun, soro being the copula found in the prose sections of the No plays
and in other writings of the Muromachi period." The ai's first sentence
follows a set pattern typical of the nanori, or "self-introduction," in No:
ro08 The Middle Ages

Kayo ni soro mono uia, Higashiyama Ungoji no atari ni sumai-

tsukarnatsuru mono ni te soro. 43
(The person before you is a person who lives in the vicinity of the
Ungo-ji [a temple] in Higashiyama [a section of Kyoto[.)
The parts of a play in sora-bun, though seldom of literary interest,
are delivered in an incantatory manner that helps to create the special,
solemn atmosphere of the No theater. Although the sora-bun sections
of a No text are stylized and not the colloquial language, they are
relatively easy to understand; this may be why a play like linen Koji,
probably first performed before plebeian audiences, contains so much
sora-bun and so little good poetry.
The ai withdraws to the back of the stage after his little speech, and
the shite enters. His opening words are addressed to unseen worshipers
at the temple:
Ungoji zoei no fuda mesaresorae. (Buy a ticket for the repair of the
Ungo-ji!)
He then sings the first passage of the play in poetry, beginning with
the lines:

I. yiibc no sora no "In the evening sky,

2. kumoidera A temple within the clouds;
3. tsuki matsu hodo no To comfort you,
4. nagusame ni While you await the moonrise,
5. seppo ichiza I shall deliver
6. noben to te A sermon on the holy law."
7. doshi koza ni So saying, he climbs
8. agari To the preacher's lofty seat,
9. hotsugan no kane And rings a bell,
10. uchinarashi Before he intones his vow.

This passage on the whole follows the traditional poetic meter of

the No plays, an alternation oflines in seven and five syllables. Exceptions
to the metrics occur, notably in the eighth line, perhaps in order to fit
the music, but an alternation of seven and five syllables constitutes the
basic pattern of the poetry, and departures are relatively few." The
vocabulary consists mainly of words of Japanese origin, but includes
the Buddhist terms doshi koza and hotsugan derived from Chinese; such
words impart a variety and strength of sound to the poetry of No not
possible in poetry composed entirely in the softer native Japanese. Men-
No and Kyogen as Literature
tion of "a temple within the clouds" is an indirect way of referring to
the Ungo-ji, the temple where the action occurs." The clouds in turn
suggest the moon: the temple is now hidden by clouds, but presently
the moon (a familiar Buddhist image for enlightenment) will show itself
in the sky.
The most unusual feature of the passage in terms of European
dramaturgy is the speaker's description of his own actions, beginning
with line 7. On occasion the chorus may speak in the first person the
thoughts of the shite, but it also happens (as here) that the actor describes
or comments on his own actions, as if he were observing himself from
a distance. A clear-cut division of the roles among persons who voice
only their own thoughts or emotions, such as we find in European plays,
was not observed in No.46
The emphasis in linen Koji is not on the poetry or the atmosphere
but on the plot. It is the account of how [inen, a priest known for his
songs and dances, saves a girl who has sold herself into slavery in order
to buy the robe she offers the temple in the name of her dead parents.
[inen, learning that slave traders have taken the girl off to the north,
follows them. He catches up to them at Lake Biwa, where he discovers
that the men have bound and gagged the girl, who lies helpless at the
bottom of a boat." [inen demands that the slave traders turn over the
girl to him in return for the robe. They at first refuse, but in the end
yield to [inen's impassioned plea and agree to release the girl, provided
he perform his songs and dances. At the conclusion [inen rescues the
girl and they return to the capital together.
The most striking feature of linen Koji, in comparison to more
famous plays of the No repertory, is its realism. The characters are all
people of this world, not ghosts who are drawn back to the scenes of
their earthly life. The role of the waki is generally that of a priest or
high-ranking courtier, but here he is a slave trader, a member of a
demeaning profession. Although conflict rarely occurs in other plays
between the shite and the waki, whose function is not to oppose the
shite but merely to ask the questions the audience might ask, in linen
Koji the conflict between [inen and the slave trader for possession of
the girl is the central element of the plot. The sung parts of the play,
though they observe the rules of prosody, are similarly realistic and
appropriate to the social status of the characters. In other plays, even
fisher women quote poetry from the past and their utterances are likely
to be filled with dazzling poetic imagery, but here the poetry is only
slightly more elevated than the prose. In other plays, too, songs and
1010 The Middle Ages
dances usually occur as representations of the deepest feelings of the
characters, without explanation and without even being identified as
song or dance; but [ineri's dances, in response to the demand of the
slave traders, are clearly just that, and not a projection of his emotions.
One can imagine that in early performances the villainy of the slave
trader was emphasized by the actors, and that the pious girl bound and
gagged at the bottom of a boat elicited the compassion of the audience.
Probably, though, the dances at the end constituted the chief appeal of
the play. These were not likely to have been the slowly executed, complex
dances typical of the later No but lively prancing to the beat of the small
drum [inen carries suspended from his neck.
We do not know to how great a degree Zeami revised this particular
play by his father." He may have introduced into linen Koji the few
passages of literary quality, hoping in this way to win the approbation
of the audiences before whom he appeared (members of the court of
the shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu), for a play originally written for en-
tirely different audiences. In contrast to linen Koji, most of the other
plays attributed to Kannami-those identified as works by Kannami in
the critical writings of Zeami-are anything but simple in their present
state. Then again, Zeami may have revised these plays so extensively
that only isolated passages retain the imprint of Kannarni's dramaturgy.
The play Sotoba Komachi is attributed to Kannarni," but a glance
at the text reveals at once how little it resembles linen Koji. The mag-
nificent poetry creates a profoundly moving atmosphere, and although
there is sufficient interest in the plot to retain the attention of the
audience, the character of Komachi herself, rather than the events, gives
the play its unique interest. It will be recalled that Ono no Komachi
was a major poet of the ninth century, and some of her poems are
included in the play; but more important than the historical Komachi
are the legends that grew up around her, particularly those relating to
her unkind treatment of her would-be lover, Fukakusa no Shosho.
Komachi refused to accept him unless he visited her on one hundred
consecutive nights. On the hundredth night he died, and as punishment
for her cruelty Komachi was condemned to live a hundred years, her
beauty ravaged by age, and her mind obsessed by memories of her dead
lover.
Even a bare recitation of the materials should suggest how far re-
moved this play is from the world of linen Koji, but various elements
in the structure have confirmed critics in their belief that Sotoba Komachi
was written by Kannami. For example, in the first part of the play
Komachi engages the waki and his companion, Shingon priests, in a
No and Kyogen as Literature t ot t

verbal duel over the significance of a sotoba (stupa), a piece of wood that
marks a grave. The priests insist that Komachi must not sit on the stupa
because it represents Buddha himself, but she counters their arguments
with Zen iconoclasm, so persuasively that in the end the priests bow in
homage before her. The opposition between the shite and the waki is
more typical of Kannami than of Zeami, and the arguments exchanged
between them have recalled to some critics the satirical humor of
Kyogen." The language in which the contrasting opinions of Komachi
and the priests are expressed is close to the colloquial, another feature
of Kannarni's, but not of Zeami's, plays."
The priests, having been defeated in their theological dispute with
the old beggar woman, ask her name, and she reveals that she is
Komachi, the daugher of Ono no Yoshizane, the governor of Dewa.
There follows a dialogue between the priests and Komachi contrasting
her former beauty and her present wretched appearance. The priests
sing:

How sad to think that you were she.

Exquisite Komachi
The brightest flower long ago
Her dark brows arched
Her face bright-powdered always
When cedar-scented halls could scarce contain
Her damask robes."

The sudden shift in mood from the witty repartee of Komachi's

exchanges with the priests to the bittersweet recollections of the days of
her beauty has been interpreted as a special feature of the syle of Kan-
nami, not shared by Zeami. 53 However, there is nothing jarring in this
shift; rather, the wit and the beauty are both integral parts of the legend
of Komachi. The loss of beauty and the degradation in the world are
quickly evoked in exchanges with the chorus:

Komachi: "Oh shameful in the dawning light

These silted seaweed locks that of a hundred years
Now lack but one.">'
Chorus: What do you have in the bag at your waist?
Komachi: Death today or hunger tomorrow.
Only some beans I've put in my bag.
Chorus: And in the bundle on your back?
Komachi: A soiled and dusty robe.
[0[2 The Middle Ages
Chorus: And in the basket on your arm?
Komachi: Sagittaries black and white.
Chorus: Tattered coat
Komachi: Broken hat
Chorus: Can scarcely hide her face."

Komachi's description of her present misery abruptly breaks off. She

reveals that when begging fails she is seized by madness. Immediately
afterward, in a changed voice, she calls out, No mono tabe, no oso no
(Hey! Give me something, you priests !). The priests ask her what she
wants, to which she replies, "Take me to Komachi!" The first priest,
astonished, cries out, "You are Komachi! Why do you say such crazy
things?" Komachi answers:

No. Komachi was beautiful.

Many letters came, many messages
Thick as rain from a summer sky
But she made no answer, even once,
Even an empty word.
Age is her retribution now.
Oh, I love her!
I love her !56

Komachi, possessed by the spirit of her dead lover, Fukakusa no

Shosho, describes the agony of the ninety-nine nights he visited her
house, in rain and wind and even when the snow lay deep. On the last
night he felt dizziness and pain as he made his accustomed journey,
and he died before he could enjoy his promised reward. Komachi's
temporary madness under the spell of her lover's possession has also
been cited as proof that Kannami was the author of the play; such
madness figures prominently in works attributed to him." The play
ends as the chorus, speaking for Komachi, declares,

It was his unsatisfied love possessed me so

His anger that turned my wits.
In the face of this I will pray
For life in the worlds to come
The sands of goodness I will pile
Into a towering hill.
Before the golden, gentle Buddha I will lay
No and Kyogen as Literature JOJ3

Poems as my flowers
Entering in the Way
Entering in the Way.5H

In view of the evidence, beginning with Zeami's attribution of Sotoba

Komachi to Kannami, it is difficult to dispute the authorship, but it is
puzzling all the same that two of the only four plays confidently at-
tributed to Kannarni" should be as dissimilar as linen Koji and Sotoba
Komachi. Perhaps they were written at different stages of Kannarni's
career, the former while he performed mainly before rustic audiences,
the latter after his troupe had come to enjoy the patronage of the shogun,
Ashikaga Yoshimitsu. This is only a conjecture, since none of the plays
is dated. Another possibility is that Zeami considerably revised the orig-
inal play by Kannami. We know of one revision, mentioned by Zeami
in Sarugaku Dangi, a compilation of his views on the art of the No made
by his son Motoyoshi:

Originally the No play Sotoba Komachi was an extremely long play.

From the line "who is that who passes by" the actor chants at great
length. Later in the play, Komachi, because the god ofTamatsushima
[the deity of poetry] is enshrined nearby, makes an offering to that
spirit, at which point a raven, representing the deity of the shrine
appears....These days, however, the entire scene has been
eliminated."

Probably it was Zeami himself who eliminated the scene, and he

may also have refashioned the rest of the text to meet the tastes of his
patrons. The actor who originally performed as the raven established a
reputation for his skill in the role, but it is hard to imagine how an
actor dressed to resemble a raven could appear in this play without
destroying the prevailing mood. Perhaps Kannarni's original version,
less elevated in tone than the present text, more easily accommodated
the raven.
Sotoba Komachi is an example of a genzaimono, or "contemporary"
play. Komachi lived many years before the composition of the play,
which was obviously not contemporary in the usual sense, but the waki
and shite are contemporaries, in contrast to the mugen, or "dream-
unreality" plays (more typical of Zeami), in which the waki, a person
of the present day, encounters someone-a ghost in reality-who be-
longs to the past, a time remote from his own. Probably the mainstays
of Kannarni's repertory were the genzaimono, easier to understand and
 The Middle Ages
more obviously dramatic than the mugen plays. He continued to tour
the provinces even after No had come to enjoy the protection of the
shogun, apparently reluctant to give up his old ways. He died in the
province of Suruga.

Ever since the Muromachi period Zeami has been considered to be the
supreme exemplar of the art of No. This opinion has been much
strengthened in the twentieth century as the result of the discovery of
the treatises in which Zeami, with great intelligence and precision,
discussed every aspect of his craft. Zeami himself always spoke of his
father Kannami as the supreme master of No, but Kannami's fame has
tended to be obscured by that of his even more brilliant son. Zeami's
life was unhappy, especially during his declining years, but by the time
No was established as its official "music" by the Tokugawa shogunate,
his place in the world of No was secure, and many plays of uncertain
authorship were attributed to him in order to give them greater prestige.
The various lists that identify the authors of No plays (made as long
ago as the Muromachi period) contain numerous discrepancies.v but
more than half of the 240 plays in the standard repertory used to be
credited to Zearni." The number has gradually been whittled down
since 1945 by scholars who have applied increasingly rigorous standards;
only plays mentioned by Zeami in his critical writings are now accepted
as definitely his. This has left some thirty to forty plays."
The publication in 1944 of the manuscripts of six plays in Zeami's
own hand, discovered in a temple in Nara Prefecture, brought home to
scholars another problem involved in discussing the texts. It had pre-
viously been assumed that the five schools of No had faithfully preserved
the texts of the plays unchanged over the centuries, but the newly
discovered manuscripts revealed that changes, some of major propor-
tions, had occurred between the early fifteenth century when Zeami
penned the manuscripts and the early seventeenth century when the
plays were printed and became fossilized." Unfortunately, none of the
plays transcribed in Zeami's manuscripts is by himself, but presumably
his plays also suffered alterations by later No dramatists."
Another important discovery made in the twentieth century was of
the treatises written by Zeami on the art of No. In 1909 the scholar
Yoshida Togo published sixteen of these treatises, hitherto kept secret
by the various schools of NoY Other treatises came to light in the 1930S
r
I
No and Kyogen as Literature

and 1940S, and in 1963, the year when the six hundredth anniversary
of Zeami's birth was celebrated, the last of the discoveries was published,
for a total of twenty-one treatises. These publications more than ever
confirmed the importance of Zeami as the outstanding figure in the
history of No.
Our oldest item of biographical data for Zeami refers to an event
of 1374,68 when he was eleven years old (twelve by Japanese reckoning).
The youthful shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, seventeen that year, at-
tended a performance of No at the Imakumano Shrine in Kyoto. This
was the first time he had ever seen No, and he was entranced by the
skill of Kannami and by the beauty of Zeami. From then on, Yoshimitsu
accorded the troupe generous protection, raising No to a privileged status
similar to that already enjoyed by dengaku; and before long No had
displaced dengaku in the favor of the shogunate. This enabled the actors
to remain in the capital, though formerly they had spent most of each
year traveling from temple to temple to give performances at local
festivals. Zearni's own stage experiences seem to have been confined to
the capital.
Yoshirnitsu's fondness for Zeami was described in 1378 in the diary
kept by an irritated nobleman. At the time of the Gion Festival that
year a special stand had been erected for the shogun to watch the
procession. The nobleman wrote, "The shogun was accompanied by a
boy, a Yamato sarugaku player, who watched the festival from the
shogun's box. The shogun, who has for some time bestowed his affection
on this boy, shared the same mat and passed him food from his own
plate. These sarugaku performers are no better than beggars, but because
this boy waits on the shogun and enjoys his esteem, everyone seeks his
favor. Those who give the boy presents ingratiate themselves with the
shogun. The daimyos and others vie to offer him gifts at enormous
expense. A most distressing state of affairs.">"
Despite this characterization of sarugaku actors as "beggers,"
Yoshimitsu's patronage brought the actors financial security and the
advantages (including educational) of living in the capital. It assured
them also of an audience capable of understanding the loftiest expressions
of the dramatist's imagination. Kannami was probably set in his ways
by the time that Yoshimitsu accorded his patronage, and continued to
perform for rustic audiences. Zeami was therefore encouraged to create
works whose appeal was restricted to audiences with the requisite ed-
ucation and tastes. He was aware of his good fortune: in Sarugakt« Dangi,
the conversations of the art of No recorded by his son, Motoyoshi, he
twice predicted that his play Kinuta would not be fully appreciated by
1016 The Middle Ages
audiences of future times." It had been more usual for writers to hope
that future generations would recognize the value of works that were
in advance of their time, but Zeami was sure that future audiences
would not possess the sensitivity exhibited by Yoshimitsu.
No developed under Yoshimitsu's aegis into a theater for the con-
noisseur. Passages in the texts are sometimes so complex as to defy
parsing; in such cases the reader (or the spectator) can only intuit what
is meant. The obscurity arises in part because of the many varieties of
word-play used to impart depth and richness to the text. These include
engo," kakekotoba, and joshi. If these features of the style were nothing
more than a display of virtuosity in the use of language, they would
quickly become tedious, but the impression one is likely to receive from
the text of one of the great plays, say Matsukazc, is of inexhaustible
riches in the language that reveal themselves only with repeated
readings."
The texts are further enhanced by quotations from the poetry of
Japan and China. The notes to a well-annotated edition of the play are
likely to cause the reader to wonder how spectators, especially those at
first performances, could have caught all the allusions. Probably most
spectators did not; but Zeami, sure that at least a few of those present
would recognize the sources of his allusions, made no compromise with
popular taste, let alone with ignorance.
It has been argued that Zeami's plays were not in the mainstream
of No composition." The only No dramatist who followed his style was
his son-in-law Komparu Zenchiku (1405-1468?); most later dramatists
wrote instead in the popular, openly dramatic vein of the early Kannami.
In part this may have been a matter of individual talent and tempera-
ment, but it also reflected the tastes of the successive shoguns. Yoshimitsu
died in 1408. He was succeeded as shogun by Ashikaga Yoshimochi
(1386- 1428), who preferred the dengaku actor Zoarni to Zeami.
Yoshimochi was in turn succeeded by Yoshinori (1394-1441), who fa-
vored Zearni's nephew On'arni (1398-1467). Neither of Yoshimitsu's
successors had his refined tastes, and Zeami, who continued to write in
the style he had perfected with Yoshirnitsu's backing, fell out of favor."
In the end, however, Zeami triumphed: his plays count among the glories
of Japanese literature, and the style he created, poles apart from the
realism of almost all other playwrights of No, prevails today in perfor-
mances. The masks (much less realistic than those used by his prede-
cessors), the costumes (splendid even when the actor is playing the role
of a fisherwoman), the bare setting, and the insignificant props all attest
to the triumph of Zeami's art of nonrealism.
No and Kyogen as Literature IOIl

The term most often associated with Zeami's art is yugen. Zeami
himself used the word in different senses, ranging from "elegance" of
speech or appearance to "mysterious depth." Yugen is difficult to define,
but one has little trouble identifying it in the texts or in performance.
It may be the moment at the end of Nanamiya (The Shrine in the Fields)
when Rokujo hesitates before passing through the torii that stands as a
gate between this world and the next, or it may be at any moment in
a climactic dance that epitomizes the deepest emotions of the shite. Or
it may be the incredibly beautiful ending of Maisuleaze, when Matsukaze
and her sister Murasame disappear, leaving only the wind in the pines
and the autumn rain, the meaning of their names. Even though the
term yugen was used originally to describe any display of elegance, even
at kemari, when used of Zeami's plays it came to designate the inde-
finable beauty toward which No is pointed in language, music, and
dance.

t «, Ha, Kyu
Zeami's critical writings are especially insistent on the principle of [o,
ha, and kYii, the three successive tempi observed in the composition and
performance of a play. The three contrasting tempi are not of equal
length. The jo (introduction), slow in tempo and usually not of great
emotional intensity, is normally only one section long, as contrasted with
the three of ha (the development), during which the main matter of the
play is presented. The three sections of the development are followed
by a single section of kyu (the rapid finale). There is also a progression
of jo, ha, and kyu in sustained utterances within each part of a play;
and the style and tempo of the dances are determined by the section of
a play (whether jo, ha, or kyu) in which they are performed.

The Five Categorie~ of Plays

Apart from the division into jo, ha, and kyu within each play, a program
of five plays is arranged along the same lines: the first play," which
treats the gods and their legends, is in the deliberate tempo of the jo;
the second, third, and fourth plays, corresponding to the ha sections of
a single play, exhibit mounting dramatic complexity; and the fifth play,
the kyu component, is often about demons and is performed with the
greatest intensity of movement. It became traditional during the To-
lOI8 The Middle Ages

kugawa period to present a program of five No plays, sometimes pre-

ceded by 0kina or concluded with an additional dance play, arranged
in the order of jo, ha, and kyu. At one time a full program also included
four Kyogen between the No, all performed on a single day. A program
that includes in the proper order works of jo, ha, and kyu intensity
should surely leave the audience with feelings of satisfaction, but it is
also exhausting, and contemporary spectators are reluctant to sit through
ten or more hours of drama. In any case, a "complete" program of five
plays, though intelligible in terms of Zeami's principles, was probably
a relatively late development."
Plays of the first category are generally the least interesting as works
of dramatic literature. Often they are devoted to the history of a shrine
and the miracles attributed to its divinity. Presumably, this is the oldest
variety of No, the kind of play that Kannami and his predecessors
performed at the festivals of shrines in the countryside, and great at-
tention is devoted to persuading the audience of the special holiness of
a particular site. The characters, being divine, are generally remote, and
the poetry rarely rises to the emotional heights found in other plays.
Only a few plays of the first category are of such beauty as to rank as
popular favorites (for example, Takasago) , but it would be unthinkable
to eliminate them from the repertory because, more than the plays of
any other category, they create the special atmosphere of No-slow,
solemn, and distant, but somehow auspicious."
Zeami's most characteristic plays are those of the second category,
the shuramono-plays about military men who are doomed after death
to torment in the hell of warring ghosts. It may seem strange that plays
about warriors should be placed between those about gods and those
about women (the third category) in the jo, ha, kyu progression, but
Zeami's critical writings make it clear that he considered the world of
the shuramono to be an extension of the jo part of a program, a con-
tinuation of the atmosphere evoked by plays about the gods."
The shuramono at the same time anticipated the elegance of the
plays about women. Zeami wrote, "If you take a famous character from
the Genii or the Heike and bring out the connection between him and
poetry and music, then-so long as the play itself is well written-it
will be more interesting than anything else."?" One remembers in Zeami's
shuramono the artistic tastes of the heroes at least as much as their
martial prowess-Tadanori who braved death in the hope of having a
poem included in an imperial anthology, Atsumori who carried a flute
in his armor, Sanemori who wore a red brocade robe into battle. Zeami
wrote at least five of the best-known sixteen shuramono plays, and
No and Kyogen as Literature IOI9

possibly as many as twelve." The shuramono written in the age after

Zeami-for example, Kanehira-contain far more graphic descriptions
of the horrors of battle than any play by Zeami. For this reason (and
also because the text of Kanehira borrows word-for-word long passages
from The Tale of the Heike, contrary to Zeami's usual practicer" the
attribution of this play to Zeami is no longer accepted. It would be hard
to justify considering such a shuramono as an extension of the jo section
of the jo, ha, kyu sequence.
Zeami's special contribution to the form of the No was the creation
of the fukushiki mugen no, a modern term that means literally "compound
dream-unreality No." All but one of his shuramono are in this form.
Atsumori, a typical example, is in two scenes. In the first the waki,
identified as the priest Rensho, encounters the shite, a villager who is
first seen reaping grain along with his companions. Rensho, hearing a
flute, asks a reaper (the shite) who played it. All the reapers but one,
the same man the priest questioned, then leave. The man asks the priest
to pray for him, but without giving his name, he too disappears.
In the second scene, following an interval in which a "man of the
place," a Kyogen actor, tells the story of Atsumori and the man who
killed him, Kumagai no [iro Naozane, the shite reappears, this time in
his true form as the young Heike general Atsumori, wearing the splendid
armor in which he perished. He reenacts the tragic last moments of his
life. His resentment over defeat, which he cannot forget, has caused him
to return to this world as a ghost. At the climax of Atsumori's narration
of the final combat with Kumagai, he cries out and lifts his sword to
strike Rensho, none other than his enemy Kumagai, who took the
tonsure in order to pray for Atsumori's release from attachment to this
world. The two men are reconciled, and it is predicted that they will
be reborn on the same lotus in paradise.
The two layers of time in a fukushiki mugen play not only impart
greater complexity than is possible in the more realistic genzaimono,
plays of "contemporary" life in one scene, but enable the spectator (or
reader) to feel that a work consisting of no more than six or seven pages
of text has provided a complete theatrical experience. The tension be-
tween the two parts of a mugen No play resembles that between the
two elements-eternal and momentary-in the best haiku, which like-
wise provide the possibility of creating a world from the barest of
suggestions.
The interval narrations (ai) between the two parts of the play (with
a few exceptions) are not of great interest, and some members of the
audience today take advantage of this break to enjoy a cigarette in the
1020 The Middle Ages

corridors. A pause is, however, essential to the mugen play, providing

the time needed for the shite to change mask and costume, and some-
times even identity, as in the popular Funa Benkei (Benkei in the Boat),
where the shite of the first part is the dancer Shizuka, but in the second
the menacing ghost of the warrior Tomomori, who rises from the waves
of the Inland Sea. The interval narrations may also have afforded au-
diences the pleasure of oratory in a country without the tradition of a
forum where speeches might be heard. They also explain in relatively
easy-to-understand language the events and background of the first half
of the play. But perhaps the most important function of the speech of
the Kyogen actor during the interval is to keep a mugen play from
splitting into two unrelated halves. The narrator helps the audience to
recognize that the humble person of the first scene is a temporary
manifestation of the shite who appears in his true form in the second
scene.
The most important source for Zeami's shuramono was The Tale of
the Heilt«, The warrior was one of the three basic No roles he singled
out for consideration in his critical work Sando (The Three Ways)." He
stated, "If, for example, the play is to be created around a famous general
of the Genji or the Heike, you should take special care to write the
story just as it appears in The Tale of the Heike?" These words should
not suggest that Zeami merely arranged selected passages of The Tale
ofthe Hcikc in the form of a play;" despite his injunction to playwrights
to remain faithful to their sources, especially The Tale of the Heih«, he
seems to have felt free to modify the texts to suit his dramatic purposes.
Moreover, he chose from his source chiefly figures who attracted him,
men who met their death in battle rather than those who were victorious.
Yashima is a rare play by Zeami about a victorious hero, but his hero
exhibits none of the exultation found in the source; instead, Zeami gives
a graphic description of the torment Yoshitsune suffers in the shura hell
where men who fought in this world are doomed to reenact their
murderous deeds."
The third play in the program, often referred to as kazuramono, or
"wig piece," has a woman for the shite. Two works of this category,
Matsuliazc and Yuya, are often said to be the "rice bowl" of No actors
because of their central importance to the repertory. Plays of the third
category are less likely than shuramono to be in the form of fukushiki
mugen, probably because only one play in this mode is indisputably by
Zeami,Izutsu (The Well-Curb). Complexity akin to that of the double
identity in a mugen play is provided in some kazuramono by moments
of "madness," when the shite imagines she is her lover. In Izutsu the
No and Kviig cn as Literature 1021

daughter of Aritsune, putting on the court robe and cap of her lover,
Narihira, goes to the well-curb (izutsu) where as children she and Na-
rihira had compared their heights, and looks at her reflection in the
water.

mireba natsuhashi ya She looks-how sweet the memory

warenagara naisukashi ya Sweet the memory, though of herself,
bofu haleurei no sugata u/a This ghost in her dead husband's form:
shibomeru hana no A withered flower,
ira note Its color vanished,
nioi nohoritc Perfume only lingering.
Ariwara no tera no kane mo The bell of the Ariwara Temple too
honobono to akurcba Tolls dimly at the break of day.
furudera no Over the old temple,
matsuhazc ya The wind through the pines,
bashoba no The rustle of plantain leaves,
yume mo yaburete Broken easily as dreams;
samenlheri Awakened,
yume u/a yabure The dream is broken,
akenikeri The day has dawned."

The most beautiful of the plays about women is Matsukaze. It is

usually credited to Kannami, even by scholars who believe that uncom-
plicated language and clear-cut action are the hallmarks of Kannami's
style, though it is conceded that Zeami revised the text." The story is
simple: a priest on his travels takes shelter for the night at the hut of
two sisters, Matsukaze and Murasame. The sisters eke out a living by
dipping brine from which salt is extracted. Their references to events
in the distant past arouse the priest's curiosity, and he asks the sisters
who they really are. They reveal that they are the ghosts of fisher girls
who, many years before, were loved by the nobleman Yukihira. After
he returned to the capital they heard that he had died. All they still
possess of him are the court hat and hunting cloak he left as a memento.
Matsukaze puts on the hat and cloak. She imagines that the pine
she sees is Yukihira himself, and she remembers the poem in which he
promised to return if he heard she "pined'?" for him. Her yearning for
Yukihira induces momentary madness, but the sisters recall that they
are no more than ghosts, tormented by attachment to the world. They
ask the priest to pray for them and then disappear, leaving only a memory
of the autumn rain (murasame) that fell the previous night and the wind
in the pines (matsukaze).
[022 The Middle Ages
The one "action" in the usual theatrical sense occurs when Matsukaze
imagines she sees her dead lover. The performance of the madness is
in no way realistic, but it is affecting when Matsukaze persuades Mu-
rasame, who had chided her sister for the deluding sin of passion that
made her mistake a pine tree for Yukihira, that the pine is their lover,
and he has returned as he promised. The sisters share the "madness,"
for they both loved Yukihira. It makes no sense to ask (as a Western
reader might) whether Yukihira was equally in love with both sisters
or favored Matsukaze. Murasame, as the companion (tsure) of Matsu-
kaze, serves chiefly to give resonance to her sister's longing; this is true
even when, momentarily, she rebukes Matsukaze's delusion.
The plot is hardly more than a framework for the magnificent poetry
and for Matsukaze's dance. Matsukaze is a mugen play: the sisters are
ghosts who appear before the priest, the only member of this world. As
in !zutsu, the change of costumes (when Matsukaze puts on Yukihira's
robe) creates an effect similar to the fukushiki of the shuramono, trans-
forming the fisher girl into a court lady. What lingers in the mind of
the reader, however, is the language. Many phrases and even fairly long
passages were borrowed from The Tale of Genji, using descriptions that
related to Genji's exile on the coast at Suma (and, earlier, Yukihira's)
to evoke the loneliness of the lives of the two sisters.
Matsukaze sings,

I. The autumn winds are sad.

2. When the Middle Counselor Yukihira
3. Lived here back a little from the sea,
4. They inspired the poem,
5. "Salt winds blowing from the mountain pass ..."
6. On the beach, night after night,
7. Waves thunder at our door;
8. And on our long walks to the village
9. We've no companions but the moon.
1 o. Our toil, like all of life, is dreary,

II. But none could be more bleak than ours.

12. A skiff cannot cross the sea,

13. Nor we this dream world.

14. Do we exist, even?
15. Like foam on the salt sea,
1 6. We draw a cart, friendless and alone,

17. Poor fisher girls whose sleeves are wet

No and Kyogen as Literature 1023

18. With endless spray, and tears

19. From our hearts' unanswered longing. 89

A comparison of the text of the first nine lines of the sashi'" section
with the relevant passage in The Tale of Genji reveals the closeness of
the borrowing:

(Matsuliaz«}, Kohorozulrushi no akikaze ni, umi wa sukoshi tokeredomo,

kano Yukihira no chiinagon, sekifukikoyuru to nagametamau urawa no
nami no yoruyoru u/a, ge ni oto chikaki ama no ie, satobanare naru
kayoljoi no, tsuki yori hoka wa tomo mo nashi,"
(The Tale of Genji}. Suma ni wa, itodo kokorozukushi no akikaze
ni, umi wa sukoshi tokeredo, Yukihira no chiinagon no, sekifukikoyuru
to iiken uranami, yoruyoru wa ge ni ito chikaku kikoete, matanahu
aware naru mono uia, kakaru toboro no aki narikcri."

Apart from the modifications in the original text made in order to

fit the normal pattern of alternating lines in seven and five syllables,"
the main difference is in the final phrases. The beautiful ending of the
passage in The Tale of Genji, "autumn, in such a place as this, is incom-
parably moving," was not included in this section of the text of Matsu-
kaze, but it occurs a little later, toward the conclusion of the following
passage sung by the chorus:

I. Endlessly familiar, still how lovely

2. The twilight at Suma!
3. The fishermen cry out in muffled voices;
4. At sea the small boats loom dimly.
5. Across the faintly glowing face of the moon
6. Flights of wild geese streak,
7. And plovers flock below along the shore.
8. Fall gales and stiff sea winds:
9. These are things, in such a place,
10. That truly belong to autumn.
I I. But oh, the terrible, lonely nights!"

Images borrowed from the "Suma" chapter of The Tale of Genji

include the voices of the fishermen, the face of the moon, and the line
of wild geese." But this was not simple expropriation of an earlier text.
The language in Matsuliaze is far more concentrated and richer than
that in The Tale of Genji; almost every phrase is related to the one it
 The Middle Ages

follows and the one it preceeds by poetic or verbal associations. For

example, the text in lines 4 and 5 are bound together by the shared
words kasuka naru ("which are faint"):"

oki ni chiisaki isaribune no

kage kasuka naru tsuki no kao

Almost every phrase has literary overtones, whether derived from

The Tale of Genji or some other work. The density of the text is further
intensified by the intricate word-play. The opening of the passage con-
tains a kakekotoba:

narete rno suma no

vianagurc

The word surna with what goes before is part of the verb surnu, "to
live," but it is also the place-name Suma. Line 3 of the translation given
above is, in the original:

arna no vobileoe
kasuka ni te

The corresponding words in The Tale of Genji are different: 0ki yori
funadorno utainonoshirite kogiyuku nado rno kikoyu. (He could hear the
fishermen singing as they rowed their boats toward shore from the open
sea.)
The difference is not simply one of language; the mood created by
the words is entirely dissimilar. The voices of the fishermen raised in
lusty song contrast with Genji's gloomy state of mind, though at other
times would probably sound cheerful; but in Matsukazc the sounds of
their voices are faint and far from the world of Yukihira and the sisters
he loved. The words arna no yobileoe are not from The Tale of Genji but
from a poem in the Man'yoshu:"
Allusion to another work usually strengthened the expression in a
passage of No by giving it additional resonance, but sometimes the
allusion brought ironical contrast. Perhaps the most extreme instance
occurs during Matsukaze's "mad" dance:
No and Kyogen as Literature 102 5

"Awake or asleep,
From my pillow, from the foot of my bed,
Love rushes in upon me."
Helplessly I sink down,
Weeping in agony.9M

Matsukaze's grief is unmistakable, but the poem she is quoting in

the first three lines of the above passage is a comic (haikai) verse from
the Kokinshu:

makura yori From my pillow

ato yori koi no And from the foot of my bed
scmeltureba Love comes pursuing;
sen kata namida Helpless and in tears I stay
tokonaka ni oru'" In the middle of the bed.

The use of an incongruously amusing verse resembles the contrast be-

tween Ophelia's distraught state and the ditties she sings before she
drowns.
Another complexity in the texts of No is the intrusion of phrases
that are not syntactically related to the rest of the sentences. Lines 6 and
7 (though joined in translation for smoother reading to the rest of the
text by the verbs "streak" and "flock") in the original are grammatically
unrelated to anything else:

kari no sugata ya The forms of the wild geese

tomo chidori The cluster of plovers

The juxtaposition of such images is typical of the No, but not easy to
bring off in translation. Ezra Pound, in his version of Kaleitsubata,
managed the effect superbly: 100

SPIRIT
The flitting snow before the flowers:
The butterfly flying.
CHORUS
The nightingales fly in the willow tree:
The pieces of gold flying. 1(1\

Matsuleaz« contains numerous other examples of allusion and other

poetic devices.!" It should not be supposed, however, that the text rep-
1026 The Middle Ages

resents virtuosity for its own sake, or that it is a Japanese equivalent of

euphuism. The impression given by the text of Matsuliaze and other
masterpieces of the No theater is of associations revealing themselves
subconsciously, the moods of the characters being reinforced by remem-
bered scraps of the poetry of the past or verbal associations that may
sometimes seem irrelevant but contribute to the extraordinarily concen-
trated effect of the poety. Matsukaze and Murasame appear in the play
before an itinerant priest at a particular time, but no doubt they have
rehearsed many times before the fate that brought them, fisher girls, to
the attention of a great noble who left them to grieve on a lonely shore
when he returned to the capital. Repetition of their emotions has pared
away anything superfluous in their words; instead, the associations im-
part to each utterance different layers of meaning. Matsukazc is one of
the marvels of Japanese poetry. It is worth learning Japanese to read it.
Yuya,Jl13 another favorite play, is set at the end of the Heian period,
and the source seems to be a variant text of The Tale of the Heikc:'?
The plot is strikingly realistic. The tyrannical Taira no Munemori plans
to view the cherry blossoms at Kiyomizu in the capital with his mistress
Yuya. She, however, has received word from home that her mother is
seriously ill, and begs to be allowed to return to the mother's side.
Munemori, refusing her request, insists that she accompany him. After
they have reached Kiyomizu, Yuya dances for Munemori. She also
composes a poem that so impresses him that he finally allows her to go
to her mother.!" Unlike many No plays of the third category, Yuya is
without suggestion of the supernatural and, although the play is set
several centuries before the time of composition, no emphasis is given
to the remoteness in time from the audience. What keeps Yuya from
being considered a genzaimono, and the source of its appeal, is the lyrical
emphasis given to the beauty of the spring; it might even be said that
the spring is the central character of the play."?
The mysterious beauty known as yugen is most perfectly evoked in
plays of the third category. Although the ideal of yugen is closely as-
sociated with Zeami, the two plays that are most imbued with this
quality, Matsuhaee and Yuya, are ironically attributed to other men. His
only important successor as a playwright of yugen was Komparu Zen-
chiku, the author of such plays as Ugetsu, Yokihi, and Basho, all of the
third category, as well as treatises on the art of No that rank in a class
with Zeami's.""
Plays of the fourth category fall under two distinct headings, kYo-
jomono (madwomen plays) and genzaimono. It is easy to imagine that
the madwomen plays might have developed from the sections in plays
No and Ky ogen as Literature 1027
like Matsultazc or Sotoba Komachi where the shite, a woman, has the
illusion that she sees her dead lover or even that she is the lover. The
interest in mad people is otherwise demonstrated by the surprising
number of plays about them, perhaps because it was believed they were
in communication with the world of the dead.
Among the madwomen plays there are two distinct varieties-plays
in which the woman is actually (though perhaps only temporarily) insane,
and those in which she is obsessed rather than mad. In Hanjo the shite,
a courtesan named Hanago, is grief-stricken because her lover has broken
his promise and failed to return. She waits for him, day after day and
month after month, unable to think of anything else, so distraught that
when he eventually does return she at first does not recognize him. But
when he shows her the fan she gave him as a keepsake, she is restored
to her senses, and the play ends happily with their reunion.'!"
A "madwoman" of the obsessed variety is the shite in Sumida-gawa
(The Sumida River) by Zeami's son, Motomasa. A woman who lives in
the capital has suffered the loss of her son, abducted by slave traders,
and she wanders around the country looking for him. Her obsession
with this search earns her the name of a madwoman, but her speech
and actions until the last scene in no way suggest madness. In that scene,
one of the most powerful in the No repertory, the woman is at last led
to the place where her son is buried, and she claws at the earth, seeking
to uncover his body for a last look. The child appears before her in a
vision, only to disappear with the coming of the dawn, leaving her in
desolate loneliness.'?"
The appeal of these and similar plays lies in their human interest.
The No actors are at pains to avoid seeming "theatrical," and their
version of Sumida-gawa is far less overtly "human" than the one per-
formed by Kabuki actors; but the audience's empathy with the mother
much more closely resembles that accorded to a Kabuki play or even a
modern drama than the response to a remotely beautiful play like Ma-
tsukaze. The reader's reactions are likely to be similar or even stronger;
the moment when the voice of the dead child is heard among the other
voices reciting the invocation to Amida Buddha is electrifying when one
reads it, but it may be difficult to hear in actual performance.
The place of the genzaimono at the end of the ha section of the
program of five plays is as a natural development from the realism of
a play like Yuya. Most of the genzaimono owe their appeal to openly
theatrical qualities. A play like Ashilrari (The Reed Cutter)!" is affecting
as a story of the love of husband and wife, though it has none of the
deeper overtones of the great plays of the second and third categories.
 The Middle Ages
A number of genzaimono are devoted to incidents in the warfare
between the Taira and the Minamoto, and others still to the vengeance
exacted by the Soga brothers on their father's enemy. The dramatist
Miyamasu is credited with having written many of these plays, though
almost nothing is known about the man or his background.'!' Old records
seem to indicate that he took secondary roles in plays by other men,
which is perhaps the reason the waki and tsure roles in his plays are
more fully developed than in Zeami's. Miyarnasu's plays on the whole
are distinctly more dramatic than others in the repertory. The dialogue,
at times colloquial, is both vivid and believable as the utterances of
military men. Unlike the typical plays of Zeami, in which no more than
two or three characters appear, those by Miyamasu sometimes have large
casts, as many as fourteen or fifteen actors crowding the stage. The plays
also contain important roles for kokata, perhaps in order to take ad-
vantage of the sentimental interest that children arouse in an audience.
The interval scenes (ai) in some of Miyarnasu's plays (for example, Eboshi-
ori) are distinctive in that they possess dramatic interest and are not
mere narrations.
The plays of Miyamasu may well have enjoyed greater popularity
than Zeami's, not only in his own time but much later; it is otherwise
difficult to explain why so many have been preserved. But their pop-
ularity inevitably suffered when faced with the competition of Kabuki
performances that mined the same vein much deeper. Other realistic
plays of the fourth category approach Kabuki even more closely than
do Miyarnasu's. The most popular of the later dramatists was Kanze
Nobumitsu (I435-1516), the author of such highly dramatic plays as
Atalea, Momijigari, Rashomon, and the original version of Dojoj'i, the
most exciting work of the repertory.
Dojo-ji is the tale of a priest who, to placate a young girl who has
fallen in love with him, promises to return to her one day. When he
breaks this promise, the girl, transformed into a serpent of jealousy,
pursues him to the temple Dojo-ji. He hides within the great temple
bell, only for the serpent to coil herself around it and with the flames
of her hatred roast him to death. The No play begins with the erection
of a new bell to take the place of the one that was melted. For fear that
the serpent may again intervene, orders are given that no woman be
admitted to the ceremony for the inauguration of the bell. A shirabyoshi
manages to persuade the priests guarding the bell that she is no ordinary
woman, and she lulls them to sleep with a weird dance called rambvoshi,
the only example in No, which is accompanied by the eerie cries of the
player of the kotsuzumi drum. She leaps inside the new bell and conceals
No and Ky ogcn as Literature I029

herself. When the priest returns, his prayers draw her from the bell.
Now turned into a demon, she yields to his exorcism, plunges into the
waters of the Hidaka River, and disappears.
The prop used for the bell, suspended from the ceiling on a pulley,
has a lead frame and is the heaviest used in the No theater. If dropped
too soon by the stage assistants, it can fracture the actor's leg as he leaps
up into the bell. While inside the bell, the actor changes from the costume
and mask of a dancer to those of a terrifying demon. The play succeeds
less because of the text or even the dramatic situation than because of
the music and especially the rarnbyoshi, the series of stamping dances
performed in all four directions.'!' Dojo-ji creates an unforgettable
impression in performance, though the text itself is of only moderate
interest.
Nobumitsu also wrote several of the most popular plays of the fifth
category, the kiri no, or final No, in which a demon has the principal
role.'!' Funa Bunkei is not only frequently performed in Japan but is an
obvious choice whenever troupes of No actors perform abroad: its dra-
matic tensions are readily intelligible even to foreigners with no ac-
quaintance with No or any other form of Japanese theater. This might
suggest that it is an inferior or at least atypical play, but this judgment
would be unfair: Funa Benkei is not typical (the shite of the first part
is not the same person as the shite of the second part), but when To-
momori, transformed into a demon of hatred for his enemies, threatens
the boat in which Yoshitsune and his followers are fleeing, the atmo-
sphere is entirely appropriate for a play of this category. The most
striking feature of the play, however, is the exceptionally interesting ai
scene in which the boatman suggests by his cries of alarm and his gestures
his consternation over the fierce waves battering the boat. From among
these waves Tomomori, now a demon, emerges, implacable in his hatred
of the Minamoto.
In other plays of the fifth category (such as Yamamba [Mountain
Hag)), a woman whose appearance in the first part in no way suggests
she might be a demon in disguise reveals her true ferocity in the second
part. The final dance (shimai) of the last play should represent the highest
crest reached by the successive kyu sections of the entire program.
Kanze Nagatoshi (I488-154r) also wrote several plays in the yiigen
style, including the lovely Yugyo Yanagi:" Komparu Zernpo (I454-?),
the grandson of Zenchiku, also wrote one yiigen play, Hatsuyulii, and
surely some of the anonymous yiigen plays must also have been composed
in the sixteenth century. But the emphasis at the time was on increased
dramatic tension, large casts.!" and spectactular effects. The division of
103° The Middle Ages

the roles into shite, waki, tsure, and so on became arbitrary, often
depending on the traditions of a particular school of No rather than on
the nature of the characters.
No plays continued to be composed in the late sixteenth century.!"
and some were written (generally for a single performance) as late as
the twentieth century; but No attained its apogee in the fifteenth century,
and although in later centuries it enjoyed the protection of the shogunate
and continued to be performed on stages at temples and shrines situated
even in remote parts of the country, it ceased to grow. The fall in 1867
of its long-time patron, the shogunate, dealt No what seemed to be a
deathblow, but it miraculously recovered. Its imminent demise, often
predicted during the years after the defeat in 1945, was not only averted,
but No came to enjoy even greater popularity than before, mainly because
well-to-do amateurs enjoyed displaying their skill at singing and dancing
the texts, a mark of social refinement. New theaters have been built,
and outdoor performances are popular in the summer. The texts and
the history of No continue to attract scholars, some of whom give
adequate consideration to the literary importance of the plays.'"

KYOCEN

The name Kyogen is derived from the phrase kyogen kigyo, meaning
literally, "wild words and fancy language."!" The term, first used by
the great Chinese poet Po Chu-i to designate the worldly writings that
he had come to reject in favor of Buddhist truths, acquired a rather
different sense in Japan and came to mean that even works which seem
to serve no higher purpose than to amuse may provide the impetus for
gaining salvation.'!" Literature and art, even of a secular nature, such
as the stories in Tales of Times Now Past, had earlier been tolerated as
hoben, or expedients, for inculcating painlessly the principles of Bud-
dhism. The term kyogen kigyo was used in several No plays for songs
and dances as well as fancy language. For example, in the play Togan
Koji the young priest Togan Koji guides others to the teachings of the
Buddha not by his preaching but by his singing and dancing. He declares,
"Truly, these too, like 'wild words and fancy language,' can turn into
teachings that bring salvation. As we enter the path of truth where the
wheel of his Law rolls, let us sing these songs that are flowers of the
human heart, for even they can be guides."12o
It is not clear from existing sources when and how Kyogen acquired
its name. The art itself may have originated not as a stage performance
No and Kyogen as Literature lOJl

but as recitations rather in the manner of present-day rakugo.:" The

earliest reference to what seem to be Kyogen performers occurs in a
document dated 1350, where mention is made of okashi hoshi ("funny
priests"), who seem distinct from both sarugaku (No) and dengaku
actors. These "funny priests" entertained audiences with their adroitly
delivered monologues, and before long they acquired ado, or "partners,"
who served as foils.

EARLY PERFORMANCES OF KYOGEN

The early Kyogen plays were probably skits that lasted no more than
ten or fifteen minutes.!" The title of one such play is given in a document
dated 1352.123 The plots may ultimately have been derived from written
sources, 124 but they in turn may have been little more than transcriptions
of folktales or extemporaneous recitations.!" A few plays have been
attributed to particular authors, notably the priest Gen'e (I269?-1350),
but even granting that the plots were probably improved and their
expression refined by educated persons, who were very likely priests, it
makes little sense to search for authors before texts were first printed
in the seventeenth century.!" The plays are not uniform in tone, and
some are decidedly less humorous than others, but many passages recur
from play to play, and we are likely to be struck more by the similarities
than by individual differences of style.
By Zeami's time a program, when performed in a public place,
consisted of three No plays and two Kycgen plays, but sometimes as
many as ten plays might be performed on a single day at the house of
a noble."? It is clear from Zeami's account that No and Kyogen were
performed on the same stage, but he does not mention whether or not
they were presented in any particular order. The earliest reference to
the alternation of Kyogen and No plays, in the manner now observed,
appears in a document of 1464,128 though the practice may have started
earlier. The inclusion of humorous, realistic plays at regular intervals
in a program may have been originally intended as a concession to those
in the audience who could not appreciate the lofty poetic expression of
No, and may have made it easier for Zeami to present elsewhere in the
programs plays of great complexity intended for the discriminating few.
Possibly Zeami believed that both No and Kyogen contributed to the
same end, Buddhist enlightenment, though the means they employed
were entirely different.
The Kyogen actors appeared not only in independent plays but also
lO32 The Middle Ages

as narrators of the ai. Often the waki, after a tantalizing conversation

with the mysterious shite of the first scene, asks a "man of the place"
what he knows of the person he has encountered. The man, usually
after making a modest disclaimer of any special information, thereupon
launches into a lengthy account of a famous battle or of a woman deserted
by her lover or of the unusual custom observed in a certain village.
Although the narration of the "man of the place" is delivered by a
Kyogen actor, it is not in the least comic; perhaps these speeches reflect
the eloquence, rather than the humor, of the early Kyogen performers.
Kyogen actors also take minor (but occasionally fairly important) parts
within a No play; in such instances, too, there is normally no display
of humor, but in a few late plays the ai contributes to the dramatic
interest of the whole, including elements of humor.

ZEAMI ON KYOGEN

It is not clear from existing documents which of these functions of the

Kyogen actor was the 01dest,129 but the two arts-No and Kyogen-c-
developed in close relationship from the fifteenth century on. Zeami
had relatively little to say about Kyogen in his various treatises, but he
devoted one section of Shiidosho (Learning the Way) to the K yogen
actors:

The functions of kJogen actors: it is well known that their method

of creating amusement for the audiences in the form of a comic
interlude involves the use either of some impromptu materials chosen
at the moment, or of some interesting incidents taken from old
stories. On the other hand, when these actors take part in an actual
no play, their function does not involve any need to amuse the
audience. Rather, they are to explain the circumstances and the plot
of the play that the audience is in the process of witnessing.!"

Zeami reveals in these words that impromptu materi.ils formed a

basic part of the dialogue and actions of the Kyogen plays. However,
we may suppose that lines or scenes in Kyogen that had proved effective
with audiences were retained in future performances of the same skits,
and gradually the purely extemporaneous elements of the plays dimin-
ished until nowadays every inflection of the voice and every bodily
movement is prescribed. The "interesting incidents from the old stories"
No and Kyogen as Literature TO]]

probably refers to humorous anecdotes that had by Zeami's time become

standard parts of the repertory of the Kyogen actors.

T ~~~~!S 0 f_K y 0 g e n
The oldest texts of Kyogen are the some 240 plays set down in 1642 by
Okura Yaemon Toraaki (1597- 1662), who was also the first K yogen
actor to relate, in the manner of Zeami, his theories on the art of
Kyogen. 13 1 The Toraaki texts were antedated by a volume of summaries
of Kyogen made in the late sixteenth century.'>' The summaries (of 104
plays) range from four or five lines to about twenty lines each. Only
the bare outlines, key phrases, and songs are given, evidence that the
dialogue was largely improvised. The numerous kana misspellings and
mistaken characters indicate that the writer was badly educated. The
plays themselves, thus rendered, are likely to baffle a modern reader.
For example, the well-known Busu is summarized in this manner:

A priest comes forward and summons two men. He says he is going

somewhere and leaves them to look after the place. In the back room
there is some busu (poison). He tells them that if they open it to
have a look it will kill them. They say they understand. The two
men are curious and take a look. They eat up all the sugar. Then
they tear up an inscribed painting and break a temmoku tea bowl.
They weep. The priest comes and, seeing them, asks what has hap-
pened. Dialogue. We ate one mouthful and still we did not die. We
ate two mouthfuls and we still didn't die. Three mouthfuls, four
mouthfuls, five mouthfuls, six mouthfuls-even after we'd licked
and ate a whole ten mouthfuls, we still couldn't die. Marvellous!
Final stamping of the feet.!"

It is hard to imagine from this account that Busu is one of the

masterpieces of the Kyogen repertory. Only if one knows how the play
is performed today can one understand why, for example, the two men
destroy the painting and the bowl; but their action, together with the
description of the number of mouthfuls of sugar the men ate, forms the
core around which the play was created. Busu, in its present version,
tells how a man, about to go on a journey, leaves his two servants,
Tarokaja and [irokaja, in charge of his house. He warns them that there
is some busu, a deadly poison, in the backroom, and urges them to stay
as far away from it as possible. Even if the wind blowing from its
I034 The Middle Ages
direction touches them it will kill them. Once the master has left, the
servants decide to have a look at the busu, despite the danger. They fan
vigorously from their side so that the wind will not strike them. When
they at last uncover the busu, Tarokaja is seized with a longing to eat
it. [irokaja tries in vain to stop him. Tarokaja then discovers that the
busu is in fact sugar, and the two men eat it all up. Now they must
face the wrath of the master. Tarokaja tells [irokaja to tear up the
painting in the alcove. [irokaja complies, then the two men join to smash
the master's treasured bowl. The master returns and finds the men
weeping. Tarokaja relates that, to pass the time while waiting for the
master's return, he and [irokaja wrestled. In the course of their wrestling,
the painting and the bowl were accidentally destroyed. They decided
to commit suicide by eating the busu, but strangely enough, they did
not die.!"
The effectiveness of Busu in performance depends largely on the
skill of the actors in conveying curiosity and fear as they approach
the mysterious cask of busu, in their manner of greedily devouring the
sugar, in Tarokaja's ingenious scheme for justifying their actions, and
finally, in the prolonged account of their fruitless efforts to kill them-
selves by taking one mouthful after another of the deadly poison. Unlike
most Kyogen plays, however, the success of Busu does not depend solely
on the skill of the actors. The story itself was deemed sufficiently in-
teresting for it to appear in later collections of anecdotes, and many
people know it even if they have never seen a performance of K yogen.
It would be idle to pretend, however, that this (or any other Kyogen
play), for all its interest as a story or for all the opportunities it provides
for master actors to display their comic gifts, is of the quality of one of
the great No plays, in the manner that As You Like It might be said to
be worthy of comparison with one of Shakespeare's tragedies. The
language of the Kyogen plays falls agreeably on the ears, as delivered
by the actors in rhythmic patterns with ringing voices and clear enun-
ciation, and the copula verb gozaru that ends many sentences gives a
distinctive tone to the language as a whole. The words themselves,
however, are ordinary. One of the pleasures of Kyogen, in fact, is to
hear an essentially uninteresting line, delivered first in the pompous
tones of the master, and then (perhaps in the form of a question) in the
humble accents of his servant. There is pleasure even in the stereotyped
phrase with which most Kyogen conclude-yarumai zo, yarumai zo (You
won't get away with it!).
No and Kvog en as Literature 1035

Ih e L _a~_g_!! age oI__lfy 6_~~n

The contrast between the language of No and that of Kyogen is em-
phasized by the delivery. The No actor, even when he is not wearing
a mask (which naturally interferes with the clarity of his words), speaks
or sings in a muffled voice that makes it extremely difficult for those
who do not already know the texts or who are not looking at a text
before them to understand the poetry. In Kyogen not a syllable is slurred
or prolonged for musical effect. A few archaisms, as the sound change
of such words as itashite to itaite, present problems of comprehension at
first, but a Kyogen audience has no need to look at a libretto while
watching a performance.
Scholars of recent years who have annotated texts of Kyogen fre-
quently make use of the Japanese-Portuguese dictionary of 1603. This
dictionary is a priceless source of information on the pronunciation of
words and their meanings at the end of the sixteenth century-in gen-
eral, the period when Kyogen achieved maturity, as we know from the
Tensho texts. But probably the language of the plays as they are now
performed is closer to that of the late seventeenth century, the time of
the Toraaki texts, or even later. As long as improvisation was a feature
of the performances, it was natural that the language change with dif-
ferent actors and certainly with the passage of time. The No texts were
printed and used in instruction from the early seventeenth century, but
Kyogen (until recent years, in any case) continued to be taught orally,
with the teacher pronouncing one sentence again and again until the
pupil could repeat it with exactly the same inflections. Small differences
can be detected in the wording even of actors of the same school, and
when it comes to the texts used by the three schools of Kyogen-s-Okura,
Izumi, and Sagi-the differences are enormous.

The H u rr:!!_,,-_C!l__Ii y 0 s e~
It seems likely that many of the early Kyogen plays were parodies of
the tragedies they followed, rather in the manner of the Italian theater
of the eighteenth century.!" Very few of the Kyogen that are currently
performed are parodies, but Esashi fuo (The Bird Catcher in Hades)
clearly satirizes the No Uto (Birds of Sorrow). In the No playa hunter
is tormented in hell for having slaughtered many birds; in the Kyogen
a bird catcher, who is about to be punished in hell for his taking of life,
offers some roasted birds to the king of hell, who finds them so delicious
[03 6 The Middle Ages
he sends the bird catcher back to earth to catch more birds.!" Tsuen is
a parody of the No play Yorimasa, not only in the plot but in the musical
accompaniment. But parodies of No no longer form a prominent element
in the Kyogen repertory.
The humor of Kyogen depends much less on parody than on the
contest of wills between master and servant, husband and wife, priest
and layman. Since the Kyogen are comedies, we can be fairly sure that
in disputes between servant and master, the servant will somehow gain
the upper hand; it would not be much of a comedy if a play concluded
with the master righteously punishing an impudent servant. This point
is often overlooked by critics who detect in the Kyogen plays the voices
of the common people protesting against the despotic acts of their mas-
ters. No doubt commoners in the audience felt satisfaction when the
typical daimyo of a Kyogen play was discomfited, as commoners in
France were pleased by the cleverness of the servants in a comedy by
Moliere. But this does not explain why aristocrats in the audience not
only permitted but enjoyed plays that portrayed the ruling class so
unattractively. Just as the Parisian aristocracy was unlikely to feel class
solidarity with the foolish petit marquis of a Moliere farce and could
laugh at his pretensions and countrified ways, the audience at the sho-
gun's court could laugh at the rustic daimyo who wished to compose
renga or who was in such financial straits that he had to send his servant
to cadge sake from a merchant. The rulers of Japan certainly did not
feel threatened by the irreverent attitudes displayed by Tarokaja, the
clever servant, toward his ill-tempered, pretentious, or simply foolish
master.!"
Some K yogen plays overstepped the limits of acceptable satire and
were quickly dropped, but the main thrust of censorship during the
Tokugawa period, when Kyogen, along with No, was afforded official
protection and encouragement, was against indecency.!" In comparison
with European farces, the humor of Kyogen is surprisingly free of risque,
let alone salacious, elements. The samurai evidently found it easier to
tolerate humor directed at their class than erotic representation.
Another element found in European farces that is almost entirely
missing from Kyogen is the comic foreigner or, for that matter, the
person from the country who speaks a peculiar dialect. To-sumo (W res-
tling in China) is one of only two or three plays in the repertory that
has foreigners in the cast. This play tells of a Japanese wrestler who
travels to China where he takes on members of the court, including the
emperor, in bouts of wrestling. Naturally, he is victorious in every
instance. The humor of this play is partly in the outlandish costumes
No and Kyogen as Literature 1037

worn by the actors performing as the Chinese characters, but mainly in

the weird noises that they utter in place of human speech. It is surprising
that greater use was not made of this familiar feature of farce in other
countries, but no doubt this was because the Japanese had so little
experience of foreigners. As for regional accents, there is no attempt in
Kyogen (or, naturally, in No) to suggest that people from the Tohoku
region or from Kyushu speak differently from those in the capital,
though it would have been easy to make fun of rustic pronunciation.
If people in the capital differ from those in the hinterland it is in
their citified cunning. In Suehirogari (The Fan), a pompous daimyo sends
his servant Tarokaja to the capital to buy for him an especially good
fan to celebrate the New Year. Instead of using an ordinary word for
"fan," however, he tells Tarokaja to buy a suehirogari, meaning literally,
"spreading out at the end," a descriptive word for a folding fan but also
a felicitous term suggesting greater and greater good fortune. He gives
varous specifications for the fan he wants-the number of ribs, the kind
of paper, the design, and so on. Tarokaja, who has no idea what a
suehirogari might be, goes to the capital where a clever shopkeeper sells
him an umbrella that corresponds in every particular with the require-
ments of the daimyo. When Tarokaja returns with an umbrella instead
of a fan, his master is at first furious, but the man who sold the umbrella
taught Tarok aja an infectious ditty that he guaranteed would improve
the master's humor if ever he became out of sorts. Sure enough, the
song cheers the enraged daimyo and in the end he and Tarokaja join
in a happy song and dance. The humorous situation is created not because
suehirogari is a dialectal expression, but because it is a foolish affectation.
The city man takes advantage of the ignorance of the man from the
country, but he also provides him with the means of restoring the
master's humor.

T he_ Cat e g or ~__of Kyo g~n

Suehirogari is an example of a waki kyogen: that is, a Kyogen of a felicitous

nature with a happy ending which corresponds to the waki no, the most
dignified and felicitous part of the No repertory. The Kyogen repertory
is generally divided into eleven categories, their content varying slightly
according to the school.!" in addition to the waki kyogen, there are
plays about daimyos, shomyo,140 sons-in-law, women, devils, yamabushi,
priests, blind men, miscellaneous subjects, and secret works.!" These
categories do not necessarily convey the contents of the plays. For ex-
 The Middle Ages

ample, the central figure in the shomyo plays is generally not the pomp-
ous samurai but Tarokaja, his servant. Little distinguishes the character
of one Tarokaja from another, though sometimes (as in Suehirogari) he
does not display the quick-wittedness we expect of him.
Plays about women almost always portray them unfavorably, as
termagants who (sometimes with just cause) make their husbands mis-
erable with their complaints and jealousy. The actors who play the parts
of women often seem to have been chosen for their burliness and ag-
gressively masculine faces. Masks are worn to increase the ugliness of
the features, and the only touches of femininity are the costumes and a
towel wrapped around the actor's head in an approximation of a woman's
hairdo. The most common exclamation of the woman is probably ha-
radachi ya-"I am furious!"
Priests do not fare much better than women in the Kyogen devoted
to them. In Sharon (A Theological Dispute) two priests, one of the
Nichiren and the other of the [odo sect, returning to the capital from
pilgrimages to sites holy to their two sects, accidentally meet on the
road. At first each is delighted to have a companion on the journey, but
when they discover they belong to hostile sects, each expresses, at first
in polite language, his aversion for the other's beliefs and his disincli-
nation to continue traveling together. The Nichiren priest declares his
convictions with the vehemence characteristic of his sect, but when they
reach an inn, the more sophisticated [odo priest, secretly pleased to have
such an interesting companion (who makes the journey seem shorter),
requests one room for both of them. The enraged Nichiren priest de-
mands separate rooms, but finally consents to spend the night in a
theological dispute. Their disagreement moves from proclamations of
the tenets of their sects to name-calling, and in the concluding scene
each dances, shouting all the while the ritual formula of his sect-
Rengekyo! or Namoda !J42 At the end, the dancing and the chanting
become so heated that each man gets confused and unwittingly calls out
the invocation of the wrong sect. When they realize what has happened,
they laugh, and recall that there is scriptural evidence for believing that
the two sects are not, after all, incompatible.
This is perhaps the most attractive Kyogen about priests. Another
variety of priest, the yamabushi, famed for their magical spells, are often
treated as braggarts and impostors, whose pretenses are comically ex-
posed. But the attacks are not ill-tempered or even serious, any more
than those against women. Perhaps women and priests were so fre-
quently made the butts of the humor of Kyogen because everybody
realized that, for all their faults, the world could not exist without them.
No and Kyogen as Literature I039

Shinto gods and even devils also appear in the plays, treating the
human beings with easy familiarity, sometimes even giving them pres-
ents. There is none of the awe that surrounds such divinities in the No
plays.
The humor in Kyogen is sometimes touched with pathos. This is
true particularly of the plays about zato (blind men). In Tsukimi Zato
(The Blind Man Views the Moon), for example, a blind man, attracted
by the sounds of autumnal insects, goes out into the fields to enjoy the
moonlight, even though he cannot see it. A man from the capital joins
the blind man, and the two sing and dance together under the moon,
the blind man somehow sensing the moonlight. The man from the
capital goes off, only to be struck by a sudden impulse to torment the
blind man. He returns, knocks down the blind man, and beats him with
his stick. After he has left, the blind man, groping for the stick, reflects
on the differences between people-some are as kind as the man with
whom he sang, others are as cruel as his assailant. The play ends not
in the usual manner, with one man chasing off another, nor with a
stamping of the feet, but with a sneeze, traditional in plays with a
bittersweet ending.
A few of the plays contain so little humor that they hardly seem to
belong in the Kyogen repertory.!" In others, like Buaku, one of the
daimyo plays, the humor of the ending is insufficient to make us forget
the chillingly unhumorous events earlier on. In this play a daimyo
commands his servant Tarokaja to kill another servant, Buaku, because
he is lazy and escapes work by pretending to be ill. Tarokaja protests
this harsh punishment, but the daimyo is implacable, and Tarokaja has
no choice. The daimyo lends his sword to Tarokaja, who finds Buaku.
But when he unsheathes the sword, he realizes he is unable to kill the
helpless Buaku, and allows him to escape. He informs the daimyo that
his command has been carried out. By accident, however, the daimyo
sees Buaku at the Kiyomizu Temple, where he has gone to thank Buddha
for his escape. With Tarokaja's connivance, Buaku pretends to be a
ghost, and frightens the daimyo by telling him that he has met the
daimyo's father in hell, and that the father has ordered the daimyo to
accompany Buaku to the land of the dead. The daimyo beats a retreat.
The play ends more or less cheerfully with Buaku, grateful to Tarokaja
for the narrow escape, preparing to run away; but it is hard to forget
the malevolence of the daimyo for whom the taking of a man's life is
of so little consequence that he can ask his servant to do it. 144
Few of the plays contain the darkness or the complexity of Buahu,
It demands great skill on the part of all three actors, but Bualeu is not
 The Middle Ages
one of the plays that the actors themselves rank at the top of their
repertory. Hanago is traditionally considered to be the summit of Kyogen,
the supreme test of a master actor,':" but it is in the nature of a farce,
so much enjoyed by audiences that it is frequently played on the Kabuki
stage as well.!" Obviously, the difficulties of performing roles in K yogen
can be appreciated fully only by a professional actor, but as literature
Buaku leaves a deeper impression than any other Kyogen play.

The Schools of Kyogen

As late as the middle of the Meiji period there were three schools of
Kyogen. Each had an impressive pedigree dating back to the foundations
of the art. The Okura school, for example, traced its origins to Cen'e.
The Sagi school, which ceased to exist after the death of its last iemoto
(head of the school) in 1895, boasted an impressive genealogy that went
back to the beginning of the Muromachi period, though it seems likely
that the first five iemoto were "invented" at the beginning of the sev-
enteenth century."? The Izumi school similarly traced its founding back
to the time of the shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa at the end of the fifteenth
century, but the first historically verifiable iemoto probably lived toward
the end of the sixteenth century.!"
The Okura and Sagi schools both served the Tokugawa shogunate
and had their "headquarters" in Edo; but the Izumi school, which now
ranks with the Okura school, was in the service of the Owari and Kaga
clans, and therefore oflesser importance. However, only the Izumi school
enjoyed the privilege of appearing at the Imperial Palace in Kyoto,
presumably because the "semiprofessional" status of the actors seemed
preferable to out-and-out professionals.':"
The fact that there were three schools of Kyogen, each with its own
texts, is of greater importance to the scholar of the literature of the
Japanese theater than the five schools of No.ISO The contrast between
the Okura and Izumi schools is not confined to the wording: the rhythms
of the delivery are dissimilar, and sometimes the effect produced on the
audience by a given play may differ because the emphasis is on different
sections of the text. One finds everywhere lingering examples of the
improvised nature of the dialogue in the past when the actors freely
altered or augmented the bare outlines of the plays given in the Tensho
texts. The versions taught by the three schools were not printed until
the Meiji era, by which time the differences had come to be emphasized
as an important part of the traditions of each school. There are records
No and Kyogen as Literature

from the seventeenth century of actors of different schools appearing

together in the same play, but this would be difficult today, unless many
compromises were made.
The Kyogen plays provide invaluable glimpses of the society of Japan
in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries and the humor, though
perhaps less evident to the reader than to the spectator, rings true often
enough to excite our smiles across time and great distance.

Notes
I. The earliest plays of literary interest, those by Kannami, were written a
full five hundred years after the Man'yiishic.
2. Thomas Blenman Hare's Zeami Style is an excellent example of this
approach, inspired in the first instance by the work of Yokomichi Mario
on the shodan, the basic unit of No texts and performance.
The music of No itself was derived from various sources, including
the Buddhist chants known as shomyo and the "party songs" (enkyoku)
of the medieval period. Gagaku music was also used in several of the
plays. For further treatment of this subject, see Yokomichi Mario, Nogeki
no Kenkyu, pp. 255-90.
3. Similarities between the Greek tragedies and No, noted for many years,
have been discussed with authority by Mae J. Smethurst in The Artistry
of Aeschylus and Zeami. She mentions in the introduction to her book (p.
3), "There is no question, for example, that early productions of both no
and Greek tragedy involved outdoor theaters, small all-male casts of actors,
choruses, instrumentalists, masks, dancing, and other strikingly similar
features." Her study of the No plays gives great importance to the struc-
tural elements of the songs, much in the manner of Hare's Zeami's Style.
The difference in the appreciation of Greek tragedies and No (the
latter being rarely considered as literature) is discussed by Tashiro Kei-
ichiro in Yokyoku u/o Yomu, pp. 3-5.
4. Readers who are interested in the musical and choreographic aspects of
No should consult the works mentioned in notes 2 and 3. I should like
to recommend in addition the books by Monica Bethe and Karen Brazell,
Dance in the No Theatre and No as Performance: An Analysis of the Kuse
Scene of "Yamamba." Yokomichi Mario's pioneering work on the shod an
has been presented by Frank Hoff and Willi Flindt in The Life Structure
of Noh. There are many descriptions in Japanese of the performance of
the No plays, some of which are listed in the Bibliography. For a study
of another aspect of the No theater, the audiences, Jacob Raz's Audience
and Actors should be consulted.
 The Middle Ages
As far as the texts themselves are concerned, each of the five schools
of shite (Kanze, Hosho, Komparu, Kongo, and Kita) has its own version
of the plays. The textual differences occur chiefly in the spoken parts;
the sung parts-the poetry-are more or less the same from school to
school. The repertories of the five schools are not identical. The Kanze
school has the most extensive repertory and, because this is also the school
with the greatest popularity, the Kanze texts are generally used in the
standard collections of Japanese literature. The texts of the Komparu
school are the fewest in number, but they are considered to be the oldest
by some scholars; for this reason the Komparu texts were chosen by the
editors of the Nihon Koten Bungaku Zensho series. Naturally, each school
is convinced that its texts are the most authentic. The matter is further
complicated by the existence of still other texts used by the waki actors
of the Shimogakari Hosho, Takayasu, and Fukuo schools. In performance,
the waki usually yields to the shite's text in exchanges of dialogue, but
follows the text of his own school at other places in the plays.
5. Noma Seiroku, Nihon Kamen Shi, p. 84-
6. P. G. O'Neill, Early No Drama, Its Background, Character, and Develop-
ment, p. 2.
7. The samai included dances from India, the Champa kingdom of Indo-
china, and even Bali. The umai included dances not only from the three
kingdoms of Korea but from the country of Po-hai in the region of
Manchuria. See Gunji Masakatsu, Kabuki Nyumon, pp. 36-37. Our knowl-
edge of the variety of these dances comes mainly from such legal works
as Ryo no Gige (833) in which regulations for performers were set forth.
8. For brief accounts of the various pieces performed by the bugaku dancers,
see [ingu Shicho Gagaku Shubu (ed.), Bugaleu Kaisetsu, pp. 7-34. This
work states (p. 6) that about thirty samai dances and over twenty umai
are still performed.
9. Also read as shinlea,
ro. The picture is reproduced In Shigematsu Akihisa (ed.), Shin Sarugakki,
Unshii Shosoku, p. 28. It appeared originally in Shinzei Kogaku-eu, a book
of pictures of bugaku probably compiled toward the end of the Heian
period. The picture shows three women, one climbing up the rope to a
horizontally stretched section, a second on the horizontal rope, and the
third descending the rope on the other side. All three are juggling, but
it is not clear whether these are three different women or one woman at
three different stages of a performance.
11. See above, pp. 349-50, for an account of this work.
12. Shigematsu, Shin, p. 8. It is difficult to tell from the cryptic descriptions
of the contents what these playlets were about. Shigematsu, pp. IO-II,
bravely attempts to explicate. One of the easier to understand themes is:
"The nun Myoko begs for diapers," no doubt meaning that she had broken
her vow of chastity and given birth to a baby.
No and Kyo g cn as Literature
13. See Moriya Takeshi, Chum Geino no Genzo, pp. 17-24.
14- This was, for example, the opinion of Hara Katsur o, expressed In his
well-known Nihon Chum Shi (1906). He believed that the riots marked
the beginning of the transition from antiquity to the middle ages. See
Moriya, Chusei, p. 7.
IS. See chapter 23, note 28. See also, for example, the account in Book Vof
the Taihctki, "On the Indulgence of the Lay Priest of Sagami in Dengaku
and Dogfights." (Yamashita Hiroaki, Taiheiki, I, pp. 212-16.)
16. These recollections are given in Sarugaku Dangi, his conversations with
his son Motoyoshi about the art of No. Text in Omote Akira and Kato
Shuichi, Zeami, Zenchiltu, pp. 261-62. Omote and Kato point out (pp.
498-99) that "twelve" was a slip of memory: Zeami was actually thirteen
by Japanese reckoning (though twelve by Western reckoning). See Hare,
Zeami's Style. p. 20.
17. For the authorship of Matsuleaze, see Ito Masayoshi, YokYoku Shu, III, pp.
483-85. He discusses the possibility that Kiarni's play Shiokumi was the
original version of Matsukaze, and concedes that Zeami probably followed
its general outlines; however, he concludes by expressing agreement with
the view advanced by Kosai Tsutomu that although the characters and
the language owed much to Kiarni's play, Matsuliazc should be considered
as an entirely new creation of Zeami. (See Kosai Tsutomu, Nogaleu Shinko,
p. 129.) Other plays by Zeami, such as Aridoshi, are believed to have been
much indebted to Kiami, especially for the music. See Ito, YokYoku Shu,
I, p. 403.
18. The final n in certain loanwords from the Chinese (such as the san in
sangaku) was changed to -ru, -mu, or -bu. Sarugaleu came to be understood
as meaning "monkey" (saru) music.
19. The nature of the differences between dengaku and sarugaku is by no
means clear; but presumably sarugaku included more of the acrobatics,
juggling, and so on of sangaku.
20. I shall use the term ennen throughout, but Japanese scholars often distin-
guish ennen no, ennen [urvii, and enncn geino, See Ueki Yukinobu, "No
Keiseizen no Sarugaku," p. I, for the three terms on one page. It is hard
to find a description of the differences that separated the three. The best
short description of ennen I have found is the one by Frank Hoff in
Kodansha Encyclopedia of Japan, II, pp. 218-19.
21. This tradition survives in the ennen performed at Motsu-ji, notably in

the dances "Hana-ori" and "Kara-byoshi."

22. For a concise discussion of the issues involved, see Amano Fumio, "Ennen
Furyu," in Geinoshi Kenkyukai, Nihon Geinoshi, II, pp. 234-36. See also
Kitagawa Tadahiko, Kannami no Geiryic, pp. 154-60. Kitagawa stated his
belief (p. 160) that the close relations between ennen furyu and waki no
was an established fact, and gave compelling evidence to prove this.
23. See O'Neill, Early, pp. 99-100. Ennen texts, usually in stiff Chinese, did
I044 The Middle Ages
not lend themselves readily to dramatic performances. (See Nose Asaji,
Nogaku Genryi; Kii, p. 380. See also Nose, Nogaku, pp. 420ff, for a discus-
sion of the reciprocal relations of the kaiko in ennen and No.) The kaiko,
literally "opening the mouth," was the opening section of an ennen per-
formance, which began with an auspicious description of events in China,
followed by a lighter passage in which word-play (shaku) was a promi-
nent feature. The waki no took over the general tone of the ennen descrip-
tion, but usually shifted the scene and the materials to Japan. Word-play,
usually not for humorous purposes, became characteristic of the No texts.
24. The word is also pronounced jushi or zushi, and sometimes referred to as
noronji. It originally designated priests who recited darani and worked
spells, but later came to refer to priests who performed songs and dances
after the conclusion of religious services with the intention of making the
meaning of the magical rites more intelligible to worshipers. Even in the
early days of songs and dances by shushi the performers wore splendid
costumes, as we know from a comment made by Fujiwara no Michizane,
recorded in Okagami. (See Helen Craig McCullough, Okagami, p. 21I.)
The best-known element of the performances was the hashiri, a rapid and
energetic circumabulation of the main altar by priests carrrying swords
and bells.
25. The three roles were equated with the Buddha, Monju (Manjusri), and
Miroku (Maitreya) respectively in a document dated 1126. If this document
is genuine, it contains the oldest known reference to 0kina; but various
authorities have insisted it is a forgery. The oldest indisputable reference
to 0kina occurs in a document dated 1283 that relates how priests of the
Kofuku-ji in Nara performed a series of dances including those of the
three old men. See Yamaji Kozo, 0kina no Za, pp. 144-46.
26. Ibid., p. 146. The source of this information is a document of 1349 de-
scribing the dances at the Wakamiya Festival of the Kasuga Shrine in
Nara. On this occasion shrine priestesses (miko) performed two sarugaku
no and shrine officials (negi) performed two dengaku no. Okina was danced
by the miko in the order of Tsuyu-harai, Okina, Samban Sarugaku, Kaja-
ko, Chichi-no-jo,
27. See Nose, Nogak u, pp. 164-7°.
28. For imayo see above, pp. 777-78. The sixty extant saibara, translated as
"horse-readying music," are briefly discussed by Robert H. Brower and
Earl Miner in Japanese Court Poetry, p. 510. The texts are found in Tsu-
chihashi Yutaka and Konishi [in'ichi, Kodai Kayoshu, pp. 380-415. Konishi
elsewhere (in his History of Japanese Literature, I, pp. 268-69), wrote of
the Outa, or great songs of the court, "The saibara are a somewhat older
group, dating in general from the eighth century, and containing a con-
siderable number of works believed to come from the seventh century."
He notes (p. 269, n. 5) that a reference in the Sandai Jitsuroku for 23-X-
859 records that Princess Hiroi was skilled in saibara, suggesting that
No and Kyogen as Literature
saibara music had come into being by the beginning of the ninth century
at the latest.
29. Photographs of a performance of 0kina are given in my No: the Classical
Theatre of Japan, pp. 93-98.
30. Nose, Nogaku, p. 184.
31. The question of which plays of Kannami are "characteristic" will be
discussed below; I refer here to such plays as Jinen Koji, Yoshino Shizulea,
and Kayoi Komachi, which have a lively dramatic quality. See Kitagawa,
Kannami, p. 49. Authorship of Kayoi Komachi is unclear; although Zeami
himself attributed it to Kannami, he noted that Kannami had revised an
existing play by the shodo (proselytizing) monks of Mount Hiei that had
already been performed by Komparu Gon-no-kami at Tonomine, Kan-
nami's revised version was in turn revised by Zeami. See Ito, YokYoku
Shii, pp. 431-32; also Omote and Kato, Zeami, p. 291, and the translation
by J. Thomas Rimer and Yamazaki Masakazu, On the Art of the No
Drama, p. 222.
32. See Kitagawa Tadahiko, "Yokyoku Kyogen to Setsuwa Bungaku," pp.
155-60. Kitagawa emphasized the importance of the setsuwa element.
33. The name is also read Kan'arni, and he is also sometimes referred to by
his full name, Kanze Kan'arni Kiyotsugu. Other dates have been proposed
for his birth and death.
34. In Zearni's time the writing of the word S{i"U was changed from the
unflattering ideograph for "monkey" to one which, though pronounced
sam when used as one of the twelve signs of the zodiac, normally meant
"to speak reverently."
35. For an account in English of the kuse and the kusemai which preceded
it, see O'Neill, Early, pp. 42-52. Although Kannami invented the kuse,
most of the plays attributed to him lack a kuse section, and it was not
until Zeami's time that inclusion of a kuse became regular. Only nine of
the plays attributed to Zeami lack a kuse section. See Kitagawa, Kannami,
p. 122, 124.
36. Kannami himself founded the Yuzaki troupe, which developed into the
Kanze school. Three other troupes, active at that time, survive to this
day: Tobi (or Tohi), Emai, and Sakato, the ancestors of the Hosho, Kom-
paru, and Kongo schools respectively. The fifth school of No, Kita, was
not founded until the sixteenth century.
37. These were the celebrated texts printed from movable types by Honnami
Koetsu (1558-1637).
38. For example, we know from evidence in Zeami's works that the rongi
section of Kayoi Komachi, a highly involved passage in which Komachi
describes the flowers and fruits she carries with her, was added by Zeami.
39. It was argued by Nogami Toyoichiro, a specialist in No drama (and in
European literature) that the shite is the only person of importance in a
No play. In general this is true, but there are obvious exceptions, especially
I046 The Middle Ages
in the plays of Kannami, Miyamasu, and the later No dramatists. But
even among Zeami's works, there is a conflict between the shite and the
tsure in Kiyotsune. In some of the late No plays, such as Taniko or css-»,
the part of the shite is relatively insignificant when compared to that of
the waki. Perhaps such plays were written by request of a waki actor
who had become tired of being little more than "a man at the side" and
wanted more attention.
40. One or more tsure may appear in a play. Normally, the role of the tsure
is unimportant, but in some plays (such as Kayoi Komachi) there is a
conflict between the shite and tsure, and in others (such as Shunkan) one
or more tsure will contribute an essential element to a play.
41. The kokata plays the roles not only of children (whether boys or girls)
but also of adults, notably in plays where there is a romantic interest
involved. For example, in order to keep Funa Benkci from seeming un-
attractively mundane, the role of the hero Yoshitsune (who is accompanied
by his mistress, Shizuka) is performed by a kokata; but in Shozon it is
Shizuka who is performed by a child. In both cases the intent is to preserve
an element of unreality in the relationship between the lovers. In still
other plays, where it might seem sacrilegious to have a mature actor take
the role of an emperor, the role is played by a child.
42. The verb sora was a contraction of saburau, to serve. Although examples
of the verb occur even in very early Heian texts, it was first used commonly
in the late twelfth century, notably in The Tale of the Heik«. From this
time on it was often used by military men especially as a polite variant
on the common verbs aru or iru, presumably because it was so much
easier to use the one verb sora than the elaborate honorifics of the court.
In the No plays female characters generally employ the original form
saburau, but men use sora. Most of the utterances of the waki conclude
with the prolonged, mournful vowels of sora. The verb sora continued to
be used in formal letters until after 1945, when it disappeared in the
postwar educational reforms.
43. This and other quotations from the text of linen Koji are taken from Ito,
YokYoku Shu, II, pp. 131-42.
44. The kusemai section of a play is particularly free in its metrics because
it follows closely the special melodic rhythms of the original accompan-
iment. See O'Neill, Early, pp. 42-52.
45. Ungo-ji and kumoidera (in the second line) have similar meanings; the
former is in the Sino-Japanese and the latter in the pure Japanese
pronunciation.
46. The ambiguity was increased by the frequent lack of a subject in a Japanese
sentence; the meaning of an utterance varied, depending on how one
interpreted the implied subject. This was true also of renga, a poetic art
that undoubtedly affected the expression of No.
47. Needless to say, current performances do not depict this scene realistically.
No and Kviig c n as Literature
48. The best description of the text of Jinen Koji and its modifications is given
by Ito in Yokyoku Shu, II, pp. 448-51. Ito treats the playas one originally
composed by Kannami but modified by Zeami. He also gives documentary
evidence concerning the historical [inen Koji, the model of the character
in the play, suggesting that Kannami took over the dances and musical
instruments (thesasara and kakko) from the historical [ineri's performances.
The texts of the play performed by the kamigakari schools (Kanze and
Hosho) differ considerably from those performed by the shimogakari
schools (Kornparu, Kongo, and Kita), the latter being closer to the original
form of the play.
49. Zeami himself (in Sarugaku Dangi) credited to Kannami three plays, Sotoba
Komachi, Jinen Koji, and Kayoi Komachi. See Omote and Kato, Zeami, p.
291. Translation in Rimer and Yamazaki, On the Art, p. 222.
50. See Yokomichi Mario and Omote Akira, Yokyoku Shu, I, p. 81, where
the arguments (and especially the puns) are said to be similar to those in
the Kyogen Shuron, Kitagawa (in Kannaml, p. 245) makes the same com-
parison, and states that the questions and answers in Sotoba Komachi can
be considered as belonging to the tradition of verbal play. Elsewhere in
the same book (p. 63), Kitagawa expresses the opinion that the vivid
colloquialisms were originally intended to be comic, though the manner
of performance adopted since Zearni's time has obscured the comic in-
tent.
51. See Kitagawa, Kannami, p. 21. Kitagawa (p. I 13) cites seven characteristics
of plays by Kannami, as enunciated by two earlier authorities of No,
Kobayashi Shizuo and Nogami Toyoichiro: (I) they draw their materials
from a world close to the spectators of the time; (2) they combine drama
and elements of music and dance; (3) their structure is free; (4) there are
few quotations of old poems; (5) they use colloquial language and contain
traces of popular songs; (6) the dialogue is skillful; and (7) there is humor.
52. Translation by Sam Houston Brock in Donald Keene, Anthology of Jap-
anese Literature, p. 268. Original text in Yokomichi and Omote, Yokyoku
Shu, I, p. 86.
53. Yokomichi and Omote, Yokyoku Shu, I, p. 81.
54. In part, this is a quotation of a poem in Tales of Ise. Helen Craig Me-
Cullough translates this poem as: "The lady with thinnning hair- / But
a year short / Of a hundred- / Must be longing for me, / For I seem
to see her face." (McCullough, Tales of Ise, p. 110.) For original text, see
Watanabe Minoru, Ise Monogatari, p. 76. The word tsueumogami, trans-
lated by Brock as "silted seaweed locks" and by McCullough as "thinning
hair," is unclear. There is a variety of seaweed known as tsukumo, and
this might refer to the old woman's unkempt locks. The word tsukumo
is sometimes written with characters meaning "ninety-nine," Komachi's
age. Watanabe prefers to think of the term as a kind of calligraphic pun:
taking the character for "one" away from the character for "hundred"
1048 The Middle Ages
leaves the character for "white," and the meaning is therefore "white hair."
55. Translation by Brock in Keene, Anthology, pp. 268-69. Text in Yokomichi
and Omote, Yakyoku Shu, I, pp. 86-87.
56. Translation by Brock in Keene, Anthology, p. 269. Text in Yokomichi and
Omote, Yakyoku Shu, I, p. 87.
57. Another example of madness resulting from possession by the spirit of
another person is found in Matsukasc, attributed to Kannami. See Kita-
gawa, Kannami, p. 183.
58. Translation by Brock in Keene, Anthology, p. 270. The translation is free
but captures the spirit of the original. "The sands of goodness" refers to
a statement found in the Lotus Sutra and other works to the effect that
by piling up small deeds of goodness one achieves union with the Buddha.
The last lines are the repeated declaration of satori no michi ni ira yo (I
shall enter the path of enlightenment!). Text in Yokomichi and Omote,
Yakyoku Shu, I, p. 88.
59. The four, according to Kitagawa (in Kannami, p. 112), are: Furu, Sotoba
Komoachi, linen Koji, and Kayoi Komachi. However, Kannami is usually
credited with such plays as Kinsatsu, Yoshino Shizulea, Eguchi, and Mo-
tomczuka, as well as with Matsultazc, a work that also bears the imprint
of Zearni's revisions.
60. Translation by Rimer and Yamazaki in On the Art, p. 215. Text in Omote
and Kato, Zeami, p. 287.
61. In works published before about 1950 the pronunciation of the name is
usually given as Seami, but Zeami is now universally preferred. The
pronunciation was determined in part by observing that three generations
of No actors had the names Kan'ami (or Kannami), Zeami, and On'ami,
the first syllables of the three names spelling out Kanzeon. The date of
Zeami's death has been disputed, some authorities preferring 1444. His
full name was Zeami Motokiyo.
62. For an invaluable discussion of the problem of authorship of the No plays,
see Konishi [iri'ichi, "New Approaches to the Study of the No Drama,"
especially pp. 5-7. For example, the play Shakun is attributed to Zeami
by Nohon Saleusna Chiimon, Kokaya Saleusha Kii, and ]ikaden Shii, but to
Komparu Zenchiku by Komparu Hachizaemon Kakiage and Nihyakuju-
ban Utai Mokuroku; but Konishi concludes that it is actually not by either
dramatist.
63. Nogami Toyoichiro, Zeami Motokiyo, p. 71.
64. Hare, in Zeami's Style, pp. 44-47, lists "Works specifically identified as
Zeami's," "Works that can be considered Zeami's," "Works revised by
Zeami," and "Works of uncertain authorship." Some "works" are only
songs and not plays, others have disappeared. There are fewer than forty
works in Hare's first two categories. Surprisingly, several works that are
indisputably by Zeami are not in the current repertory of any school,
No and Kyogen as Literature
perhaps because the music has been lost. Other works, though probably
by Zeami, are rarely or even never performed, because they lack popularity
with the performers and audiences.
65. See Konishi, "New Approaches," p. 8, for the changes that were made
to the plays Unrin'in and Yoroboshi. In the latter play, for example, the
original text had at least seven characters, though the version now per-
formed has only three.
66. Ienaga Saburo in Sarugaku No no Shisoshiteki Kiisatsu, pp. 7-64, describes
how alterations were made in the texts of various No plays during the
"fifteen-year war" of the 1930S and 1940S in order to accord with the
patriotic sentiments of the day.
67- For a succinct presentation of Yoshida's discovery, see Omote Akira,
"Zeami to Zenchiku no Densho," in Omote and Kato, Zeami, pp. 549-
50. Omote mentions (p. 549) a few copies of Zeami treatises made during
the Tokugawa period and circulated among friends of the possessors of
the manuscripts.
68. The date has been much debated ever since Omote Akira in 1963 proposed
1375 instead. He based this date on Zeami's statement that at the age of
twelve (by Japanese count) he had seen Kiami perform in Nara, the same
age as when he himself appeared at Imakumano. The only year he could
have seen Kiami at the Kasuga Shrine was 1375; therefore, he must have
been twelve in 1375, rather than 1374. However, Ijichi Tetsuo in 1967
published an extract from the diary Fuchile: of the Retired Emperor Suko,
which gives Zeami's age in 1378 as sixteen; this would make him twelve
in 1374, the traditional date. In that case, Omote argued, Zeami must
have made a mistake about his own age either about the time he performed
in Imakumano or about the time he saw Kiami perform. Omote continued
to believe that 1375 was correct for the Imakumano performance. See
Omote and Kato, Zeami, pp. 498-99. The recent (1986) study, Zeami by
Domoto Masaki, gives 1375 (p. 123).
69. Translation from my Some Japanese Portraits, p. 38. The original text is
given on p. 211 of the same book. This extract is from Gogumaih], the
diary of Sanjo Kintada, which has entries from 1361 to 1383.
70. See Omote and Kato, Zeami, pp. 265, 287. Translation by Rimer and
Yamazaki in On the Art, pp. 180 and 215. Zeami also stated that it was
unlikely anyone in the future would write plays like his Saigyo-zakura
and Akoya no Matsu. (Rimer, p. 214; Omote and Kato, p. 286.)
71. In Zearni's case the engo were not only conscious but gave an underlying
unity to the text. The first person to mention this was W. B. Yeats in
Certain Noble Plays ofJapan (1915). See also my No, p. 54.
72. For a discussion of these and other stylistic features of the texts of No,
see Smethurst, The Artistry, pp. 153-59 (with reference to a passage In
Matsukaze) and pp. 166ff (with reference to Sanemori). The glossary in
1050 The Middle Ages
Hare's Zeami's Style (pp. 29I-30o) provides definitions of such terms and
explanations of their use.
73. See Kitagawa, Kannami, p. 22I where he speaks of the "isolation" of
Zeami. He states (p, 220) that even Zeami's son Motomasa was in the
tradition of Kannami, his grandfather, rather than of his father.
74. See Kitagawa, Kannami, p. 3I.
75. It is known as the waki no, from its position in a program "at the side"
(waki) of 0kina, the play traditionally performed at the opening of a series
of plays.
76. Goto Hajime in Zoleu Nogaku no Kigen, pp. 392-94, considered the various
theories that have been offered concerning the gobandate of No. He con-
cludes that at least the idea was known by I5I2, though actual perfor-
mances in keeping with the five categories probably do not antedate the
Tokugawa period.
77. For an analysis of Takasago, see my No, pp. 55-57; also (at much greater
length) Hare, Zeami's Style, pp. 69-I03.
78. See Omote and Kato, Zeami, p. 90. In his treatise KakYo (The Mirror
Held to the Flower) Zeami wrote, "The sarugaku plays of the second
category differ in character from the waki [first category l plays. They
have a firm basis in an original source and give an impression of strength,
but they should be performed in a graceful manner. Although they differ
in character from the waki plays, they still are not elaborate, and this is
not the point in the program to display the utmost techniques. For that
reason these plays should retain in performance the atmosphere of the
jo." Another translation by Rimer and Yamazaki in On the Art, pp. 83-
84·
See also William R. LaFleur, The Karma of Words, pp. I20-2I, where
in his discussion of the rokudo (thegati of the six-course system) he discusses
why the ashura plays should appear second on the program even though
in the basic paradigm they occupy the third slot, below that of the human.
He writes, "First, as Paul Mus has shown, the location of the ashura in
the sequence of gati is strikingly inexact in the texts of the tradition: some
place it in the second position because the ashura are thought of as titans,
brothers (though rivals) of the gods. In power they rank above human
beings. Inasmuch as they are warring beings, however, they deserve rather
less than great respect in a Buddhist system of values. Thus, if the plays
about ashura seem somewhat anomalously placed in the no progression,
it is the reflection of a great deal of ambiguity and vacillation in the
received tradition."
79. Translation by Hare in Zeami's Style, p. I85' Text (from Fushikaden) in
Omote and Kato, Zeami, p. 24. Another translation in Rimer and Ya-
mazaki' On the Art, p. I5. The words translated as "poetry and music"
are kachO fugetsu, literally "flowers and birds, the wind and the moon,"
a familiar term for natural beauty but here used for the different arts.
No and Kyogen as Literature 1051
80. Hare, Zeami's Style, p. 185.
81. See Ito, "Meikyoku Kaidai," in Yokyoku Shu, I, p. 431.
82. The other two are the old person and the woman. For an extended
discussion of the three roles see Hare, Zeami's Style, pp. 65-224.
83. Translation in Hare, Zeami's Style, p. 186. Text in Omote and Kato, Zeami,
p. 138. Another translation in Rimer and Yamazaki, On the Art, p. 155.
Sando is sometimes called Nosahusho (Book of No Composition).
84. Yamashita Hiroaki, in "Narnboku-cho Doranki no Bungaku-Gunki"
(quoted in Kitagawa, Kannami, p. 198), expressed the belief that Zeami
was urging dramatists of No to preserve the "aesthetic world" (biteki sekai)
of The Tale of the Heike, not its language or structure. Zeami remained
close to his source in Sanemori, but in other plays based on The Tale of
the Heilec he conspicuously departed from the original text.
85. Yashima was the scene of one of the three great battles of the Gempei
War. The Minamoto under Yoshitsune were victorious. There is no sug-
gestion in The Tale of the Heike that Yoshitsune agonized (as in the play)
over being obliged to kill. His retrieval of a lost bow, an important part
of the narration in Yashima, is described briefly in The Tale of the Heilec:
" 'Let it go,' the warriors urged, but he finally retrieved it and rode back
to the shore laughing." (Translation by Helen Craig McCullough, The
Tale ofthe Hciltc, p. 370.) The laughing Yoshitsune has no place in Yashima.
86. Translation from my No, p. 59.
87. It has also been suggested that Matsuleaze should be considered the product
of three generations of dramatists: Kiami (a master of dengaku), Kannami,
and Zeami. For Kiami, see above, p. 1003. See also Kitagawa, Kannami,
p. 166.
88. The verb matsu (to wait for) is the homonym of the noun matsu (the pine),
providing the rare chance for a similar pun in English on "pine."
89. Translation by Royall Tyler in my Twenty Plays of the No Theatre, pp.
22-23·
90. A section (shodan) of a play delivered in a manner resembling recitative
in opera. Hare (Zeami's Style, p. 299) wrote of the sashi, "Because they
have neither a strong underlying rhythm nor a melismatic melody, they
are among the most readily intelligible shodan in noh and are used when
it is particularly important that the audience grasp the precise meaning
of the text."
91. Text in Ito, Yokyoku Shu, III, pp. 240-41.
92. Text in Ishida [oji and Shimizu Yoshiko. Genji Monogatari, II, pp. 236-
37. For a translation, see Edward Seidensticker, The Tale of Genji, I, p.
235·
93. In the sashi section of the play some lines are in irregular meter.
94. Translation by Tyler in my Twenty Plays, pp. 23-24. Text in Ito, Yokyoku
Shu, III, p. 242.
95. See Ishida and Shimizu, Genji Monogatari, II, p. 239, for text. Seidenstick-
 The Middle Ages
er 's translation (Genji, I, p. 237) is: "From offshore came the voices of
fishermen raised in song. The barely visible boats were like little seafowl
on an utterly lonely sea, and as he brushed away a tear induced by the
splashing of oars and the calls of wild geese overhead, the white of his
hand against the jet black of his rosary was enough to bring comfort to
men who had left their families behind."
96. This is not quite the same thing as a kakekotoba, which changes in
meaning when applied to what follows. Here the meaning remains the
same, referring both to the small boats that are faintly visible in the offing
and the faintly bright face of the moon.
97. See Ito, Yokyoku Shu, III, p. 242, note 2.
98. Translation by Tyler in my Twenty Plays, p. 30; original in Ito, Yokyoku
Shu, III, p. 247.
99. Kokinshu 1023. Text in Okumura Tsuneya, Kokin Waka Shu, p. 351.
IOO. The lines in the original are: Kazen ni cho mau / fumpun taru yuki /
Ryusho ni uguisu tobu / hempen taru kin. (See Ito, Yokyoku Shu, I, p. 265.
IOI. Ezra Pound, The Translations of Ezra Pound, p. 339.

102. Smethurst in The Artistry, pp. 153-58, analyzes the rongi section of
Matsukaze. She concludes her discussion (p. 158) with: "I have pointed
to the author's use of such features of Japanese poetic style as enken,
kakekotoba (a kind of paronomasia), ren'ln (alliteration), anaphora, rep-
etition of words, engo (words associated in meaning), words contrasted
in meaning, and joshi (preface), as well as more or less explicit allusions
to other poetry."
103. The author is unknown, but there is a strong possibility that it was
Komparu Zenchiku. See Ito, Yokyoku Shu, III, p. 506.
I04. See Tashiro, Yokyoku, pp. 60-65, for a discussion of the Hyakumjuku-
hon text, particularly with reference to the historical Taira no Munernori,
who is the waki in the play. Tashiro quotes (pp. 62-63) the relevant
section of the text.
I05. Tashiro, in Yokyoku, pp. 38-139, presents a detailed analysis of Yuya as
literature.
106. Ibid., p. 66.
I07. The texts of Zenchiku's treatises (unfortunately, without any notes) are
given by Omote and Kato in Zeami. Zenchiku's theories are discussed
by Konishi [in'ichi in Nogakuron Kcnky«, especially pp. 240-71. For a
brief study of Zenchiku's writings, see Benito Ortolani, "Zenchiku's
Aesthetics of the No Theatre." Ortolani quotes the English translations
made by Asaji Nobori in "Zenchiku's Philosophy of Noh Drama," in-
cluded in Hiroshima Bunkyo Joshi Daigaleu Kenkyu Kiyo (1960).
I08. Translation by Tyler in my Twenty Plays, pp. 133-42.
I09. Translation in Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai, Japanese Noh Drama, 1.
IIO. Translation by James A. O'Brien in my Twenty Plays, pp. 150-62.
I I I. The most detailed treatment of Miyamasu is found in Kitagawa, Kan-
No and Kyogen as Literature 1053

nami, pp. 78- 104. On pp. 88-89 he gives lists of thirty-five plays that
have been attributed to Miyamasu. Kitagawa is ready to accept them all,
in principle, as having been written by him.
112. There is a translation of the play in my Twenty Plays, pp. 241-51.
I 13. It is not always apparent why a play in which the shite is a demon is
nevertheless considered to belong to the fourth category. This is true,
for example, of Dojo-ji and Aoi no Ue, described as shuncnmono ; plays
in which the shire's vindictive emotions provide the impetus for the
drama. On the other hand, Taniko, in which the demon has a minor
(and benevolent) role, is considered to be of the fifth category. Obviously,
the works were not designated by category by their original authors, and
later men sometimes had difficulty in fitting them into the five categories.
114. Translated by [anine Beichman in my Twenty Plays, pp. 223-34, as "The
Priest and the Willow."
I IS. In the plays Shozon and Chikato by Nagatoshi nine characters appear,
and there are thirteen in his Kasui. Chikato has four principal characters,
each given a display scene in the manner of an Italian opera. Kasui, not
currently performed, features many changes of scene and prodigies. See
my No, p. 61. For texts, see Yokomichi and Omote, YokYoku Shu, II, pp.
195- 225.
116. See below, pp. I IS0-53.
117. I am thinking especially of Tashiro's YokYoku.
118. For a discussion of this term, see Etsuko Terasaki, "Wild Words and
Specious Phrases: Kyogen Kigo in the No Play Jinen Koji."
I 19. The term kYogen kigyo occurs in a prose passage by Po Chu-i written in

840 at the Hsiang-shan Temple in Lo-yang. Several close friends had

recently died, and he resolved to abandon the "wild words and fancy
language" of poetry and henceforth to compose hymns in praise of the
Buddha. The Japanese, believing that poetry also could serve to bring
about illumination, did not renounce "wild words and fancy language."
See Tachibana Hideki, Haleu Kyoi KenkYu, pp. 379-83. It is likely that
the term entered the Japanese language by way of an excerpt from his
prose that appears in Wakan Roei Shu (selection 588). Kawaguchi Hisao's
translation of the passage into modern Japanese can be rendered in
English: "I have in this life composed worldly works of literature and
committed the error of captivating others with my beautiful language.
I earnestly hope to put an end to such sins and to turn my future literary
activity to praise for the Buddhist Law, in the hope it may prove the
impetus for explaining his truth." (Kawaguchi Hisao and Shida Nob-
uyoshi, Wakan Roei Shu, Ryojin Hisho, p. 200.)
Perhaps the earliest use of the term in Japanese writing is found in
poem 222 of Ryojin Hisho, which opens, "Kyogcn kigyo no ayamachi
wa ... " See ibid., p. 383.
120. Sanari Kentaro. YokYoku Tailtan, IV, p. 2170.
[054 The Middle Ages
121. This was the theory of Kitagawa Tadahiko, first presented in his "Kyogen
No no Keisei," p. 16. He further expressed the belief that impromptu,
humorous recitations were the source not only of the early Kyogen but
of early No and dengaku. (He gives on p. 21 a diagram of these rela-
tionships.)
Rakugo are humorous monologues delivered with great expression
by professional raconteurs that usually lead to an unexpected and amusing
conclusion known as the ochi or raleu, Raconteurs probably served the
feudal lords of medieval Japan in much the manner that jesters served
the courts of Europe. During the kinsei period they came to perform
professionally before commoners as well. Anrakuan Sakuden (1554-1642)
left a collection of over one thousand humorous stories. See World Within
Walls, p. 154.
122. For calculations of the length of time needed to perform a Kyogen in
the early period, see Koyama Hiroshi et al., Kyogen no Seeai, pp. 13-15.
Basing his findings on the number of No and Kyogen performed on a
single day, he concuded that a No play took some thirty to fifty minutes
and a Kyogen "about fifteen minutes at the longest."
123. See Yonekura Toshiaki, Warambegusa KenkYii, pp. 2,6. A temple record
mentions a Kyogen play, Yamabushi Seppo.
124- This is the opinion of Taguchi Kazuo, presented in diagrammatic form
in Kvogen Ronko, p. 147. He gives the scriptural text (kYoten) developing
into setsuwa that in turn branch off into Kyogen on the one hand and
"old tales" (mukashibanashi) on the other. He believed that although it
was commonly assumed that it was difficult to posit a direct connection
between a setsuwa and a Kyogen, quite a few Kyogen in fact originated
in this manner.
125. For example, Busu, one of the most popular works of the Kyogen rep-
ertory, relates essentially the same story as an anecdote in Shasekishii, a
setsuwa collection of the Kamakura period. For a translation, see Robert
E. Morrell, Sand and Pebbles, p. 222. The original text is found in Wa-
tanabe Tsunaya, Shascleishu, p. 346; it is episode I I in Book VIII of the
work. Another variant of the story appears in IkkYii Kanto-banashi (1672),
a collection of tales about the witty priest Ik kyu. But Taguchi (Kyogen
Ronko, pp. 146-47) thought it more likely that the Kyogen was derived
from a mukashibanashi than from Shasekishii. This view was shared by
Kitagawa, expressed in "Yokyoku Kyogen," pp. 167-7°. He believed
that the play, originally about priests, was transformed because of the
ending (inappropriate for a play about priests) into a daimyo play, and
subsequently into a shomyo play in order to give greater importance to
the characters Tarokaja and [irokaja,
126. This is the conclusion of Kitagawa Tadahiko and Yasuda Akira in
Kyogen ssa, p. 397. In 1721, the head (iemoto) of the Okura school
presented to the shogunate a list of plays arranged by authors. He credited
No and Kyogen as Literature
fifty-nine plays to Gen'e and seventy-six to two men, Komparu Shirojiro
and Uji Yataro, Another twenty-three plays were listed as anonymous.
Modern scholars are divided on the credibility of these attributions. For
the lists and various opinions, see Matsumoto Kamematsu, Kyogen Rikugi
no KenkYu, pp. 52-56.
127. Zeami mentions this in Shudosho. See translation by Rimer and Yamazaki,
On the Art, pp. 170-71. Original text in Omote and Kato, Zeami, p. 239.
128. Kitagawa ("Kyogen," p. 24) quotes from Tadasugawara Kanjin Sarugaku,
129. This was the opinion of, for example, Koyama Hiroshi, "Kyogen no
Koren," p. 264.
130. Translation from Rimer and Yamazaki, On the Art, p. 170. Text in Omote
and Kato, Zeami, p. 239. The passage is difficult, and not all scholars
are in agreement on the meaning of some phrases.
131. Toraaki's theories are contained in his Warambegusa, written between
1651 and 1660. They are exhaustively discussed by Yonekura in Wa-
rambegusa KenkYu. The text consists partly of anecdotes about the great
Kyogen actors of the past, partly of recommendations on how to perform
specific plays.
132. This book, first published in 1940, is known as Tensho Kyogenbon from
the date, the sixth year of Tensho (1578), found at the conclusion of the
manuscript. However, doubts have been expressed about the authenticity
of the date, which is in a different hand from the rest of the manuscript:
it may have been added after the text (meaning that the text is earlier
than 1578), or it may have been added in later years by the owner to
lend prestige to a more recent text. See Nonomura Kaizo and Furukawa
Hisashi, Kyogen Shu, II, pp. 211-12. The entire text of Tensho Kyogcnbon
is given in this volume.
133. Nonomura and Furukawa, Kyogen, II, p. 266.
134. This summary is based on the text given by Sasano Ken in No Kyogen,
II, pp. 118-25. The Toraaki text, given by Ikeda Hiroshi and Kitahara
Yasuo in Okura Toraaki-bon Kyogen no KenkYu, I, pp. 27°-72, is quite
different in wording and much shorter, but it contains the essential
elements, including the "Hitokuchi kuedomo shinare mo sezu . . . rr passage
found in the Tensho summary.
135. See Vernon Lee, Studies of the Eighteenth Century in Italy, pp. 171-72,
where she writes, "Metastasio wrote not only the tragic play itself but
wrote also two little comic interludes, according to the illogical jumbling
fashion which prevails whenever an art is adolescent. After the curtain
had fallen upon the intensely tragic Dido upbraiding the stately and
statuesque Aeneas, it rose upon Signorina Santa Marchesini, as a prima
donna, quarrelling with the stage tailors about the length of her train,
and interrupted by the arrival of a famous buffo as Nibbio, a ridiculous
manager from the Canary Islands ... [It was the] turning of everything
into ridicule fearlessly, from the certainty that as soon as the tragedy
I056 The Middle Ages
was resumed people would weep as much at the originals of the cari-
catures as they had laughed at the caricature itself."
136. For translations of both works, see my Anthology, pp. 271-85 and pp.
301-4. Taguchi (in Kyogen Ronko, p. 28) suggests that originally Kyogen
were "paired" with No plays and performed together.
137. Various explanations have been offered by Japanese scholars for the
tolerance by the samurai class of the humor in Kyogen, Yanagita Kunio
(in Teihon Yanagita Kunia Shu, VII, pp. 245-47) attributed it to the fact
that although as a class the samurai detested lying and underhanded
acts, these were performed in Kyogen not to conquer an enemy but to
raise laughter, and there clearly was no malicious intent behind them.
Taguchi (Kyogen Ronko, p. 25), accepting this theory, gave examples from
Zodanshu, an early fourteenth-century setsuwa collection, to show that
satire directed at the upper classes was forgiven when the intent was
humorous.
138. The play Tsuratogi (The Face Polisher), no longer in the repertory,
apparently contained overt suggestions of sexual acts. Other indecent
Kyogen were probably never set down on paper and have therefore
totally disappeared. See Taguchi, Kyogen Ronko, pp. 102-14.
139. For lists of the categories determined by the three schools (Okura, Izumi,
and Sagi) see Matsumoto, Kyogen, pp. 144-45. Various scholars have
proposed additional categories. Kyogen Sambvakuban Shu, edited by No-
nomura Kaizo and Ando Tsunejiro, for long the best collection of texts
of the Izumi school, listed twenty-seven categories (see ibid. pp. 151-53).
140. A lesser daimyo, but in Kyogen often simply the "master" (shu), a man
who has a servant named Tarokaja. The master may be in debt to the
liquor store, but he still maintains his pompous manner when ordering
Tarokaja to perform his errands.
14I. Secret works (naraimono) were those that required special permission
and instruction. The three highest naraimono of the Okura school rep-
ertory are Tanuki no Harazutsumi, Hanago, and Tsurigitsune.
142. RengekYo (Lotus Surra) is invoked by Nichiren sect believers with the
words Namu Myoho RengekYo; [odo believers called Namu Amida Butsu,
here abbreviated to Namoda.
143. An example is Keimyo, a play about a boy who saves the life of his father.
144. There is a translation by Shio Sakanishi in Kyogen, pp. 35-40. Satake
Akihiro (in Gekokujo no Bungaltu, pp. 114-36) presents a brilliant but
not altogether convincing explanation for why the daimyo is so incensed
with Buaku as to command his death.
145. This is stated, for example, by Miyake Tokuro in Kyiigen Kansho, p. 83.
He says that it is treated more seriously (omolru) even than Tsurigitsune,
a play whose secrets of performance are taught by a master actor to only
one of his sons and to no one else. Hanago is the story of a married man
who acquires a mistress named Hanago. The wife is suspicious, and in
No and Kyiigen as Literature 1057

order to escape her watchful eyes, he says he will engage in Zen medita-
tion, a hood over his head to shut out the mundane world. He commands
Tarokaja to sit in his place, and leaves happily for Hanago's place. The
wife goes to the meditation hall, moved (she says) by sympathy for the
husband. She tears off the hood and discovers Tarokaja. She then puts on
the hood and sits in meditation. When the husband returns, he recounts
his delightful evening with Hanago, only for the wife to remove the hood.
146. The Kabuki play is called Migawari Zazen.
147. The best study of the founding of the three schools is contained in Ko-
bayashi Seki, Kyogenshi Kcnkyii, pp. 1-79. Kobayashi gives (p. 30), as the
first firm date for the Sagi school, documentary evidence that in 1614 this
school was attached to the Kanze school of No as its Kyogen component.
Nothing in records of the Muromachi period substantiates the claim that
the men named by the Sagi school as its first five iemoto had any connection
with the actors.
148. Ibid., p. 68.
149· The term tesarugaku was used of performances by actors who did not
belong to one of the four recognized schools of No. These actors, though
their status was officially that of farmers, probably performed No with
considerable skill, and because they were officially amateurs, they were
preferred by the court in Kyoto to actors tainted by professionalism. The
court bestowed on these actors court appellations (zuryogo) that gave them
the privilege of appearing at the court or in the houses of the nobility.
Needless to say, these titles were mere formalities and did not involve
palace duties. The practice of giving such appellations to performers of
[oruri is said to have begun in 1577 and has continued to our day.
IS°· The differences between the Okura and Izumi school versions of the play
Akutaro are discussed by Taguchi in Kyogen Ronko, pp. 129-40.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in
Tokyo.

Bethe, Monica, and Karen Brazell. Dance in the No Theatre. 3 vols. Ithaca,
N.Y.: Cornell University East Asia Papers, 1982.
- - - . No as Performance: An Analysis ofthe Kuse Scene of "Yamamba:" Ithaca,
N.Y.: Cornell University East Asia Papers, 1978.
Brazell, Karen (ed.). Twelve Plays ofthe Noh and Kyogen Theaters. Ithaca, N.Y.:
Cornell University East Asia Program, 1988.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1961.
 The Middle Ages
Dornoto Masaki. EngekiJin Zeami. Nihon Hoso Shuppan Kyokai, 1990.
- - - . Zeami. Geki Shobo, 1986.
Geinoshi Kcnkyukai. Nihon Geinoshi, II. Hosei Daigaku Shuppankyoku, 1982.
Goff, Janet. Noh Drama and The Tale of Genji. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 1991.
Goto Hajime. Nogaku no Kigen. Mokujisha, 1975.
- - - . No no Keisei to Zeami. Mokujisha, 1966.
- - - . Zoku Nogaku no Kigen. Mokujisha, 1981.
Gunji Masakatsu. Kabuki Nvumon, Bokuyosha, 1990.
Hare, Thomas Blenman. Zeami's Style. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1986.
Hayashiya Tatsusaburo. Chiisa Geinoshi no KenkYu. Iwanami Shoten, 1960.
Hirakawa Sukehiro. YokYoku no Shi to Seiyo no Shi. Asahi Shimbun Sha, 1975.
Hoff, Frank, and Willi Flindt. The Life Structure of Noh. Racine, Wis.:
Concerned Theatre Japan, 1973.
Honda Yasuji. Ennen Shiryo . Nogaku Shorin, 1948.
Ichiko Teiji and Oshima Tateki. Nihon no Setsuwa, IV. Tokyo Bijutsu, 1974.
Ienaga Saburo, Sarugaku No no Shisoshiteki Kosatsu, Hosei Daigaku Shup-
pankyoku, 1980.
Ikeda Hiroshi and Kitahara Yasuo. Okura Toraaki-bon Kyogen no KenkY u, 3
vols. Hyogensha, 1972-83.
Ishida Joji and Shimizu Yoshiko. Genji Monogatari, 8 vols., in Shincho Nihon
Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1976-85.
Ito Masayoshi. YokYoku Shu, 3 vols., in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series.
Shinchosha, 1983-88.
Jingu Shicho Gagaku Shubu (ed.). Bugaku Kaisetsu. Shinto Bunka Kai, 1955.
Kawaguchi Hisao and Shida Nobuyoshi. Wakan Roei Shu, Ryojin Hisho ; in
Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1965.
Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
- - - . No: the Classical Theatre of Japan. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1966.
- - - . Some Japanese Portraits. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1978.
- - - . Twenty Plays of the No Theatre. New York: Columbia University Press,
197°·
Kitagawa Tadahiko. Kannami no Geiryu. Miyai Shoten, 1978.
- - - . "Kyogen No no Keisei," Kokugo Kokubun, vo!. 28, no. 2, February 1959.
- - - . "Kyogen Sozai toshite no Minkan Setsuwa," Ritsumeikan Bungaku 240,
June 1965.
- - - . "Yokyoku Kyogen to Setsuwa Bungaku," in Ichiko Teiji and Oshima
Tateki, Nihon no Setsuwa, IV.
- - - . Zeami. Chuo Koren Sha, 1972.
Kitagawa Tadahiko and Yasuda Akira. Kyogen Shu, in Kan'yaku Nihon no Koten
series. Shogakukan, 1985. (Okura texts of the Shigeyama family.)
Kobayashi Seki. Kyogenshi KenkYu. Wan'ya Shoten, 1974-
Kobayashi Shizuo. Zeami. Hinoki Shoten, 1958.
No and Kyogen as Literature 1059
Konishi, [in'ichi. A History of Japanese Literature, I, translated by Aileen Gatten
and Nicholas Teele. Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press, 1984-
- - - . "New Approaches to the Study of the No Drama," Tokyo Kyoiku Daigaku
Bungakubu Kiyo, no. 5, 1960.
- - - . Nogakuron Kenkyu. Hanawa Shobo, 1961.
- - - . Zeami Jurokubu Shu, in Gendaigoyaku Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshii
series. Kawade Shobe, 1954.
Kosai Tsutomu. Nogaku Shinko. Hinoki Shoten, 1972.
- - - . Zeami Shinko. Wan'ya Shoten, 1962.
Koyama Hiroshi. "Kyogen no Hensen," Bungaku 24:7, July 1956.
- - - . "Kyogen no Koten,' in Yokyoku, Kyogen, in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu
Shiryo Sosho series, 1981.
- - - . Kyogcn Shu, 2 vols. in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami
Shoten, 1960. (Okura School texts.)
- - - . Nihon Bungaku Shinshi (Chusei}, Shibundo, 1990.
Koyama Hiroshi and Kitagawa Tadahiko. Yokyoku, Kyogen, in Kansho Nihon
Katen Bungaku series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1977-
Koyama Hiroshi, Taguchi Kazuo, and Hashimoto Asao. Kyogen no Sekai, vol. V
of the Iwanami Koza No Kyogen series. Iwanami Shoten, 1987.
LaFleur, William R. The KOIma of Words. Berkeley: University of California Press,
1983.
Lee, Vernon. Studies of the Eighteenth Century in Italy. London: 1880.
Masuda Shozo, No no Hyogen, Chuo Koron Sha, 1971.
Matsuda Tamotsu. Waka to Yokyoku Ko. Ofusha, 1987.
Matsumoto Kamematsu. Kyogen Rikugi no Kenkyu. Wan'ya Shoten, 1962.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Okagami. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
1980.
- - - . The Tale of the Heik«. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1988.
- - - . Tales of Ise. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1968.
Miyake Tokuro. Kyogen Kansho, Wan'ya Shoten, 1943.
Moriya Takeshi. Chusc: Geino no Genzo, Kyoto: Tankosha, 1985.
- - - . Geino to Chmkon. Shunjusha, 1988.
- - - . Nihon Chiisci e no Shiza. Nihon Hoso Shuppankai, 1984-
Morrell, Robert E. Sand and Pebbles. Albany: State University of New York Press,
1985.
Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo Kankokai. Yokyoku, Kyogen. Yuseido, 1981.
Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai (ed.). Japanese Noh Drama, 3 vols., 1955-60.
Nogami Toyoichiro, Zeami Motokiyo. Sogensha, 1938.
Noma Seiroku. Nihon Kamen Shi. Geibun Shoin, 1943.
Nomura Hachiro, Kyogenki, 3 vols. in Yiihodo Bunko series. Yuhodo, 1926. (Izumi
School texts, somewhat abbreviated.)
Nonomura Kaizo and Ando Tsunejiro. Kvogen Sarnbyakaban Shu, 2 vols. Fu-
zarnbo, 1938-42.
Nonomura Kaizo and Furukawa Hisashi. Kvogen Shu, 3 vols, in Nihon
1060 The Middle Ages
Koten Zensho series. Asahi Shimbun Sha, 1953-56. (Sagi School texts.)
Nose Asaji. Nogaku Genryi; Ko. Iwanami Shoten, 1938.
Okumura Tsuneya. Kohin Waka Shu, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei senes.
Shinchosha, 1978.
Omote Akira. Nogakushi Shinko, 2 vols. Wan'ya Shoten, 1979, 1986.
Omote Akira and Kato Shuichi. Zeami, Zenchiku, in Nihon Shiso Taikei series.
Iwanami Shoten, 1974.
O'Neill, P. G. Early No Drama, Its Background, Character, and Development. Lon-
don: Lund Humphries, 1958.
Ortolani, Benito. "Zenchiku's Aesthetics of the No Theatre," Riverdale Studies 3,
1976.
Peri, Nod. Le No. Tokio: Maison Franco-Iaponaise, 1944.
Pound, Ezra. The Translations of Ezra Pound. London: Faber and Faber, 1970.
Raz, Jacob. Audience and Acton: A Study of Their Interaction in the Japanese Tra-
ditional Theatre. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1983.
Renondeau, Gaston. No, 2 vols. Tokio: Maison Franco-Iaponaise, 1954.
Rimer, J. Thomas, and Yamazaki Masakazu. On the Art of the No Drama: The
Major Treatises of Zeami. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984.
Sagara Toru. Zeami no Uchu: Perikan Sha, 1990.
Sakanishi, Shio. Kyogen. Boston: Marshall Jones Company, 1938.
Sanari Kentaro. YokYoku Taiban, 7 vols. Meiji Shoin, 1954·
Sasano Ken. No Kyogen, 3 vols., in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten, 1942-
43. (Okura School texts of Okura Yaemon Torahiro.)
- - - . "No Kyogen no Seikei," Kokugo to Kokubungaku IT I I, November 1940.
Satake Akihiro. Gekokujo no Bungaku. Chikuma Shobe, 1967.
Satoi Rokuro. YokYoku Bungaku. Kyoto: Kawara Shoten, 1966.
Seidensticker, Edward. The Tale of Genji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1976.
Shigematsu Akihisa (ed.). Shin Sarugakki, Unshu ShOsoku, in Koten Bunko series.
Gendai Shicho Sha, 1982-
Sieffert, Rene. La tradition secrete du No. Paris: Gallimard, 1960.
Smethurst, Mae J. The Artistry of Aeschylus and Zeami. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 1989.
Tachibana Hideki. Haeu Kyoi KenkYu. Kyoto: Sekai Shiso Sha, 1971.
Taguchi Kazuo. Kyogen Ronko. Miyai Shoten, 1977.
Tamba, Akira. The Musical Structure of No. Tokyo: Tokai University Press, 1981.
Tanaka Hiroshi. Chusei Bungaburon KenkYu. Hanawa Shobe, 1969.
Tani Hiroshi. Chusei Bungaku no Tassei. San'ichi Shobe, 1962.
Tashiro Keiichiro, YokYoku wo Yomu. Asahi Shimbun Sha, 1987.
Terasaki, Etsuko. "Wild Words and Specious Phrases: Kyogen Kigo in the No
Play [inen Koji," Harvard [ournal of Asiatic Studies 49:2, 1989.
Torii Akio. Chinlem no Chusei. Perikan Sha, 1989.
Tsuchihashi Yutaka and Konishi [in'ichi. Kodai Kayoshu, in Nihon Koten Bun-
gaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1957.
No and Ky ogcn as Literature I06r

Tyler, Royall. "Buddhism in Noh," Japanese Journal ofReligious Studies 14:1, March
1987.
- - - Granny Mountains: A Second Cycle of No Plays. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell
University East Asia Papers, 1978.
- - - . Japanese No Dramas. London: Penguin, 1992.
- - - . Pining Wind: A Cycle of No Plays. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University East
Asia Papers, 1978.
Ueki Yukinobu. "No Keiseizen no Sarugaku," in Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo
Kankokai, Yokyoku, Kyogen.
Watanabe Minoru. Ise Monogatari, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shin-
chosha, 1976.
Watanabe Tsunaya. Shasekishu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami
Shoten, 1966.
Yamaji Kozo, 0kina no Za. Heibonsha, 1990.
Yamashita Hiroaki. Taihciki, I, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha,
1977-
Yanagita Kunio. Teihon Yanagita Kunio Shu, VII. Chikuma Shobu, 1962.
Yokomichi Mario. Nogeki no Kenky«. Iwanami Shoten, 1986.
Yokomichi Mario and Omote Akira. Yokyoku Shu, 2 vols. Iwanami Shoten,
1960- 63.
Yonekura Toshiaki. Warambegusa Kenkyu. Kazama Shobe, 1973.
 27.
LITERATURE OF THE
FIVE MOUNTAINS

During the Muromachi period there was an impressive growth of

scholarship in Chinese studies. This development began during the latter
part of the Kamakura period, and was closely related to the popularity,
especially among the upper ranks of samurai, of Zen Buddhism. Sho-
gunate officials were probably attracted both by the self-reliance-the
insistence that each person must find enlightenment for himself-char-
acteristic of Zen, as well as by the fact that Zen, having only recently
been introduced, was not intimately associated with the aristocracy, as
were other sects of Buddhism, notably Tendai and Shingon.
Although Zen Buddhism emphasized intuitive, immediate appre-
hension of Buddhahood, rather than the study of religious texts, Zen
was not without writings of its own,' and the Japanese priests who went
to study Zen in China sometimes acquired a command not only of
spoken Chinese but also of the literary expression typical of Chinese
intellectuals.
The Kanazawa Bunko, a library of Chinese books founded about
1275 in Kamakura by Hojo Sanetoki (1225-1276), reflected the interest
of the shogunate in Chinese studies. Another, even more celebrated
library was at the Ashikaga Gakko (Ashikaga School), founded before
1440 by Uesugi Norizane (d. 1466). Instruction at this school was given
by Zen priests, but they were forbidden to lecture on Buddhist texts; it
was intended that the content of the instruction be secular, in the Con-
fucian classics and other works of history and philosophy.'
Impetus for the growth of Chinese studies was stimulated by the
renewal of trade between Japan and China at the beginning of the
Muromachi period. From 1342 the Chinese government permitted Jap-
anese merchant ships to enter Chinese ports, though no Japanese em-
bassies had visited the Chinese court since 894, when Sugawara no
Michizane had succeeded in terminating the traditional missions. With
Literature of the Five Mo u ntai n s

the reopening of trade with China, the major Zen temples of Kyoto
eagerly sent commercial delegations to China, and monks attached to
these delegations sometimes remained in China to study. The ships sent
by the Tenryu-ji in Kyoto were especially important; the temple was
authorized by the shogunate to engage in foreign trade as a means of
raising funds, and the shogunate even agreed to protect the ships from
pirates in return for a share of the profits. This was tantamount to
official Japanese recognition of the existence of trade with China and
eventually led to a resumption of diplomatic relations.
In 140I Ashikaga Yoshimitsu sent a mission to Ming China re-
questing the renewal of amicable relations. The Chinese were glad to
comply, both because they were always pleased to receive expressions
of fealty from the surrounding barbarians and because they long had
been troubled by the depredations of Japanese pirates and hoped that
Yoshimitsu would be able to suppress them. Yoshimitsu, for his part,
was entranced with Chinese ways, and gratefully accepted the title of
"King of Japan" from the Chinese court.' He studied Chinese literature
and invited masters of Chinese poetry like the Zen priests Gido Shushin
and Zekkai Chushin to lecture before him. Yoshimitsu's enthusiasm for
things Chinese greatly fostered the growth of Chinese studies during
the early Muromachi period.
Most of the writings by Zen monks who studied Chinese at this
time were religious or philosophical, but they also composed many poems
and works of artistic prose. Their writings are generally known as Gozan
Bungaku, or Literature of the Five Mountains. The word "mountain"
had by convention designated a temple in China, because temples were
often situated on mountains, and was adopted with that meaning by
the Japanese even though their temples might be on flat ground inside
the city. There were five great Zen temples (later six) in Kyoto, and a
similar number in Kamakura, which remained centers of learning
throughout a period when warfare and civil disorder often made serious
study of any kind difficult.
The creation of the Literature of the Five Mountains is sometimes
credited to the Chinese monk I-shan I-ning (1247-1317), known to the
Japanese as Ichizan Ichinei, who arrived in Japan in 1299 as an emissary
from the Yi.ian (Mongol dynasty) Emperor Shih Tsung. l-shan I-ning,
at first suspected of being a Mongol spy, was arrested and kept under
confinement, but his great learning eventually won the confidence of
the regent (shikken) Hojo Sadatoki (1271-1311), who appointed him as
abbot of the Kencho-ji and Engaku-ji in Kamakura and later of the
Nanzen-ji in Kyoto. His reputation was so high that many more monks
 The Middle Ages
flocked to the Engaku-ji than could be accommodated, and in order to
determine the best students he instituted examinations in the composition
of kanshi in the style of the Zen masters.' I-shan l-ning's disciples
included Muse Soseki (1275-1351), the outstanding Zen priest of the
age,5 and Sesson Yubai (1290-1346), the first important poet of the Five
Mountains.
Sesson's life was unusually colorful. At the age of seventeen, after
study with I-shan I-ning in Kamakura and later at the Kennin-ji, one
of the most important temples in Kyoto, he sailed for China, where he
visited the celebrated monasteries, paid his respects to the learned Zen
priests of the day, and studied poetry and calligraphy as well as Bud-
dhism. However, in 1313 he was arrested on charges of being a Japanese
spy by the Mongol authorities, who were planning another invasion of
Japan, and he was condemned to death. Just before he was to be executed,
he recited the poem composed under similar circumstances by the
Chinese monk Wu-hsueh Tsu-yuan (Mugaku Sogen, 1226-1286), who
narrowly escaped execution and later became a refugee in Japan. This
display of apt erudition so impressed the prison warden that he obtained
a stay of execution for Sesson. Sent back to prison, he composed four
additional poems, each having for its first line one taken from Mugaku
Sogen's original poem." The four poems may suggest why Sessori's poetry
has been described as "metaphysical":

In heaven and earth, no ground to plant my single staff,

but I can hide this body where no trace will be found.
At midnight the wooden man mounts his horse of stone,
crashing through a hundred, a thousand folds of encircling iron.

I delight that man is nothing, all things nothing,

a thousand worlds complete in my one cage.
Blame forgotten, mind demolished, a three-Zen joy-
who says Devadatta is in hell r?

Wonderful, this three-foot sword of the Great Yuan,"

sparkling with cold frost over ten thousand miles.
Though the skull go dry, these eyes will see again.
My white gem worth a string of cities has never had a flaw.

Like lightning it flashes through the shadows, severing the spring

wind;
The god of nothingness bleeds crimson, streaming.
Literature of the Five Mountains

Mount Sumeru to my amazement turns upside down."

I will dive, disappear into the stem of the lotus."

Sesson's poems are likely to recall to Western readers the imagery

of English seventeenth-century poetry, or T. S. Eliot's evocation of Iohn
Webster:

Webster was much possessed of death

And saw the skull beneath the skin;
And breastless creatures under ground
Leaned back with a lipless grin.

Daffodil bulbs instead of balls

Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
Tightening its lusts and luxuries."

Some metaphysical images, like those of the skull and the empty
eye sockets, are common to Sesson and the English poets, and we may
also recall this passage from Doctor Faustus as we read the last of Sesson's
four poems:

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike,
The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.
0, I'll leap up to my God! Who pulls me down?
See, see where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!

Sesson's are among the few poems composed by Japanese before the
twentieth century that are likely to evoke such memories of European
poetry of the past. Within the Japanese context they are atypical, and
the Five Mountains poems as a whole, virtually ignored for centuries,
are still not much admired by Japanese scholars, especially those who
are deeply familiar with Chinese prosody.
Konishi [in'ichi found the translations by Burton Watson more in-
teresting as poetry than the originals, and enumerated Sesson's failings
as a poet: (I) his failure to observe the prescribed tonal patterns makes
his poems rhythmically unpleasant; (2) the language of his poems is
unrefined; (3) the construction is weak; and (4) the imagery is stereo-
typed." These are major objections and not lightly made, but Western
readers, even if ignorant of the background and meaning of the poems,
are likely to be moved by such images as a wooden man mounting a
I066 The Middle Ages
steed of stone at midnight-unfamiliar imagery that stimulates fresh
perceptions.!' It is probably sufficient for the uninitiated to sense behind
the four poems the poet's fearless disregard of temporal power and his
confidence in ultimate triumph.
Not all of the Five Mountains poetry is in this vein; most poems,
in fact, treat quite ordinary, generally pleasant, daily experiences. The
"temperature" of the poems tends to be low, not intense in the manner
of Sesson's, and many echo Chinese models so closely that we have
difficulty in deciding what is Japanese about them." Those that mention
places in Japan where the priests traveled or describe scenery that seems
distinctly Japanese rather than Chinese tend to be more interesting than
those about landscapes in China, whether seen during the poet's travels
or only imagined.
Sesson did not return to Japan until I329, having spent twenty-two
years in China." By this time, he may have been more Chinese than
Japanese, but he had not forgotten his country, as the following poem
suggests:

YEARNING FOR MY FRIEND ON AN AUTUMN NIGHT

I'm by origin a man of the southeast,

And I constantly long for a guest from the southeast;
How will this splendid evening be endured?
Deserted, the rural walks by the city wall.
Dew lies on the chrysanthemums, permeates the garden;
Wind rustles the branches, flutters the drifting leaves.
I hum to myself, but you, dear friend, do not come,
And the bright moon shines in vain in an empty sky."

In this poem Sesson used "southeast" for Japan, a Sinocentric term

that suggests Japan is no more than a region of China, but his reference
to the Japanese friend he misses reveals that this stern man, reputed
never to have smiled, had a gentler side that made him feel homesick
for people he once knew in Japan. Another poem, also written in China,
expressed longing for his mother:

DAY LILIES

When the spring breeze from the marshland penetrates

the grass roots,
In whose garden do they fail to plant day lilies?
Literature of the Five Mo u nt a ins ro67

My distant yearning has not a day's surcease from grief

As I wonder if, her white hair loose, all alone she leans
against the gate. l ;

The day lily, a plant known In Japan as wasuregusa, or "grass of

forgetfulness," was believed to have the property of enabling people to
forget grief. The plant was also used metaphorically for a mother be-
cause it was frequently planted in northern exposures, near the part of
the house where the women of a family lived. This poem of Sesson's, in
which he imagines how his mother must be longing for his return, may
have inspired the story of how, after he returned from China, he unsuc-
cessfully searched everywhere for her, only to discover her one day quite
by chance when he was thrown from his horse and went to ask at a
nearby cottage for water with which to wash the mud from his clothes."
Back in Japan, Sesson founded two temples and served as the abbot
of several others, including the Kennin-ji. His poetic works were gath-
ered in the collection Binga Shit, named after Min and 0, two mountains
near Ch'eng-tu in Ssu-ch'uan where he had been exiled. It was appro-
priate for him to have given his collection a title referring to Chinese
landscapes: most of Sessori's poems were composed in China, and even
after his return, they continued to be mainly on Chinese themes. Sesson
had no trouble in writing poetry in classical Chinese, the language of
the Buddhist texts he read, and probably the medium in which he
communicated with Chinese people in regions where dialects made
comprehension of the spoken language difficult. Perhaps his Japanese
had even become rather rusty during his long stay abroad. In his case
composing poetry in Chinese was neither (in the manner of kanshi
writers of earlier times) a proof of erudition nor an affectation.
The verse forms employed by Sesson in the examples given above
were the most typical of the Five Mountains poetry: the four-line poem
("cutoff lines"; Chinese chueh-chii, Japanese zekku) and the eight-line
poem ("regulated verse"; Chinese lu-shih, Japanese risshi). Each line of
either variety of poem had five or seven characters, and there were
complicated rules concerning rhyme and tonal patterns which the Jap-
anese generally obeyed with the aid of manuals of kanshi composition.
The popularity of the four-line poem with Japanese kanshi poets has
sometimes been explained in terms of its brevity, which had the same
appeal as a waka, epitomizing in a relatively few words a perception or
experience. But perhaps a more important reason why the Zen priests
of the Five Mountains found the shorter verse forms attractive was that
the words of a chueh-chii often referred to unspoken truths, like a finger
1068 The Middle Ages
pointing at the moon. Many Five Mountains poems seem on the surface
to be without religious significance, hardly more than description of
landscapes that might equally well have been depicted in an ink painting.
Sometimes the poems in fact contain no deeper meaning; but in many,
the words have overtones and associations that give religious meaning
to the descriptions."
The poetry and the painting of the Zen monks were closely related.
Many poems, like the following example by Ichu Tsujo (1349-1429),
were intended to be inscribed on paintings:

ABOUT A PAINTING

Two old fishermen on the river bank in spring,

Their boats made fast, walk on the soft sand.
They've started to chat-whatever about?
They're planning to go see the plum trees in bloom."

This simple, even banal poem has been analyzed in these terms: "In
the foreground are several willows by the edge of a river. That is where
the boat is tied up. In the middle ground two old men who look like
fishermen are standing and talking. In the distance plum blossoms are
faintly visible. The time is afternoon, probably early in the afternoon
when the sun is still high. The first two lines depict the quiet movement
of the little boats gently rocking in the river and of the two old men;
it is a leisurely scene of a river in spring with fishermen. The language
of these two lines is specific and creates a clear description. The last two
lines depict the action of the two old men in going home. Here, the
words are general, and convey the haziness of the distant land-
scape A real scene unfolds itself before one's eyes."?'
Not all of the elements described in this analysis are mentioned in
the poem itself, but the subject was so familiar in painting that, whether
or not a poem mentioned willow trees, for example, they were easily
supplied by the reader. After reading a dozen or so poems in this mood,
one's attention is likely to wander, but the superior Five Mountains
poets could make even familiar subjects seem new, as this poem by
Kokan Shiren (1278-1345) may suggest:

BOAT IN THE MOONLIGHT

Floating on the moon, my monk's boat winds through the reeds.

Tide's going out, the boy shouts, urging me back to the temple,
Literature of the Five Mo u n t ain s

And village folk, thinking that a fishing boat's come in,

Scramble over the sand spit trying to buy fish from me."

The cry of the servant boy warns the monk that dawn is near and
that he must return to the temple. The poem concludes with the mis-
apprehension of the village people who suppose that any boat rowed to
shore at dawn must have fish for sale; a monk, of course, would not
take life, even a fish's, and this particular monk has been too absorbed
with the moonlight to think of anything else.
Two among the Five Mountains poets have been singled out for
special attention, Gid6 Shushin and Zekkai Chushin, It has often been
said that Gido excelled in kambun. and Zekkai in kanshi. This view
may be correct, but in his own day Gido's poems were as highly rated
as his prose, and today none of his prose is still read for literary pleasure,
though his poetry retains its charrn" The poems are accomplished and
free of technical flaws, as an anecdote suggests: when a Japanese visitor
to China showed his hosts some poems by Gid6 they supposed they had
been written by a Chinese, the highest compliment they could offer."

Gid6, the son and grandson of scholars of Confucian philosophy and

Zen, is said to have begun his study of the Lotus Sutra and various
Confucian classics in 1331, at the age of six. In the following year he
found in the family storehouse a copy of Rinzai-roka, a basic text of the
Rinzai school of Zen," and read it, much to the astonishment of his
parents. At thirteen, shocked by the sudden death of a relative, Gido
had his head shaved, and in 1339 he was ordained as a Tendai monk
on Mount Hiei. Increasingly attracted to Zen, he went two years later
to Kyoto to study with Muso Soseki. He intended to visit China for
study in 1342, but illness prevented him on this occasion and he never
had another chance to go. Instead, he remained in Kyoto, where he
studied with Mus6 at the Tenryu-ji. His earliest specifically literary
work dates from 1347 when he compiled a collection of chueh-chu by
Chinese Zen monks of the Sung dynasty.
In 1359 Ashikaga Motouji (1340-1367), the youthful commandant
of the eastern region, asked Mus6 to send his best disciple to Kamakura,
and Gido was chosen. He spent twenty-one years at the Engaku-ji and
other temples in Kamakura where he composed much of his poetry.
Gid6 was summoned back to Kyoto in 1380 by Ashikaga Yoshimitsu
I07° The Middle Ages

as the abbot of the Kennin-ji. That year he delivered lectures to Yoshi-

mitsu on The Doctrine of the Mean, one of the Four Books of Confu-
cianism, and in later years also lectured on The Analects. His most
impressive intellectual achievement in Kyoto, however, was probably
not his lectures on the Confucian texts but his success in converting
Yoshimitsu to Zen Buddhism." In 1386 Gid6 became the abbot of the
Nanzen-ji; in the same year Yoshimitsu, reordering the rankings of the
Zen temples in Kyoto and Kamakura, placed the Nanzen-ji in a special
category above all the rest." Gido died in 1388.
Gido was an exceptionally prolific writer: he is credited with I,739
poems and 476 works in prose including prefaces, inscriptions, ana
commentaries. By far the largest number of poems are chiich-chi; in
lines of seven characters." Despite all this literary activity, Gido in
principle disapproved of priests' spending their time composing poetry
instead of in meditation. A poem he "humorously presented" to the
regent, Nijo Yoshimoto, expressed this view:

The minor art of poetry isn't worth a copper-

Best just to sit silently in Zen meditation;
"Wild words and ornate speech" don't cease to violate Buddha's
Law
Just because he died two thousand years ago!"

As Martin Collcutt noted, Gido in his diary "stressed the ideal of

the stern, frugal, meditation-centered Zen monastic life. His vigorous
advocacy of zazen and repeated strictures against literary activities and
pomp and luxury, however, suggest that the ideal was already eroding
in practice.l'" Gid6 himself commanded some disciples, who had failed
to attend a lecture on a Buddhist text because they had been busy writing
poetry, to desist these secular activities at once, threatening otherwise
to confiscate all the non-Buddhist writings in their possession." 'But he
himself continued to write poetry, earning a rebuke from an abbot,
though for a different reason: the abbot thought Gid6 was too much of
an amateur and had not devoted enough time to studying poetry p2 The
Chinese learning that Zen priests acquired brought with it a commitment
to the composition of poetry as the mark of an educated man, and even
though the monks' poetry more often consisted of descriptions of nature
than hymns to the Buddha, most of them obviously considered that
writing poetry did not conflict with their calling.
Gido's poems and prose were collected in twenty books under the
title Kugeshu, literally "Sky Flowers Collection." The title apparently
refers to his faulty vision, "sky flowers" meaning the spots he saw before
Literature of the Five Mountains lO7l

his eyes; the word was derived from a passage in the Lankavatara Sutra:
"It is like a person with a cataract who sees spots in the air-when the
cataract is removed, the spots disappear."33 Gido wrote a number of
poems referring to this ailment."

Year after year on this day I used to yearn to detain the spring
glory;
How often did I dash off a poem I planned to polish in my thatched
hut!
Today the plum blossoms will surely smile at me:
My eyes are too dim now to see their royal splendor."

Despite his ailment, Gido led a long and active life. His poetry,
though largely conventional and perhaps not the product of a genuinely
poetic spirit," is often diverting, occasionally moving. The poems con-
cerned with Zen teachings are by no means pious homilies, but some-
times (in the Zen manner) deny the possibility of logical explanation of
doctrines. The following poem is entitled "In Response to a Request to
'Explain the Secret Teaching' ":

If I explained aloud, then it wouldn't be a true explanation,

And if I transmitted it on paper, then where would be the secret?
At a western window on a rainy autumn night,
White hair in the guttering lamplight, asleep facing the bed ... 37

The second two lines do not seem to follow from the first two, but
they contain an allusion to Pi-yen-lu, or Hekiganroku in Japanese, a book
of Zen koan (riddles) compiled by Yiian-wu K'o-ch'in (1063-1135).38
Riddle 17 goes: "A monk asked Hsiang-lin, 'What was the meaning of
Bodhidharrna's coming from the West?' Hsiang-lin said, 'To meditate
a long time and get tired.' "39 Gid6, asked to explain the secret teaching,
refuses; he describes instead how he looks when he is asleep, tired after
his studies, much as Hsiang-lin, when asked why Bodhidharma came
all the way from India to China, where he neither taught nor wrote
books, replied that he simply wanted to sit in Zen meditation until he
got tired. This response, like those to most Zen parables, is unlikely to
satisfy people unfamiliar with Zen. A more easily comprehensible
Buddhist poem is Gido's "To Show to My Disciples on the Eighth Day
of the Twelfth Month":

When age overtakes, it is hard to achieve the Way;

When sickness comes, it is wearisome to leave the temple.
1072 The Middle Ages

Can I, even so, save all other sentient beings?

And there is countless more to suffer in this world.
When he awoke from sleep a star hung low over his door;
As the sky brightened, snow hid the gate bar.
I, from a great distance, feel sorry for the old man with curly hair:
Barefoot, he went down the precipitous mountain."

No explanation is likely to help one to understand the poem on

Bodhidharma, but with the aid of a commentary it is relatively easy to
understand this poem about Shakyamuni, the historical Buddha. The
title indicates that it was composed on the day when a service was
conducted to celebrate the anniversary of Shakyarnuni's having attained
enlightenment after six years of meditation in the Himalayas. The poem
opens with a description of Gido's own condition: he is too old and
debilitated to achieve the path of enlightenment, and he finds it weari-
some even to perform the austerities expected of priests. How, then, can
he save the sentient beings of the world from suffering? To save others
is difficult, but it is even more difficult to surmount the innumerable
worldly hardships in the path of enlightenment. Gido finally imagines
(or perhaps recalls) a painting depicting Shakyamuni immediately after
he attained enlightenment, and describes himself, far off in Japan, having
watched with pity as the barefoot Shakyamuni descended the snow-
covered mountain.
In another poem, addressed to a young monk who was about to
leave for China, he even more strongly urged the necessity of a priest
to expose himself to danger:

It is ten years now since first we met;

Where do you plan to go after we part?
If you go into the sea, you must plumb its depths;
If you climb the mountains, you must not fear its dangers.
In the dragon's palace the clouds stretch out;
In the tiger's lair the mist hangs heavy.
Go! and do not turn back your head-
Green youth too soon gives way to wispy hairs."

Such sentiments may arouse irreverent recollections of Mabel in The

Pirates of Penzance, who urges the policemen, "Go to death and go to
slaughter!" But probably Cidc did not really mean to expose the monk
to such dangers!
Literature of the Five Mountains I073

Zekkai, the greatest of the Five Mountains poets, by contrast wrote

hardly any poetry expressing Buddhist convictions or even advice on
how to deal with the problems of life in this world; most of his poems
are occasional, presented to some friend who was about to depart on a
journey, or composed in response to another man's poern.? By no means
as prolific as Gido, he left only 163 poems and 38 prose compositions."
Zekkai, like Gido, was a native of Tosa. At the age of twelve he
entered the Tenryu-ji in Kyoto, and in the following year his head was
shaved, signifying he was now an acolyte. Even as a boy he had shown
skill at composing Chinese poetry; his talent was recognized by Muso
Soseki when he visited Tosa, and after Zekkai entered the Tenryu-ji
he studied with the great priest. Muso administered the rites of ordi-
nation when Zekkai at the age of fifteen became a full-fledged priest.
After the death of Muso in 1351, Zekkai (together with Gido) went to
study with Ryuzan Tokken (1284-1358) at the Kennin-ji. Ryuzan, hav-
ing spent forty-four years in China, was familiar with recent develop-
ments in Chinese poetic composition, and Zekkai probably studied
kanshi with him; but not a single poem by Zekkai composed prior to
his journey to China survives.
In 1368 Zekkai sailed to China in the company of various other
monks including his friend [orin Ryosa." Their purpose (unlike that of
some monks of the Tenryu-ji who went to China to engage in trade)
was to study poetry as well as Buddhist doctrine." The Yuan (or Mongol)
dynasty had been overthrown by the native Ming dynasty earlier in the
same year, but order had been reestablished and Zekkai seems to have
experienced no special difficulties in his travels. He went to Hang-chou
where he met, at the Chung-t'ien Temple, Ch'uan Shih (1318-1391),46
one of the important Zen priest-poets of the time. Ch'uan Shih was
impressed by the Japanese: the story (similar to that of Kukai and his
master Hui-kuo)" is told that the priest took one look at him and
instantly recognized his extraordinary abilities. Ch'uan Shih was the
teacher of Kao Ch'i (1336-1374), often ranked as the foremost poet of
the entire Ming dynasty, but Kao Ch'i unfortunately was no longer at
the Chung-t'ien Temple and Zekkai never met him. In 1371, when
Ch'uan Shih was appointed the abbot of one of the Five Mountains
temples of China, he chose Zekkai to occupy the office of the chief seat
(shuso ),48 a signal honor, especially for a foreigner.
In 1376 Zekkai and his friend [orin were invited to Nanking (the
Ming capital) by the Emperor Ming T'ai-tzu and Zekkai was asked
1074 The Middle Ages
about the content of Buddhist services. His replies apparently pleased
the emperor. Later, the emperor, after showing Zekkai some Japanese
paintings, asked him to compose a kanshi about Kumano. This was
Zekkai's poem:

Before the peak of Kumano stands Hsu Fu's shrine;

The mountain abounds in herbs thanks to the rains.
Now the billowing waves of the sea are calm;
A favorable wind blows ten thousand miles; it's time he went horne."

According to traditional accounts, the first emperor of the Ch'in

(259-210 B.C.), the creator of the unified empire of China, sent the diviner
Hsii Fu to search for a medicine of immortality. He set sail for the east,
accompanied by three thousand boys and girls of good family, and never
returned to China. One version of the legend has it that he ended up
in Japan. The poem has been accordingly interpreted as meaning that
Hsu Fu should now return to China because the waves of the sea are
calm (there are no disturbances in China) and there is a favorable wind."
Even if that is the surface meaning, it is likely that Zekkai was indirectly
asking the emperor's permission to return to Japan. As we know from
the instances of Ennin and other Japanese priests who resided for a long
time in China, the Chinese were often exceedingly reluctant to let such
learned men go. In this case, however, the emperor of China was pleased
with Zekkai's impromptu poem and composed a reply using the same
rhymes. After bestowing rich presents on Zekkai and [orin, he granted
them permission to return to Japan.
Zekkai and Jorin left for Japan some months later, but it is not clear
precisely when. A poem written in 1377 about Akamagaseki (an old
name for the Strait of Shimonoseki) suggests that he must have passed
this historically famous site not long before:

The scene before me brings sorrow night and day:

A cold tide battering the red walls,
Among weird crags and fantastic boulders, a temple in the clouds,
Between the new moon and the setting sun, boats on the sea.
A hundred thousand valiant warriors have turned to empty silence,
Three thousand swordsmen are gone forever;
Heroes' bones rot in a soil of shields and lances-
Thinking of them, I lean on the balustrade, watch the white gulls."

Zekkai's poem evokes the naval engagement in II8S at Dannoura

in the Strait of Shimonoseki, the last battle in the war between the Taira
Literature of the Five Mountains I075

and the Minamoto (which resulted in the destruction of the Taira)."

The "hundred thousand valiant warriors" of the poem" probably refers
to the Minamoto, who much outnumbered the Taira on this occasion.
The "new moon and the setting sun" probably describes what Zekkai
himself saw, rather than the conditions when the battle was fought
two hundred years before. Victors and vanquished, soldiers loyal to the
crown (the Minamoto) and those who betrayed it (the Taira) have all
disappeared, but they return to Zekkai as he gazes out on the scene.
One recalls Basho's immortal haiku, composed as he gazed, some
three hundred years later, at the site of another battle of the distant
past."
Although Zekkai's poem was composed in Japan and described a
momentous occasion of Japanese history, the expression owes little or
nothing to Japanese poetic tradition. Mention of the "red walls" (cliffs)
may recall the famous prose poems by Su Tung-p'o," but even if there
was no specific allusion to Su's poetry, the description of a scene viewed
from a moving boat, the mention of "weird crags and fantastic boulders"
and a "temple in the clouds" suggests the Yangtse gorges rather than
the Strait of Shimonoseki. Zekkai might have found in the Man'yoshu
a treatment in Japanese poetry of death in battle, but it is unlikely he
knew the choka. He used the Chinese language as his medium of
expression and saw Japanese landscapes and even Japanese history
through the eyes of the Chinese poets.
Zekkai returned to Japan to discover that not only was the country
torn by warfare, but even within the Rinzai branch of Zen there were
bitter divisions. During the following years he sometimes left Kyoto for
a hermitage in the mountains, but generally returned to the city before
long in response to the request of some military man who had founded
a temple and wished Zekkai to be its abbot. Ashikaga Motouji, Akamatsu
Yoshinori, Hosokawa Yoriyuki, and Ashikaga Yoshimitsu were among
the military leaders who were not only impressed by his piety and
learning but sought his advice on secular matters as well. He was es-
pecially close to Yoshimitsu, though their relationship was not always
harmonious. In 1384 Zekkai irritated him with a piece of overly blunt
advice (the nature of this advice is not known) and was ordered to leave
the capital. For a while he hid in a remote temple in the province of
Settsu, where he wrote this poem:

Worldly matters have always involved many uncertainties;

I realized this from the start, as clearly as now.
 The Middle Ages
In green mountains I live secluded under thatched eaves;
I do not let the white clouds know my heart. 50

From Settsu, Zekkai moved to the island of Shikoku, where he

served as the abbot of a temple built by Hosokawa Yoriyuki (1329-
1392) in the province of Awa. It is said that the only possession he
carried with him was a copy of the poetry of Tu Fu. 57 Yoshimitsu,
having changed his mind about Zekkai (apparently as the result of
Gido's intercession), now summoned him back, but Zekkai refused,
alleging he was unwell. A second missive from Yoshimitsu induced
him to return to the capital, where he was appointed abbot of the
Ashikaga family temple, Toji-in, succeeding Gido. After Gido's death
in 1388, Zekkai became one of Yoshimitsu's chief advisers. At the time
of the Meitoku Rebellion of Yam ana Ujikiyo in 1391, Yoshimitsu is said
to have gone into battle wearing Zekkai's Zen robes and to have at-
tributed his victory to their miraculous power." In 1399 Zekkai was
sent as Yoshimitsu's emissary to the rebellious Ouchi Yoshihiro, but his
peacemaking efforts were unsuccessful, and Yoshihiro was killed in
battle the same year. In 1401, when Zekkai was sixty-five, Yoshimitsu
appointed him abbot of the Shokoku-ji, sumultaneously raising the rank
of that temple to first among the Five Mountains. Zekkai served con-
comitantly as the abbot of the Rokuon-ji, the temple founded by Yoshi-
mitsu, more popularly known as Kinkaku-ji. Probably these activities
kept him from composing much poetry during the latter part of his
life. Zekkai died at the Shokoku-ji in 1405 in his seventieth year. Four
years later he was honored with the title kokushi, "teacher of the
nation."

Perhaps the most interesting feature of the Five Mountains poetry is the
description of ordinary daily life given by some of the poets, mainly
those who had not visited China. The sometime monk Banri Shukyu
recorded incidents in his life with startling directness:

FISH-OIL LAMP AT A ROADSIDE INN

Oil squeezed from fish guts makes the lamp burn strange,
A hazy light in a dim room reeking of fish.
Literature of the Five Mountains 1
°77
Midnight, can't sleep, try to trim the lamp-
And the tiny glow is buried in a real fog. o9

WOMEN LADLING BRINE ON THE BEACH

Brine ladlers-ugly women, black as crows,

Scrabbling with both hands at the salt that fills the sand;
They couldn't understand the wretched karma:
Yonder, buried in lime-smoke, tiny hovels on the bay."

FOR A BATH AT KAKEZUKA THEY CHARGED 100 PIECES

Boat arrives at Kakezuka-out of my travelling clothes,

But 100 pieces of copper to get into the bath!
Seafood meal gritty with sand, food completely tasteless,
Wind strikes the nostrils with the reek of fishermen's huts ... 6]

Not only were the waka poets uninterested in such scenes but the
poetic diction did not contain the language needed to describe oil pressed
from fish guts, brine ladlers, a gritty seafood meal. Poetry in this vein
seems to owe extremely little to tradition, whether Chinese or Japanese,
but in one important sense it is more faithful to tradition than the more
frequently praised poems of Gid6, Zekkai, and the other pillars of Five
Mountains poetry: like the great Chinese poets of the past, Rami wrote
about his experiences with freedom and vigor and seeming indifference
to conventional conceptions of poetic beauty.
The rare scholars who have treated Banri's poetry have experienced
no difficulty in finding faults." As with Sesson, it is easier to appreciate
his poems in translation than in the original, where faults of construction,
rhyme, tones, and so on obscure the interest of the content. The mundane
concerns expressed in Banri's poems have been judged unbecoming in
a Zen priest, and probably for this reason they are often excluded from
collections of Five Mountains poetry." As David Pollack wrote of the
poetry of Bami's late years, "Banri's poems became progressively more
eccentric as he grew older, often written in a 'Chinese' so Japanese that
it sometimes seems a sort of pidgin, fraught with literary allusions that
refer more frequently to Japanese sources than to Chinese.?" It is pre-
 The Middle Ages
cisely this "defect" of referring to Japanese, rather than Chinese, events
and people that gives immediacy to Banri's poetry, and his failings of
diction are easily forgiven by those who are not specialists in Chinese
poetic practice.
The latter part of Banri's life was greatly affected by the Onin War
that caused Banri to leave the monastic life, marry, and have children.
He was involved also with the temporal masters of Japan, notably Ota
Dokan, the traditional founder of the city of Edo. After Dokan was
assassinated, Banri left for the province of Mino where he had earlier
built a retreat, and that was where he died. His poems convey perfectly
the character of the author-individual, cranky, probably intolerant of
other people's views, but unmistakably himself.

The most famous kanshi poet of the time, Ikkyu Sojun, was, strictly
speaking, not a Five Mountains poet. Even schoolchildren in Japan know
the name of Ikkyu-san, a mischievous, lovable priest about whom many
anecdotes are related." Most of these anecdotes have little or no basis
in fact, but that does not matter: Ikkyu has come to embody all the
most endearing aspects of Zen priests.
According to traditional accounts, Ikkyu was born on New Year's
Day of 1394, a son of the Emperor Gokomatsu and a palace lady. Sceptics
have expressed doubts about his royal birth, but good reasons to accept
this tradition can be found both in the works of Ikkyu's contemporaries
and in his own poems." When Ikkyu was five years old he was sent as
an acolyte to the Ankoku-ji, a secondary temple of the Five Mountains
system in Kyoto, and during the rest of his life he appears to have had
few contacts with his father, though it is reported that Gokomatsu
summoned Ikkyu when on his deathbed.
As a child Ikkyu showed exceptional quickness at learning; he began
his study of the Vimalakirti Sutra at eleven and Chinese poetry in the
following year. By the time he was fourteen he had established something
of a reputation as a poet and demonstrated an exceptional devotion to
Buddhist studies that contrasts with his later notoriety as a profligate.
After four years of study under a hermit monk of unusually pure
disposition," Ikkyu was cut adrift by his master's death in 141+ He
spent a week in meditation at the Ishiyama Temple by the shores of
Literature of the Five Mountains 1079

Lake Biwa but, failing to obtain consolation, decided to commit suicide

by throwing himself into the lake. He was saved at the last moment by
the arrival of a messenger sent by his mother."
Ikkyu decided at this point to become the disciple of Kaso Soden
(1352- 1428), a Zen master known for the unremitting severity of his
discipline. Kaso, following the Zen tradition begun by Bodhidharma
(who accepted Hui-kuo as his disciple only when he had demonstrated
the strength of his resolve by cutting off his arm), at first barred the
gate to his temple at Katada on the shore of Lake Biwa, and refused
to let Ikkyu in. Ikkyu persisted, never going far from the gate and
sleeping at night in an empty boat nearby. One day Kaso left the temple
to perform a service in the village. Noticing Ikkyu still waiting by the
gate, he ordered an attendant to throw water on him. Ikkyu was still
waiting when Kas6 returned; this time Kasa admitted him to the temple.
Ikkyu spent the next three years studying under Kaso, leading a life of
extreme austerity. One night in the summer of 1420, when he was
twenty-six, he experienced enlightenment (satori) after hearing the caw-
ing of a crow, and he felt that all uncertainties had melted away.
This period of Ikkyu's life provides an extraordinary contrast with
the life he led in later years when, flagrantly disregarding the rules of
priestly conduct, he openly gave himself to sensual pleasures. In 1440,
when services for the thirteenth anniversary of Kaso's death were held
at the Daitoku-ji, the monastery with which Ikkyu was most closely
associated, parishioners had assembled from the prosperous port city of
Sakai, bearing lavish presents for the occasion. Ikkyu was annoyed by
what he took for unseemly commotion at a ceremony honoring his
revered master and decided to leave. He composed two poems, one he
left on the temple wall, making an inventory (in conformance with
regulations) of the articles belonging to the temple that he was leaving
behind, and the other for Y6sa S6i (1376-1458), the abbot of the Daitoku-
ji at the time. Y6s6 was Ikkyu's greatest enemy, and again and again
Ikkyu reviled him as a poisonous snake, a seducer, and a leper. The
first poem was the inventory:

I've left behind the temple belongings I used;

And hung my wooden spoon and bamboo plate on the east wall.
I have never craved useless furnishings around me;
For years on my journeys a straw coat and hat have been my style."

The poem addressed to Yas6 was naturally more provocative:

t obo The Middle Ages

For ten days in this temple my mind's been in turmoil.

My feet are entangled in endless red strings.
If some day you get around to looking for me,
Try the fish shop, the wine parlor, or the brothel."

The "ten days" of the first line refer to the time Ikk yu was the abbot
of a branch temple at the Daitoku-ji. The "red strings" (koshisen) of the
second line is a key expression in Ikkyu's poetry. Here it seems to mean
connections with the mundane world, but elsewhere it can refer to ties
of physical desire. The primary Zen meaning was apparently the thread-
like red lines of the capillaries on the soles of a newborn baby's feet;
these are gradually effaced and, in the case of priests who go forth on
long journeys, the lines become totally invisible as the skin thickens
under the soles of the feet. The soles of the feet of a person who has
not yet freed himself from worldly ties are likely still to show the telltale
red threads." The main thrust of the poem, however, is in the last lines:
Ikkyu defiantly announces that he is fleeing the temple, polluted by
vulgar commercial transactions, for the sanctity of the fish shop (though
priests were forbidden to eat meat or fish), the wine parlor (though
liquor was also forbidden), or (most shockingly) the brothel.
Ikkyu's collection Kyounshii, literally "Crazy Cloud Collection,':"
contains many poems describing his indulgence in fleshly pleasures. He
wrote of one attempt to free himself of this addiction:

TWO POEMS ON LIVING IN THE MOUNTAINS

Ten years in the licensed quarter, and I still couldn't exhaust the
pleasures;
But I forced myself to live in these empty mountains and dark valleys.
The view is fine, but clouds blot out the whole thirty thousand miles,
And those winds over the roof from the tall pines grate on my ears."

Crazy Cloud is truly Daito's heir;

But how could these lonely haunts and dark mountains be called holy?
I think back on long-ago nights of music and sex-
A young man of the world, I tipped the sake cask."

The contrast between the first and second couplets of this poem is like
that in the previous poem: living in the mountains, Ikkyu finds the
silence oppressive and not conducive to the practice of Zen. He recalls
nostalgically nights spent in the brothels. The world furyu, translated
Literature of the Five Mo u ntain s IOBI

here as "elegant," appears very frequently in Ikkyu's poetry; it has several

distinct meanings, including refined elegance in the manner of the old
Chinese poets, fleshly attraction, a state of transcendence of fleshly desire
(the religious meaning), and a quiet pleasure in the beauty of nature."
Ikkyu's conviction that he is the heir to the teachings of Dait6 (1282-
1337), the great Zen master and founder of the Daitok u-ji, is proclaimed
in other poems. But in his best-known poem on his spiritual ancestry,
the one inscribed on the portrait of Ikkyu by Bokusai," he insisted that
he alone transmitted the Zen of the Chinese master Sung-yuan (1132-
1202):

None of Kaso's posterity knows Zen;

But who before Crazy Cloud's face dares expound
Zen?
For thirty years it has been heavy on my shoulders:
Alone I have borne the burden of Sung-yuan's Zen. 77

Ikkyu on occasion contrasted the material decline of the Five Moun-

tains temples with the prosperity of the Daitoku-ji (not one of the Five
Mountains), but he saw no reason to rejoice:

The Mountain Forest prospers, the Five Mountains languish,

But there are only corrupt priests, no decent master.
I would like to take a pole and become a fisherman,
But of late a contrary wind blows over rivers and lakes."

"Contrary wind" seems to refer to the unfriendly reception given to

Ikkyu's refusal to conform by the other priests at the Daitoku-ji. In
another poem he rejected their concern with the rules:

RED THREADS ON THE SOLES OF FEET

Those who keep the commandments become donkeys, those who break
them, men.
Rules of every kind, many as Ganges' sands, play havoc with the spirit;
The newborn babe bears the lines of marital ties,
But how many springs do red blossoms open and fall?"

In this poem Ikkyu seems to be contrasting the artificial, constricting

rules imposed by men with the naturalness of the flowers. Donkeys do
not break the commandments against killing, lying, and so on; only
 The Middle Ages

man can break the commandments he has imposed on himself. The red
lines on a baby's feet show its destiny: here, the meaning seems to be
closer to the usual Chinese interpretation of koshisen as physical ties
rather than the Zen doctrine of lines that are erased by the seeker of
enlightenment after years of austerities.
Other poems evoke the destruction brought about by the Onin War
and the hardly less hateful conflicts between temple and temple or within
a single temple. Physical pleasure seems to have been Ikkyu's refuge
from the torment of a world against which he constantly struggled:

THE BROTHEL

To sleep with a beautiful woman-what a deep river of love!

Upstairs in the brothel the old Zen priest is singing.
He's had all the pleasure of embraces and kisses,
With never a thought of throwing himself into the flames."

The last line refers to the self-sacrificing faith of the monks who, not
fearing death, threw themselves into fires. Ikkyu (no doubt the monk
of the poem) denies he possesses that spirit.
The most affecting of Ikkyu's poems on women are those relating
to Mori, a blind musician. They first met in 1470 when Ikkyu, then
seventy-six, heard Mori (who was about forty) sing. By the next year
she had moved to Ikkyu's temple to live with him. Ikkyu wrote some
twenty poems about Mori, all of them affecting, including:

The most elegant beauty of her generation,

Her love songs and charming party tunes are the newest.
When she sings the dimples in her lovely face break my heart;
It is spring in the long-ago forest of apricot trees."

Blind Mori every night accompanies my songs;

Deep under the covers mandarin ducks whisper anew.
Her mouth promises Miroku's dawn of deliverance,
Her dwelling is the full spring of the ancient Buddhas."

After the tree withered and the leaves fell, spring returned;
The old trunk has flowered, old promises are renewed.
Mori-if I should forget how much lowe you,
May I be a brute beast through all eternity!"
Literature of the Five Mountains roB]

Reading Ikkyu's poems of hatred directed at the corruption of the

Zen establishment, or his poems of love directed at Mori, leaves no room
for doubt that they were fully meant; one is not tempted to search for
Chinese antecedents to the poems, though some undoubtedly existed.
Ikkyu himself at times repented of the violence of some of the denun-
ciations in his poems:

With spears of words how many men I have murdered!

With odes and quatrains my brush has reviled my fellows.
In hell I'll be torn to pieces for the sins of my tongue;
In the world of the dead I won't escape the flaming carriage."

But readers today can only rejoice that someone who lived five
centuries ago communicated his passion with such intensity that we
probably know him better than any Japanese poet who ever chose the
kanshi as his medium of expression.

The achievements of the Five Mountains poets were considerable.

Their poetry commanded the respect even of the Chinese, and some of
their poems still impress, whether because of the evocations of natural
beauty, the religious content, or the surprising individuality. Undoubt-
edly, too, the kanshi of the Five Mountains poets helped to lay the
foundation for the works in this genre by poets of the Tokugawa period,
when the kanshi again flourished. But it is hard to imagine anyone
turning for pleasure to these poems, in preference to those by Tu Fu,
Po Chu-i, Su Tung-p'o, or the other great Chinese. Nor is their ap-
peal comparable to that of the major poets of the waka, renga, or
haiku. Their poetry, because written in a foreign language, has become
in the last century increasingly difficult for Japanese to understand,
and has accordingly remained on the periphery of studies of Japanese
literature.

Notes
I. For the writings of Dagen, see above, pp. 755-59.
2. The regulations issued in 1440 by Uesugi Norizane stated that the books
to be studied were the Four Books, the Six Classics, Lao Tzu, Chuang
Tzu, Shih Chi, and the Wen Hsiian, Although Zen priests not only taught
 The Middle Ages
at the school but administered it, they were not allowed to teach Zen. See
Okada Masayuki, Nihon Kambungaku Shi, p. 369. The library of the school
permitted borrowing, and we even possess a list of regulations for users
of the library dated 1439, including an admonition against marking passages
with black or red ink, suggesting that the books were actively used. The
text of the regulations is given by Okada on pp. 369-70.
3. For translations of the letters Yoshimitsu received from the Ming court,
see Wang Yi Tung, Official Relations between China and Japan, p. 22.
4. Martin Collcutt, Five Mountains, p. 74. See also David Pollack, The Fracture
of Meaning, p. 122.
5. For an account of Muso Soseki, see Pollack, Fracture, pp. 121-33; also
Akamatsu Toshihide and Philip Yampolsky, "Murornachi Zen and the
Gozan System," in John Whitney Hall and Toyoda Takeshi, Japan in the
Muromachi Age, pp. 322-24.
6. The four poems, translated by Burton Watson, were first given in my
Anthology ofJapanese Literature, p. 312.
7. Devadatta, who attempted to kill the Buddha, represents the epitome of
evil.
8. Yuan was the name taken by the Mongols for their dynasty.
9. The central mountain of the Buddhist universe.
ro. Translation by Burton Watson in Hiroaki Sato and Burton Watson, From
the Country of Eight Islands, p. 230.
11. These are the opening lines of T. S. Eliot, "Whispers of Immortality."
They are quoted by Konishi [in'ichi in "Gozanshi no Hyogen," tJ· 17.
12. Konishi, "Gozanshi," pp. 20-23.
13. It may be also that the translator, in choosing among possible English
equivalents for the Chinese words, unconsciously adopted expressions fa-
miliar from his readings in European poetry.
14. The question of what is Japanese in the Chinese poems by Zen monks is
well discussed by Pollack in Fracture, pp. rzoff
IS. This account of Sesson Yubai's life is derived from Okada, Nihon, pp.
3 13- 14.
16. Translation by Marian Dry in Poems of the Five Mountains, p. 35. Original
poem in Yamagishi Tokuhei, Gozan Bungaleu Shii, Edo Kanshi Shii, p. 75.
17. Yamagishi, Gozan, p. 76. Also Saito Sho, Nihon Kanshi, pp. 181-82.
18. This story is related in Saito Sho, Nihon Kanshi, p. 180.
19. David Pollack (in Zen Poems of the Five Mountains, p. I I) wrote, "While
any object might thus be emblematic of Zen principles, certain objects and
activities were so charged with symbolic meaning through regular asso-
ciation with Zen ideas that they came in time to constitute a sort of code
language. Because of the almost automatic association of words with certain
Zen referents, Zen poetry can often be interpreted on two independent
levels of meaning in a way that is 'metaphysical' in much the same sense
that the word is applied to the poetry of seventeenth-century England."
Litera t ure of th e Five At 0 u n ta ins lOS5

He also gave a list of some words that frequently appear in Five Mountains
poems together with their associations, including: "maple leaves: the illusory
world of discriminations based on sensory perceptions of such things as
the brilliant 'colors' of maple leaves in autumn."
20. Translation by U ry in Poems, p. 129. Original text in Yamagishi, Gozan,
pp. 12 5- 26.
21. Yamagishi, Gozan, p. 4' I.
22. Translation by Pollack in Zen, p. 99. Original text in Yamagishi, Gozan ,
p.63·
23. I shall not consider the kambun written by Gido or any other Gozan
author. The problem in reading kambun is well described by Terada Tom,
Gido Shushin, Zekkai Chiishin, pp. 69ff. Terada contrasted the reading of
poetry and prose in other languages, where prose was easier to understand
than poetry, with the tendency of kambun to be far more difficult than
kanshi. This was not simply because prose written in Chinese was likely
to contain difficult characters that had to be looked up in a dictionary; the
Japanese who wrote kambun did not intend it to be read for pleasure.
Kanshi might describe the poet's appreciation of nature and other engaging
topics, but kambun was restricted to the poet's convictions and was not
consciously literary.
24- Praise of a similarly patronizing nature was bestowed on Zekkai Chushin
by a Chinese Zen monk who wrote in the colophon to the collected poems
of Zekkai how astonished he was that the poetry bore no trace of Japanese
influence. See Pollack, Fracture, p. 120.
25. Much of our knowledge of Gido comes from his diary, Kuge Roshi Nichivo
Kufu Ryakushu, which covers the period 1325-1388. Although it is called
a "diary," much of it was obviously written long after the events. The text,
given by Tsuji Zennosuke in his work of the same name, is in kambun,
not annotated in any way; however, Tsuji supplied a very useful index
and a study of Cido. The biographical material concerning Gido given
here comes from this source.
26. See Usui Nobuyoshi, Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, pp. 205-13.
27. See Collcutt, Five Mountains, p. 110, for a table showing the rankings of
the six Kyoto and five Kamakura monasteries. Nanzen-ji was gozan no jo
(superior gozan).
28. For a breakdown in the different kinds of poems written by Gido, see
Okada, Nihon, p. 342. Gido wrote 1,003 seven-character chueh-chu.
29. Translation by Pollack in Fracture, p. 134. (Pollack gives a slightly different
version in Zen p. 53') For "wild words and ornate speech" (kyogen kigyo),
see above, p. '°3°.
30. Collcutt, Five Mountains, p. 100.
31. Pollock, Fracture, p. 135, quoting a passage from Gido's diary for the
twenty-eighth day of the ninth month of 1371.
32. Ibid., p. 136. The abbot of this anecdote of 1354 was Ryilzan Tokken.
1086 The Middle Ages
33. Translated by Pollack in Zen, p. IS0.
34. See Terada, cus, pp. 19-26.
35. Ibid., P: 26.
36. Terada Toru was a particularly severe judge of Gido's poetry, partly because
he believed that Gido lacked natural lyric impulses and tended to portray
a bleak and charmless world, but also because he was a sycophant who
sought above all his own security. See ibid., pp. 33-37.
37. Pollack, Zen, p. 26.
38. There is an English translat.on by R.O.M. Shaw entitled The Blue Cliff
Records. The title has also been translated as Record ofthe Green Rock Room
by Earl Miner et al. in The Princeton Companion to ClassicalJapanese Lit-
erature, p. 392.
39. Translation slightly modified from Pollack, Zen, p. 26.
40. Text and notes in Yamagishi, Gozan, p. 107. Other translations by Dry in
Poems, p. 98, and by Pollack in Zen, p. 47.
41. Saito Sh«, Nihon Kanshi, p. 188.
42. See Saito Kiyoe, Insen no Bungaeu, p. 73.
43. Okada, Nihon, p. 356. Of his poems, sixty-seven were seven-character tu-
shih and fifty-two were seven-character chuch-chi«:
44. Jorin and Zekkai had studied together at the Tenryu-ji under Shun'oku
Myoha (1311-1388), the religious adviser to Ashikaga Yoshimitsu. For
Shuri'oku Myoha, see Collcutt, Five Mountains, p. 119. A brief account of
[orin is given by Okada in Nihon, p. 362; also Tamamura Takeji, Gozan
Bungaku, p. 194. [orin's dates are not known.
45. See Saito Kiyoe, Insen, p. 72. According to Saito, Zekkai was especially
drawn to the style of two Yuan poets, Chao Meng-fu (1254-1322) and
Yang Wei-chen (1296-137°).
46. Ch'uan Shih was more commonly known in China as Tsung Le.
47. See above, pp. 185-87.
48. Collcutt (in Five Mountains, p. 238) wrote about this office, "The chief seat
(shuso) derived his title from his place next to the abbot on the meditation
platforms. He was the principal monk in the hall and the leader of
meditation."
49. Text in Terada, Gido, p. 135; also Yamagishi, Gozan, p. II6. Another
translation in Dry, Poems, p. II3.
50. This is the interpretation of Yamagishi, but Terada takes the last line to
mean "it's time I went home." The story of Hsu Fu and the three thousand
boys and girls is given in the Shih Chi ofSsu-ma Ch'ien, See Burton Watson,
Records of the Grand Historian of China, II, p. 375.
51. Translation by Pollack in Zen, p. 105. Text in Terada, cuo. p. 247.
52. See above, P: 634.
53. In the translation the term gigun is rendered "valiant warriors," but it
means literally "just army," an epithet that could be appropriately given
Literature of the Five Mountains
only to an army that was fighting for a cause approved of by the emperor, in
this case the Minamoto. See Terada, cus, p. 247.
54. See p. 898; see also World Within Walls, pp. 104-5.
55. Translated by Burton Watson in Su Tung-p'o, pp. 87-93.
56. Text in Kitamura Sawakichi, Gozan Bungaeush: Ko, p. 388; also Terada,
cuo. p. 272.
57. Inokuchi Atsushi, Nihon Kanshi, I, p. 96.
58. Kitamura, Gozan, p. 291.
59. Translation by Pollack in Zen, p. 51. For a short biography of Banri, see
ibid., pp. 145-46.
60. Ibid., p. 85.
61. Ibid., p. 122.
62. See Kageki Hideo, Gozan Shishi no Kenkyu, pp. 460-61, where he sum-
marizes and comments on faults in Banri's kanshi that were pointed out
by Tamamura Takeji.
63. For example, not a single poem by Banri was included by the editor of
the volume devoted to Gozan Bungaku in the Nihon Koten Bungaku
Taikei volume. Banri is not represented, either, in the Shin'yaku Kambun
Taikei volume edited by Inokuchi, Nihon Kanshi; and he is dealt with
summarily (less than a page without any poems quoted) by Kitamura in
Gozan. Kageki (Gozan, p. 470) ended his comparatively detailed description
of Banri's career with the query, "Is the present writer the only person for
whom Banri's playful attitude toward literature arouses distaste?"
64. Pollack, Zen, p. 146. See also his comments on Banri in Fracture, pp.
189- 9 2 .
65. Ikkyu-banashi, or tales about Ikkyu, have been told in many forms and
have even been performed on television. Needless to say, the more scabrous
events of Ikkyu's life do not figure in books or television programs meant
for children. James H. Sanford has translated a selection of Tokugawa-
period tales about Ikkyu in his Zen-Man Ikkyu, pp. 250-96. Paraphrases
of similar stories are given by Jon Carter Covell in Unraveling Zen's Red
Thread, pp. 289-99. These stories were first printed during the Tokugawa
period, but some may have circulated orally even within Ikkyu's lifetime.
Ikkyu Gaikotsu (Ikkyu's Skeletons) was one of the rare nonscriptural texts
to have been printed during the Muromachi period.
66. See Sanford, Zen-Man, pp. 9-11.
67. For a description of the master, Keri'o, see Sanford, Zen-Man, pp. 14-19.
Ken'o was a member of the Myoshin-ji school of Rinzai Zen, which was out-
side the Gozan system. The Zen of Myoshin-ji and Daitoku-ji would later
be distinguished from Gozan Zen and called atokan Zen, a name derived
from elements in the names of the three founders, Daio, Daizd, and Kanzan.
68. The timely arrival of the messenger was described in Ikkyu Osha Nempu
(Chronicle of Ikkyu) by his disciple Bokusai. (For a translation of this
lOSS The Middle Ages
section of the Chronicle, see Sanford, Zen-Man, pp. 79-80.) There is no
evidence to show that this event did not occur, but the account is so
dramatically arranged that some doubt its veracity.
69. Text in Hirano Sojo, Kyounsha Zenshaku, I, pp. 8r-82. Other translations
by Sonja Arntzen in IkkYa and the Crazy Cloud Anthology, p. 24; Sanford,
Zen-Man, pp. 47-48; Donald Keene, Landscapes and Portraits, p. 235. The
poem is difficult. Hirano's modern-language translation represents an at-
tempt to grasp the poem as a coherent whole, but it creates other problems.
His version goes, "I have left in tl.e hut all the temple treasures, possessions,
and the like, and have hung the ladle (shaku) and plate (zaru) on the east
wall. I, who have spent many years in quiet regions by the seacoast, living
a life without any fixed abode, have no need of such useless appurtenances."
Perhaps that is what Ikkyii meant, but it is strange that he singled out
such humble objects as a rice ladle and a bamboo plate as typifying the
temple treasures. Sanford, aware of this problem, translated the first two
lines as " 'interesting donations' are dragged into the hermitage; / They
decorate the east wall with wooden ladles and rustic baskets." But the
words "interesting donations," "dragged into," and "decorate" are not in
the original. Arntzen changes the attitude of the speaker from someone
who is reporting what he has left in his hermitage to someone asking
another person to remove the objects and put them in some other hermitage:
"Take the everyday things, place them in the hermitage. Wooden ladles,
bamboo baskets hanging on the east wall ... " None of the translations
faces the problem of why "east wall" (if that is what it means) is hekito,
rather than toheki, the normal form. The above may suggest the problems
of interpreting many of Ikkyu's poems.
70. Text in Hirano, Kyounsha, I, p. 82. Other translations in Arntzen, IkkYa,
p. 25; Sanford, Zen-Man, p. 48; Keene, Landscapes, p. 235.
71. I have derived this explanation from Hirano, Kyounsha, I, p. 23. In his
modern-language translation of this poem, however, he gives for the second
line, "Wataleushi wa domo bonno ga sukosh! osugiru yo da." (I seem to have
a little too many worldly afflictions.) This is what is known as a free
translation. Covell gave her book the title Unraveling Zen's Red Thread, an
indication of the importance she attached to the term, but her explanation
of koshisen on pp. 82-83 does not suggest the variety of meanings found
in Ikkyu's poems, concentrating instead on the use of the term as "a
metaphor for a stream of sexual desires." In this particular poem the
meaning does not seem to be sexual desire but worldly involvement.
72. The word unsui, literally "cloud water," was used of itinerant priests who
wandered like clouds or flowing water, and it is possible that the title of
the collection meant "Crazy Priest Anthology."
73. Text in Hirano, Kvounshu, I, p. 89. Other translations in Arntzen, IkkYa,
p. 99; Sato and Watson, From the Country, p. 232; also Keene, Landscapes,
P·235·
Literature of the Five Mountains
74. Text in Hirano, Kyiiunshic, I, pp. 86-87. Hirano notes that it is difficult to
find a single thread of meaning running through the whole poem. Another
translation in Arntzen, Ikkya, p. 99.
75. See the interesting article by Okamatsu Kazuo, "Ikkyu Sojun ni okeru
Furyu no Kozo," in Akiyama Ken (ed.), Chusei Bungaleu no Kcnhy«, pp.
287-3°4. Okamatsu calculated (p. 287) that the word farya occurred 53
times in the 560 poems and other works in Kyounsha, and 73 times in the
304 poems in the sequel collection, Zoku Kyounshu,
76. See my essay, "The Portrait of Ikkyu," in Landscapes, pp. 231-32.
77. Text in Hirano, Kyiiunshii, I, pp. 126-27. Another translation in Arntzen,
Ikkya, p. 113; also Sanford, Zen-Man, p. 56; Keene, Landscapes, p. 232.
78. Text in Hirano, Kvounshu, I, p. 167. Another translation in Arntzen, Ikkya,
p. 123. In another poem in Kyounsha (Hirano, I, p. 269) Ikkyu declared
there were no Zen masters left in China either. "Mountain Forest" (sanrin)
seems to designate temples situated away from the center of the city.
79. Text in Hirano, Kyounsha, I, p. 123. Another translation in Arntzen, Ikkya,
p. 113; also Keene, Landscapes, pp. 236-37.
80. Text in Hirano, Kyounshu, I, p. 139. Another translation in Arntzen, Ikkya,
p. 144; also, Keene, Landscapes, pp. 235-36.
81. Kyounsha 547. Text in Karaki [unzo, Chusei no Bungahu, p. 249. The last
line says literally the "T'ien-pao forest." "T'ien-pao" refers to the Chinese
era, 742-755, that marked the high point of poetry of the Tang dynasty.
Another translation in Sanford, Zen-Man, p. 163.
82. Kvounshic 537. Text in Karaki, Chiisei, p. 249. Another translation III
Arntzen, Ikkya, p. 158; also Sato and Watson, From the Country, p.
233·
83. Kyiiunshi; 543. Text in Karaki, Chiisci, p. 249. Another translation III
Arntzen, Ikkya, p. 162; also Sato and Watson, From the Country, p. 233.
84. Text in Hirano, Kyounsha, I, p. 240. Translation in Keene, Landscapes, p.
237. "Odes" is a rough translation of ge (gatha in Sanskrit), a Buddhist
hymn; "quatrains" translates chueh-chu (zekku).

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except otherwise noted, were published 10

Tokyo.

Akiyama Ken (ed.). Chusei Bungaku no Kenkya. Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai,

1972.
Arntzen, Sonja. Ikkya and the Crazy Cloud Anthology. Tokyo: University of
Tokyo Press, 1986.
 The Middle Ages
- - - . Ikkyu Sojun: A Zen Monk and His Poetry. Bellingham: Western Wash-
ington State College, 1973.
Collcutt, Martin. Five Mountains. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1981.
Covell, Jon Carter. Unraveling Zen's Red Thread. Elizabeth, N.J.: Hollym In-
ternational Corp., 1980.
Eliot, T. S. Collected Poems. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1936.
Hall, John Whitney, and Toyoda Takeshi. Japan in the Muromachi Age. Berke-
ley: University of California Press, 1977.
Hirano Sojo. Kvounshi: Zenshahu, 1. Shunjusha, 1976.
Inokuchi Atsushi. Nihon Kanshi, 1. Meiji Shoin, 1972.
Kageki Hideo. Gozan Shishi no Kenkyu. Kasama Shoin, 1977.
Kaneko Matabei. "Kyounshu," Kokubungaku Kaishahu to Kansho 29: 12, 1964.
Karaki [unzo, Chusei no Bungaku. Chikuma Shobo, 1965.
Keene, Donald. Anthology ofJapanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
- - - . Landscapes and Portraits. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 197r.
Kitamura Sawakichi. Gozan Bungakushi Ko. Fuzarnbo, 194r.
Konishi [in'ichi. "Gozanshi no Hyogen: Sesson Yubai to Keijijoshi," Bungaku
Gogak u 58, 1970 .
Miner, Earl, Hiroko Odagiri, and Robert Morrell. The Princeton Companion
to Classical Japanese Literature. Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press,
1985.
Nishida Masayoshi. Ikkyu. Kodansha, 1977-
Okada Masayuki. Nihon Kambungaleu Shi (rev. ed.). Yoshikawa Kobunkan,
1954·
Pollack, David. The Fracture ofMeaning. Princeton, N. 1.: Princeton University
Press, 1986.
- - - . Zen Poems ofthe Five Mountains. New York: The Crossroad Publishing
Company, 1985.
Saito Kiyoe. Insen no Bungalru. Musashino Shoin, 1963.
Saito Shoo Nihon Kanshi. Shun'yodo, 1937.
Sanford, James H. Zen-Man Ikkyu. Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 198r.
Sato, Hiroaki, and Burton Watson. From the Country of Eight Islands. Garden
City, N.Y.: Anchor Press, 198r.
Shaw, R.D.M. The Blue Cliff Records. London: Michael Joseph, 196r.
Tamamura Takeji. Gozan Bungalru. Shibundo, 1966.
Terada Toru. Gido Shiishin, Zekkai Chushin. Chikuma Shobe, 1977.
Tsuji Zennosuke. Kuge Roshi Nichiyo Kufu Ryakushu. Taiyosha, 1942.
Ury, Marian. Poems of the Five Mountains. Tokyo: Mushinsha, 1977.
Usui Nobuyoshi. Ashikaga Yoshimitsu. Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1960.
Varley, H. Paul. The Onin War: History of Its Origins and Background. New
York: Columbia University Press, 1967.
Wang Yi Tung. Official Relations between China and Japan. Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1953.
Literature of the Five Mountains
Watson, Burton. Records of the Grand Historian of China, 2 vols. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1961.
- - - . Su Tung-p'o. New York: Columbia University Press, 1965.
Yamagishi Tokuhei. Gozan Bungaeu Shu, Edo Kanshi Shu, in Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1966.
Yanagida Seizan. lkkYu Kyounshu: Mukei no Uta, 2 vols., in Zen no Koten
series. Kodansha, 1977.
- - - . IkkYu: Kyounshi: no Sekai. Kyoto: Jimbun Shoin, 1980.
 28.
MUROMACHI FICTION:
OTOGI-ZOSHI

~e traditions of Heian fiction, and especially of The Tale of Genji,

were not forgotten during the Muromachi period. Not only was The
Tale afGenji itself made the subject oflearned commentaries by members
of the emperor's court but, along with various handbooks to the cele-
brated classic, it was perused even by badly educated warriors who were
determined to become cultured. The typical fiction of the Muromachi
period, however, did not much resemble The Tale afGenji: it was shorter,
closer in language to its tiine, and more apt to describe priests, soldiers,
or commoners than courtiers who preserved the traditions of the world
of the Shining Prince. There was little influence from the courtly fiction
of the Kamakura period, but the stories about soldiers often derived
inspiration from The Tale af the Heike and similar works.
These short stories are generally known today as otogi-zoshi, a term
that originally meant "tales of a companion"-"companions" (otogi)
having been those who entertained their superiors with recitations and
other spoken or sung performances.' The term otogi acquired its present
meaning early in the eighteenth century when a collection of twenty-
three medieval tales was published in Osaka under the title Otogi Bunko
(Companion Library};' the individual stories of this collection became
known as otogi-zoshi, a term used later for most of the fiction written
during the Muromachi and early Tokugawa periods.'
Over four hundred of these stories survive. Only one can be dated
precisely; the dates proposed for the others vary in some cases by as
much as two hundred years. Authorship is equally uncertain; only the
one dated story can be confidently credited to a particular man, and
even this identification is not illuminating because the author is otherwise
unknown.' A few tales have been attributed to such celebrated writers
of the Muromachi period as the poets Nijo Yoshimoto and Ichijo Ka-
neyoshi or to the priests Ceri'e and Ikkyu.'
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi 1093

The otogi-zoshi are not stylistically distinguished. The same images

occur innumerable times: the appearance of beautiful women almost
invariably evoked comparison to cherry blossoms and tinted autumn
leaves, and if these women were likened to famous beauties of the past,
it was always to the same three or four Chinese or Japanese ladies."
Stereotyped phrases and descriptions recur from tale to tale and are
sometimes repeated within the same work. The texts, though mercifully
easier to read than most other examples of premodern literature, lack
individuality of expression; it is hard to imagine that an accomplished
writer like Kaneyoshi could have penned such compositions."
It was no doubt because of their lack of stylistic distinction that the
Muromachi stories were seldom considered by scholars of Japanese lit-
erature of the past, and even in recent times the greatest efforts have
been devoted to transcribing the texts and collating variants, rather than
to discussing their literary worth or placing these stories within Japanese
literary traditions. Relatively few of the sources of the stories have been
identified apart from those that unquestionably borrowed their themes
from well-known Japanese or Chinese works or [hat resemble extant
folktales. Perhaps it has not seemed worth the trouble to trace the
antecedents of stories of uncertain intrinsic literary value.s However,
interest of quite another kind was shown in the otogi-zoshi during the
postwar years. At a time when the democratization of Japan was much
on people's minds the tales were praised as examples of "literature of
the common people";4I ater (as the Japanese became more absorbed with
their particular place in the world), they were acclaimed as "literature
of the Japanese people."!" But regardless of how commentators have
interpreted the otogi-zoshi, their attention has usually been focused on
the twenty-three stories of the original Otogi Bunko collection, and the
bulk of the stories remains inaccessible to the general reader.
The stories have been divided into various categories in the hope of
bringing order to an otherwise unmanageable mass of texts." Ichiko
Teiji, whose scholarly work has exercised the greatest influence, pro-
posed six categories of subjects-the aristocracy, the priesthood, the
military, the common people, foreign countries, and nonhuman beings.
Not every story can be easily fitted into one of these categories, and
some fit almost equally well into several. Even within the same category,
moreover, there may be a great range of subjects; for this reason Ichiko
was obliged to establish subcategories; for example, among stories treat-
ing the priesthood he distinguished those about young acolytes, corrupt
priests who had violated the commandments, priests whose faith had
been awakened by some extraordinary experience, and great priests of
1094 The Middle Ages

the past. Tales about the avatars of the various Buddhist or Shinto
divinities formed still another subcategory of "the priesthood." A simpler
division might be equally satisfactory: the nobility, the priesthood, the
military, and the commoners.'?

TALES OF THE NOBILITY

The otogi-zoshi that treat the lives of the nobility are generally the least
praised by scholars who discuss fiction of the Muromachi period. These
tales say little, except inadvertently, about the lives of the mass of people
of their time. They are cast in an idiom that seldom suggests how much
the Japanese language had changed in the course of the three hundred
years since the Heian romances were written and are all too frequently
devoted to matters that were more effectively treated in earlier fiction.
But some of these stories about the nobility have enough charm to keep
them from being dismissed as mere copies of The Tale of Genji.
Utatane no Soshi (A Tale of Fugitive Dreams) has traditionally (but
uncertainly) been attributed to a daughter of the courtier and poet Asukai
Masachika (1417-149°).13 An inscription on the box containing one of
the surviving manuscripts, in the form of an crnaltimono, or hand scroll,
credits the illustrations and calligraphy to two men who were otherwise
active in the middle of the fifteenth century." This seems to date the
manuscript, though not necessarily the text, a pastiche of a Heian rom-
ance whose content hardly suggests the turbulence of Japan in the fif-
teenth century. Perhaps it most clearly reveals its time in the wistfulness
of its evocations of the court in former days.
A Tale of Fugitive Dreams opens with the celebrated poem by Ono
no Komachi:

utatane ni Ever since I saw

koishiki hito UJO The man who is dear to me
miteshi yori While I was napping,
yume cho mono UJa I have begun to believe
tanomi sometchi The things that people call dreams.

The poem is appropriate as the epigraph for a work whose plot is

unfolded mainly in the form of dreams. In Japanese poetry dreams were
normally considered to be the opposite pole to reality and therefore
unworthy of trust, but the heroine of this story (like Komachi before
her) came to believe in them.
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi 1095

The lady is the daughter of an important court official. Although

he has had many children by his various wives and concubines, he dotes
so much on this particular daughter that he is unwilling to send her to
court where, even if she is fortunate enough to enjoy the emperor's
favors, she will surely be subjected to the jealousy and intrigues of other
palace ladies. The daughter grows into a woman of exceptional beauty
and accomplishments, but she is lonely. Her mother would have searched
for a suitable husband, but the mother is dead, and her father is so
preoccupied with court business that he tends to forget about her. The
lady spends her days in brooding and in boredom.
One day in the rainy season the lady is whiling away the time by
playing her koto. She wearily puts aside the instrument, and before she
knows it she has dozed off. In her dream someone brings her a spray
of wisteria to which a letter written on lavender paper has been attached.
It contains this poem:

ornotne ni More insubstantial

. .
mzru yume yorz mo Than phantoms seen only in
hakanaki wa A dream of longing:
shiranu utsutsu no The face of one who is real
yoso no omokagel5 But distant and a stranger.

She awakes before she can discover who sent her the letter, but her
thoughts keep returning to the dream. She induces herself to fall asleep
again, and this time she sees before her the man who wrote the poem,
a splendidly attired young gentleman whose appearance is so radiant
that she wonders if "even the Shining Genji one reads about in that old
story could be a match for this man.''" The gentleman takes her hand
and chides her for not having vouchsafed a word in response to his
poem, and he reminds her of the terrible consequences of rejected love.
But just as she prepares to answer him, a cock crows and the gentleman
says he must leave. Once again she awakes, still ignorant of the identity
of her dream suitor.
The lady falls into a despondent state that is not relieved by the
prayers of the priests summoned by her worried father. Her half-brother,
a priest of the Ishiyama-dera, suggests that the lady pray at the temple
to the deity Kannon, who grants to believers whatever they desire," and
the lady sets out on foot, imitating Tamakazura in The Tale of Genji
who had refused a carriage when she made a pilgrimage to Hatsuse,
believing that the more arduous the journey, the more likely her prayers
would be answered.
 The Middle Ages

Once she is surrounded by the holy atmosphere of the temple the

lady recalls that it was in this very temple that Murasaki Shikibu wrote
The Tale of Genji." At that moment she hears from the next room men's
voices; one of them, to her astonishment, is exactly like the voice of the
man of her dream. In the course of the conversation the man (identified
as Sadaisho) reveals that he had come to the temple in the hope of
obtaining relief from the torment aroused by a dream. The lady peeps
into the room. Peeping through a fence or hedge (kaima-miru) is a
familiar device in Heian literature, but this is a rare instance of a woman's
taking a covert look at a man.
As Sadaisho tells his companions about his dream, he recalls a passage
in The Tale of Genji;l,! like the lady, he is reenacting Genji. He describes
the beautiful woman of his dream and his unhappiness over not being
able to meet her.
The lady spends the night by the crack in the door, looking at and
listening to the man she loves. But when morning comes she decides
that there is no seemly way for her to reveal her identity," nor can she
possibly forget him. She has no choice but to place her trust in Kannon
and in the life to come.
A messenger arrives from the aged nurse of her elder brother, a
priest. The nurse has heard that the lady is in the vicinity. The lady
decides to visit her, but as she and her women are crossing a bridge,
she suddenly throws herself into the river. The women shriek for help.
Providentially, a boat is passing and the lady is rescued. Aboard the
boat, as we might have guessed, is Sadaisho. Seeing her in the flesh for
the first time, he is dazzled by her beauty, even more striking than in
the dream, and she, overcome with joy, forgets her embarrassment.
They are united and, we are told, their descendants prosper mightily.
The story concludes with a brief apology from the author for having
wasted good ink in writing so inadequate an account of the wonders
of fate.
The author of A Tale of Fugitive Dreams was in no sense attempting
to hide his indebtedness to The Tale of Genji; on the contrary, he was
at pains to call attention to parallel situations. All the same, this wispy
romance bears little resemblance to its great predecessor. It is not merely
a matter of scale; unlike Murasaki Shikibu, this author used only the
most conventional expressions when describing his hero and heroine,
and we are likely to remember the tale not in terms of the characters
but of its dreamlike atmosphere or perhaps its pictorial beauty. Several
enchanting emakimono confirm this impression: the people depicted
seem to have their eyes shut throughout, as if they walk in their sleep.
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi [°97

The paintings are even more successful than the prose in conveying the
fragile beauty of the story."
This is by no means the only instance of the illustrations of an otogi-
zoshi being of superior aesthetic quality to the works they illustrate.
Many tales survive only in booklets that were bought and preserved
primarily for their illustrations. These brightly colored volumes are
known as Nara Ehon, or Nara picture books." They were produced
in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, mainly for the amusement
of the upper classes, whether as bridal gifts or merely as tasteful deco-
rations for empty bookshelves; but their popularity waned when in-
expensive illustrated printed books began to appear in the seventeenth
century."
Hitomotogiku (A Single Chrysanthemum), a tale of the nobility in
the form of a Nara picture book, recounts (like many otogi-zoshi about
the nobility) the cruelties of a wicked stepmother; but it is unusual in
that there are two victims, a brother and a sister, rather than a single
Cinderella in the tradition of the stepmother stories of the Heian and
Kamakura periods." The boy (like Genji) is exiled, and the girl (like
Ochikubo) is shut up in a wretched house, but despite these Heian
touches, the work betrays its Muromachi origins in such passages as the
account of a pilgrimage to Kiyomizu-dera, another temple sacred to
Kannon. Worship of Kannon was certainly not new, but during the
Muromachi period pilgrimages to the thirty-three temples sacred to
Kannon became a craze."
lu/aya" (The Hut in the Rocks), another work of the same genre,
features an even more hateful stepmother. The story, set in the ninth
century, relates the hardships endured by Tainoya," the daughter of
Middle Counselor Korenaka. Her mother died when she was still a
child, and her father remarried two years later. The new wife had a
daughter of her own, a year older than Tainoya, and this made Korenaka
suppose that she would extend to Tainoya the affection she felt for her
own daughter. However (as we might have predicted), the stepmother
resents Korenaka's seeming partiality for Tainoya, and resolves to get
rid of her.
In Tainoya's thirteenth year Korenaka is appointed the vice-governor
of the Dazaifu in Kyushu. He decides to take his family with him, and
the stepmother sees a golden opportunity for getting rid of Tainoya.
She summons the daughter's tutor, Tadaie, who assures her there is no
task, however difficult, that he would not perform for her. The step-
mother orders Tadaie to abduct and drown the girl on the way to
Kyushu,
 The Middle Ages
The obedient Tadaie manages to abduct Tainoya, but she is so lovely
he finds it almost impossible to kill her. Steeling himself, he tells the
girl to say her prayers, but as she prays his resolution falters once again;
instead of killing T ainoya, he abandons her on a rock off the coast of
the island of Awaji.
When the others discover that Tainoya is missing, they can only
suppose that she has drowned. Tainoya, however, is rescued by fishermen
and lives in their remote village for four years until a nobleman, ship-
wrecked in a storm, accidentally discovers her and, entranced by her
beauty, takes her to the capital.
This unusually long otogi-zoshi goes on to describe the jealousy
Tainoya's beauty arouses among the palace ladies, the tests to which she
is subjected by them in the hope of revealing her uncouth background,
and finally her joy when she is reunited with her father and acclaimed
at court as the fairest and most accomplished lady of the land. At the
end the wicked stepmother (who has already suffered a bout of madness,
attributed to spirit possession) loses her senses completely and dies, and
the fisherman who rescued Tainoya is rewarded by being elevated to
the rank of daimyo.
The Hut in the Rocks is far more literary than most other otogi-
zoshi, possibly an indication that it followed closely a lost Heian romance.
As so often in these stories, there is mention of Prince Genji, in this
case in connection with his travels along the coast of the Inland Sea
from Suma to Akashi." The principal characters are more persuasively
drawn than in most tales, and even minor figures are sometimes char-
acterized so successfully in a few words as to leave a distinct im-
pressIOn.
Other stories about the nobility are devoted to such historical figures
of the Heian court as Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu. Both women
are portrayed in terms of their sensual natures. Izumi Shieib« opens in
this manner:

Not so long ago, during the reign of the Emperor Ichijo, there was
in our fair capital a beautiful courtesan named Izumi Shikibu. There
was in the palace a man named Tachibana no Yasumasa. From the
time that Yasumasa was in his nineteenth year and Izumi Shikibu
in her thirteenth, an extraordinary bond was formed between them.
Their feelings ran deep, and in the spring of her fourteenth year
she gave birth to a baby boy. At night, as they murmured together,
pillows side by side, how ashamed she must have felt! She abandoned
the baby on the Goja Bridge. She wrote a poem on the hems of the
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zosh i I099

narrow-sleeved kimono of pale blue lined with crimson the baby

wore, and left beside him an unsheathed dagger." A townsman found
the baby and, after rearing him, sent him up Mount Hiei.":"

The boy grows to maturity at the Tendai monastery on Mount Hiei,

where he develops into such an extraordinary scholar that even as a
youth he is celebrated not only in the monastery but throughout the
whole country. When Tomei, as he is called, is in his eighteenth year
he is summoned to the palace to give sermons on the Lotus Sutra. A
wind is blowing through the courtyard as he lectures, and two or three
times the blinds are lifted by the wind, revealing a beautiful young
woman of about thirty years of age who is sitting within, intently lis-
tening to his sermon. (This scene recalls the one in The Tale of Genji
when a cat on a leash knocks aside the curtains hiding the Third Princess,
permitting Kashiwagi to see her.) From the first glimpse, Tomei falls
in love with the woman, and when he returns to his cell, he can think
of nothing but her. Yearning to see her again, he hits on the plan of
gaining access to the palace by pretending to be a tangerine peddler.
(During the Heian period it would have been quite unthinkable for a
peddler to wander into the palace, but times had evidently changed.)
The lady sends a servant with twenty coppers to buy some tangerines,
and Tomei gives her twenty tangerines which he counts out in the form
of twenty love poems." The astonished servant asks how it happens that
a man of his talents became a peddler, and he answers with the cryptic
word Jurifuri. Word of the strange peddler gets around the palace, and
the emperor orders that he be trailed when he leaves.
The servant reports to her mistress what has happened. Izumi Shi-
kibu at once recognizes the allusion to a poem describing a woman
whose tears fell like rain (Jurifuri) because of unrequited love. Recalling
the unhappy fate of Ono no Komachi, who was cruel to her would-be
lover, she goes to Tomei's lodgings. He is overjoyed and the two spend
the night together. The next morning, when she is about to leave, she
happens to notice Tomei's little dagger and asks about it. He tells how
it was found with him after he was abandoned as a baby on the Cojo
Bridge. The lady asks him how old he is, what clothes he was wearing
when he was abandoned, and what poem was written on his infant
clothes. She produces the scabbard of the dagger, and reveals that she
has kept it on her person ever since she abandoned her baby. They
realize to their horror that they are mother and son. But Izumi Shikibu,
unlike [ocasta, is not suicidal; instead, she intuitively understands that
she had to be shocked into following the path of the Buddha. She leaves
II 00 The Middle Ages

the same night for a temple where she spends the rest of her life in
prayer. The story concludes with a somewhat altered version of one of
Izumi Shikibu's best-known poems:

kuraki yori I came from darkness

kuraki yamiji ni To be born in the darkness
umareltite Of an obscure path;
sayalea ni terase Oh, shine on me most brightly,
yama no ha no tsuki" Moon at the edge of the hill.

The religious ending of this story is characteristic of the otogi-zoshi,

many of which conclude with the protagonist fleeing the "burning
house" of this world and entering Buddhist orders. In Izumi Shikibu's
case, the realization that she has committed incest leads her to take a
step that she might not have otherwise considered or would have post-
poned indefinitely. In other cases, the intentional commission of a crime,
even murder, provides the impetus for gaining salvation; repentance
and prayer can win forgiveness.
Other otogi-zoshi about the nobility follow traditions of the mo-
nogatari so closely that it is almost impossible to detect anything that is
specifically of their time, though the clumsiness of the style and the
construction often gives away the late composition. Yet however deriv-
ative these stories about the nobility may be, they are certainly more
effective as literature than the mass of otogi-zoshi. The emphasis in
these stories is not so much on the love shared by the characters as on
the obstacles that keep them apart; perhaps this is their most distinctive
feature. But the classicizing attitude of the authors, who seem to have
felt that the world they actually lived in was not worth describing, kept
their works from enjoying the popularity of even inartistic tales that
better reflected their own times.

T ALES OF THE BUDDHIST PRIESTHOOD

The Buddhist temples played so large a part in the lives of people of

the Muromachi period that it is not surprising many of the otogi-zoshi
describe priests, temples, or the avatars of the various Buddhist divinities.
Among the tales of the priesthood, two subcategories proposed by Ichiko,
those that described chigo (acolytes) and those that are devoted to the
events which caused some priest to experience hosshin tonsei (awakening
Muromachi Fiction: Ot og c-Zosh i IIOI

of the faith and escape from this world), were of particular literary
importance.
Seven of the nine surviving stories about chigo relate how monks
fell in love with boys-some acolytes at their temples, others merely
visitors. It was, of course, prohibited for monks to marry or to have
sexual relations with women, and for that reason some sought erotic
pleasure in the company of boys of fifteen or sixteen. This, too, was a
sin, but probably not quite as shameful to people of the time as consorting
with women. In the otogi-zoshi the love of monks for boys is usually
reciprocated, and is not portrayed in terms of decadence or immorality;
rather, these attachments (though attachments to anything in this world
were undesirable) are praised as the direct causes of enlightenment. At
the end of a chigo story the boy is likely to be revealed as having been
in reality a buddha who came into the world to guide the monk on the
true path of salvation.
The best known of the chigo stories is Aki no Yo no Nagamonogatari
(A Long Tale for an Autumn Night).33 This late Kamakura or early
Muromachi work tells the story of Sensai, a learned and artistically
accomplished priest who lived at the end of the Heian period." Sensai
was known in his own time especially because of the great golden statue
of Amida Buddha erected in the Ungo-ji, the temple in the Higashiyama
area with which he was long associated." Poems by Sensai were included
in the Shin Kokinshu and later imperial anthologies, and he enjoyed a
following as a leading [odo cleric of his day.
A Long Tale was written in the episodic manner of an emakimono
with shifts of scene that lend themselves to pictorial depiction. Despite
its title, it is not especially long even by the standards of the average
otogi-zoshi (it is only about twenty-five pages in a modern edition). The
story opens with an account of Sensai, then known as Keikai, a priest
who has gained recognition as a master of sacred and profane knowledge
and even of the military arts, but is nevertheless dissatisfied with his
life. He has begun to wonder if all of his efforts to gain Buddhist
enlightenment had not in the final analysis been inspired by his hopes
of winning fame and profit. He makes up his mind to withdraw from
human society and seek truth in a solitary hut in the mountains.
Before he leaves for this retreat, Keikai goes to the Ishiyama-dera
where he plans to spend seventeen days and nights praying for Kannon's
help in achieving enlightenment. On the seventh night he sees in a
dream a beautiful young man standing beneath a cherry tree that sheds
blossoms over him. Keikai interprets this vision as a sign that his prayers
[[02 The Middle Ages

have been answered; and instead of going off to a hut in the mountains,
he enters the monastery on Mount Hiei. He can think of nothing but
the youth who appeared in his dream, though it hardly seems possible
anyone so beautiful could exist in this world.
One day when Keikai is passing by the great Mii-dera, not far from
Mount Hiei, he is caught in a sudden rain and decides to take shelter.
As he nears the gate he sees the boy who appeared in his dream, standing
under a magnificent cherry tree and breaking off a branch from which
blossoms cascade like snow.
Keikai falls madly in love with the youth, and eventually is able to
spend one night with him, but the boy, Umewaka, mysteriously dis-
appears. He has been abducted by a tengu and shut up in a cave. The
priests of the Mii-dera, not knowing this, suppose that Umewaka has
been stolen from them by Keikai, a monk from the hated Enryaku-ji.
Their fury aroused, two thousand monks from the Mii-dera attack their
rivals, only to be met by a vastly superior force from the Enryaku-ji,
The Mii-dera is once again destroyed.
In the cave where he is kept prisoner by the tengu, Umewaka hears
about the burning of the Mii-dera, and learns that it was in order to
foment discord between the two temples that the mischief-making tengu
abducted him. Umewaka and his servant manage to escape, aided by a
storm god, but the thought that he was responsible for the destruction
of the temple and the loss of many lives weighs on Umewaka, and he
throws himself from a bridge into Lake Biwa. Keikai is desolated, but
Shima Daimyojin, the Shinto god who protects the Mii-dera, manifests
himself and reveals that Umewaka was in reality the Kannon of the
Ishiyama-dera who, in order to bring enlightenment to Keikai, had
taken the form of the beautiful youth. Keikai, at last free of all worldly
attachment, changes his name to Sensai as a sign he is a new man, and
goes to live in a mountain retreat. The poem he wrote on the wall of
his hut was of such surpassing beauty that it was later included in the
Shin Kokinshi«.
A Long Tale for an Autumn Night describes a priest who actually
lived, and a historical event, the burning of the Mii-dera. It is at least
possible that Sensai loved an acolyte of the rival temple: indeed, one
professedly historical record of the fighting between the monks from
the two temples stated that the Mii-dera was burned in 1I8! as the
result of the hostility aroused by the disappearance of a boy loved by
Keikai." But even if the historicity of a few elements in the story can
be demonstrated, the rest is fiction, inspired by the legends that grew
up around Sensai after his death." The intervention of the tengu and
Muromachi Fiction: Ot ogi-Ziish i 1103

Shima Daimyojin makes it evident that the author's main purpose in

relating the tale was to persuade readers that enlightenment can be
attained in unexpected ways.
The author of A Long Tale was traditionally identified as the priest
Gen'e. Modern scholars for a time rejected the attribution for want of
hard evidence, only for it to be revived in recent years, mainly because
of the discovery of the oldest-known text of A Long Tale, dated 1377,
on the reverse of a manuscript of the Taihcihi, which was long supposed
to be (in part) by Gen'e." Perhaps Gen'e actually witnessed the last
burning of the Mii-dera in 1319, and recalled it in his story. However,
the appeal of this tale obviously does not lie in its documentary value
but in the exceptionally moving and well expressed narrative. We cannot
take seriously the machinations of goblins, but it is possible to believe
in Keikai's love for the boy Umewaka, and the tale is far more ap-
pealingly narrated than most of the otogi-zoshi, This first work of
Japanese literature devoted chiefly to a description of homosexual love
is one of the most artistic. Scholars have suggested that the author-
Gen'e or whoever it was-may have been attempting to justify, by
revealing that U mewaka was a manifestation of Kannon, the love he
personally had felt for a beautiful boy." Such loves were evidently
common in monasteries, but if they had not been clothed in the poetic
expression of A Long Tale and the other chigo tales, they would probably
not have been preserved in later times when the loves of priests were
no longer of much interest.
The chigo tales generally have plots that (in all but the crucial respect
of the sex of the beloved) closely resemble more conventional stories of
romantic love. The first meeting of a priest with the boy is accidental,
but after one glimpse the priest falls helplessly in love; he discovers to
his great joy that the love is shared; against their inclinations, the lovers
are separated, leading to the death of one of them; the survivor spends
his remaining days in prayers for the lover he has lost. In Matsuhoura
Monogatari (The Tale of Matsuhoura), for example, a priest and the boy
he loves are separated by the son of the prime minister, who has himself
fallen in love with the boy. He sends the priest into exile on the island
of Awaji in order to get rid of the rival, but the boy does not respond
to the other man's affection. Resolved to follow the priest into exile, the
boy escapes and reaches Awaji, only to learn that the priest has died.
In despair, he shaves his head and, in his sixteenth year, becomes a
monk on Mount Koya. 40
The language of the chigo tales is generally poetic, in the manner
of the Heian novels rather than that of most otogi-zoshi. This passage
 The Middle Ages

from Toribeyama Monogatari (The Tale of Mount Toribe) may suggest

the mood:

One night he secretly made his way into the house where the boy
lived. A perfume that seemed a part of the place lingered pervasively
in the air, making him all but exclaim that he had reached the land
of a living Buddha. He peeped in through the door, which had been
left slightly ajar. A screen depicting swirling cherry blossoms and
red leaves stood around the boy who was quietly bending over a
pile of picture books that he had spread open in the dim light of a
lamp, a faint fragrance emanating from his tumbling stray locks.
He was like the dawn when blossoms are heavy with dew or an
evening landscape when willows incline with the wind, incomparably
more lovely than when the priest first saw him in the northern hills.
He pushed open the door and went in. The serene charm with which
the boy greeted him made him wonder if this might not be an
unfinished dream, but he went up beside him, tears as much of pain
as of joy starting to his eyes. The look on the boy's face as he shyly
turned away might be likened to a spray of autumn clover, the
blossoms heavy with dew. It need hardly be said how touching, how
lovely he was-it quite made the priest lose all sense of reality, and
the melancholy to which he was prey was completely swept away
in the night they spent together."

Phrase after phrase echoes the Heian classics. The scene of their
meeting is written with grace and sensitivity, but we know from the
outset that the pledges of love they exchange that night cannot last very
long; this gives greater poignance to the Buddhist belief with which the
work is colored throughout-that the world we live in is not to be
depended on. The priest and the boy continue to write even after they
part, but the boy wastes away with loneliness. At first he refuses to
disclose the cause of his grief, but one day, moved by an old servant's
devotion, he reveals the secret of his love. The servant informs the boy's
parents, who agree to send for the priest and allow him to live with the
boy. As soon as the priest receives word of the parents' decision, he sets
out for the boy's house; on the way, however, another letter reaches
him, this one telling of the boy's death. The priest builds a hut by Mount
Toribe, the site of the boy's funeral pyre, where he spends his remaining
days in prayer.
If some of the chigo tales are similar in expression to the tales about
the nobility, others are close to the tales of the military, suggesting once
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi 1I05

again the difficulty of assigning works to a particular category. Gemmu

Monogatari" (The Tale of Gemmu) is once again the story of a priest
who has fallen in love with a young man, but Hanamatsu is somewhat
older than the boys in the other stories, and though he responds to
Gemmu's love, his heart is set on vengeance for his father. Hanamatsu
and Gemmu meet intimately only in Gemrnu's dreams. He learns that
Hanamatsu successfully killed his father's enemy only to be killed by
another man. Stunned by this revelation, he goes to Mount Koya, where
he gives himself to prayers for his dead lover.
On the first anniversary of Hanamatsu's death Gemmu attends a
special service in the Founder's Hall, where he notices a young priest
praying with unusual fervor. Moved by curiosity, Gemmu asks the other
priest why he has entered orders so young. The priest reveals that he
is the son of the slain man. He killed his father's assailant; but when
he examined the body of the man he had killed, Hanarnatsu's beauty
had moved him to an awareness of the brevity and undependability of
human life. He had come to Mount Koya to pray for Hanamatsu's
repose. The two men realize that it was because of Hanamatsu that they
had both experienced an awakening of faith. We are told that they spent
the rest of their lives on the mountain in prayer, and the story concludes
with the revelation that Hanamatsu was a reincarnation of the divinity
Mafijusri, who had assumed human form in order to bring about the
salvation of the two men."
Another variety of tale about priests, one of particular literary im-
portance, is the confession of what had induced men and women to
"abandon the world" and devote themselves to Buddhist prayer and
meditation. People of the middle ages believed that if one became a
priest or nun it would wipe out all one's sins on earth and promote
rebirth in paradise. Most people of the aristocratic or warrior class in
their old age or when they suffered a severe illness shaved their heads,
took vows of ordination, and assumed the dark robes of the Buddhist
clergy." Even a man like Taira no Kiyomori, whose life of violence
hardly promised salvation, became a priest late in life; but it was less
common for a man in his prime to enter Buddhist orders. Some of the
most affecting otogi-zoshi describe what led relatively young people of
dissimilar backgrounds to take the Great Step.
The best of these stories and, indeed, the story often rated as the
finest of all the otogi-zoshi is Sannin Hoshi (The Three Priests)." The
setting is Mount Koya, as so often in these tales. Three priests come
together by chance from the various places on the mountain where they
have their abodes, and one of them in the course of a conversation
II 06 The Middle Ages
suggests, "Let us each confess to the others why he has abandoned the
world. This can surely do no harm, for they say that confession reduces
the sins.":"
The first priest to speak is a man in his early forties. Despite his
torn robes and haggard face, something of the aristocrat lingers about
his appearance. He recalls how when he was young and known as Kasuya
no Shirozaemon, he was in the service of the shogun Ashikaga Takauji.
On one occasion he accompanied Takauji to the house of Lord Nijo,"
where he saw a court lady who was so extraordinarily beautiful that he
fell desperately in love. Unable to think of anything but the lady, for
days he refused all nourishment. The shogun, worried about Kasuya's
condition, sent his personal physician to examine the young man. The
physician diagnosed Kasuya's malady as love. The shogun thereupon
sent Kasuya's closest friend to find out who had aroused this passion in
Kasuya, and the friend, discovering the name of the lady, reported this
to the shogun, who did what he could to promote Kasuya's suit.
All went well, but one night, when Kasuya had left the lady to
worship at a shrine, he heard people gossiping about a court lady who
had been killed by a robber who tore off her clothes. As he listened, a
terrible presentiment came over him, and he rushed out to learn what
had happened. His worst fears were realized: not only had his beloved
been killed without mercy, but even her hair had been sheared off by
the robber. In horror and despair, Kasuya became a monk that very
night. For the past twenty years he has lived on the mountain, praying
for her repose.

The next priest to speak was a man of about fifty. He stood six feet
tall, had a protruding Adam's apple, angular chin, prominent cheek-
bones that gave the face a forbidding expression, thick lips, large
eyes and nose. He was dark complexioned and had an extremely
heavy frame. Above his tattered robes he wore a stole tucked into
his cloak. As he spoke he fingered a large rosary. "I should like to
be the next to tell my story," he said. The others urged him to begin
at once. He said, "Strange to relate, it was I who killed the lady! "4~

At the words Kasuya starts up, ready to kill the man who murdered
his beloved, but Aragoro, the second priest, begs him to remain calm
until he has finished his story. Aragoro relates that he began his life of
crime at the age of eight and was twelve when he first killed a man.
But in the year that he killed the woman Kasuya loved, his luck had
turned and he had failed to commit even one successful robbery. His
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi II 07

wife and children were without food or clothing, and his wife nagged
at him to bring home some money. In desperation Aragoro went out
that night and waited for someone to pass. A radiantly beautiful court
lady accompanied by two maids went by and he ran after them. The
maids escaped, but the lady stood her ground. Aragoro demanded all
her clothes, including her underrobe, and when she refused he killed
and stripped her.
His wife was delighted with the loot, but asked how old the victim
was. "Seventeen or eighteen," replied Aragoro, at which the wife rushed
outside without a word of explanation. After a while she returned,
saying, "You are really much too magnanimous a robber. As long as
you are committing a crime you should try to make the most of it. I
just went to cut ofI her hair. My own is rather thin, but if I twist hers
into plaits it will really look beautiful. I wouldn't change it for the
robes.":"
Aragoro, filled with disgust and revulsion, reflected on his life of
crime, and understood that if he continued he would rot escape the
torments of hell. "To go on in this way committing grievous sins,
dragging out a meaningless existence, not realizing the hollowness and
futility of my life, seemed revolting even to me. And now the monstrous
behavior of my wife had struck me dumb with horror. I repented bitterly
that I had slept with such a woman, that our lives had been joined."
That very night he went to see the monk Gen'e, became his disciple,
and soon afterward climbed up Mount Koya. He offers now to let Kasuya
kill him, in whatever way he chooses, but Kasuya realizes that the lady
must have been a manifestation of a bodhisattva who came into the
world to save both men. "If this had not happened, would we have
become priests, turned our backs on the world, and placed our hopes
in the incomparable bliss of paradise? This is our joy within sorrow,
and from this day forth I shall be grateful for the event that has made
us companions in seeking the Way."
The story of the third of the priests, disappointingly, is not connected
with those of Kasuya and Aragoro. The high reputation of The Three
Priests is due to the unexpected dovetailing of the first two narrations
(though a similar effect is found in The Tale of Gemmu), and to the
brief but unforgettable portrait of Aragoro's wife. The ending of the
story recalls Shinran's paradox, "Even the good person can be saved";
and Aragoro, for all his unspeakable acts of wickedness, will be saved
because he has thrown himself on Buddha's mercy. This was certainly
an appropriate conclusion for a tale about priests, but it was also used
to conclude many other works; however artfully they might narrate
II08 The Middle Ages

their stories, however many amusing or frightening events they might

include to capture the attention of readers, a didactic intent was generally
close to the hearts of those who composed the otogi-zoshi.

TALES OF THE MILITARY

The Muromachi period was marked by almost incessant warfare, and

much of the fiction composed during the age, as we might expect,
described the military. Some otogi-zoshi rehearse the mighty deeds of
the heroes of the war between the Taira and the Minamoto, others are
devoted to their immediate descendants or else to warriors of a somewhat
later generation, but surprisingly few tales are about more recent events.
The repulsion of the two invasions of the Mongols in 1274 and 1281
should have provided materials for stories celebrating the Japanese heroes
and the kamikaze, but they inspired hardly a single literary work."
Godaigo's abortive revolt, his exile to Oki and later triumphant return,
and, above all, the heroism of Kusunoki Masashige are the kind of
subjects that would have attracted European writers of poetry and prose,
but the Japanese authors, fearing perhaps official disapproval, avoided
mention of the military and political events of their own times. When
not set in the distant past, the stories are usually no more precisely dated
than mukashi (a long time ago).
Although vague with respect to time, the tales are usually quite
precise as to where the action took place. Unlike the Heian and Ka-
makura stories, they are prevailingly set in the hinterland rather than
in the capital, reflecting the establishment of centers of culture in many
parts of the country." Writers who had been driven from the capital
by the warfare of the fifteenth century took refuge with local potentates,
bringing with them the culture of the capital. They may have felt obliged
to mention in their compositions the legends and traditions of the places
where they had taken refuge.
The otogi-zoshi that treat the military class were probably intended
to please samurai who enjoyed hearing or reading about the heroic deeds
of the past. Ichiko distinguished three main varieties of military tales:
those about heroes who vanquished monsters; those concerned with the
warfare between the Minamoto and the Taira; and those that describe
succession disputes and vendettas among the military families of the
provinces.
Stories about heroes who conquered supernatural creatures go back
as far as the Kojiki, where we find the story of the god Susano-o and
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi I I09

the monstrous serpent. The best-known otogi-zoshi, both in terms of

its lasting popularity through the centuries and its influence on later
literature, is probably Shuten Doji," This rather lengthy tale describes
the triumph of the hero Minamoto Raiko and his five friends over a
demon who has been abducting and devouring beautiful young ladies.
Their victory is not unaided: before they set out for Oe-yarna where
the demon has his stronghold the heroes pray at three shrines," and the
gods of these shrines lend their help at critical moments. When the gods
first appear (in the guise of three old men), they tell the heroes about
the sake-loving demon Shuten Doji, and supply them with a magical
liquor which, if consumed by demons, will prevent them from flying,
but if consumed by men is a medicine. The old men also give the heroes
star-crested helmets that they must wear when they kill Shuten Doji.
The six heroes make their way to Shuten Doji's hideout. When the
other demons first see Raiko and his friends, they are delighted: they
have not had any human beings to eat in quite a while, and these men
will make a fine dinner. But they dare not eat the men without first
obtaining permission from their master. The heroes, brought before
Shuten Doji, identify themselves as yamabushi who have lost their way.
They say they would like to offer him some special sake. At the mention
of sake Shuten Doji's interest is aroused, and he invites the six men to
drink with him. The liquor he serves is blood squeezed from human
beings, and as appetizers there are human arms and thighs. Shuten D6ji
offers Raiko a cup of this wine, which he cheerfully drains. Entering
into the spirit of the occasion, Raiko slices off some of the meat and
eats it, smacking his lips. Watanabe Tsuna does the same. Shuten Doji
is surprised that priests should so readily drink and eat the rather special
fare of his table, but Raiko informs him that it is their duty to eat
whatever anyone out of kindness bestows on them even if it is not
entirely to their taste.
Now it is Raik o's turn to offer entertainment. Shuten Doji and the
other demons gladly drink and become inebriated on the sake provided.
Shuten Doji retires to his bedchamber, perhaps to sleep off the effects
of the liquor, but once again the three gods intercede, fastening Shuten
Doji's arms and legs to posts in four directions. The gods instruct the
heroes how best to decapitate Shuten D6ji and the lesser demons. In a
scene of joyful carnage, Raiko and his associates do precisely as told.
They rescue the many maidens who have been captured by the ogres
and bring them back to the court where the emperor welcomes the
heroes and bestows splendid rewards. They all live happily ever after.
The other heroes on Raiko's team were celebrated in stories of their
I lIO The Middle Ages

own, and some also slew monsters." They were not the only men credited
with such feats. Tatoara Toda Monogatari relates how the hero Tawara
Toda Hidesato killed the giant centipede of Mikami Mountain; in the
second part of the tale Hidesato disposed of a mere human being, the
would-be usurper Taira no Masakado." Sometimes the hero instead of
killing a female monster marries her, discovering her true identity only
when, about to give birth, she resumes her "real" appearance as a
serpent."
The bravery of these heroes is never in question, but they always
benefit from divine intervention, and sometimes even a man who is not
a renowned hero triumphs because he carries a magic sword presented
by the gods. 57 It is curious all the same that in an age of warfare, when
there was no shortage of heroism, the storytellers felt obliged to provide
divine help for their heroes, some of them bearing the names of historical
personages.
The otogi-zoshi about heroes and the descendants of the heroes of
the wars between the Minamoto and the Taira are more appealing and
certainly of greater literary value. Two in particular stand out, Yokobue
no Sosh: (The Story of Yokobue}" and Ko Atsumori (Little Atsumori).
The Story ofYoeobue is not concerned with warfare or the suppression
of demons though its hero, Takiguchi," is a soldier. He falls in love
with Yokobue, a lady in the entourage of the Empress Kenreimon'in.
His love is reciprocated, and he wishes to marry Yokobue, but his father,
pointing out that she comes from an unimportant family," insists that
he break all ties with her at once. Unwilling to disobey his father, but
unable to dismiss Yokobue, Takiguchi takes Buddhist vows and enters
a temple. Yokobue, at first supposing he has deserted her, is heartbroken,
but when she discovers he is at a temple rushes there. She begs for a
glimpse of him, but he yields only to the extent of speaking to her briefly
from behind a door. In despair, she drowns herself. Takiguchi finds her
body and, after burying her ashes, climbs Mount Koya, to live the rest
of his life in its silence.
The St01Y of Yokobuc illustrates the difficulty of assigning works to
a particular category: although about a military man, it portrays the
world of the aristocracy, and the hero at the end becomes a priest.
Needless to say, readers remember the work not in terms of the category
to which it belongs but as a story of a tragic love. The essential elements
were already present in The Tale ofthe Heike,6! but the story, as expanded
in the otogi-zoshi version, is even more affecting.
Little Atsumori'i is also derived from The Tale ofthe Heilte, but only
indirectly. The account of the death of the young general Taira no
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi IIII

Atsumori at the hands of the Minamoto soldier Kumagai Naozane is

one of the unforgettable incidents of The Tale ofthe Heihe, and doubtless
readers desired to know what happened afterward; Little Atsumori, like
the No play Ikuta Atsumori, is about the next generation. The Tale of
the Heilt« makes no mention of a wife of Atsumori, let alone a son, but
the otogi-zoshi states that the wife was seven months pregnant at the
time of Atsurnori's death. When the baby was born she feared for its
life; the victorious Minamoto were determined to eradicate every male
Taira. At a loss what to do, she abandoned the baby by the wayside
together with a sword, hoping that some kindly person, recognizing the
child's superior lineage from the sword, would rear him. The celebrated
priest Honen, on his way to a ceremony at the Kamo Shrine, heard the
baby's cries and took him in his arms. He left the baby with a nurse,
and arranged for him to have a suitable education.
Kumagai, at the time a monk at Honeri's temple, happens to see
the child. Struck by his extraordinary resemblance to Atsumori, he asks
him about his family. The boy replies, "I was an orphan without father
or mother, but the Holy Man found me and saved me." Then, bursting
into tears, he asks, "Why do all other children have fathers and mothers
and 1 have none? 1 have never had a father or a mother." When the
boy asked Honen the same question, he was told to think of Honen
himself as both father and mother.
The boy, increasingly unhappy because he knows nothing of his real
parents, stops eating and refuses even to drink water. The boy's condition
is such that Honen decides to track down the boy's parents even if this
means that the boy may be killed as a Taira; it is better for him to
know his parents than to go on living in ignorance. The boy loses
consciousness and it seems as if he must surely die, but just at this time
a beautiful young woman, dressed in magnificent robes, arrives at the
temple. Seeing the sick child, she reveals that she is his mother.
The boy opens his eyes at his mother's words, seemingly brought
back to life. He understands that Atsumori is dead, but he yearns to
see him all the same. He goes to the Kamo Shrine and prays for one
hundred days that the god grant his wish. On the hundredth day an
old man appears and tells the boy that Atsumori is at Ikuta in the
province of Settsu. The boy, though in pitifully weakened condition,
goes to Ikuta, where he sees an aristocratic-looking young man praying
at the shrine. The man asks the boy who he is, and when he replies
that he is the son of Atsumori, the man bursts into tears. He is Atsumori.
He draws the boy to him, removes his rain-soaked clothes, and then
tells him the circumstances of his death. Atsumori describes also the
II 12 The Middle Ages

torments of hell, and urges the boy to accumulate merit on earth and
in this way lighten the torment his father suffers. The boy begs Atsumori
to persuade Emma, the king of hell, to let him take his father's place
in the netherworld. Atsumori weeps at these words and strokes the hair
of his son, who lies with his head in Atsumori's lap. He writes a poem
and gives it to the boy, only to disappear with the approach of the dawn.
When the boy awakens he finds a human bone, and realizing that
this must be a relic of his father, takes it along with Atsumori's poem
to his mother in the capital. Stunned by these relics, she exchanges the
beautiful robes of a court lady for the somber habit of a nun, and builds
a shrine to Atsumori where she intends to spend the rest of her days
in prayer. At first she is reluctant to part with her son, but she realizes
that having this living keepsake of Atsumori by her can only increase
the pain she must bear, and she sends the boy back to Honen, Alone
in the hut she has built, she prays for Atsumor i's repose.
Although Little Atsumori has its ultimate source in The Tale of the
Heili«, its appeal does not stem from its references to warfare. The story
moves us because each detail of the description-for example, when
Atsumori removes his son's wet clothes-is at once believable and af-
fecting. The characters are also believable in a way not often encountered
in literature of this time. When Honen decides it would be better for
the boy to be dead rather than live in perpetual uncertainty about his
parents, we may not agree about the correctness of his opinion, but
psychologically it rings true; and when the boy begs his father to persuade
the king of hell to allow him to take his father's place, we can be sure
that this is not a formal gesture of filial piety but his real emotion. The
otogi-zoshi, though they contain many passages that convey genuine
emotions, do not often rise to this level of literary distinction.
A number of otogi-zoshi are about another hero of The Tale of the
Hcilie, Minamoto Yoshitsune. The best known of these tales is [oruri
[iinidan Soshi (The Story of [oruri in Twelve Episodes)," which recounts
Yoshitsune's meeting and love affair with Lady [oruri while on his flight
to the north of Japan. The original Otogi Bunko included another tale
about Yoshitsune, Onzoshi Shimau/atari (Yoshitsune's Crossing to the
Islands), which relates his journey to the islands north of Japan where
he encounters a king of devils and is rescued by a beautiful princess.
These stories are of interest to modern readers mainly as examples of
the fascination that Yoshitsune continued to exert over the Japanese.
One more military tale should be mentioned, Akimlchi. Despite its
pedestrian style, the story is unforgettable. It is set in the Kamakura
period, and the hero, Yamaguchi Akimichi, is a samurai whose con-
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi 1113

suming wish is to avenge his father, who was murdered by the brigand
Kanayama Hachirozaemon; but even though Akimichi is brave and
resourceful, he is unable to discover the whereabouts of Kanayama's
secret stronghold. As a last resort, Akimichi asks his beautiful wife to
gain access to Kanayama by pretending she is a prostitute. At first she
is horrified at the thought of surrendering her chastity to another man,
even for a noble purpose, but in the end, as a samurai wife, she yields
to her husband's imploration.
The plan is successful. Kanayama, despite his extreme suspicion of
outsiders, is captivated by the wife's beauty and takes her as his mistress.
For a year and a half she waits for some carelessness that will give
Akimichi the chance to strike, but Kanayama never relaxes his vigilance.
In the meantime, she gives birth to Kanayama's son. The wife's most
important task is to discover the location of his secret cave in the moun-
tains. Kanayama killed all the laborers who built the place, and no one
except himself knows the way. The wife feigns illness in the hope that
Kanayama, who by this time dotes on her, will care for her at his hideout
and, just as she hoped, he takes her there.
The first chance to attack Kanayama occurs while he is off in a
distant province. The wife guides Akimichi to the cave, where he waits.
When Kanayama returns he again takes the wife to the cave, but his
suspicions are aroused by every slight indication that an outsider may
have found his way there. The wife manages to give a plausible expla-
nation for each sign that Akimichi has penetrated the stronghold, but
when they reach the cave Kanayama, just to be sure no one is there,
throws a dummy inside to see if some enemy, mistaking the dummy
for himself, will attack it. Just as Akimichi, falling into the trap, raises
his sword to strike, a chorus of voices is heard. These are the voices of
all the people Kanayama has killed. Akimichi holds back his sword and
Kanayama, reassured, enters the cave where he is killed.
Now that Akimichi has avenged his father, he plans to revert to his
old life, but his wife refuses to live with him; her sacrifice has changed
her too much. Abandoning both her husband and her child by Kana-
yama, she becomes a nun. Akimichi also enters Buddhist orders, leaving
Kanayama's child as the heir to the Yamaguchi family."
Akimichi is an exceptionally well narrated tale. Nothing is known
about the sources, though there are somewhat similar stories of people
who disguised themselves as menials in order to penetrate an enemy's
defenses.v' The special interest of the story, however, is not Akimichi's
vendetta but his wife. It was an unimaginable disgrace for a samurai's
wife to have an illegitimate child, and this was one reason why she
 The Middle Ages

could not resume her life with her husband. Even more important, she
could not forget that Kanayama was the father of her child, and she
felt obliged to pray for his repose; although he was a cruel and violent
man, he had trusted and loved her. The conclusion is ironic: as the
result of the successful vendetta, Kanayarna's son becomes the heir of
Akimichi.
Vendetta stories occupy an important place in medieval Japanese
literature; The Tale of the Soga Brothers is perhaps the best-known
example. The theme is developed in later literature, notably in Chii-
shingura, but the ending of Akimichi is not like that of more typical
vendetta stories-a shout of triumph to celebrate the taking of the
enemy's head. Akimichi has carried out his plan, but it has cost him
his wife and his own position in society. There is no mention of joy
when he enters the path of the Buddha; instead, we are left with the
impression that the success of the vendetta was ultimately meaningless.

T ALES OF COMMONERS

Many of the twenty-three tales in Otogi Bunko, the first collection of

otogi-zoshi, are (at least in some sense) about commoners. Even fables
that recount the doings of monkeys, cats, mice, and other creatures
hardly differ from the tales of human beings; they wear Japanese clothes,
behave exactly like human beings of the time, and express themselves
in familiar imagery when they write their love letters or bewail their
distinctly human griefs."
Bunsho Sosh: (The Tale of Bunsho),'? the first tale in Otogi Bunko,
may seem to the reader more like a European than a Japanese tale.
Bunsho, the hero, is a menial who diligently serves the high priest of
the Kashima Shrine in the province of Hitachi. The high priest, thinking
perhaps to test him, tells Bunda (as Bunsho is then called) that he is
dissatisfied with him, and urges him to seek employment elsewhere.
Bunda accepts the priest's decision and apprentices himself to a salt-
maker. He works so hard that before long he is rewarded with two salt
kilns of his own. Throwing himself into the work, Bunda produces and
sells salt of unusually high quality, and his customers, sure that it brings
long life, buy his salt in great quantities. In this way he becomes rich,
and as a sign of his prosperity, he takes a new name, Bunsho Tsuneoka.s"
Even though Bunsho has become exceedingly prosperous, with no
fewer than eighty-three storehouses and ninety houses, his wife is child-
less and she is by now over forty. At the suggestion of the high priest
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi 1II5

of the Kashima Shrine, she observes abstinence and prays at the shrine.
The god grants her a child. (Many otogi-zoshi are about moshigo ; children
born in response to prayers addressed to a god or buddha.) Bunsho is
disappointed that it is a daughter. The wife tries again, and gives birth
to a second child, but it too is a daughter.
Bunsho is unhappy not to have a male heir, but the two girls are
extraordinarily beautiful. The high priest, learning of their beauty, asks
for the girls as wives for his sons, but the girls absolutely refuse. They
are equally unresponsive when the governor of the province, a noble
from the capital, asks for one of the daughters. The disappointed gov-
ernor gives up his post to return to the capital. He tells the son of the
kampaku, a captain, about his experience, and this young man instantly
falls in love from the description of their beauty. The pangs of unrequited
love turn into a wasting illness that arouses the consternation of his
family. Two friends, learning the cause of his malady, propose that they
all go to Hitachi disguised as merchants, and the captain accepts with
delight.
When they reach Bunsho's mansion, a maid comes out to ask what
these merchants have brought with them. This is the occasion for a long
enumeration of silken goods of many different colors and patterns.
(Enumeration is one of the typical stylistic devices of the otogi-zoshi.)
Bunsho, intrigued by these unusual merchants, invites them into his
house and drinks with them. The captain offers presents to Bunsho's
daughters, one of which hides a sheet of exquisite paper exquisitely
inscribed with an exquisite poem. Naturally, she is interested.
At a concert that night given by the captain and his friends, a gust
of wind lifts the bamboo blinds, revealing the ladies seated behind-
another echo of the famous cat on a leash of The Tale of Genji. The
captain and Bunsho's older daughter exchange glances. That night he
makes his way to her room and they are soon joined in ties of love.
The next day he abandons his disguise and attires himself in his court
costume, not neglecting to blacken his teeth and darken his eyebrows.
When Bunsho learns the true identity of the merchant, he is all but
wild with joy. He cries, "My son-in-law is a prince, and the prince is
my son-in-law!" (Mukodono wa denlea zo, denka wa muhodono yo!)
The captain takes his bride with him to the capital, where his parents
offer her boundless affection, sure that she is not merely the daughter
of someone named Bunsho but a manifestation on earth of a heavenly
being. Not long afterward, the emperor, having heard that Bunsho's
second daughter is even lovelier than her sister, sends for her. Bunsho
is desolate at the thought of being deprived of the company of both his
II 16 The Middle Ages

daughters, but the emperor solves this by commanding not only the
daughter but Bunsho and his wife to come to the capital. The girl before
long is made a consort and gives birth to an imperial prince. Bunsho is
appointed a major counselor and his wife is known as Lady of the
Second Rank. They live happily ever afterward, each one of them at-
taining an age of at least one hundred years. The final sentence urges
everyone to read this tale as the first, felicitous act of the new year.
The Tale of Bunshii is not artistically told. The language is ordinary
and there are many repetitions of words and phrases. The one section
that reveals literary intent (of a kind) is the tedious description of the
fabrics offered for sale by the pretended merchants. The plot is also
filled with implausibilities, whether the amazing success of a salt mer-
chant or the unexplained antipathy of his daughters for the various
candidates for their hands. The lovesickness of the captain has been
interpreted in terms of the well-known trope of the prince, forced to
leave the capital for the country, who finds a woman to love despite the
unpromising surroundings.s" but surely nobody ever fell that gravely ill
over a woman he had never seen. The honors heaped on Bunsho and
his family are without parallel in Japanese fact or fiction. And, finally,
we may have trouble believing that every member of the family lived
to be over one hundred years.
It is precisely because one improbability is piled on another in this
way that The Tale of Bunshii appealed to readers of its day and is still
of interest to us. Bunsho's success may recall the diligent merchants
described by the seventeenth-century novelist Ihara Saikaku," but not
even his most worthy merchant was rewarded by having his daughter
marry the emperor or himself becoming a major counselor, one of the
highest offices of the land. In the Muromachi period it seems to have
been possible at least to dream of such glory coming to a man who had
started his career as a saltmaker. This, perhaps, is an example of the
spirit of gekokujo, often invoked as the essence of the culture of an age
of constant warfare. The point is emphasized when Bunsho's daughters
reject the sons of a high-ranking Shinto priest and various members of
the samurai class and the nobility in favor of a man whom the older
daughter supposes to be a merchant. This is an obvious instance of wish
fulfillment, but perhaps when The Tale ofBunsho was first written there
was at least a glimmering hope that the fairest maiden in the land,
regardless of her father's occupation, might marry Prince Charming, in
the manner of a European fairy tale."
Sam Genji Soshi (The Tale of Monkey Genji) concerns a sardine
peddler with the peculiar name of Monkey Genji. He has succeeded to
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi IIIl

the sardine business of his father-in-law who had entered Buddhist

orders and become a priest on familiar terms with great landholders
and members of the shogun's family. Monkey Genji goes to the capital,
where he roams the streets crying, "Here's Monkey Genji from Akogi
Bay in Ise, buy your sardines from rne !'"? This unusual greeting appeals
to people of the capital and they buy his sardines in such quantities that
before long he becomes quite rich. One day, as he is crossing the Goja
Bridge, a palanquin with reed blinds passes him. Just then a wind from
the river lifts the blinds, permitting Monkey Genji to get a glimpse of
the beautiful woman inside. He falls in love from that first glance, and
can think of nothing but the lady. Tormented by his unrequited love,
he wastes away.
His father-in-law, the priest, when he learns the cause of Monkey
Genji's sickness, bursts out laughing, "I have never before heard of a
sardine seller falling in love! Under no circumstances let other people
hear about this." Monkey Genji counters with an instance of a fish-
monger who won the love of a court lady. The priest grudgingly concedes
that the example is apt, but insists that one glance is not enough to
make a man fall in love, to which Monkey Genji responds with quo-
tations from The Tale of Genji, including (predictably) the instance of
Kashiwagi's infatuation with the Third Princess, aroused by a single
glimpse. The father-in-law is again impressed, but objects that Monkey
Genji does not even know the name of the woman. Monkey Genji
reveals that he has investigated and found out that her name is Keiga,
to which the father-in-law replies that she is the most famous courtesan
in the capital, a favorite of the greatest lords of the land. He suggests
that Monkey Genji disguise himself as a daimyo. The only problem is
that a daimyo always travels with a great entourage. Monkey Genji has
thought of that: he will suitably disguise two or three hundred of his
fellow sardine vendors.
The plan works. The resourceful Monkey Genji, disguised as the
daimyo of Utsunomiya, is entertained at a teahouse by a dozen or more
courtesans including Keiga. She visits him at his lodgings where they
spend the night together. However, her suspicions are aroused by his
plebeian manner after he has been drinking, and in his sleep he sings
his sardine seller's song. He responds to her suspicions that he is a false
daimyo by citing examples from Heian literature to explain his actions
and his murmuring in his sleep. Keiga is convinced that no sardine
monger could possibly know so much about classical poetry and she
accords Monkey Genji her favors. The conclusion is that in love there
is neither high nor low. Monkey Genji takes his bride back to Akogi
II I8 The Middle Ages

Bay where they and their descendants prosper. And all this was brought
about by Monkey Genji's knowledge of poetry; one can see just how
important poetry is!
The successful courtship by a sardine seller for the hand of the most
beautiful woman in the capital is another dream-fantasy, but there is a
strong and appealing suggestion of egalitarianism. Anyone, even a man
with so humble a profession, can not only become rich but can pass as
a daimyo if he puts his mind to memorizing poetry.
Many other stories about commoners are worth describing, some-
times because of an ingenious development in the plot, sometimes be-
cause the underlying thought is refreshingly freer than in writings of
earlier or later times. It is possible to find in these stories many examples
of gekokujo, but this did not mean simply that the lower classes
triumphed over the classes above; rather than a triumph that involved
destruction, it was (as in the case of Monkey Genji) a conquest of the
culture that formerly had been the exclusive possession of the nobles.
Saikaku would warn of the dangers of a merchant's forgetting the proper
way of life for merchants and aping his betters by trying to absorb their
culture, and the government during the Tokugawa period frequently
attempted by imposing sumptuary laws to keep the merchants from
displaying their wealth; but in the otogi-zoshi no such caution is urged.
Monkey Genji's knowledge of poetry, far from hindering him in his
profession, was the source of his success. The stories are prevailingly
optimistic; surprisingly so, considering that they were composed during
an age of warfare and destruction.
The otogi-zoshi had another importance. They (or similar works
derived from these stories) include the first Japanese stories for children
totogi-banashii." Every Japanese child knows at least a few of the stories
such as Urashima Taro, the Japanese Rip van Winkle, who sojourned
in the palace of the Dragon King only to discover when he returned to
Japan that he had spent a whole lifetime under the sea; or Issun Boshi,
the Tom Thumb of Japan, only one inch tall but nevertheless a hero;
or Tsuru no Soshi, the story of the crane who is rescued by a man and,
out of gratitude, transforms herself into a woman and becomes his wife.
Otogi-zoshi adapted from such Chinese classics as the Twentyjour Ex-
amples of Filial Piety or from the Indian [ataka tales were also used in
the education of children. Other stories that were not suitable as reading
matter for children reached them orally in the form of folktales; some-
times it is hard to be sure which came first, the oral or the written tale."
The otogi-zoshi drew on many sources, some as yet not ascertained,
and in turn supplied materials for the literature and drama even of
Muromachi Fiction: Oro g i-Zosh i I II9

recent times." The long neglect of the genre by most scholars has ended,
and it seems likely that discoveries of new works will further enrich
our knowledge of the fiction of the Muromachi period."

Notes
1. The exact meaning of togi (the initial 0 is an honorific) is not clear. For
an examination of evidence concerning use of this word, see Ichiko Teiji,
Chiisei Shiisetsu no Kenlty«, pp. 2-24- (This work will henceforth be referred
to as Chusei Kenkyu.) See also Ichiko Teiji, Chusei Bungaleu no Shahen, pp.
58-70, where Ichiko gives thirty-two examples of the use of the word togi
or otogi prior to the seventeenth century; there are innumerable examples
from the seventeenth century on. (This work will henceforth be referred
to as Chiisci Shuhen.) The oldest known use of the term otogi occurs in
Story Without a Name, written between I 196 and 1202. The earliest uses
are in the sense of a companion, with overtones of the pleasure afforded
by agreeable company.
2. The exact date of publication is unknown, but it has reasonably been

conjectured that it was between 1688 and 1730. See Ichiko, Chusei Kenkyu,
p. 15; also Barbara Ruch, "Origins of The Companion Library," p. 593.
Tokuda Kazuo, in "'Otogi Bunko' Kanko Zengo," convincingly argues
that the collection published by Shibuya Seiemon about 1720 was a reprint
of a horizontal format, illustrated book (Yokonaga tanroleu-boni published
about 1675. The distinguishing feature of tanroku-bon was the hand-colored
illustrations in vermilion and green. David Chibbett wrote of them,
"Though a disaster aesthetically, achieving only a sad parody of Tosa color
schemes, tanroku-bon are much prized in Japan on account of their rarity"
(The History of Japanese Printing and Book Illustration, p. 119).
3. The appropriateness of the term otogi-zoshi has often been questioned.
Ichiko Teiji preferred chiise: shosetsu (medieval stories); Yokoyama Shigeru,
the compiler of the most important collection of these tales, called them
muromachi monogatari, and the compilers of the most recent collection (in
the Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series) adopted this term; but still
other scholars, stressing the brevity of the stories, as compared to the Heian
and Kamakura period romances, have referred to them as tampen shiisetsu,
or short stories. Despite these attempts to find a more accurate way than
otogi-zoshi of designating the tales, the term continues to be used not only
by scholars but by the general reading public.
Fujikake Kazuyoshi in Murornachi-kj Monogatari no Kinseiteki Tenleai,
p. 6, discusses the use of the "narrow meaning" of otogi-zoshi (that is, the
collection published by Shibukawa Seiemon in Osaka about 1720) and the
H20 The Middle Ages
"broad meaning" (that is, a general term for short stories composed in the
Muromachi period or in the same manner in the early Tokugawa period).
Fujikake also (p. I I) notes that the oldest known use of the term otogi-
z6shi in the "broad meaning" is found in a work published in 1802 by
Ozaki Masayoshi (1755-1827), a scholar of Japanese literature.
4. The work (Hikketsu no Monogatari) is signed Iho and dated the twelfth
year of Bummei (1480); a note appended to the work and dated 1517
identifies Iho as the priestly name ofIshii Yasunaga. Yasunaga's name and
crest appear in a book compiled about 1532, from which it has been inferred
that he must have been a person of some importance; but nothing else is
known about him. See Ichiko, Chusei Kcnkyu, pp. 388-89. Also Ruch,
"Origins," p. 595.
5. Ichiko Teiji, for long the reigning authority on otogi-zoshi, was inclined
to accept the attribution to Ichijo Kaneyoshi of several stories because he
possessed the requisite knowledge of waka poetry, Buddhism, traditional
customs and usages, music, and so on displayed in these stories (see Ichiko,
Chusei Kenkyu, pp. 390-92); but Kaneyoshi was not the only man of his
time with this knowledge, and the stories do not resemble his other writings.
6. Fujikake, in Muromachi-ki, p. 94, stated that the stereotyped descriptions
of beautiful women in the otogi-zoshi have earned them a bad reputation
among scholars of literature. But the repetition of such stereotyped phrases
may have helped poorly educated listeners to follow the story, and it may
also have given the pleasure of recognition. Fujikake elsewhere in the same
book (pp. 79-80) discussed the typical patterns of expression in the otogi-
zoshi under three headings: enumeration, similes, and word-plays.
7. Scholars of the past, reluctant to admit that they did not know the author
of a particular work, were apt to credit it to some celebrated literary figure,
improbable though it was, and their conclusions have sometimes been
accepted by later scholars who argue that there must have been some reason
for the traditional attributions.
8. An example of what might be done in future study of the sources of the
otogi-zoshi is provided by Hamanaka Osamu in "Otogi-zoshi to Chugoku
Setsuwa." Hamanaka traced a theme in the story Uraleaze, the impregnation
of a woman by the wind, in Japanese, Okinawan, and Chinese written and
oral texts, as well as in the Motif-Index ofFolk Literature of Stith Thompson.
In his article "Otogi-zoshi 'Tsubo no Ishibumi' no Seiritsu," Hamanaka
found the source of this tale in the No Chibiei, a play no longer in the
repertory. He stressed (p. 173) the close relationships of the No plays to
the otogi-zoshi, especially those of the kinsei period. An obvious instance
of this close relationship is between the No lleuta Atsumori and the otogi-
zoshi Ko Atsumori.
9. The essay of Araki Yoshio, "Shomin Bungaku toshite no Otogi-zoshi," was
published in the October 1951 issue of Bungaku. It is reprinted in his Chusei
Bungaleu no Keisei to Hatten, pp. 4°6-23. Araki contended (p. 407) that the
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi II21

fact that typical examples of otogi-zoshi, such as Hachikazuki, Monokusa

Taro, Issun Boshi, Urashima Taro, Yokobue no Soshi, and Shuten Doji, were
still being read as children's stories (dowa) even in contemporary Japan
demonstrated they still lived as literature of the common people. For a
criticism of what she calls "the concept of shomin-ization" of medieval
literature, see Barbara Ruch, "Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a
National Literature," pp. 284-86.
10. See, for example, Ichiko, Chiisci Kenkyu, p. 194, where he speaks of "ko-
kuminteki na bungei." Barbara Ruch in her studies of the genre has also
emphasized this aspect. Ichiko believed that the heart of this "people's
literature" was the tales about the military, but other scholars, like Araki
Yoshio (see note 9) reserved this distinction for stories closer to the folktale
tradition.
I!. Seven different systems of classification made by scholars of Japanese lit-
erature are presented by Jacqueline Pigeot in her "Histoire de Yokobue,"
pp. 18-21.
12. My categories are close to those made by Nishizawa Masaji in Chiisei
Shosetsu no Sehai, p. 6. He proposed a division into: gikomono (stories about
members of the aristocracy), otogi-zoshi (stories about commoners), and
Muromachi jidai monogatari (stories about priests and warriors).
13. There is a complete translation of this story by Virginia Skord, called "A
Tale of Brief Slumbers," in Tales of Tears and Laughter. Two illustrations
from the emakimono in the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston have been
included.
14. See Ichiko Teiji et al., Muromachi Monogatari Shu, p. 270. The inscription
states that the illustrations were by Tosa Mitsunobu (1434-1525) and the
calligraphy by Iio Mototsura (1431-1492).
15. Ichiko et al., Muromachi, I, p. 273. The poem states that the writer has
unhappily fallen in love with a woman who is unaware of his passion,
though she really exists and is not simply a figment of his imagination.
16. Ichiko et al., Muromachi, I, p. 275.
17. The particular manifestation of Kannon enshrined at the Ishiyama Temple
was the nyoirin ichiruamani-chakra in Sanskrit) Kannon, who granted what
people desired. The author of The Gossamer Years went to Ishiyama Temple
to complain of her misfortunes and ask Kannon's intercession. Her niece,
the daughter of Takasue, mentions in The Sarashina Diary that she made
a pilgrimage to Ishiyama Temple to pray for her salvation. See Ichiko et
al., Muromachi, I, p. 278.
18. See chapter 12, page 482 and note 21.
19. In the "Akashi" chapter the old governor of Akashi, in response to a dream,
sends a boat to sea. See the translation by Edward Seiden sticker, The Tale
of Genji, I, p. 251.
20. The words in Japanese are: sasuga ni onna no saru beki koto ni shimo
araneba . . . . See Ichiko et al., Muromachi, I, p. 283.
II22 The Middle Ages
2 I.One set of scrolls IS In the Freer Gallery in Washington, another in the
Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, a third in Japan. The scrolls in the
American collections are in the hakubyo-e style: that is, they are painted
in different shades of black but without color except for faint touches of
red on the lips of the people depicted. For a discussion of the Boston scrolls,
see Yonekura Michio, "Boston Bijutsukan-bon 'Utatane Soshi' ni tsuite,"
pp. 46-55 in Shimada Shujiro, Shinshu Nihon Emakimono Zcnshu, bekkan
2. The same volume contains (plates 75 to 91) a reproduction of these
scrolls. An emakimono in color illustrating the same story is in the pos-
session of the Kokubungaku Kenkyu Shiryokan in Tokyo; it seems to
belong to a quite different tradition from the two black-and-white sets of
scrolls.
22. The term Nara Ehon dates back only to the late Meiji period. The reason

for referring to these illustrated books by the name "Nara picture books"
is unclear, though various scholars have suggested reasons. See Akai Ta-
tsuro, "Nara Ehon Kenkyu Shi," pp. 44-48; also Matsumoto Ryushin,
Otogi-zosht Shu, p. 388-89.
23. For a discussion in English of the tanroku-bon, printed books with ver-
milion and green coloring added by hand, see Chibbett, History, pp. 118-
19·
24. The work was translated by Jacqueline Pigeot and Keiko Kosugi with an
introduction explaining its background in Le chrvsanthcme solitaire. The
original illustrations (from the copy in the Bibliotheque Nationale) are
reproduced in color.
25. See Pigeot and Kosugi, Le chrysanthcme, pp. 13-15.
26. The name is also given as Iwaya no Soshi or as Tainoya-hime no Soshi in
different versions. There are numerous textual variants, some of consid-
erable importance. I have followed the version given by Matsumoto in
Otogi-zoshi, pp. 145-97.
27. The name refers to the Western Pavilion (nishi no tail where she lives after
her father remarries.
28. Matsumoto, Otogi-ziishi, p. 149.
29. The dagger (mamorigatana) was generally carried by women inside their
kimonos for protection if attacked. Toward the end of the story, Izumi
Shikibu, seeing such a dagger in the possession of a man (Tomei), expresses
surpnse.
30. Ichiko Teiji, Utogi-zoshi (NKBT), p. 312. Also Oshima Tatehiko, Otogi-
zosh: Shu, p. 385.
31. Each poem begins with the first syllable of a number: the first (hitotsu)
with hitori, the second lfutatsu) with futae and so on, going up to twentieth
(niju) with nileushi. He also gives a twenty-first to the servant who, dazzled
by his accomplishment, asks for a poem for herself. See Ichiko, Otogi-zoshi,
(NKBT), pp ..314-15. Also Oshima, Otogi-zoshi, pp. 386-89.
32. For the original poem (in the Shaishu) and a translation, see above, P: 288.
Muromachi Fiction: Ot og i-Zosh i 1123

It is obviously superior to the later version with its peculiar kuraki yamiji-s-
"dark obscure path," In the original poem, inspired by the Lotus Sutra,
Izumi Shikibu asks the moon (a familiar Buddhist symbol of enlightenment)
to illuminate the path ahead of her into the dark. Perhaps the word savalea
was used in this altered version instead of harulta because it resembles saya,
a scabbard.
33. There is an English translation of this story by Margaret H. Childs in
Monumenta Nipponica 35:2, 1980. I have followed her translation of the
title, but "a tale long in the telling" seems to be the original meaning of
nagamonogatari. See Hirasawa Goro, "Aki no Yo no Monogatari Ka," pp.
228-31. The words aki no yo no naga also suggest the length of the autumn
night (much longer than the proverbially short summer night).
34. The date of Sensai's birth is not known, but is conjectured that it was
about 1050. (See Miyaji Takakuni, "[itsuzai Jimbutsu no Monogatarika,"
p. 46.) We know from an entry in Chiiyiiki, the diary kept by Fujiwara
no Munetada from 1087 to I I 38, that Sensai died in 1125. Sensai was for
many years associated with the Ungo-ji, a temple in the Higashiyama area
of Kyoto that was originally founded in 837 but subsequently allowed to
fall into ruins. It is stated in Honcho Koso Den (1702), a series of biographies
of eminent Japanese priests, that Sensai reconsecrated the Ungo-ji about
1124. (Quoted in Hirasawa, "Aki," p. 232.) Other documents indicate that
Sensai and various waka poets (including the well-known Fujiwara no
Mototoshi and Minamoto no Toshiyori) joined in composing uta-awase at
the Ungo-ji in I I 16. (See Miyaji, "[itsuzai," pp. 47-48.)
35. Miyaji (in "[itsuzai," p. 48) suggested that it was because of Sensai's fame
in the middle ages as the holy man who had erected the great statue that
he was chosen as the hero of A Long Tale.
36. Sammon Mii Kaleushitsu no 0kori, p. 246. This work, though included in
the Shiseki Shuran series, is of dubious historical value. It has not been
dated, but clearly is later than A Long Tale, which it quotes.
37. This is the thesis of Miyaji in his interesting article "[itsuzai."
38. See Hirasawa, "Aki," pp. 263-94. Hirasawa, who gives pages of parallel
texts of the Taihcilii and A Long Tale, insists on the similarity of style,
language, and structure, and declares (p. 273) that it is "incontrovertible"
that there is a close relationship between the two works.
39. See, for example, Nishizawa, Chusei Shosetsu, pp. 38-39.
40. Text in Shinko Gunsho Ruiju series, vol. XIV, pp. 152-60.
41. Toribeyama Monogatari, p. 145.
42. There is a complete translation by Margaret Helen Childs in Rethinking
Sorrow: Revelatory Tales of Late Medieval Japan.
43. Text in Zoku Gunsho Ruiju series, kan 509, pp. 395-41 I.
44. See Ichiko, Chiisci KenkY ii, p. 146.
45. There is a complete translation of this tale by Childs in Rethinking Sorrow.
46. Translation from Donald Keene, Anthology of Japanese Literature, p. 322.
II24 The Middle Ages
Text in Nishizawa Masaji, Meihen Otogi-zoshi, p. 19. Also Ichiko, Otogi-
zoshi (NKBT), p. 434.
47. Perhaps Nijo Yoshimoto.
48. Translation in Keene, Anthology, p. 327. Text in Nishizawa, Meihen, pp.
27-28.
49. Translation in Keene, Anthology, p. 330. Text in Nishizawa, Meihen, pp.
33-34·
50. See Kawazoe Shoji, Chiisei Bungei no Chihoshl, pp. 68-85, for a consideration
of the treatment of the Mongol invasions in literary writing. The Clear
Mirror was one of the few works that even touched on the events.
5 I. The development of literary cultures in different parts of the country during
the Muromachi period is the subject of Kawazoe's Chusei.
52. Shuten Doji is the name of a demon, but shuten means "sake drinking"
and doji means "lad." Both terms apply to the demon, and in the work he
is sometimes called simply doji, In the story Ibuki Doji it says that he
acquired this name because of his fondness for sake; he was previously
known as Ibuki Doji, (See Ichiko et al., Muromachi, I, p. 197. Also Shimazu
Hisamoto, Zoku Otogi-zoshi, p. 156.) It should be noted, however, that
shuten doji was probably a corruption of the original sute doji, meaning an
abandoned child, and referring to the old legend of a monstrous child born
after thirty-three months (or more!) in its mother's womb, and abandoned
when its strangeness became apparent. For a discussion of the name and
the legend, see Satake Akihiro, Shuten Doji Ibun, pp. 34-37.
Satake elsewhere in his study (p. 94) mentioned the extraordinary pop-
ularity of the Shuten Doji stories, as evidenced in the innumerable copies
of the work scattered over the country.
53. Raiko (Yorimitsu) and Hosho (Yasumasa) pray at the Iwashimizu Hachi-
man Shrine; Watanabe Tsuna and Sakata Kintoki at the Sumiyoshi Shrine;
and Usui Sadamitsu and Urabe Suetake at the shrines of Kumano. For
text, see Oshima, Otogi, pp. 447-48.
54. For example, Watanabe Tsuna killed the demon of the Rashomon, Sakata
Kintoki, usually known by his boyhood name of Kintaro, was credited
with similar exploits.
55. Text in Matsumoto, Otogi, pp. 89-142.
56. See Ichiko, Chiisei KenkYii, pp. 215-19. He says of Tamura no Soshi (The
Story of Tamura), which features a serpent bride, that it is the most typical
of the medieval stories about demon-quelling.
57. Ichiko, Chiisei KenkYii, p. 220. Reference is being made particularly to
Yukionna Monogatari (The Tale of the Snow Woman).
58. There is a beautiful translation into French by Pigeot in "Histoire de
Yokobue."
59. Strictly speaking, Takiguchi was not his name but his office; he was a
member of the Imperial Palace Guard of the sovereign's private office.
60. In some versions of the story Yokobue's mother is said to be the proprietress
Muromachi Fiction: Otogi-Zoshi I I 25

of a brothel. See Pigeot, "Histoire de Yokobue," p. 87, for the translation

from the Nagato-bon text of The Tale of the Hcik«.
61. Text in Takagi Ichinosuke et al., Heilec Monogatari, II, p. 268.
62. The title Ko Atsumori is difficult to translate. In context, it means "the son
of Atsumori," but ko before a noun usually means "small," and in the story
we see the son only as a boy.
63. Text in Matsumoto, Otogi, pp. 11-74. I have discussed this work (under a
slightly different title) in World Within Walls, pp. 235-36.
64. The text is given in Nishizawa, Meihen, pp. 174-201. Nishizawa analyzed
the work in Chusei, pp. 44-76. There is a translation by Margaret Childs
in Monumenta Nipponica 42:3, 1987.
65. See Nishizawa, Chusei, pp. 49-50.
66. The delightful Fukuro (The Owl) (not in Otogi Bunko, however) contains
a love letter from the owl to a bullfinch, with immensely long sentences
cast into alternating phrases in seven and five syllables and replete with
kakekotoba: "Irie ni chikaki amaobune, kogarete mono ya omouran, nani shi
kimi wo mi Kumano no, Otonashigawa no fuchise ni mo shizumihatsubeei to
omoedomo, kimi ni nagori ya oshidort no. . . . rr Text in Fujii Shiei (ed.), Otogi-
zoshi, p. 543.
67. There is a complete English translation by James T. Araki, "Bunsho Soshi:
The Tale of Bunsho, the Saltmaker." Text in Oshima, Otogi, pp. 41-75.
68. Bunsho was the name of an era (nengo) from 1466 to 1467. This may be
a clue to the time of composition of the story; Araki (p. 244) notes that at
a conference the noted book dealer Sorimachi Shigeo said that there was
a text dated 1466, but that no one Araki knew had actually examined it.
Tsuneoka is a fictitious place-name, but there have been attempts to identify
it with a salt-producing area of the coast of present-day Ibaraki Prefecture.
We are to believe that the menial Bunda has no surname, but when he
became rich he took Bunsho as his surname and Tsuneoka as his personal
name.
69. See Ichiko Teiji, "Bunsho Soshi," in Ichiko Teiji and Noma Koshin, Otogi-
zoshi, Kana-zoshi, p. 15. Well-known noblemen who find love in the country
include Genii (with the Lady of Akashi) and Yoshitsune (with Lady [oruri).
70. For a description of the chonin-mono of Saikaku, see my World Within
Walls, pp. 196-204.
71. Chieko Irie Mulhern in her interesting article "Cinderella and the Jesuits:
An Otogizosh! Cycle as Christian Literature" concluded (p. 446) that three
tales about stepmothers were "Jesuit literature authored by the Japanese
Christians in collaboration with the Italian missionaries for the purpose of
glorifying Christian daimyo and ladies, edifying the faithful, and propa-
gating the gospel of love and endurance in the face of persecution in the
early seventeenth century." It is unlikely that anyone will attempt to prove
that The Tale of Bunsho was written under the influence of European
literature, but its sources have been sought in regional histories and in the
1126 The Middle Ages
folktales remembered by very old people who live near the coast of Ibaraki,
where Bunda was supposed to have made his fortune in salt. Different
conclusions were advanced by three scholars: (I) the tale was first invented
by priests of the Kashima Shrine, where the New Year is celebrated with
offerings of salt, to transmit the wonders of salt to later generations when
their descendants made a living from salt rather than as priests of the
shrine; (2) the tale expresses the merchant ethos of medieval Japan; and
(3) the tale was first told by prostitutes who yearned to attain the worldly
success of Bunsho's daughters. (These theories are presented by Oshima
Tatehiko in "Bunda Choja no Densetsu to sono Kiban.")
72. Text in Oshima, Otogi, p. 204.
73. See Ichiko Teiji, "Otogi-zoshi to Kinsei no [ido Yomimono," p. 230. Ichiko
says that almost nothing that might be called reading matter or literature
for children existed before the Muromachi period.
74. The oral transmission of tales was the subject of many books by Yanagita
Kunio, for example Monogatari to Katarimono.
75. To give two examples: the most popular postwar play, Yuzuru (Twilight
Crane, 1949) by Kinoshita [unji was based on Tsuru no Soshi; and Mishima
Yukio's Iu/ashi-uri Koi no Hihiami (The Sardine Seller and the Dragnet of
Love, 1954) was based on The Tale of Monkey Genji.
76. The international conference on Nara Ehon (Nara Ehon Kokusai Ken-
kyukai) held in London, Dublin, and New York in 1978 and in Tokyo in
1979 did much to bring together scholars not only of Nara Ehon but of
otogi-zoshi and of the religion and art of the period. It also led to the
publication of several valuable volumes of essays, including Otogi-zoshl no
Sekai, which gives the most complete finder's list of the locations of surviving
manuscripts of otogi-zoshi and an equally complete bibliography of printed
texts and studies.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Akai Tatsuro, "Nara Ehon Kenkyu Shi," in Nara Ehon Kokusai Kenkyu
Kaigi (ed.), Otogi-zoshi no Sceai.
Araki, James T. "Bunsho Soshi: The Tale of Bunsho, the Saltmaker," Monu-
menta Nipponica 38:3, 1983.
Araki Yoshio, Chuse: Bungaku no Keisei to Hatten. Kyoto: Minerva Shobe,
1957·
Chibbett, David. The History ofJapanese Printing and Book Illustration. Tokyo:
Kodansha International, 1977.
Muromachi Fiction: Ot ag i-Zosh i II27

Childs, Margaret Hjelen]. "Chigo monogatari: Love Stories or Buddhist Ser-

mons?" Monumenta Nipponica 35:2, 1980.
- - - . Rethinking Sorrow: Revelatory Tales ofLate Medieval Japan. Ann Arbor:
Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 1991.
Fujii Shiei (Otoo) (ed.). Otogi-zoshi, in Yuhodo Bunko series. Yuhodo, 1926.
Fujikake Kazuyoshi. Muromachi-lii Monogatari no Kinscitclei Tcnleai. Osaka:
Izumi Shoin, 1987.
Gemmu Monogatari in kan 509, Zoku Gunsho Ruiju series. Zoku Gunsho Ruiju
Kansei Kai, 1924.
Goto Tanji. Chusei Kokubungaku Kcnhy«, Isobe Koyodo, 1943.
Hamanaka Osamu. "Otogi-zoshi to Chugoku Setsuwa," in Wakan Hikaku
Bungaku Kai (ed.), Chusei Bungalea to Kambungaleu, II. Kyuko Shoin, 1987.
- - - . "Otogi-zoshi 'Tsubo no Ishibumi' no Seiritsu," in Nihon Bungaku
Kenkyu Shiryo Kankokai (ed.), Otogi-zoshi. Yuseido, 1985.
Hirasawa Goro. "Aki no Yo no Nagamonogatari Ko," Shido Bunko Ronshii 3,
1964.
Ichiko Teiji. Chasei Shosetsu no KenkYa. Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1955.
- - - . Chiisei Shosetsu no Shahen. Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1981.
- - - . Otogi-zoshi, 2 vols., in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten,
1985-86.
- - - . Otogi-zoshi, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten,
1958.
- - - . "Otogi-zoshi to Kinsei no Jido Yornimono," Kokubungaku Kaishahu
to Kansho 50: I I, 1985.
Ichiko Teiji, Akiya Osarnu, Sawai Taizo, Tajima Kazuo, and Tokuda Kazuo.
Muromachi Monogatari ssa, 2 vols., in Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei
series. Iwanami Shoten, 1989.
Ichiko Teiji and Noma Koshin, Otogi-zoshi, Kana-zoshi, in Nihon Koten Kan-
sho Koza series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1963.
Kawazoe Shoji. Chusei Bungei no Chihoshi. Heibonsha, 1982.
Keene, Donald. Anthology of Japanese Literature. New York, Grove Press,
1955·
- - - . World Within Walls. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1976.
Kishi Shozo. Shintoshii, in Toyo Bunko series. Heibonsha, 1967.
Matsuhoura Monogatari in kan 311, Shinko Gunsho Ruiju series, XIV. Naigai
Shoseki Kabushiki Kaisha, 1928.
Matsumoto Ryushin, Otogi-zoshi ssa, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series.
Shinchosha, 1980.
Miyaji Takakuni. "[itsuzai [imbutsu no Monogatarika," Koltugakuin Zasshi 62,
January 1961.
Mulhern, Chieko Irie. "Cinderella and the Jesuits: an Otogiziishi Cycle as Chris-
tian Literature," Monumenta Nipponica 34:4, 1979.
Nara Ehon Kokusai Kenkyu Kaigi. Otogi-zoshi no Sekai. Sanseido, 1982.
Nihon Bungaku Kenkyu Shiryo Kankokai, Otogi-ziishi, Yuseido, 198 5.
II28 The Middle Ages
Nishizawa Masaji. Chusei Shosetsu no Seleai. Miyai Shoten, 1982.
- - - . Meihen Otogi-zoshi. Kasama Shoin, 1978.
Oshima Tatehiko. "Bunda Choja no Densetsu to sono Kiban," Kokugo to
Kokubungaku 57:5, 1980.
- - - . Otogi-zoshi Shu, in Nihon Koten Bungaku Zenshl1 series. Shogakukan,
1974·
Pigeot, Jacqueline. "Histoire de Yokobue (Yokobue no soshi)," Bulletin de la
Maison Franco-]aponaise, Nouvelle Seric, 9:2, 1972.
Pigeot, Jacqueline, and Keiko Kosugi. Le chrysantheme solitaire. Paris: Biblio-
theque Nationale, 1984.
Ruch, Barbara. "Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a National Literature,"
in John W. Hall and Toyoda Takeshi (eds.), Japan in the Muromachi Age.
Berkeley, University of California Press, 1977.
- - - . Mo Hitotsu no Chuseizo. Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 1991.
- - - . "Origins of The Companion Library: An Anthology of Medieval Jap-
anese Stories," Journal of Asian Studies 30:3, 1971.
- - - . Otogi Bunko and Short Stories of the Muromachi Period. Unpublished
dissertation, Columbia University, 1965.
Sammon Mii Kaeushitsu no Okori, in Shintei Zoho Shiseki Shuran series. Kyoto:
Rinsen Shoten, 1967.
Satake Akihiro. Shuten Doji [bun. Heibonsha, 1977.
Seiden sticker, Edward. The Tale ofGenji, 2 vols. New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1976.
Shimada Shujiro. Shinshu Nihon Emahimono Zenshii, bekkan 2. Kadokawa Sho-
ten, 1981.
Shimauchi Keiji. Otogi-zoshi no Seishin Shi. Perikan Sha, 1988
Shimazu Hisamoto. Zoku Otogi-zoshi, in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Sho-
ten, 1956.
Skord, Virginia. Tales of Tears and Laughter: Short Fiction of Medieval Japan.
Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1991.
Takagi Ichinosuke, Ozawa Masao, et al. Heike Monogatari, 2 vols., in Nihon
Koten Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1960.
Tokuda Kazuo. "'Otogi Bunko' Kanko Zengo," Kokubungaku Kaishaeu to
Kansho 50:II, 1985.
- - - . "Otogi-zoshi Nijushi Ko Tanio Zenya," in Wakan Hikaku Bungaku
Kai (ed.), Chusei Bungaku to Kambungahu, II. Kyiiko Shein, 1987.
Toribeyama Monogatari, in kan 311, Shinko Gunsho Ruiju series, XIV. Naigai
Shoseki Kabushiki Kaisha, 1928.
Yanagita Kunio. Monogatari to Katarimono. Kadoka wa Shoten, 1975.
 29.
THE LA TE
SIXTEENTH CENTURY

hte last forty years of the sixteenth century are generally known as
the Azuchi-Momoyama period.' Azuchi was the site of the castle built
in 1576 near the shores of Lake Biwa by Oda Nobunaga (1534-1582);
and Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1537-1598), Nobunaga's successor as the de
facto ruler of the country, built his castle at Momoyama, south of Kyoto.
These two events, symbolic of major steps in the unification of Japan
after a century of warfare and division, were of the greatest military
and political significance, but the literature of the period was notable
less for achievements than for ends and beginnings. Some genres of the
medieval period, such as renga and No, enjoyed a final flowering before
disappearing as media for serious composition, while others, like [oruri
and Kabuki, the chief dramatic arts of the Tokugawa period, trace their
crude beginnings to this time. Rapid and sometimes cataclysmic changes
of fortune were characteristic of the period, and writers who depended
on the patronage of the military had to accommodate themselves again
and again to the tastes of new masters. It is small wonder that the
literature showed little sustained development, but it has exceptional
variety.

WAKA POETRY

For most Japanese of the late sixteenth century (as had been true for
many centuries) poetry was the chief literary art. Poetry had almost
always meant the waka, but in this period the waka was moribund. Its
fusty traditions were preserved by the aristocrats in Kyoto and also by
generals (and other military men) who were eager to demonstrate by a
mastery of the form that they were not barbarians. By this time, however,
the various schools that had long dominated waka composition were
IlJO The Middle Ages

dead. The last important family of poets, the Asukai, had served the
Ashikaga shoguns since the time of Yoshinori, but their minor contri-
butions to the development of the waka had ended. No court-sponsored
anthology had been compiled for over a century. Waka gatherings were
still regularly held at the palace and the poets composed poems on the
usual assigned topics, but the conventions were exhausted. There were
two possible ways of recovering the dignity and vitality of the waka-
either (in the manner of the eighteenth-century poets) by renewing it
at its sources in the Man'yoshii, or else (in the manner of the twentieth-
century poets) giving it new life by using the old form to communicate
contemporary thought in contemporary language. But none of the poets
of the late sixteenth century made more than feeble efforts in either
direction.
The diary of the poet and antiquarian Yamashina Tokitsugu (1507-
1579),2 an important source of information on the artistic life of the
time, frequently mentions the composition of waka at the court. He
described, for example, a poetry gathering in the Imperial Palace in the
second month of 156o, followed two days later by a similar one at the
Minase Palace. On the latter occasion the prescribed topics were "re-
turning wild geese," "waiting love," and "travel through the fields."
His own poem on the first topic was:

Koshiji ni rno Even in Koshiji

Yoshino no hana ya The blossoms of Yoshino
ntouran Will surely smell sweet:
rniyako no haru ni See the wild geese returning
kacr« karigane 3 To spring in the capital.

Tokitsugu relied on a thoroughly established cliche of Japanese po-

etry: wild geese, flying north in the spring, were traditionally believed
to bear messages with them. In this case, the geese, which have already
been seen in the capital on their way north, will bear the scent of the
Yoshino cherry blossoms all the way to Koshiji. The place-name Koshiji
was probably chosen because of its assocation with kosu, the verb "to
cross over"; the geese were believed to cross that part of the Japan Sea
coast on their way north. The fact that cherry blossoms have no fragrance
is irrelevant. Tokitsugu demonstrated with this waka that even when
he had nothing to say, he could say it gracefully.
Fuller quotation of the poems composed on this occasion would only
confirm the impression that nobody had anything to say at the monthly
poetry meetings. Perhaps it might be fairer to the poets to suggest instead
The Late Sixteenth Century IIjI

that, living in turbulent times and ever fearful that some new catastrophe
might destroy their way of life, they found comfort and refuge in the
abiding strength of cliches. Even if some poet of the time had mirac-
ulously thought of a way of giving new life to such topics as "song
thrushes announce the spring" or "cranes dwell in the pine trees" or
"spring colors float in the water," he would probably not have been so
contemptuous of tradition as to compose a poem without a single cliche.
Araki Yoshio (1890- I 969), the chief authority on the literature of
this period, believed that the two most typical varieties of waka of the
sixteenth century were the satirical kyoka (literally, "wild poems") and
the jisei, valedictory poems to the world, especially those composed by
men before committing suicide. Like other poems that depend on puns
and other kinds of word-play for effect, a kyoka is difficult to translate,
but one example may suggest its sardonic nature and the kind of knowl-
edge that is necessary in order to appreciate fully the humor. This is an
anonymous poem composed in Kyoto mocking (and deploring) the deer
hunts staged by Toyotomi Hidetsugi, the sanguinary nephew of Hide-
yoshi, on Mount Hiei. Although hunting was prohibited on the sacred
mountain, the sound of rifle fire could be heard in the city night after
night. Hidetsugi's offense was particularly grievous because less than a
year had elapsed since the death of the Retired Cloistered Emperor
Ogimachi in 1593; out of deference to the deceased sovereign, he should
have refrained from taking life. Hidetsugi had been appointed kampaku
in 1591. This position was familiarly known as sessho kampaku because,
when the emperor was a minor, the person who performed the duties
of kampaku was known as sesshii, or regent; more to the point here is
the fact that a homonym of sessho means "to take life."

in no gosho Since his is a hunt

tamuhc no tame no In memory of the late
kari nareba Cloistered emperor,
kore wo sessho They call him the murderous
kampaku to iu' Regent and chancellor.

The tedious explication deprives this poem of whatever humor it

may possess, suggesting how much more perishable humor is than trag-
edy. The tragic poems composed during the sixteenth century by men
on the battlefield or on the point of death are not necessarily superior
in terms of literary skill than the kyoka, but sometimes they move us.
In 1580, for example, when Hideyoshi, by command of Oda Nobunaga,
was besieging the castle of Miki in the province of Harima, Bessho
II3 2 The Middle Ages

Nagaharu, the lord of the castle, decided to surrender on condition that

the lives of his men be spared. Nagaharu, then twenty-six, committed
suicide, and his wife followed him in death. Each composed a jisei.
Nagaharu's was:

ima wa tada Now nothing is left

uramt mo arazu Even of hostility
morobito no When I consider
inochi ni kawaru That I sacrifice my life
wagami to omoeba To save those of many men.

His wife's poem was:

morotomo ni How happy I am

kiehatsuru koso We shall vanish together
urcshikere At the same moment
olsur« sakidatsu In this world where usually
narat naru yo wo One dies before the other. I

Sometimes the jisei reveal more pathos than heroism. Ikeda Izumi,
realizing that his situation in Itami Castle was hopeless, wrote:

tsuyu no mi no Even if my body

kiete mo kokoro Disappears like the dew
nokoriyuku My heart will linger,
nani to ka naran Wondering what can be done
midorigo no sue To look after my children.

Soon after composing this poem, Izumi loaded his gun and blew his
brains out."
We know the contexts of many poems of this era from the prose
descriptions in which they are set. Even when the poems were inspired
by disasters un imagined by the poets of the Kohinshii, the imagery was
likely to be conventional; but a poem of slight intrinsic interest might
be made memorable by the circumstances of composition. The following
waka, by Otomo Yoshiaki (1502-155°), was composed after he had killed
in battle Tachibana Nagatoshi, the lord of Tachibana Castle in the
province of Chikuzen. When Yoshiaki formally inspected Nagatoshi's
head, the open eyes seemed to glare at him. Yoshiaki composed a poem
that induced the head to close its eyes:
The Late Sixteenth Century II33

Tachibana uia Tachibana has

mulrashi otobo to Now been transformed into
narinihcri A man of long ago.
uileaburi suru He must feel as if he had
kokochi koso sure' First put on an adult's hat.

The words muleashi otolto ("man of long ago") immediately evoke mem-
ories of Ariwara no Narihira and Tales of Ise, as does uikaburi, the hat
worn by a boy at his induction into manhood, mentioned in the first
sentence of Tales of Ise. Perhaps Tachibana, the name of a distinguished
aristocratic family, was used with ironic overtones, contrasting the
courtly world of Narihira with the bloodthirsty reality of sixteenth-
century Japan. The poem, even when analyzed into its component parts,
is hardly more than a flash of grisly wit, but the head inspection (kubi
jikken), familiar from Kabuki plays, and the glaring eyes of the severed
head make the poem far more memorable than many technically superior
waka of the Nijo or Reizei schools.
During this age of strife, poems often served religious or pedagogical
purposes in the form of easily memorized homilies. The di5ka, as they
were called, usually took the form of the waka. Most of these doka have
slight literary interest, but occasionally one stands out because of its
striking images:

mi hitotsu ni On my single body

hashi uio narabete Carrion birds are arrayed,
motsu tori ya Beak alongside beak:
ware u/o tsutsukite I am sure they will succeed
koroshihatsuran' In peck-pecking me to death."

The poem, though metrically in the form of a waka, has nothing of the
traditional elegance of expression. It is an allegory, representing Japan
as a body that is being pecked to death by predatory birds-the con-
testing armies. Allegory is by no means unknown in Japanese poetry,'?
but it is rare to find a poem that can be interpreted only as allegory.
Most of the examples of sixteenth-century waka given above lay so
far outside the mainstream that they were probably unknown to the
major poets of the time. The recognized poets, being more conventional,
are considerably less interesting to a modern reader. The chief waka
poet at the court during the early part of the sixteenth century was
Sanjonishi Sanetaka (1455-1537). Although not of the highest nobility,
he served three emperors, and rose to be minister of the center (nai-
1134 The Middle Ages

daijin). In a time of war, when the nobles in the capital lived in relative
poverty and it was often impossible for the emperor to hold court
ceremonies because of insufficient funds, the study of the Heian classics
became a refuge from the present. Sanetaka attended lectures given by
Sogi on The Tale of Genji, Tales of Ise, and other texts, and took part
in what might be called a joint research project on The Tale of Genji
together with Sogi, Shohaku, Socho, Kensai, and other renga poets."
The knowledge Sanetaka acquired of the classics not only enhanced
his position at the court, but benefited him financially: military men
were willing to pay handsomely for copies of famous literary works in
the hand of a nobleman. Sanetaka in turn depended on his mentor,
Sogi, for introductions to such men and for other direct and indirect
financial support. Aristocrats have often been the patrons of artists, but
this is an instance of an artist who was a nobleman's patron. Sanetaka
was especially indebted to Sogi for induction into the mysteries of the
KokinshiiY After Sogi's death, he became the guardian of its traditions,
another source of prestige and income.
Sanetaka's erudition extended to Chinese literary and philosophical
texts, especially those of the greatest interest to the Japanese, such as
The Collected Works of Po Chil-i, Meng Ch'i«, and Wen Hsuan," He often
participated in sessions at which lines of Chinese and Japanese poems
were alternately linked," and his extensive diary, begun in 1474 when
he was nineteen, was kept in Chinese. Sanetaka's diary," though not of
literary distinction, is a major source of information on the life led by
the aristocrats of his day and is the only work for which he is still
remembered. If> His waka, essentially of the Nijo school, rarely rise above
the level of cliches. His renga compositions were of higher quality, and
his commentary on The Tale ofGenji is of some interest; but these works
do not account for the respect he enjoys as the outstanding intellectual
of his day." His reputation owes much to the contrast he and his schol-
arship made with the chaotic conditions prevalent in the country. Re-
peated incidents of burglary and arson were common in the capital,
even in the Imperial Palace, as we know from Sanetaka's diary. It was
definitely not an atmosphere conducive to study, and most of the mem-
bers of the aristocracy turned to drink, gambling, and theatricals (chiefly
No) in the attempt to keep their minds from dwelling on the grim
conditions in the world around them." Others sought comfort in religion,
and various religious crazes swept through the country."
Sanetaka managed to keep at his books despite the extremely un-
favorable conditions. Indeed, his diary shows an almost ostentatious
indifference to the warfare plaguing the country, but he devoted the
The Late Sixteenth Century 1135

greatest possible attention to poetry gatherings in the palace and similar

matters. He was best known to his contemporaries as a calligrapher, as
we know from the frequent commissions he received to copy both
Buddhist and secular texts. His income from such commissions gradually
increased until it exceeded his income from all other sources, including
his country estates." This was no small achievement for a member of
the court at a time when the emperor and his family depended on the
goodwill of the shogun and other military leaders even for subsistence.
The Emperor Gokashiwabara, who ascended the throne in 1500, had
to wait twenty-one years for his coronation because there was never
enough money to hold the ceremonies.
In 1509 sections of The Tale of Genji from the brush of Gokashi-
wabara were sent as presents to ladies of the Imagawa family in Suruga
and the Asakura family in Echizen in the hope (fulfilled) of receiving
monetary offerings. Sometimes the emperor resorted to more desperate
expedients for raising funds: samples of his calligraphy were hung out-
side his screen-of-state in the Imperial Palace to advertise that they were
available for purchase." Sanetaka seems to have done better than the
emperor, but even Sanetaka, for all his connections with the provincial
military, was obliged by financial necessity to sell his most precious
possession, a complete set of The Tale of Genji:" Yet neither despair
over the world nor personal hardship ever caused him to abandon his
studies of the old literature. It has been suggested that with Sanetaka
the medieval literary traditions came to an end." The nobility would
never again occupy the position of being the focal point of literary
activity, and even the traditions of medieval poetry, notably renga, all
but terminated with the deaths of Shohaku and Socha. When Sanetaka
died at the age of eighty-two he must have felt that the world was
rapidly approaching its final days, as the prophets had insistently but
mistakenly proclaimed some centuries before.
The most distinguished waka poet of the last years of the sixteenth
century, Hosokawa Yusai (1534-1610), was consecrated to the preser-
vation of the traditions of Japanese poetry, and worshiped the memory
of Fujiwara Teika. His poems themselves, in the style of the Nijo school,"
are unmemorable, but it is noteworthy that a daimyo, who often saw
service in battle and helped to restore the fortunes of the Hosokawa
family after the disastrous Onin War, was so prominent a poet.
Yusai, the fourth son of the shogun Ashikaga Yoshiharu," had been
adopted into the Hosokawa family. As a youth he showed unusual
interest in poetry, at first in renga, later mainly in waka. He studied
waka composition with Sanjonishi Saneki (1511-1579), the grandson of
 The Middle Ages

Sanetaka, and in 1575 was inducted by Saneki into the Kokin Denju,
the secret traditions of the Kokinshii. It was highly unusual for these
traditions to be transmitted to someone who was not of the nobility,
but Saneki, sixty-four at the time, apparently feared that he might die
before his young son could comprehend the mysteries, and thought that
Yusai, though not a noble, was the best vehicle for teachings that oth-
erwise might perish. The most jealously guarded privilege of the nobility
passed in this way to the samurai class.
In 1600, before Yusai inducted Prince Tomohito (the younger brother
of the Emperor Goyozei) into the mysteries, he first asked the author-
ization of Tokugawa Ieyasu. Later in the same year, when Yusai was
besieged at Tanabe Castle in his fiefdom of Tango, Goyozei, fearing
that the secrets of the Kokinshi; might die with Yusai, sent off high
officials to the castle with instructions that they receive the Koein Denju.
When this imperial command was transmitted to the armies inside and
outside the castle, the fighting at once abated." After the ceremony of
transmission had been completed, the officials sent word to the attacking
general that Yusai must nGW be considered to be the emperor's teacher,
since he had transmitted the Kokin Denju to surrogates of the emperor.
The attacking general was commanded to lift the siege at once; if he
did not, he would be considered an enemy of the court. Faced with this
threat, the general lifted the siege. Both friends and enemies of Yusai
evidently believed that the Kokin Denju was more important than mil-
itary victory.
In 1582, after Oda Nobunaga, whom Yusai had served, was assas-
sinated by Akechi Mitsuhide, Yusai entered Buddhist orders; but this
did not prevent him from becoming a member of the literary circle
surrounding Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and he frequently took part in renga
sessions. On one occasion, when Yusai was composing renga with
Hideyoshi and Satomura [oha (1524-1602), Hideyoshi supplied the
hokku:

okuyama ni Deep in the mountains,

momiji [umuoaliete As I tramp through maple leaves,
naleu hotaru A firefly sings.

Yusai at once added a second verse, but somebody In the gathering

murmured that fireflies do not sing. [oha agreed with this criticism,
much to Hideyoshi's annoyance, but Yusai insisted there was textual
authority for saying that fireflies sang, and he quoted an ancient
poem:
The Late Sixteenth Century II37

Musashino no In Musashi Plain

shino wo tabanete Where the falling rain comes down
furu ame ni Like spears of bamboo grass,
hotaru yori holta Apart from the fireflies
naku mushi mo nashi Not an insect is singing.

Hideyoshi's good humor was restored, and he praised Yusai's deep

understanding of renga. Later, when [oha went to visit him, Yusai
expressed surprise that a master of renga had been so lacking in human
feelings, and admitted that he had made up the "ancient poem" on the
spot in order to relieve the tension !27
Yusai's waka, especially those composed during the latter part of his
life, are collected in Shumyo Shu (Collection of the Wonders of Nature)."
Many of the poems have titles or headnotes explaining the circumstances
under which they were composed, and when these introductions consist
of more than a few words they are generally more interesting than the
poems themselves. Yusai's poems are most often merely stale variations
on the traditional themes of Nijo poetry, but he also displayed, far too
often, irritating farcicality in the puns and other word-plays with which
he decorated his works. Here is an example of Yiisai at his most
characteristic:
"In 1597, hearing that Shozan was unwell, I left for Ozaka by boat
on the night of the fifteenth of the eighth month. At the inlet of Mishima
I stopped the boat and gazed at the moon visible through the reeds.

tare ka mata Who in the future

koyoi no tsuki wo Seeing the moon of tonight
Mishima -e no In Mishima bay"
ashi no shinobi ni Will give himself to longing
mono omouran'" In the shadow of these reeds?"

The poem begins with what seems to be a parody of Shunzei's

famous lines:

tare ka mata Who in the future

hanatachibana ni Will recall me in the scent
omoiden Of orange blossoms
ware mo mukash: no When I, too, shall have become
hito to narinaba" A person of long ago?

Yusai could not resist the opportunity to include a kakekotoba on the

mi of the place-name Mishima, meaning "see" with what precedes. Ashi
 The Middle Ages

no shinobi suggests shinobi-ashi, meaning "on tiptoes," though ashi is

written with the character meaning "reed." Shinobi, "hiding" or "secret,"
also meant "longing," and it suggests shinobu, the name of a kind of
fern. Probably Yusai did not intend all these possible word-plays, but
after reading a dozen or more of his waka one hesitates to rule out any
possibility of a pun.
Yusai was not an important poet, but he was revered, even by
members of the court, as the possessor of the secrets of the Kokinshu,
and he associated not only with the remnants of the poetic schools of
the past but with the younger poets (like Matsunaga Teitoku) who would
create the new poetry, especially haikai. He also held the key to the
revival of the waka in the next century: he owned a manuscript of the
Man'yoshii, and interested his disciples in studying the text, which had
long since become obscure. The rediscovery of the Man'yoshu would
give a moment of new life to a variety of poetry that had seemed
thoroughly exhausted.

RENGA POETRY

Renga was the chief poetic art of sixteenth-century Japan, and its prac-
titioners did not doubt that its glory would be long lasting. In 1568,
when Oda Nobunaga entered Kyoto with Ashikaga Yoshiaki, his choice
as shogun, reports spread through the city that Nobunaga was a monster
"more terrifying than any demon," and people trembled at the horrid
fate that awaited them." The renga master Satomura [oha, always eager
to be on the winning side, hurried to the Tofuku-ji, the temple that
served as Nobunaga's headquarters, and offered him a pair of fans,
reciting these verses:

nihon te ni iru Oh, the joy I feel this day

kYo no yorokobi You take in your hands these two fans.

The point of these lines is the pun on nihon, meaning "two fans," but
also "Japan." [oha was seeking to please Nobunaga by expressing his
joy that Japan had a new master. Nobunaga, not known as a literary
man, responded instantly:

maiasobu These fans are meant

chiyo yorozuyo no F or joyous dances of a thousand,
ogi ni te Nay, ten thousand ages.
The Late Sixteenth Century II39

Word of his unexpected skill in renga composition quickly spread. Oze

Hoan's Shincho Ki (Life ofNobunaga) follows its account of the exchange
of renga with this passage:

Throughout the capital, old and young were speechless with aston-
ishment when they learned this. People had supposed that because
this man was a fierce warrior he would be just as violent as Kiso
no Yoshinaka when he burst into the capital in II83; but Nobunaga
seemed to be gentle and refined. They were comforted to think that
things were likely to go easily, and everyone breathed a sigh of
relief. B

The passage, taken from a biography of Nobunaga published in

1622, is not a contemporary source, and as a whole cannot be accepted
as a work of history, but the political and social functions of renga at
the time could hardly have been better conveyed.
Nobunaga's partner in this exchange of linked verse, Satomura [oha,
was not only the finest renga poet of the age but probably its most
distinguished literary figure, regardless of genre. His poetry is no longer
read except by specialists, it is true, but it is of a literary quality un-
matched by the work of any contemporary waka poet, essayist, or play-
wright. The man himself would attract the attention of authors of later
times who found in him the emblematic figure of the artist who managed
to rise in the world by ingratiating himself with one or more tyrants."
[oha was born in Nara, the son of a temple servant at the Ichijo-in.
This was a humble occupation, but probably not without influence
within the temple, perhaps the most richly endowed abbacy of the great
Kofuku-ji Monastery. [oha received a good education despite his lowly
background. He began at an early age to study renga with a wealthy
townsman, a silk dealer who was also an amateur renga poet." After
the death of his father when [oha was twelve, he became an acolyte
(kasshiki) at the temple, where he was taught not only the Buddhist
scriptures but classical literature. He maintained his interest in renga
and met renga masters who visited the Kofuku-ji. That was probably
how he happened to meet Shukei (1470-1544), a leading renga poet of
the day, in 1542. [oha that year was formally ordained as a priest, but
he seems not to have been satisfied with his prospects. Even within the
Buddhist temples, despite the possibilities they offered for talented men
of humble birth to rise to high position, family background was not
ignored. [oha probably judged that he would not achieve eminence as
 The Middle Ages
a priest, and decided to become a renga master instead. When Shukei
returned to Kyoto, he took [oha with him.
[oha was fortunate to have been accepted as a pupil by Shukei, and
learned from him not only the rules of linked verse, but the formalities
of conducting a renga session. The earliest mention of [oha in accounts
of renga states that he was the scribe of a session held in 1545, the year
after Shukei's death. [oha chose as his next teacher Satomura Shokyu
(1510-1552). The leading figure in the world of renga after Shukei's
death was Tani Soboku (d. 1545), but [oha for some reason chose to
study under Shokyu instead. This proved to be another stroke of good
fortune, for Soboku died the year after Shukei, leaving Shokyu as the
leading renga poet; [oha remained his pupil for seven or eight years.
The process of becoming a professional renga poet took years, but [oha
was sustained by his ambition. He told his disciple Matsunaga Teitoku
what had prompted him to become a renga master:

A man who fails to make a name for himself by the time he is thirty
will never succeed in this life. I examined my prospects carefully,
and it seemed to me that becoming a renga master would be an easy
way to get ahead. After all, at renga gatherings even artisans and
merchants sit side-by-side with members of the nobility."

Nothing suggests that [oha, even as a youth, felt deep emotions that
demanded to be expressed in poetry. It seems likely that if he could
have thought of some other easier and surer way to get ahead in the
world than by becoming a renga master, he would have chosen it without
hesitation. He was a thoroughly professional poet with a quick intelli-
gence that permitted him to follow another man's link smoothly, and
his knowledge of the rules of renga was flawless; but one looks in vain
in his writings on the art of renga for anything resembling the breath-
taking insights into the nature of poetic expression in the renga criticism
of Shinkei. [oha, for all his fame and skill, is usually praised for his lack
of faults, rather than for the beauty of his expression.
At first, advancement was so slow that [oha even considered aban-
doning renga, but gradually he began to build up a reputation. He had
a rival in Tani Soyo (1526-1563), the son of Soboku, Soyo not only
enjoyed the advantage of having been born into a celebrated family of
renga poets, but he possessed greater talent. At a renga session in one
hundred links, the first time [oha composed poetry with poets in the
capital, he contributed only six links to eleven by Soyo, an indication
of their relative standing.
The Late Sixteenth Century

In 1552 Shokyu died at the age of forty-two. [oha was now almost
at the top of the ladder of renga poets; only Soya still ranked higher.
[oha became the head of the Satomura school of renga and in this
capacity participated in poetry gatherings of the nobility; his dream of
sitting beside men of high birth had come true. He made his living by
teaching renga composition, chiefly to members of the samurai class,
and also pursued his studies of the waka, no doubt in emulation of the
court poets. Jaha became intimate with members of the Konoe and
Sanjonishi families, both of impeccable descent, and was especially close
to Sanjonishi Kiri'eda (1487-1563), the second son of Sanetaka, but the
latter refused to give [oha instruction in the secret traditions of the Ko-
kinshu on the grounds that his interest in the traditions was commercial."
Despite this rebuff, [oha became a frequent visitor to the Sanjonishi
mansion. In the spring of 1553, when Sanjonishi Kin'eda journeyed to
Yoshino to admire the cherry blossoms, he took [oha along. At the outset
of his diary Yoshino-mode no Ki (Record of a Pilgrimage to Yoshino),
Kiri'eda described his companion in these terms: "[oha is deeply com-
mitted to the art of renga. Lately, he has been living in the capital,
where he has been a constant visitor, day and night. He is well acquainted
with byways in the province of Yamato, and has urged me to see the
blossoms at Yoshino.l'"
The most interesting feature of this diary, which is given over mainly
to descriptions of temples, places mentioned in poetry, and the cherry
blossoms at various sites, is the unspoken fact that the son of a temple
servant was associating familiarly with a great noble. [oha was certainly
astute in his choice of profession: only the mastery of an artistic skill
could have enabled him to climb so high.
Toward the end of 1563 Kin'eda died at the age of seventy-six. The
grief-stricken [oha composed a solo thousand-link sequence in honor of
his late mentor and friend. It began:

toshigoto no How bitter I feel

hana naranu yo no At a world where this flower
uramt kana Will not bloom each year.

furinishi ato mo Even amid the ruins

niwa no harukusa Spring grasses in the garden.

yama no ha no I can see the dew-

usuyuki nohoru The remains of the thin snow
tsuyu miete" On the mountain edge.
 The Middle Ages
In the same year, 1563, Tani Soyo died at thirty-seven. [oha had
never quite displaced Soyo as the leading renga poet, but death, once
again, removed a rival. The lucky [oha was now the single figure at
the apex of the hierarchy of renga poets.
In 1565 the shogun, Ashikaga Yoshiteru, was murdered by two
warlords, one of whom (Matsunaga Hisahide) had been [oha's patron.
The scarcity of literary compositions by [oha at this time suggests he
might have been busy with behind-the-scenes activities. His special in-
fluence with the military and court officials had resulted in his being
approached by dignitaries from the provinces who wished to be invited
to poetry gatherings in the capital, and no doubt these visitors paid [oha
well. For that matter, [oha apparently felt no hesitation about serving
as a kind of pander to nobles who wished to sell the aura of their names
to rich bumpkins attracted by the old culture.
In 1566 the younger brother of the assassinated shogun Yoshiteru,
Ashikaga Yoshiaki, returned to the laity from the Buddhist priesthood
and attempted to restore the dignity of the shogunate, but the warfare
continued. [oha, unaffected by the vicissitudes of society, led a life of
refined pleasures more luxurious than the emperor's, and proudly invited
noblemen to his spacious residence." A party he gave in the fourth
month of 1566 was attended by literary men of the highest ranks. On
this occasion [oha displayed to the guests his collection of rare manu-
scripts and entertained them with music and an elaborate feast.
[oha's income was derived chiefly from the fees he charged to correct
renga composed by amateurs who sought his guidance. He delivered
private lectures on classical texts, and this, too, brought in money. Un-
doubtedly his highest fees were for his manuals of the secrets of renga
composition, written to special order. Far from taking refuge from the
turmoil of the world in a mountain retreat, [oha lived in the city,
surrounded by admirers. He married twice, even though he had entered
Buddhist orders.
The year 1567 was marked by desperate fighting. The countryside
was torn by warfare and there was no central authority in the capital.
This was the year [oha chose to fulfill his cherished dream of visiting
Mount Fuji. Though he came within sight of the fighting, he himself
was unscathed, and his diary rarely indicates even that he was traveling
through dangerous country. He mentions at one point, however, that
he was forced to turn back because Oda Nobunaga's army was attacking
the nearby castle of Nagashima, held by the fanatical Ikko sect. Even
while desperate fighting was in progress at Nagashima, [oha and his
The Late Sixteenth Century

hosts enjoyed their feasting and poetry-making. But he wrote in his

diary, "Some time after midnight I happened to look to the west, and
I saw that Nagashima Castle had fallen, and many fires set. The light
was bright as day, so I got up out of bed." He composed this waka:

tabi makura A traveler's pillow-

yumeji tanomu ni I had set forth on a path of dreams,
aki no yo no But now I shall spend
tsuki ni ahasan This night of autumn moonlight
matsultaze no sato" In a village of pine winds.

It would be hard to guess the circumstances that had inspired this

innocuous waka. [oha closely associated with the men who burned cities,
but he was indifferent to everything except his personal advancement.
In 1568 Nobunaga entered Kyoto. This was the occasion on which he
and [oha exchanged links of renga, the beginning of their friendly
relations. [oha also began to cultivate the company of other military
leaders, including Hosokawa Yusai, the literary daimyo, and Akechi
Mitsuhide, Nobunaga's lieutenant, who was a devoted amateur of renga.
Mitsuhide, unlike Nobunaga, had wide cultural interests, and was es-
pecially fond of the tea ceremony, but he was something of a brute
himself. In 1582 he assassinated Nobunaga at the Honno-ji, a temple
in Kyoto. A few days earlier he had joined with [oha and other poets
in composing a hundred-link renga sequence.
After the assassination [oha was interrogated by Toyotomi Hideyoshi
about his role. He admitted that he had suspected Mitsuhide might be
planning such an attack, but insisted that it would have been improper
to disclose a mere intuition. He not only persuaded Hideyoshi of his
lack of complicity in the attempted coup, but became Hideyoshi's renga
master, and eventually his adviser on all cultural matters. As early as
1578 Hideyoshi had joined [oha in composing a thousand-link sequence
to pray for victory over the Mori family. [oha, nothing if not impartial
in his choice of renga partners, a few months later composed renga with
a Mori retainer, and in 1580 presented Mori Motoyasu with a manual
of renga composition." He began his most important work of renga
theory, Renga Shihosho (Book of the Supreme Treasure of Renga), at
the request of Akechi Mitsuhide, but presented it on completion to
Mitsuhide's archenemy, Hideyoshi, along with a fulsome preface ac-
claiming the new master of [apan."
[oha enjoyed friendly relations also with Hideyoshi's nephew,
 The Middle Ages
Hidetsugi, a man who (in George Sansom's words) "lived a vicious life,
performed no useful function, and was so brutal that he was known as
"Sessho Kampaku, the Murdering Regent.":" But this friendship proved
to be a costly mistake: in 1595, Hidetsugi fell from Hideyoshi's favor
and was ordered to commit suicide. Hideyoshi's wrath extended to
Hidetsugi's wife, two small children, and thirty-five concubines, all of
whom were put to death.
[oha was one of only three men associated with Hidetsugi who were
not obliged to commit seppuku. Instead, he was confined at the Mii-
dera. His stipend was terminated, and his house and property were
confiscated. [oha was pardoned in the autumn of 1597 and returned to
the capital; soon he was actively taking part in renga gatherings and
regained his old supremacy. In the spring of 1598 he accompanied
Hideyoshi on an excursion to Daigo to see the cherry blossoms. He had
been forgiven.
[oha, despite his worldliness and the lack of depth in much of his
poetry, thought of renga not merely as an easy way to make a living
but also as a noble calling. His eager cultivation of the military leaders
of the day is not endearing, but was perhaps inevitable. A waka poet
could live in solitude; but renga by its very nature required the poet to
join with others in creating a sequence. It is unfortunate that [oha tended
to choose his companions for their rank rather than their poetic talent;
for this reason he is remembered (if at all) for his political involvement,
rather than for his renga. All the same, he was the last of the important
poets of serious renga.

POPULAR SONGS

The oldest examples of Japanese songs are contained in the Kojiki and
other early texts. Some were included in Kinltaf« (Songs to Koto Ac-
companiment), probably compiled early in the ninth century." Various
other types of song, such as kagura-uta, saibara, and azuma-uta, were
sung and often danced as part of religious observations in ancient Japan,
as we know from mentions in the official Six Histories. The texts of
the songs are seldom of literary interest: repetition of phrases, dictated
probably by the music or by the movements of a dance, the intrusion
of irrelevant details, and the seeming lack of unity of conception make
it difficult to enjoy them as poetry.
In contrast to such songs were those of secular content, many of
which could be appreciated in written form. The word uta, the common
The Late Sixteenth Century

word for "song," also denoted the waka, perhaps because it was possible
to sing any waka to a fixed melody, as we know today from the annual
poetry competitions held in the presence of the emperor at which the
prizewinning waka are sung. Possibly the poets of the Man'yoshi; sang
their compositions, but the Heian poet who sent a note to his beloved
that included a waka probably did not expect her to sing it. The poem
was still called an uta, but it had an independent existence in writing.
Orally performed folk songs continued to be heard long after the waka
had come to be transmitted in writing. Ryojin Hisho ; the anthology of
folk and popular poetry compiled in the twelfth century, is the finest
such collection. The next major period of collecting popular and folk
songs was the sixteenth century.
The Kanginshii (Collection for Quiet Singing)" was com piled in 15I 8.
The work (in the tradition of the Kokinshii) has two prefaces, the first
in Chinese and the second in Japanese, but the preface writers provided
few clues to their identity. The Japanese preface opens: "I am one who
has abandoned the world. I have spent more than ten years watching
the snows of successive winters accumulate at my window, here in a
hut I built for its distant view of Fuji."? The self-identification of the
compiler as a priest who lived within sight of Mount Fuji led some to
attribute the work to the renga poet Socha, whose hut was in Suruga;
but problems reconciling the date of compilation with the facts of Socha's
life have forced more recent scholars to conclude that the compiler is
unknown. The Chinese preface is equally uninformative.
The collection consists of 31 I poems, the same number as in the
Chinese Shih Ching (as the compiler pointed out in the Japanese preface).
The poems are labeled according to the category of song to which each
belongs: 23I are ko-uta (short songs), 48 Yamato-bushi (Yamato tunes),
IO dengahu-bushi, 8 soka,4~ and the remaining 14 belong to four other

categories. These figures indicate that the compiler's intent was primarily
to make a collection of ko-uta and Yamato-bushi, rather than a com-
prehensive anthology of the different varieties of song performed in
his day.
Unlike the waka, the ko-uta have no single, fixed form, doubtless
because they were originally sung to melodies of different lengths and
rhythms. The most common example is in four lines of 7, 5, 7, and 5
syllables, resembling the imayo of the Heian period. Others are in the
form of a waka less the first line-7, 5, 7, and 7 syllables. Still others
are in 7, 7, 7, and 5 syllables or 7, 7, 7, and 7 syllables, or contain irregular
lines of 3 or 4 syllables. The Yamato-bushi, passages from No plays, are
considerably longer than the ko-uta and for the most part of a totally
 The Middle Ages

different, somewhat tragic nature.", The main interest of the Kanginshii

is in the ko-uta which, even if not of uniformly high quality as poetry,
are pleasingly unconventional, and reflect ordinary life much better than
waka of the period. The care given to arranging the poems under various
topics such as "young shoots," "summer nights," "love by the waterside,"
or "autumn at the Shrine in the Fields" has suggested to critics that the
compiler was probably a renga poet, a thesis borne out by the skill with
which one poem leads to another. The following sequence of ko-uta is
about pillows:

toga mo nai shahuhachi wo I slammed my shakuhachi,

malrura ni katan' to nageatete mo Though it was not to blame,
against my pillow.
sabishi ya hitorinc'" How lonely it is to sleep alone!

hitoyo koneba tote He hasn't come one night

toga mo naki maltura wo But the pillow is not to blame
tate na nage ni So don't throw it up in the air
yoko na nage ni And don't throw it sideways
nayo na mahura yo You poor pillow,
nayo makuta" Poor pillow!

hike yo tamakura Take that arm of yours away!

kimakura ni mo otoru tamahura Your arm's a worse pillow than a
block of wood
T'ahao no wajo no You priest from Takao,
Takao no wajo no, tamakura" You priest from Takao, on
whose arm I sleep.

kuru kuru kuru to wa, mahura He's come and come again, the
koso shire pillow knows it.
no makura How about it, pillow?
mono io ni wa If you tell anybody else,
shoshi no makura" That'll be the end of me, pillow.

The love songs are deservedly the most popular. Unlike the love
poetry of the imperial collections, tinged with the grief of the love that
has not been realized or the melancholy of love that has faded, the ko-
uta on love in the Kanginshii not only convey the transience of love but
also its joy:
The Late Sixteenth Century

amari mitasa ni I wanted so badly to see you

soto kakurete hashite kita I crept out and ran all the way
mazu hanasai no But first let me go-
hanashite mono wo iwasai no Let me go, I've something to tell
you-
sozoro uoshia« I'm so crazy about you
nan to sho zo no 54 I simply don't know what to do.

Translation of these poems is only approximate because of the am-

biguity of the original texts, which were meant to be sung rather than
parsed." The many onomatopoetic refrains are particularly hard to con-
vey. Yet even in translation, and certainly in the original, the freshness
of the language can hardly be missed. Even the expressions of disen-
chantment are delightful. Many poems in the Man'voshi; and later had
described the poet sleeping with his head on the arm of his beloved,
giving piquance to the Kanginshii poem that opens with the command,
"Take that arm of yours away!" Again, the first and second poems in
the pillow sequence are universally intelligible in terms of the speaker
venting her anger and frustration not on the cause of her suffering but
on an innocent flute or pillow, a more endearingly "human" moment
than those conjured up by the many waka that tristfully lament the
beloved's neglect." The last of the pillow poems echoes a famous one
in the Kokinshu:

wa ga koi u/a Is it possible

hito shirurame ya He knows how much I love him?
shikitae no Perhaps my pillow,
mahura nomi koso Only my woven pillow,
shiraba shiruramc'" Knows this secret of my heart.

The Kokinshi: poem indicates that although the woman has told no one
of her love, the pillow, into which she has wept many times, may have
divined it from her tears. The pillow is personified to the extent that it
can understand its owner's emotions; but in the Kanginshu song the
speaker addresses the pillow with familiarity, as if it were a coconspirator.
The unexpected attitudes and the colloquial tone of its language give
the Kanginshu special charm. Even though the exact meaning of many
poems is no longer clear-they might be more easily understood if sung
and delivered with gestures-they are superbly evocative. The lovers
of the past come alive, briefly but poignantly, in each fragmentary little
song. Among the poems in the Kanginshu, only the ko-uta have attracted
 The Middle Ages

special attention, but the collection as a whole has been enthusiastically

praised by poets and scholars alike, especially in recent years." Japanese
poetry, long considered the special demesne of the aristocracy, is revealed
in its pages to be the property of the entire people."
Several similar collections of ko-uta were compiled during the late
sixteenth century. Soan Ko-uta Shu (Soan's Collection of Ko-uta), first
published in 1931, contains 220 poems, all of them ko-uta. Neither the
identity of Soan nor the date of compilation has yet been determined,
though it is believed that the collection dates from the last two decades
of the sixteenth century, in between the Kanginshu and Ryudatsu Ko-
uta (Ryudatsu's Ko-uta), with which it shares about a fifth of its songs.
Rvudatsu Ko-uta was compiled by Takasabu Ryudatsu (1527-161 I),
a merchant from the city of Sakai who was also a master of ko-uta song
and on occasion gave command performances before Nobunaga and
Hideyoshi. The songs in Ryudatsu Ko-uta-unlike those in the Kangin-
shu, composed by people of all classes of society, or Soan Ko-uta Shu,
almost exclusively songs of the common people-are distinctly urbane
and polished." The collection contains 514 ko-uta, many of them about
love. Some texts were by Ryudatsu himself, but for the most part he
probably took existing poems and supplied them with new musical
settings." Many of the songs are in the rhythm of 7, 7, 7, and 5 syllables,
which would be the most typical form of songs of the Tokugawa period,
and the accompaniment to the songs was provided by the sarrusen,
another indication that Ryudatsu Ko-uta serves as a bridge between
medieval and premodern song.
The collection, Tauezoshi (A Collection of Rice-Planting Songs),"
was also compiled during the Azuchi-Momoyama period. These are true
folk songs, typical of those sung while men and women were planting
rice in the middle ages, but unusual in the richness of their content.
Ko-uta figure prominently also in Kyogen;" some Kyogen are even
constructed around a series of songs, evidence of their popularity and
the closeness of their association with the common people.

DRAMA

Various dramatic entertainments developed during the sixteenth cen-

tury, especially in the Azuchi-Mornoyama period. The warfare led to
the breakup of the court society that had patronized the No, and forced
the actors to return to the provinces, where their art had originated.
In order to please spectators who did not possess the knowledge of
The Late Sixteenth Century

the literature of the past that could be assumed of audiences in the

capital, they performed newly composed No plays that featured greater
action (and less poetry) than the plays of Zeami's time. It is noteworthy
that each class had come to crave theatrical performances that accorded
with its own tastes. For example, the Kowaka, ballad-dramas, that
mainly treat the war between the Taira and the Minamoto, were created
for samurai audiences in the sixteenth century. The introduction of the
samisen from the Ryukyu Islands in the middle of the century led to a
new style of singing, and eventually to a new dramatic entertainment,
[oruri, that appealed primarily to townsmen. Finally, influences from
Europe, introduced to the Japanese by missionaries, may have helped
to stimulate another new kind of theater, Kabuki. These various de-
velopments enjoyed reciprocal influences: each variety of drama during
the sixteenth century borrowed from the others, and together they at-
tested in performance to the birth of a new society.

No Drama
The No had attained its highest development in the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, and by the beginning of the Tokugawa period was
in the process of becoming the repertory drama that it is today. But
there was one last spurt of creativity in the sixteenth century as the No
actors attempted to regain the popularity with the common people they
had forfeited when they accepted the patronage of the Muromachi
shoguns.
The emblematic figure of this last period of No as an art capable
of new developments was the dramatist and actor Kanze Nagatoshi, the
son of the better-known Kanze Nobumitsu." Only one of Nagatoshi's
plays is still regularly performed, Shozon, based on a section of The Tale
of the Heike describing how the treachery of Tosabo Shozon was exposed
and he was put to death. The first thing one is likely to notice on
examining the text of Shozon is that it is not clear whether the shite is
the villainous Shozon or the avenging Benkei; it depends on whether
in performance Shozon's lying oath of loyalty is read by Shozon himself
or by Benkei. The two men are antagonists in the same sense that this
can be said of a European play; the waki is definitely not a "man at the
side" who merely asks questions of the protagonist. The cast of Shozon
is exceptionally large; apart from the shite and waki, there is a kokata
who appears as Shizuka, four tsure, all of whom are named, and two
Kyogen roles. In performance, there is even more to startle the spectator
 The Middle Ages

who knows only the No plays of Zeami's time. In the second part, for
example, an actor does a front somersault from the hashigahari (pas-
sageway) onto the stage, and another on being killed falls perpendicularly
backward without relaxing his body, miraculously not cracking his
skull.'?
The cast of Kasui (River Waters), a play by Nagatoshi that is no
longer performed, includes not only the shite and waki but nine tsure
and two Kyogen actors. This play has many changes of scene, and its
plot shifts from the fable of a dragon princess who dries up a river in
order to compel the Chinese court to provide her with a husband, to
the more realistic scene of the courtier who volunteers to marry her, to
a strange scene in which a great drum sounds of itself, presaging war,
and finally to a battle scene in which the Chinese emperor, aided by
the dragon king, is victorious. Chikato, another play by Nagatoshi that
has dropped from the repertory, is perhaps the most extreme example
of his unconventionality. The usual divisions into categories of actors-
shite, waki, tsure, and so on-have become meaningless. The principal
character, a child, is sometimes considered to be the shite, sometimes
only a kokata. Chikato, who gives his name to the play, is perhaps the
shite, but perhaps only a tsure. It is not clear, for that matter, whether
the minor characters are companions of the shite or of the waki. There
are four principal characters, each of whom is given a display scene,
rather in the manner of an old-fashioned Italian opera. The texts of the
plays are resolutely prosaic, though the sung passages on occasion include
such cliches of the poetry of the past as the tear-soaked sleeve.
There is no evidence as to whether these plays, created in order to
please audiences who could not follow the difficult poetry and the barely
enunciated plots of the great No dramas, were successful. Surviving
records of sixteenth-century performances indicate that the most often
staged works were the relatively static classics, but these records do not
take into account performances away from the capital. The fossilization
of the No during the Tokugawa period and, above all, the development
of new forms of dramatic entertainment that were of greater mass appeal
than even the plays of Nagatoshi, tended to deprive his plays of their
popularity, as we can infer from the number that are no longer
performed.
One further development in No occurred at the end of the sixteenth
century: Toyotomi Hideyoshi commanded his panegyrist Omura Yuko
(I536?-I596) to write a series of No plays about himself. Traditionally,
the No plays had been set at a considerable distance in time from the
events they portrayed. Even works of the category genzaimono, "con-
The Late Sixteenth Century

temporary plays," were not set in the present; the word genzai (present)
meant that the events depicted took place in the time of the waki, who
meets not ghosts from the past but his contemporaries. The plays closest
to the present of the audience itself were from at least a century earlier.
But Hideyoshi wanted plays describing himself and his achievements,
shrinking the distance in time to nothing. Yuko naturally complied.
Omura Yuko was no mere hack writer. He began his career as a
scholar of Zen Buddhism, and later extended his studies to include
waka, renga, and the Japanese classics. He was so proficient at these
different studies that he eventually acquired the reputation of being the
foremost authority on non-Buddhist literature.v' In 1578, when Hide-
yoshi was about to attack Yuko's native place, Miki in Banshii province,
he asked Yuko to come along as the official chronicler. Yuko's account
of the siege of Miki Castle, Banshii Go Seibatsu no Koto (The Conquest
of Banshu), is a moving account of how the defenders of the castle
perished." It was the first of an impressive series of chronicles of Hide-
yoshi's exploits known under the collective title of Tensho Ki. After
Hideyoshi established himself as the ruler of Iapan in 1582, Yuko became
a central figure in his inner circle of otogishu, entertainers and advisers
on cultural matters. In the manner of a poet laureate, he wrote con-
gratulatory pieces on such subjects as the recovery from illness of Hide-
yoshi's mother or the birth of his son Tsurumatsu.
Perhaps Yuko's most lasting literary monument was the ten No
plays" he wrote by order of Hideyoshi, an enthusiastic amateur per-
former of No who did not hesitate to perform even the most difficult
roles. The waki n0 69 Yoshino-mode (A Pilgrimage to Yoshino) evokes
the visit of Hideyoshi to Yoshino in the second month of 1594. According
to a contemporary account, on that occasion "Lord Hideyoshi had on
his usual false whiskers, wore false eyebrows, and had his teeth black-
ened. The persons accompanying him [they included Omura Yuko and
Satomura [oha] were all dressed with the utmost magnificence, each
trying to outdo the other, and created so splendid a sight that crowds
assembled to watch them."?" Once the party reached Yoshino a poetry
gathering was held.
Yoshino-mode opened with the waki, a courtier in the service of the
present emperor, relating the great deeds of Hideyoshi: "He rules our
country as he sees fit, has pacified the three kingdoms of Korea, and
has further acceded to entreaties for peace from China. Having accom-
plished these mighty deeds, he has returned and built a great palace in
the village of Fushimi in Yamashiro province. And now, this spring, he
is making a pilgrimage to Yoshino to admire the cherry blossoms. I go
II5 2 The Middle Ages

to serve him.'?' In the second part of the play the god Zao Gongen
appears, and after relating the history of the shrine at Yoshino, promises
to protect Hideyoshi on his return to the capital.
The second play of the series, Shibata-uchi (The Slaying of Shibata),
relates Hideyoshi's exploits in defeating Shibata Katsuie; the shite, the
ghost of Shibata, describes how he triumphantly led his forces into Omi
province and seemed about to win a great battle when "Hideyoshi
himself came riding up against us, and tens of thousands on my side,
slashed down by his sword, fled the field, unable to withstand him."72
Hideyoshi performed the role of the shite in another second-category
play, Akcchi-uchi (The Slaying of Akechi). It dramatizes the vengeance
he wreaked on Akechi Mitsuhide for having murdered Oda Nobunaga.
The play concludes with the slaying of Mitsuhide and a paean of praise
for Hideyoshi's loyalty to his master. This was an unconventional ending
for a No play, but it is easy to imagine Hideyoshi's self-satisfaction as
he acted out his own glorious deeds."
Hojo, based on Yuko's chronicle "Odawara Gojin," another section
of his Tensho Ki, describes how a Zen priest encounters the ghosts of
Hojo Ujimasa and his brother Ujinao. They relate how Hideyoshi be-
sieged their castle at Odawara, and how they committed suicide. The
dialogue between the priest and the brothers includes statements of Zen
doctrine, but ends with predictions of Hideyoshi's future triumphs that
will carry his rule even to the Kuril Islands.
The shite of the third-category, or woman play, Koya-mOde (Pil-
grimage to Koya), is none other than Hideyoshi's mother. The play
opens with a man in Hideyoshi's service climbing Mount Koya to offer
flowers at the grave of the mother. She appears first as an aged nun,
but in the second scene reveals herself as a bodhisattva of song and
dance, and performs a bugaku dance. The play concludes like the others
with praise for Hideyoshi, in this case specifically for his filial piety.
Kova-mode was performed while Hideyoshi and his party were ac-
tually staying on Mount Koya, It is reported that during the final dance
of the play, black clouds suddenly covered the sky, the earth trembled,
and lightning flashed in the sky. These ominous signs were attributed
to the fact that a flute and drums had been played during the perfor-
mance, in disregard of Kobo Daishi's interdiction on music-making
on the holy mountain. Even the fearless Hideyoshi felt it prudent to
hurry down the mountain after such an expression of supernatural
displeasure."
Toyohuni-mode (Pilgrimage to the Toyokuni Shrine), written by an
unknown dramatist after Hideyoshi's death, provides a fitting conclusion
The Late Sixteenth Century 1J53

to the series, presenting him as the god Toyokuni Daimyojin. The tsure
is Yugeki, a Chinese general, who arrives with tribute offerings for the
god, declaring that Toyokuni Daimyojin is worshiped not only in Japan
but in China.
Although Omura Yuko's plays are likely to seem in synopsis no
more than sycophantic tributes to a despot, they are actually among the
most successful examples of "new No." Yuko had no special training
in No, but his inborn literary gifts and his knowledge of the poetry of
the past enabled him to create plays that were more than pastiches. On
the whole, he adhered closely to the formal structure and traditional
language. It must have seemed strange to the first audiences to see people
they knew (or even themselves) represented by actors who spoke a poetic
language that was certainly not their own, but such conventions are not
hard to accept after a few minutes. The failure of these plays to hold
the stage was probably due to their closeness to Hideyoshi. The death
of Hideyoshi and the defeat of the forces loyal to his son made it highly
unlikely that plays which proclaim Hideyoshi's glory would be revived
in the Tokugawa period, and they have seldom been discussed since."
Omura Yuko's success in pleasing his master ultimately deprived him
of the fame that his writings might otherwise have brought him.
From time to time in the following centuries No plays were written,
but none managed to secure a place in the repertory. During the To-
kugawa period No was elevated into a stately, even ritual art that served
as the official "music" for the shogunate which, in the Confucian tra-
dition, believed that rites and music promoted stable government. The
protection of the shogunate ensured that No would not perish despite
the popularity of newer theatrical arts, but it was at the sacrifice of its
vitality.

K~wa~a
Several Kowaka, ballad-dramas that were popular with the samurai
class, were also composed by order of Hideyoshi to celebrate his feats."
The practitioners of Kowaka, anxious to establish its antiquity and
dignity, were fond of tracing its origins back to Momonoi N aoaki (I 393 ~­
1470?)' the grandson of an illustrious daimyo, who had been known in
his youth as Kowakarnaru." Perhaps some connection existed between
this man and the creation of Kowaka, but he is more likely to have
been a patron than a composer of ballads, a demeaning profession."
James Araki, the author of an important study of the "ballad-drama,"
1154 The Middle Ages
as he called Kowaka, believed that the existing Kowaka texts were not
used for performances prior to the middle of the sixteenth century."
Kowaka has also been traced to the kusemai, a section of the No
play in irregular meter that usually narrated the central dramatic incident
of the story; but as Araki noted, "The kusemai changed considerably
during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and a comparison of the
kusemai of Zeami's time and what was called kusemai after the 1530's
reveals that they were similar only in name.'?" In short, there is no
evidence that kusemai or any other early texts served as libretti for
Kowaka, Kowaka still survives vestigially in one village in Kyushu, but
in the seventeenth century it ceased to be of literary or dramatic im-
portance, and its survival is something of a miracle."
Little information survives on how Kowaka was originally per-
formed. It seems to have owed its popularity to the beautiful voices and
dances of the performers, rather than to dramatic presentation, and the
plays were performed not in theaters but in temples, mansions of the
great, and even in the Imperial Palace. Later on, the Kowaka performers
adopted elements of more popular stage entertainments, but (perhaps
because they preferred to think of themselves as samurai, rather than
as actors) they never succeeded in winning the audiences of [oruri or
Kabuki. Kowaka performances today are recited in a cadenced monotone
that sometimes rises to melody, but there is no mimetic action, and
hardly any choreographic movement beyond a rhythmic strut." Unlike
No, however, the delivery is clear and meant to be intelligible.
Most of the fifty or so extant Kowaka texts are derived from The
Tale of the Helke and The Tale of the Saga Brothers. Yoshitsune, who
figures in so many other works of medieval literature, is the hero of
twenty of these plays, and thirteen more deal with other persons in The
Tale of the Heikc. The Soga brothers appear in another seven. The rest
of the repertory is of miscellaneous origins." Apart from two works
based on the writings of Omura Yuko, the authors of these texts are
unknown." Even when the stories borrow from the same sources as the
No plays, they are consistently less dramatic. They tend to be prolix,
but even so, they sometimes deliberately omit what should be the climax
of a story, assuming it will be familiar to the spectator." The element
of drama is much attenuated, though the materials contain every po-
tential for drama."
It may be wondered why so undramatic and so conspicuously un-
amusing a form of entertainment should have enjoyed popularity. A
well-known anecdote tells how Oda Nobunaga performed the Kowaka
version of Atsumori in 1560 on the eve of a crucial battle, and he later
The Late St'xteenth Century
extended his patronage to the actors. Probably his interest in Kowaka
went beyond simple entertainment; he may have believed that the solemn
recitation of a Kowaka drama would identify him with the great warriors
of the past. These heroes had all perished, it is true, but Nobunaga
accepted their tragedy along with their glory. Or perhaps the brevity
and uncertainty of life made him resolve to make the most of it while
he could.
Kowaka was of particular appeal to the samurai class. The solemnity
of the language and the unrelieved seriousness of the events were con-
genial to their belief in their special destiny as the guardians of society.
The eloquence of the delivery of the texts may also have moved audiences
more than similar recitations would move people today. In a society
where there was little or no occasion for oratory, it must have been
deeply affecting to hear actors who spoke so eloquently of tragic matters.
A similar pleasure was to be had from some of the ai-kYogen, notably
the battle narration from Yashima, often performed as an independent
work. The visual appeal of Kowaka tended to diminish over time because
of the increased emphasis on the samurailike dignity of the art; by the
beginning of the seventeenth century, as we know from [oao Rodrigues,"
performances were declaimed rather than danced. The achievements of
the heroes of the past still stirred Japanese of the seventeenth century
and later, but Kowaka possessed neither the grandeur of No nor the
mimetic excitement of Kabuki, and gradually lost its hold even on the
samurai class, whose favor the Kowaka actors had so sedulously
cultivated.

Other Dramatic Entertainments

The second half of the sixteenth century was the seedbed for the most
important varieties of theater for the next three hundred years. None
of the works performed by the [oruri, sekkYo-bushi, or Kabuki troupes
of the time survive, and we can only guess what they may have been
like from the texts that began to be published in the seventeenth
century."
The sudden emergence of these different theatrical forms at more
or less the same time may have been no more than coincidence. For
example, the combination of the three elements-texts, puppets, and
musical accompaniment-that constitute [oruri (later known as Bun-
raku), took place at the end of the sixteenth century; but puppets had
been known in Japan for five hundred years, and the narratives, initially
 The Middle Ages

at least, were mainly about Yoshitsune and his beloved Lady Jorur i,
figures from the distant past. The crucial factor in the creation of [oruri
at this time was probably the introduction from the Ryukyu Islands of
the samisen, an instrument with so penetrating a sound that it could be
heard over the voice of a chanter narrating the story. The introduction
of the samisen at this time was probably related to the awakened Japanese
interest in the islands to the south and Southeast Asia.
There is also a possibility that European influence affected the de-
velopment of both [oruri and Kabuki." Letters from the missionaries
mention performances of plays based on biblical themes that were staged
in the churches. It is not clear what form these performances took, but
the introduction of themes that were totally unlike any in Japanese or
Chinese literature may well have affected intending playwrights. The
biblical plays have not survived, but one curious play of a somewhat
later date, Amida no Muneuiari (The Riven Breast of Amida), first per-
formed by the puppets in 1614, has suggested specifically Christian
influence. The work, though nominally set in India, is entirely Japanese
in its details. It tells of a rich man who is so confident that his money
can buy him every happiness that, for the pleasure of it, he decides to
do wicked things instead of good, and persuades his wife to join him.
Their wicked acts are directed in particular against Buddhism; they
burn temples, refuse alms to priests, and in other ways delight in doing
evil. Shakyamuni Buddha, disturbed by the influence of the couple on
other people, determines to punish them. He assembles his disciples and
orders them to fetch demons from hell. They return with some three
hundred who eventually destroy the rich man's treasures, kill his serv-
ants, and pour molten iron down the throats of the once-arrogant couple.
Buddha, however, commands the devils to spare their two children, a
boy and a girl.
The remaining acts of the play are devoted to the tribulations suffered
by the children. In the sixth and final act the girl, who was born in the
same year, month, day, and hour as the ailing child of a certain rich
man, is sacrificed in order to cure his illness: her liver is torn from her
body and fed to the sick boy, who immediately recovers. That night,
the boy's attendants go to examine the dead girl's body. They discover
her and her brother sleeping peacefully, hand in hand. Beside them, a
statue of Amida Buddha is streaming blood from a terrible rent in its
chest, and it is apparent to all that Amida has offered his own liver to
save the girl. People gather from everywhere to pay homage before the
mutilated, blood-stained statue.
The Late Sixteenth Century I I57

Although this play at first glance may not seem to show any Christian
influence, one notes that Shakyamuni Buddha, not in the least resembling
the all-compassionate deity found in other Buddhist writings, initially
behaves rather like Jehovah, and the rich man's suffering may recall
Job's. The Amida Buddha of the last act, however, is more like Christ;
nothing in earlier Japanese descriptions of Amida accounts for the scene
of people worshiping a holy image streaming with blood in the manner
of European (especially Iberian) representations of Christ on the cross.
Arnida's sacrifice of himself to save the girl also suggests Christ's saving
of mankind. It is not possible to prove there was direct influence, but
we can recognize the great difference between the deity here described
and the traditional portrayals of Amida in his Western Paradise. Chris-
tian art was certainly well enough known in Japan at the time to account
for this unusual Arnida." But even if Kabuki and [oruri were indebted
to European influences in their earliest period, very little remained of
these influences in later years.
Sekkyo was originally (as the literal meaning of the name indicates)
an "explanation of the sutras" given to musical accompaniment by a
priest at a temple." Such explanations were intended for illiterates who
could not read the commentaries on the sacred works of Buddhism for
themselves and would not listen to a sermon unless it was interestingly
delivered. The musical accompaniment, intended to heighten the dra-
matic effect of the stories of miracles and the powers of karma, was at
first the sasara, an instrument consisting of thin strips of bamboo that
the performer rubbed with a stick, causing a rhythmic rattle that ac-
centuated the delivery of the text. There are records as far back as the
fourteenth century of such performances. The No play linen Koji has
for its chief character a priest who not only delivers a sermon to sasara
accompaniment but also sings and dances.
The main effect on the audience of the sekkyo plays, even in the
early days, was probably to induce tears, as we can gather from surviving
paintings of performances of a later date." At first the performers of
Sekkyo were probably priests, but later, as some men began to attract
audiences by the skill of their recitations, the performers became profes-
sionals who, in order to elicit donations from the audience, heightened
the effects of their performances with gestures and music. That may be
how it happened, early in the seventeenth century, that the Sekkyo
performers adopted the samisen and the puppets from [oruri in the
hope of drawing still larger audiences. The texts of the old [oruri plays
were largely borrowed from Sekkyo," but the latter in turn had bor-
 The Middle Ages

rowed from Kowaka, as can be inferred from the existence of a Sekkyo

version of Yuruoalia Daijin (The Minister Yuriwaka), the tale allegedly
borrowed from The Odvssey,"
Although the Sekkyo repertory grew in the seventeenth century, the
staples of Sekkyo performances remained five works that already existed
by the Azuchi-Mornayama period-Karukaya, Sansho Dayu, Oguri, Shin-
tohumaru, and Aigo no Waka. These works would be modified over the
years by Sekkyo performers and adapted for the [oruri and Kabuki
stages, but their lasting appeal for the Japanese has not been confined
to the theater. Some, especially Sansho Davu, have become established,
especially since the Meiji period, as part of the common heritage of the
medieval past, in the form of children's stories and even films.
Kabuki undoubtedly had its origins in entertainments of the Azuchi-
Momoyama period, but it is usually traced back no further than to
Okuni, the priestess of the Izumo Shrine who brought her troupe to
Kyoto in 1603. It was (and remains) far less literary than [oruri, de-
pending on the charm or the dramatic skill of the actors to win the
favor of the audience even for works that were too trivial to be printed.
More important than the differences in these three kinds of enter-
tainment was the fact that for the first time there were many theaters
attended by anyone who could buy a ticket. The Mornoyama-period
screens showing scenes within and without the capital often depict
clusters of small theaters where audiences happily watch the plays of
their choice. After the long period of warfare Kyoto had become a city
again, and this time a city not only of the aristocrats or even of the
samurai but of everyone who lived there.

PROSE WRITINGS

Prose did not thrive during the last part of the sixteenth century, though
it was the time when the kana zoshi, the characteristic tales of the
seventeenth century, were being incubated." Perhaps the most important
development of this period was the demise of the monogatari, the staple
of prose writing since the early Heian period. This does not mean, of
course, that no later works of fiction were ever called monogatari; quite
to the contrary, even writers of the twentieth century on occasion called
their novels "monogatari," especially when they were set in the distant
past." But the monogatari, as the term was used of the court fiction of
the Heian or of the archaistic fiction (giko monogatari) of the Kamakura
The Late Sixteenth Century II59

and Muromachi periods, by the end of the sixteenth century had breathed
its last gasp.
The most striking prose writings of the period were probably the
biographies ofOda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Autobiography,
usually called "diaries," had a long history in Japan, but biography had
never developed as in China. Of course, one can consider The Tale of
the Heilt« as a biography of Taira no Kiyomori and his family, and
Gikeiki pretends to be a biography of Minamoto no Yoshitsune, but the
impression received from these works is of a romance in which char-
acters, named for historical prototypes but by no means faithfully por-
trayed, figure in episodes that have dramatic rather than historical
significance. It is hard to believe, for example, when reading The Tale
of the Heike that water poured onto the feverish body of Taira no
Kiyomori actually turned to flames, but such details reveal the extremes
to which the author went in order to satisfy the expectations of readers
who believed in divine punishment.
The biographies of Nobunaga and Hideyoshi also glorified their
subjects, but the aim of the authors was to heighten the importance of
actual deeds, not to capture the attention of readers with invented pro-
digies. These histories are intermittently interesting, though the accounts
of one battle after another inevitably become repetitious, and the names
of the defeated generals do not linger in the memory. An even more
serious failing is the inability of the authors to paint convincing portraits
of their subjects, let alone create characters in the round. The inadequacy
of their portrayals is apparent from the description of Nobunaga in a
letter written in 1569 by the missionary and historian Luis Frois (1532-
1597):

A tall man, thin, scantly bearded, with a very clear voice, much
given to the practice of arms, hardy, fond of the exercise of justice,
& of mercy, proud, a lover of honor to the uttermost, very secretive
in what he determines, extremely shrewd in the stratagems of war,
little if at all subject to the reproof, & counsel of his subordinates,
feared, & revered by all to an extreme degree. Does not drink wine.
He is a severe master: treats all the Kings and Princes of Iapan with
scorn, & speaks to them over his shoulder as though to inferiors, &
is completely obeyed by all as their absolute lord. He is a man of
good understanding, & clear judgment, despising the Cdmis & Fo-
toques, & all the rest of that breed of idols, & all the heathen
superstitions."
I I 60 The Middle Ages
In one paragraph Frois painted a far more memorable portrait of
Nobunaga than Ota Gyuichi achieved in his lengthy Shincho-lio Ki or
Oze Hoan in his even more extensive Shincho Ki, though occasionally
an anecdote will catch fire by a single detail or unexpected action. For
example, we are told that at the funeral services for his father in 1549
Nobunaga, dressed peculiarly for the occasion, went up to the altar to
offer incense in the traditional manner, only to take up a handful of
incense and throw it in the direction of the funeral tablet, to the aston-
ishment and dismay of al1. 9H The gesture probably was intended to reflect
Nobunaga's disbelief in Buddhism, even at the age of fifteen, but it is
even more indicative of his refusal to comply with the etiquette expected
of warriors of his class. A Buddhist priest from Kyushu who happened
to be present reportedly exclaimed on seeing Nobunaga's gesture that
he was destined to possess the country. But such dramatic passages are
infrequent.
The anecdotes related about Nobunaga tend to emphasize a few of
his traits, notably his bravery. Hoan described in Shinchii Ki how on
one occasion Nobunaga set out to relieve the defenders of a certain castle.
He and his men got close enough to the castle to hear the sounds of
the fighting, but a river in flood prevented them from going to the relief
of the besieged forces:

Lord Nobunaga, tense with anxiety, felt the sweat ooze in his
clenched hands that trembled so violently he could not keep his horse
steady. His looks inspired confidence, but there seemed to be ab-
solutely no way to cross the river. The sounds of guns and arrows
and the war cries of friends and foes could be heard without letup.
"I can't stay here. It will mean I am deserting Daigaku. If I'm to
drown in the river, well, I'll drown." He called to his men, "Let's
make it across!" He plunged his horse into the river, and his men
followed him, each eager to be first. It was a time when it was all
but impossible to get across without a boat, but such was his bravery
that nothing seemed impossible, and they made it safely to the
opposite shore."

The first of the biographies of Nobunaga, Shincho-ko Ki by Ota

Gyuichi, was probably completed by 1598. It describes events from 1568,
when Nobunaga headed for Kyoto with the shogun Ashikaga Yoshiaki,
until 1582 when he was killed at the Honno-ji by Akechi Mitsuhide.
The text was originally composed in kambun, but seems to have been
The Late Sixteenth Century II61

intended to be read aloud to persons who wished to learn of the great

achievements of its hero. Ion
Shinchii Ki l OI by Oze Hoan was not published until I622, but most
of the work was probably completed by I6r 1. It was intended to sup-
plement the material in Ota Gyuichi's biography of Nobunaga, which
Hoan termed "crude and truncated."!" The text is in Japanese and
shows that some attempt was made to achieve stylistic distinction. Its
aim seems to have been not so much a glorification of Nobunaga as a
revelation of how Nobunaga's deeds accorded with the higher principles
of government. Oze Hoan also published (in I634?) Taiko Ki, a biog-
raphy ofToyotomi Hideyoshi.''" Even more clearly than in his biography
of Nobunaga, he judged his subject in terms of Confucian principles;
but the interest of the work is in the factual information he supplied
about a most remarkable man.
Tensho Ki, the account written by Omura Yuko between I580 and
I590 of the battles fought and won by Hideyoshi, is less a biography
than a panegyric, but it rises at times to literary heights not attained by
other works of this genre. Biography still had a long way to go before
it attained the literary distinction of Aubrey or Boswell, but it had made
a promising start.

EUROPEAN INFLUENCE

One unprecedented development affected the composition of literature:

the arrival of Europeans in the middle of the sixteenth century. The
first Europeans known to have reached Japan were some Portuguese
sailors who arrived at the southern island of Tanegashima aboard a
Chinese ship in I542. These early visitors were followed by many more
Portuguese and Spaniards, and later also by British, Dutch, and other
Europeans. Most of the Iberians were either soldiers or priests; the
soldiers carried the guns with which they had conquered far-flung
territories in Africa, Asia, and the Americas; the priests brought the
crosses that were the sign of their faith and of their mission to spread
their religion throughout the world. The English and Dutch, who were
Protestants, did not show the same crusading zeal, but confined their
activities mainly to trade.
Among the European cultural influences that entered Japan as the
result of the proselytizing efforts of the missionaries were painting in
the Western manner, mainly of religious scenes,'?' and the Gregorian
chant. lOS Literary influences were much more restricted. The priests,
 The Middle Ages

whose chief task was to communicate the mysteries of the Christian

religion to the Japanese, had no reason to introduce the masterpieces of
European literature. Almost all the translations made into Japanese at
this time were of religious texts, and when Christianity was prohibited
under penalty of death in the 1630S such books were either destroyed
or hidden. Extremely few copies survive.'!" One of the rare secular works
to be translated was Aesop's Fables, in a version made from Latin into
Japanese in 1593 and published by the Jesuits in Amakusa. A later
translation into Japanese, made in 1639, was better known; although it
did not circulate freely, it inspired several Japanese works of the sev-
enteenth century."? In the late eighteenth century the eccentric painter
and essayist Shiba Kokan found a copy of the translation of Aesop's
Fables in the library of a daimyo, and made fresh versions and adaptations
of some of the fables. lOX Translations were also made of Cicero's De
Amicitia and of Euclid's Elements, but these works, kept secret, had no
influence on the writing of Japanese literature.
Finally, there was one European story that somehow seems to have
made its way independently to Japan, where it was imitated and adopted:
The Odyssey.109 It is hard to imagine under what circumstances a Por-
tuguese priest might have taken the trouble to narrate the adventures
of Ulysses to Japanese acquaintances, and it is equally difficult to imagine
that the story was transmitted solely by word of mouth across the breadth
of Asia; yet if, as is widely believed, The Odyssey reached Japan, it must
have been by one or both routes.
The Japanese work that most clearly suggests the influence of The
Odyssey, Yuruoalta Daijin, tells of Yuriwaka.!" a warrior who was chosen
to head Japanese forces in the war against the Mongols. His ships scored
a great victory at sea over the Mongol fleet, but on the way back to
Japan he was abandoned on a desert island by command of a treacherous
subordinate. By the time the gods enabled Yuriwaka to return to Japan,
the years on the island had much altered his appearance, and he was
not recognized. The villainous subordinate had in the meanwhile at-
tempted to marry Yuriwaka's wife, asserting that her husband was dead,
but the wife insisted that she must first transcribe a Buddhist text a
thousand times. Yuriwaka returned, flexed and strung an iron bow, and
killed the suitor. Yuriwaka and his wife were then reunited.'!'
The resemblances to The Odyssey are obvious, but many Japanese
scholars have insisted that these resemblances are no more than coin-
cidences, and that sources existed within the Buddhist or Shinto tra-
ditions for all the events related in the story.!" If, as was first suggested
by Tsubouchi Shoyo in 1906,IU the narrative Yuruoaea Dazjin was derived
The Late Sixteenth Century [[63

from The Odyssey, the transmission would have had to occur during a
very short period during the early years of the Portuguese presence in
Japan. James Araki concluded that the story was passed on to the Jap-
anese by Juan Fernandez, the interpreter of Francis Xavier, between
November 1550, when Xavier arrived in the city of Yamaguchi, and
February 1551, when Yuritoalta Daijin was first recited by Kowaka
performers in KyotO. 114 But even if Fernandez was capable of narrating
in Japanese the story of Ulysses, it is hard to imagine that within three
months it had not only spread from Yamaguchi to the capital but had
been transformed into a story of a war with the Mongols.
There is another problem: one famous episode of The Odyssey, the
story of Polyphemus and his cave, which does not appear in Yuruoalia
Daijin, is found in a secular Chinese work of the tenth century and
(much later) in an eighteenth century Japanese account by a man who
heard the story in Nagasaki.'!' Both Chinese and Japanese versions are
brief, and they differ in details, but they seem clearly to have been
derived from the same source, The Odyssey.llb This suggests that the
Yuriwaka stories reached Japan in the same manner, traveling from the
shores of the Mediterranean across the breadth of Asia to the Chinese
court and eventually to the Chinese merchants in Nagasaki.
Regardless of how The Odyssey reached Japan, or whether or not it
actually got there, Japan in the sixteenth century was open to such
influences from abroad. Not only did Europeans and Chinese visit and
reside in the country, but Japanese traveled abroad. Some, especially
converts to Christianity, went as far as Rome, and others sailed to
Southeast Asia, where "Japan towns" were founded in Thailand and
elsewhere."? This openness to the rest of the world, strikingly unlike
the isolationism that prevailed during the period of seclusion (sakoku)
that followed, suggests how close Japanese literature came to developing
along quite different lines. The influences of the literatures of Europe
that so profoundly affected Japanese writers of the nineteenth and twen-
tieth centuries would surely have been easier to assimilate in the climate
that prevailed three hundred years earlier. It is clear from the letters of
the European missionaries of the Azuchi-Momoyama period that they
considered Japanese civilization to be at least as advanced as their own,
and it is not unreasonable to suppose that if the Japanese had chosen to
participate in the literary movements of sixteenth-century Europe they
could have produced works of quality rivaling those of their mentors.
They chose instead, for political and not literary reasons, to reject Eu-
ropean influence and to enter on a period of isolation, when contacts
with the rest of the world were severely limited. This decision, by turning
 The Middle Ages
the Japanese in on themselves, contributed to the creation of the dis-
tinctive literature of the Tokugawa period, including the novels of Sai-
kaku, the plays of Chikamatsu, and the haiku poetry of Basho. It
deprived them, however, of the fertilizing influences from abroad that
normally enrich a country's writers, and forced them to look back to
their own past when in need of fresh inspiration. Fortunately, as we
have seen, their patrimony was generous-a thousand years of literary
works in every genre, including some that rank high among the mas-
terpieces of the world.

Notes
1. The exact date of the beginning of the Azuchi period is a matter of
dispute. Oda Nobunaga's first major victory was won at Okehazama in
1560. His conquest of Gifu, where he established his residence, took place
in 1567, and in the following year he occupied Kyoto. In 1573 he drove
the shogun, Ashikaga Yoshiaki, from Kyoro into exile. Anyone of these
dates (1560, 1567, 1568, and 1573) could be used as a starting point for
the new era. I shall generally use 1560 in this discussion. The Momoyama
period begins shortly after the death of Nobunaga in 1582, when his
lieutenant, Hideyoshi, avenged Nobunaga's death and established himself
as the chief military figure in the country. The Azuchi-Momoyama period
ended in 1600 with the victory of the forces of Tokugawa Ieyasu at the
Battle of Sekigahara, but some historians prolong it to 1615, the date of
the fall of Osaka Castle to the Tokugawa forces. This chapter will be
devoted chiefly to literature written between 1560 and 1600, but I shall
not hesitate to discuss literary events of importance to this period even if
they occurred somewhat earlier or later.
2. The diary, known as Tohitsugu Gyoki, covers the period 1527-1576. It is
written in a strictly factual, unengaging style of kambun. Tokitsugu's son
Yamashina Tokitsune (1543-1611) kept a diary (Tokitsune Gyoki) between
the years 1576 and 1608. Its style is equally dreary, but it contains valuable
information on contemporary No. Both men wrote their diaries on the
backs of letters they had received (and in Tokitsugu's case, on the backs
of prescriptions for medicine), suggesting that paper was a valuable com-
modity even for the aristocracy.
3. Quoted in Araki Yoshio, Azuchi Momoyama Jidai Bungaku Shi, p. 25.
4· Araki Yoshio, Azuchi, pp. 34-35·
5. Translations from Keene, Some Japanese Portraits, pp. 66-67. Text in Araki
Yoshio, Azuchi, pp. 34-35, 147. On page 34 Araki gives Nagaharu's age
at death as twenty-six (Japanese count), on page 147 as twenty-three. The
The Late Sixteenth Century
latter figure is also given by Kawada [un in Sengoleu Jidai Waka Shu, p.
156. However, I have followed a more recent work, the edition by Okuno
Takahiro and Iwasawa Yoshiko of Shincho-ko Ki, p. 532, which gives
Nagaharu's dates as 1554-1580.
6. Okuno and Iwasawa, Shincho-ko Ki, p. 295.
7. Text in Kawada, Sengoku, p. 114· The poem and its explanation appeared
originally in Dtomo-ko Goke Oboegak],
8. Kawada, Sengoltu , p. 3 I. This poem was written during the Onin War.
Kawada suggested that it might have been composed by the author of
the chronicle Onin Ryakki.
9. For other translations of this poem, see Keene, Anthology of Japanese
Literature, p. 27.
10. See Robert H. Brower and Earl Miner, Japanese Court Poetry, especially
pp. 16- 17,3 87-89.
I I. See Haga Koshiro, Sanjonishi Sanetalea, pp. 47-4 8, 53, 57, 59, 72-73, for

mentions of lectures on Japanese and Chinese classics. For the "joint

research project" held in 1492, see p. 81.
12. The transmission of this secret information did not take place all at once.
In 1489 Sogi inducted Sanjonishi Sanetaka into the first stage of the
mysteries, and in the following year he received further instruction. Not
until 1501 was the induction completed. See Haga, Sanjonishi, pp. 57,
65, I I I.
13. He also attended lectures on the Confucian Four Books, the Tso Chuan,
the History of the Han Dynasty, the Shih Chi, the collection of poetry San
T'i Shih, the poetry of Wu Shan-k'u and Su Tung-p'o, the I-ching (Book
of Changes), and various Buddhist sutras known in their Chinese versions.
14. This variety of linked verse was known as u/akan, wa standing for Japan
and kan for China.
15. It is known as Sanetaka-ko Ki.
16. Sanetaka's diary supplied the material for a classic of modern Japanese
historiography, Higashiyama Jidai ni okeru !chi Shinshin no Seileatsu, by
Hara Katsuro (1871-1923).
17. Haga, Sanjimlshi, p. 187, describes the respect in which Sane taka was held
as todai saiko no bunleajin (literally, "the highest man of culture of the
time").
18. For incidents of such activities at the court, see ibid., pp. 19, 55, 77.
19. For religious vogues of the time, see ibid., pp. 68, 102, and 131. They
included havari-botolee, miraculous manifestations of the Buddha at one
temple after another; goryosha, angry ghosts who had to be appeased; and
Bon odori, dances performed in connection with the Bon Festival (Ura-
bon'e) honoring the spirits of ancestors.
20. See ibid., pp. 188-89, for specific fees that he received in 1523. Making
copies of The Tale of Genji was his chief source of such fees.
21. Ibid., p. 159.
II 66 The Middle Ages
22. Ibid., p. 179. The purchaser was Hatakeyama Yoshifusa, the governor of
Noto.
23. In ibid., pp. 191-25°, Haga gives an account of what he calls "the end of
ancient and medieval things" (kodal~ chuseiteki na mono no shuen).
24. See World Within Walls, pp. 304-7, for an account of Hosokawa Yusai
and his influence on the waka poetry of the early Tokugawa period.
25. I have followed the account of Hosokawa Yusai by Hayashi Tatsuya in
Nihon Koten Bungaku Daijiten, V, pp. 457-58. Other sources (as Hayashi
acknowledges) state that Yusai's father was Mitsubuchi Harukazu, an
adviser to several shoguns.
26. For further deatils see Keene, Some Japanese Portraits, pp. 73-74.
27. See ibid., pp. 76-77, for a fuller account of Yusai's success in mollifying
Hideyoshi.
28. There is a modern edition edited by Tsuchida Masao in the Koten Bunko
series. Shumy» Shu contains, in addition to the waka, two diaries by Yusai,
Kyiishu Michi no Ki, and Togokujin Michi no Ki. There is a total of 817
waka in the collection, including those in the diaries.
29. Mishima-e was an old name for the lower reaches of the Yodo River near
Ozaka (the modern Osaka). The reeds (ashi) in the river at this point
were often mentioned in poetry.
30. Tsuchida, Shumyo Shu, p. 98.
31. Shin Kokinshu 238.
32. See my essay "[oha, a Sixteenth-Century Poet of Linked Verse," in George
Elison and Bardwell L. Smith (eds.), Warlords, Artists, and Commoners, pp.
124-25. The original source of this information is Oze Hoan's biography
of Nobunaga, Shincho Ki. See Kangori Amane (ed.), Shincho Ki, I, pp.
87- 88
33. Kangori, Shincho Ki, I, p. 88. See also Araki, Azuchi, p. 344.
34. Perhaps the most notable appearance of [oha in a later work of literature
is the play Mitsuhide to Shoha (1926) by Masumune Hakucho, He portrayed
[oha (whom he mistakenly called Shoha) as a cowardly and sycophantic
man who betrayed his patron Mitsuhide.
35. Biographical data have been derived from Odaka Toshio, Aru Rengashi
no Shogai, pp. 16-21. My essay "Joha," from which I have directly quoted
here, contains more detailed information on [oha's life.
36. From Matsunaga Teitoku's Taionki, edited by Odaka Toshio in Taionki,
Oritaleu Shiba no Ki, Ranta Kotohajime, p. 63.
37. Odaka, Aru Rengashi, p. 46.
38. Sanjonishi Kiri'eda, Yoshino Mode no Ki, in Nihon Kikobun Shusei series,
III, p. 197. For a discussion of this diary, see my Travelers of a Hundred
Ages, pp. 242-46.
39. Text in Fukui Kyuzo, Renga no Shiteki KenkYu, I, p. 238. See note 19 on
page 311 of Elison and Smith, Warlords.
40. Odaka, Aru Rengashi, p. 83.
The Late Sixteenth Century
41. Satomura [oha, Fujimi no Michi no Ki, in Nihon Kikobun Shusei series,
III, p. 242. See also my Some Japanese Portraits, p. 59.
42. Odaka, Am Rengashi, p. 143. See also Elison and Smith, Warlords, p. 127.
43. Araki Yoshio, Azuchi, pp. 351-52.
44. George Sansom, A History ofJapan: 1334-1615, p. 41. See above, p. 1131.
45. The text of Kinkafi; was discovered in 1924 by Sasaki Nobutsuna. A
postscript states that the manuscript (the only one extant) was copied in
98 I by 6 no Yasuki, a master of great song (outashi), and it has been
conjectured that the collection was originally compiled in the early Heian
period, probably about 810. The work consists of texts of songs, given in
the Man'yogana, together with musical notations for the singer's voice and
for the koto. There are twenty-one poems, one of which, however, is
different from another only in the musical notation. There are also brief
notes on sources of the songs. Thirteen of the twenty-one poems are found
only in this collection.
46. The origin of the title was discussed by Asano Kenji in his introduction
(kaisetsu) to his edition Shintei Chusci Kayo Shu, pp. 7-8. He noted that
the name of the collection does not appear in any book catalogue prior
to the nineteenth century; it was only in the Meiji era that the work
attracted attention, starting with an essay by Takano Tatsuyuki in Teikoku
Bungalru for August 1906.
47. Text in Kitagawa Tadahiko, Kanginsha, Soan Ko-uta Shu, P: 16. A man
"who has abandoned the world" is, of course, a Buddhist priest. The
yearly accumulation of snow was a conventional way of alluding to the
passage of time, but it may have referred to Chinese tales of scholars who
studied by reflected light from the snow or by the light of fireflies.
48. Soka (or saga) was a kind of song that was popular especially with the
samurai class during the two hundred years or so from the end of the
Kamakura period up to the Azuchi-Mornoyama period. It was known as
soka (fast song) because the tempo was considerably faster than in earlier
songs (like the saibara) or recitations, though the texts themselves were
comparatively long. Soka were often absorbed into the texts of the No
plays, particularly the kuse sections.
49. See, for example, the translations by Frank Hoff of poems 99 and 100 in
Like a Boat in a Storm: A Century of Song in Japan, pp. 65-66. These are
passages taken from Komparu Zenchiku's No play Basho, which in turn
quoted Chinese poetry.
50. Poem In. Text in Kitagawa, Kanginshu, P: 98.
51. Poem 178. Kitagawa, Kanginshu, p. 99.
52. Poem 179. Kitagawa, Kanginshu, pp. 99-100.
53. Poem 180. Kitagawa, Kanginshii, p. 100.
54. Poem 282. Kitagawa, Kanginshii, p. 146. Poem 164 in Soan Ko-uta sss
(Kitagawa, p. 208) is a shortened form of the same song.
55. There is a complete translation of the Kanginshii by Frank Hoff in Like
II 68 The Middle Ages
a Boat. His translations are fluent and effective, but are quite free, as will
be apparent when they are compared with my (equally free) translations.
56. I am reminded of the poem by Ishikawa Takuboku that concludes, "Who
will you strike / With that luckless fist- / Your friend' your self? / Or
the innocent pillar at your side?" (Translated in my Modem Japanese
Literature, p. 204.)
57. Kokinshu 504· It is anonymous.
58. For example, the preface by Ooka Makoto to Hoffs Like a Boat expresses
his admiration for the open hedonism of the Kanginshu (p. 10) and his
hope that the translation "may one day share something of the significance
in English-speaking countries with Fitzgerald's translation of the Rubai-
vat" (p. 14). In his own works on Japanese poetry Ooka has often described
the special attraction of Kanginshu poetry; see, for example, his Koi no
Uta (pp. 169-85) and Nihon Shiika Kiko (pp. 204-7), where he gives favorite
ko-uta from the Kanginshu along with his high appraisal of the collection.
For an appreciation of the work by a contemporary novelist, see Hata
Kohei, Kanginshu: Koshin to Ren'ai no Kayo.
59. The popularity of the ko-uta during the sixteenth century is attested by
many sources. Oda Nobunaga, not the most artistic of men, is reported
not only to have been fond of ko-uta but to have composed one. Toyotomi
Hideyoshi's praise for ko-uta has also been preserved. The popularity of
ko-uta spread to the aristocracy, as we know from court diaries of the
time. See Kitagawa, Kanginshii, p. 244.
60. See Nihon Koten Bungaeu Daijiten, VI, p. 227.
61. This is the theory of Kitagawa given in Kanginshi», p. 252.
62. The collection has been translated by Frank Hoff under the title The
Genial Seed.
63. Only two songs in the Kanginshu are labeled as Kyogen Kayo, but this
may be an accident of the compilation. Kitagawa emphasizes the impor-
tance of ko-uta in Kyogen by beginning his discussion of the Kanginshu
with summaries of two Kyogen, Narugo and Mizuleumi, in which many
ko-uta are used in the course of the play. See Kitagawa, Kanginshu, PP:
229-4 0.
64. Nobumitsu wrote some of the most popular plays of the entire No rep-
ertory, including Funa Benlici. Momijigari, and Yugyo Yanagi, and revised
others, including Dojoji and Ataea. He has nevertheless attracted curiously
little attention from scholars of No.
65. These actions are performed by actors of the Kongo school; not all schools
are quite so dramatic.
66. For an account of Omura Yuko in English, see my Some Japanese Portraits,
pp.63-7°·
67. For a fuller description of the contents of Yuko's work, see my Some
Japanese Portraits, pp. 65-67. The poems by Bessho Nagaharu and his
The Late Sixteenth Century I I 69

wife, quoted above on p. I 132, were written just before Miki Castle fell
to Hideyoshi.
68. Only five of these plays have been preserved. The music for the plays was
composed by Komparu Yasuteru (1549- 162I), a sixth-generation descen-
dant of Komparu Zenchiku and the head of the Komparu school at the
time. The texts of the five plays are included in Nonomura Kaizo, Yokyoku
Sambyakugo)uban Shu.
69. The plays are not designated by category, and not every scholar would
agree with my divisions. See Hata Hisashi, "Kinsaku No, Kindai No,
Gendai No no Sakusha to Sakuhin," pp. 304-5. Hata seems to consider
Koya-mode as a first-category play; in that case there is no third-category
play in the sequence.
70. Araki Yoshio, Azuchi, p. 391, quoting Hoan Taikoki.
71. Ibid.; full text in Nonomura, Yokyoku, p. 675.
72. Nonomura, Yokyoku, p. 687.
73. The concluding passage is given in Araki, Azuchi, p. 395. See also No-
nomura, Yokyoku, p. 685.
74. Araki Yoshio, Azuchi, pp. 399-4°°, from Hoan Taikoki.
75. The first recorded revival of any of these plays took place in 1898, on the
300th anniversary of Hideyoshi's death when Shibata-uchi was performed.
Contemporary reviews were surprisingly favorable. See Hata Hisashi,
"Kinsaku No," pp. 305-6. In 1989 Altechi-udi: was successfully revived
in connection with the film Rikyu, directed by Teshigahara Hiroshi. See
the article by Matsuoka Shimpei, "Hakken Tanoshii No no Fukkyoku
Bumu," p. 1 I.
76. For summaries of two Kowaka based on texts by Omura Yuko, Miki and
Honnoji, see James T. Araki, The Ballad-Drama of Medieval Japan, pp.
148-49. Hideyoshi's command was given to three Kowaka performers to
use materials in two parts of Tcnsho Ki in making texts for which they
supplied the music. See Araki Shigeru, "Kaisetsu, Kaidai," in Araki, Ikeda,
and Yamamoto, Kou/aea-mai, I, p. 352.
77. For genealogical information, see James T. Araki, The Ballad-Drama, pp.
19-26.
78. The name Kowaka, like the similar names Kofuku and Kogiku, was used
by performers of entertainments in Wakasa and Echizen (the seat of the
Momonoi family), where the art is believed to have originated. See Anzako
Iwao, "Maimai to Kowaka"; also Araki Shigeru, "Kaisctsu, Kaidai," p. 344.
79. James T. Araki, The Ballad-Drama, p. 69.
80. Ibid., p. 71.
81. Its survival in the village of Oe in Fukuoka Prefecture was discovered in
1907 by the drama scholar Tatsuno Tatsuyuki (1876-1948). A detailed
description of contemporary performances is given by James T. Araki in
The Ballad-Drama, pp. 80-108. Kowaka was sometimes known as maimai
IIlo The Middle Ages
(dance-dance), and perhaps Kowaka and maimai originally designated the
same art, but the former came to be associated with the samurai class.
The performers in Oe Village still consider they are preserving samurai
tradition; but maimai, never losing its humble origins, became an enter-
tainment for the lower classes during the seventeenth century.
82. Ibid., p. 87.
In addition to the two Kowaka about Hideyoshi, mentioned above, there
are two about Fujiwara no Kamatari (614-669), another about the Chinese
hero Chang Liang, a love story, a retelling of the story of Izanagi and
Izanami creating the islands of Japan, and Yuritoalea Daijin, described on
p. 1162.
Fukuda Akira in Chusci Katarimono Bungei, p. 103, quotes from Kotoaea
Keizu no koto in support of his belief that the performers composed the
texts themselves, but he admits there are difficulties in this interpretation.
For example, in Togashi, a Kowaka with the same plot as the No Atalia
or the Kabuki Kanjincho, the work concludes with Benkei's reading from
a blank page what he claims is the subscription list of gifts for rebuilding
the Todai-ji; he is praised for this action, but we are not informed whether
or not Togashi believes Benkei's, the climax of the incident. See James
T. Araki, The Ballad-Drama, p. 112.
Ibid., pp. 15°-71, gives a translation of the Kowaka Atsumori.
Muroki Yataro in his article "Kowakarnai," in Nihon Koten Bungaleu
Daijiten, II, p. 528, cites a statement in Arte da Lingoa de lapam by Ro-
drigues as evidence that by this time Kowaka was being recited and no
longer danced. Anzako Iwao in "Maimai to Kowaka" quotes other pas-
sages in the same work, evidence of Rodrigues's familiarity with Kowaka,
For Rodrigues's interest in other aspects ofJapanese literature, see Michael
Cooper, Rodrigues the Interpreter, pp. 230-37; also Michael Cooper, "The
Muse Described."
88. For the early history of [oruri and Kabuki, see World Within Walls, pp.
23°-41.
This is the subject of the study of Thomas F. Leims, Die Entstehung des
Kabuki.
9°· For a more detailed description of Amida no Muneioari see my Bunraku,
pp. 45-47. There are also complete translations by C. J. Dunn of two
versions of the play in The Early Japanese Puppet Drama, pp. 112-34.
For a concise presentation of the background of Sekkyo and a discussion
of the principal texts, see Susan Matisoff, The Legend of Semimaru, pp.
113- 23.
92 . The appropriate sections of such paintings are given by Iwasaki Takeo
(in Sansho Daya Kii, p. 20) and Muroki Yataro (SekkYo Shu, p. 397). Both
show a man, dressed in a patterned kimono rather than priestly robes,
who stands under a large parasol, presumably reciting, while a small
group of spectators, some of them weeping, listen. A section of the "Funaki
The Late Sixteenth Century JIll

Screen," showing theaters in the dried bed of the Kamo River at Shijo
in Kyoto about 1600, is reproduced in Elison and Smith, Warlords, p. 140;
unfortunately, the photograph is so blurred that it is hard to recognize
in the painting what Frank Hoff says about it on the preceding page.
93. Araki Yoshio, Azuchi, p. 485, lists the k01'r5ruri texts derived from sek kyo-
bushi, including Amida no Muncioari, Sansho Dayu, Shintoleumaru, Karu-
kaya Doshin, AlgO no Waka, and Shinoda-zuma. These were the basic texts
of the old [orur i, an indication of how difficult it is to distinguish between
the two theaters.
94. The influence of Kowaka on Sekkyo was noticed by the Confucian phi-
losopher Dazai Shundai (1680-1747) in his Dokugo. See Iwasaki, Sansho,
p. 19. For annotated texts of Sekkyo, see Muroki, SekkYo Shu, which
includes six of the best-known works. Muroki's "kaisetsu" gives a good
general background. For Yuritoaka Dazjin, see page 1162.
95. For kana zoshi, see World Within Walls, pp. 149-64.
96. I am thinking of such works as Ishikawa [uri's "Shion Monogatari,"
published in 1956.
97. Translation by George Elison in his essay "The Cross and the Sword,"
in Elison and Smith, Warlords, p. 66. The letter, sent by Frois to P. Belchior
de Figueiredo, S1, was dated "Miyake, I June 1569'" The word Cdmis
refers to the kami, or gods, of Shinto, and Fotoques to Hotokc. or the
Buddha.
98. Kangor i, Shincho Ki, I, p. 40.
99. lbid., pp. 50-5 I. "Daigaku" refers to Sakuma Daigaku, one of Nobunaga's
lieutenants.
100. See Okuno and Iwasawa, Shincho-ko Ki, p. 5.
101. The title is slightly different from C)ta Gyuichi's work, omitting the word
ko, or "lord."
102. Kangor i, Shincho Ki, I, p. 14-
103. The text, edited by Kuwata Tadachika, appeared in the Iwanami Bunko
in 1944 and was reprinted in 1984.
104. The Kobe Municipal Museum has a celebrated collection (formerly
known as the Ikenaga Collection) of namban bijutsu, "art of the south-
ern barbarians." Most of the examples were probably painted by Jap-
anese.
105. The music survived vestigially until the twentieth century as the orashio
(oratio) sung by the hidden Christians (kakure-kirishitan) of the Goto
archipelago. The original melodies had been lost by this time, and the
words of the hymns reduced to meaningless gibberish. The kokYu, a bowed
musical instrument that became popular about this time, was generally
believed to have been introduced from China, but Professor David Water-
house has shown that the instrument was actually a rebec, introduced by
the Portuguese.
106. The curious work HonkYo Gaihen (d\06) by the Shinto revivalist Hirata
II72 The Middle Ages
Atsutane (1776-1843) borrowed from at least three Christian works writ-
ten in Chinese by Jesuit priests: The Ten Chapters of an Eccentric (1608),
The True Meaning of Christianity (1603), and Seven Conquests (1614) by
Didacus de Pantoja. For a discussion of what Hirata borrowed, see Donald
Keene, The Japanese Discovery of Europe, I720-I730, pp. 164-69. Hirata
presumably borrowed these prohibited books from scholars in Mito, where
there was a collection of Christian books and objects.
I07. See World Within Walls, pp. 158-60.
108. See Keene, The Japanese Discovery, pp. 73-74.
I09. Another story, telling of a woman's love for her stepson, in the manner
of Phaedra and Hippolytus, is found in Japanese works of literature of
the middle ages and afterward, notably the Sekkyo plays Shintohumaru
and Aigo no Waka and the [oruri play Sesshic Gappo ga Tsuji. However,
the resemblances may be coincidental. See my article, "The Hippolytus
Triangle, East and West," in Yearbook of Comparative and General Lit-
erature, no. I I (supplement), 1962.
110. The first part (yuri) of the name Yuriwaka suggests it was derived from
Ulysses. The earliest extant version of the name is the variant Yuriku-
sawaka, seemingly from Ulixes, the Latin name for the hero. See James
T. Araki, "Yuriwaka and Ulysses: The Homeric Epics at the Court of
Ouchi Yoshitaka," pp. 14-17.
I I 1. The text is given in Araki Shigeru et aI., Kotoaea-mai, I, pp. 113-38. This

is the Kowaka version.

112. See Araki Shigeru, "Kaisetsu, Kaidai," pp. 366-69, in Araki Shigeru et
aI., Kiuoaka-mai, I.
113. Tsubouchi's article was published in the January 1906 issue of Waseda
Bungakt«. A summary of his article is given by Araki Yoshio in Azuchi,
PP·4 67-69·
114. James T. Araki, "Yuriwaka," pp. 32-35. The performance at the court
in Kyoto of the dance-play (kowaka-mai) Yurieoaka Daijin in the first
month of ISS I was recorded in Tohitsug« Gyoki, the diary of Yamashina
Tokitsugu. See Araki Yoshio, Azuchi, p. 471. Araki doubted that the
material of The Odyssey could have been made into a theatrical work so
quickly after it was first introduced. However, after considering also
Yuriwaka SekkYo, the Sekkyo play based on the same story, he found so
many close similarities between it and The Odyssey that he reluctantly
reached the conclusion that Tsubouchi was right, after all.
II5. Russell Maeth published in 1986 the article "On the Supposed Fragment
of Homer Discovered in a Chinese Text of the Tenth Century: Taiping
guangji, 481.4, and Odyssey, ix, 105-542." He expressed the belief that the
Chinese scholar Yang Xianyi "did, indeed, discover a fragment of the
Odyssey in a Chinese text of the tenth century."
The Japanese source is a work by Hirazawa Kyokuzan, a samurai
who visited Nagasaki in 1774. See Keene, The Japanese Discovery, p. 74.
The Late Sixteenth Century II73

116. The Japanese account is longer and more detailed, evidence that it was
not derived from Taiping guangji.
117. Yamada Nagamasa (?-1630), the best known of the Japanese adventurers
who resided in Southeast Asia, became the leader of the Japanese town
(Nihommachi) in the Siamese capital, Ayuthia. Other Japanese went to
Cochin China, Annam, Luzon, Cambodia, and Taiwan with permission
of the Japanese government. This was the so-called shuinsen boeki (ver-
milion-seal ship trade). The system of granting licenses with vermilion
seals to persons authorized to travel abroad and engage in commerce
began as early as 1593 and continued until 1635.

Bibliography
Note: All Japanese books, except as otherwise noted, were published in Tokyo.

Anzako Iwao. "Mairnai to Kowaka," Kinsei Minzoleu 39, February, 1966.

Araki, James T. The Ballad-Drama of Medieval Japan. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1964.
- - - . "Yuriwaka and Ulysses: The Homeric Epic at the Court of Ouchi
Yoshitaka," Monurnenta Nipponica 33:1, 1978.
Araki Shigeru, Ikeda Hiroshi, and Yamamoto Kichizo, Kouralta-mai, 3 vols.,
in Toyo Bunko series. Heibonsha, 1979-83.
Araki Yoshio. Azuchi Momoyama Jidai Bungaleu Shi. Kadokawa Shoten, 1969.
Asano Kenji. Shintei Cbusei Kayo Shu, in Nihon Koten Zensho series. Asahi
Shimbun Sha, 1973.
- - - . Shintei Kanginshu, in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten, 1989.
Brower, Robert H., and Earl Miner. Japanese Court Poetry. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1961.
Cooper, Michael. "The Muse Described," Monumenta Nipponica 26: 1-2, 1971.
- - - . Rodrigues the Interpreter. New York: Weatherhill, 1974.
Dunn, C. J. The Early Japanese Puppet Drama. London: Luzac, 1966.
Elison, George, and Bardwell L. Smith. Warlords, Artists, and Commoners. Hon-
olulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1981.
Fukuda Akira. Chusei Katarimono Bungei. Miyai Shoten, 1981.
Fukui Kyuzo. Renga no Shiteki KenkYu, 2 vols. Seibido Shoten, 1930.
Haga Koshiro. Sanjonishi Sanetaka, in [imbutsu Sosho series. Yoshikawa Ko-
bunkan, 1960.
Hara Katsuro. Higashiyama Jidai ni okeru Ichi Shinshin no Seihatsu. Chikuma
Shobe, 1967.
Hata Hisashi. "Kinsaku No, Kindai No, Gendai No no Sakusha to Sakuhin,"
in Yokomichi Mario, Nishino Haruo, and Hata Hisashi, No no Saleush« to
Saeuhin,
1I74 The Middle Ages
Hata Kohei. Kanginshu: Koshin to Rcn'ai no Kayo. Nihon Hoso Shuppan Kyo-
kai, 1982.
Hoff, Frank. "City and Country: Song and the Performing Arts in Sixteenth-
Century Japan," in Elison and Smith, Warlords, Artists and Commoners.
- - - . The Genial Seed. New York: Mushinsha-Grossman, 1971.
- - - . Like a Boat in a Storm: A Century of Song in Japan. Hiroshima: Bunka
Hyoron Shuppan, 1982.
Iwasaki Takeo. Sansho Dayu Ko, Heibonsha, 1973.
- - - . Zoku Sansho Dayii Kii. Heibonsha, 1978.
Kangori Amane (ed.). Shincho Ki, 2 vols. Kyoto: Gendai Shiso Sha, 1981.
Kawada Jun. Sengoku Jidai Waka Shu. Kyoto: Kocho Shorin, 1943.
Keene, Donald. Bunraku. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1965.
- - - . The Japanese Discovery ofEurope, 1720-183°. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford
University Press, 1969.
- - - . Modern Japanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1956.
- - - . Some Japanese Portraits. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1978.
- - - . Travelers of a Hundred Ages. New York: Henry Holt, 1989.
Kitagawa Tadahiko. Kanginshu, Soan Ko-uta Shu, in Shincho Nihon Koten
Shusei series. Shinchosha, 1982.
Kubota [un and Kitagawa Tadahiko. Chuse, no Bungahu, in Nihon Bungakushi
series, III. Yiihikaku, 1976.
Leims, Thomas F. Die Entstehung des Kabuki. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1990.
Maeth, Russell. "On the Supposed Fragment of Homer Discovered in a Chinese
Text of the Tenth Century: Taiping guangji, 481.4, and Odyssey, ix, 105-
542," Estudios de Asia y Africa 21:2, 1986.
Matisoff, Susan. The Legend of Semimaru. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1978.
Matsuoka Shimpei. "Hakken Tanoshii No no Fukkyoku Bumu," Asahi Shim-
bun, June 24, 1991 (evening ed.).
Muroki Yataro. SekkYo Shu, in Shincho Nihon Koten Shusei series. Shinchosha,
1977·
Nihon Koten Bungaleu Daijiten, 6 vols. Iwanami Shoten, 1983-85.
Nonomura Kaizo. YokYoku Sambyakugojuban Shu, in Nihon Meicho Zenshu
series. Kobunsha, 1928.
Odaka Toshio. Aru Rengashi no Shiigai. Shibundo, 1967.
- - - . Taionki, Oritaleu Shiba no Ki, Ranto Kotohajime, In Nihon Koten
Bungaku Taikei series. Iwanami Shoten, 1964.
Okami Masao and Hayashiya Tatsusaburo. Nihon Bungaku no Rekishi, VI.
Kadokawa Shoten, 1967.
Okuno Takahiro and Iwasawa Yoshiko (eds.). Shincho-ko Ki, in Kadokawa
Bunko series. Kadokawa Shoten, 1969.
Ooka Makoto. Koi no Uta. Kodansha, 1985.
- - - . Nihon Shiika Kiko. Shinchosha, 1978.
The Late Sixteenth Century [[75

Sanjonishi Kin'eda, Yoshino MOde no Ki, in Nihon Kikobun Shusei series, III.
Nihon Tosho Senta, 1979.
Sansom, George. A History of Japan: [334-[6[5. London: Cresset Press, 1961.
Shimmura Izuru, lsoho Monogatari, in Iwanami Bunko series. Iwanami Shoten,
1939·
Tsuchida Masao (ed.). Shumyo Shu, in Koten Bunko series. Koten Bunko, 1969.
Yokomichi Mario, Nishino Haruo, and Hata Hisashi. No no Saleusha to Saliuhin,
in Iwanami Koza: No Kyogen series. Iwanami Shoten, 1987.
 Glossary

ai-kyagen. Also called ai. A scene played between the two parts of a No play.
Usually consists of a Kyogen actor, known as "the man of the place," who, in
response to the request of the u/alei, relates the circumstances behind the appearance
of the shite in the first part.

aware. The moving qualities of the sights and experiences of the world.

biwa. A stringed musical instrument, somewhat resembling in shape the mandolin.

Used as an accompaniment for dramatic recitations in the middle ages.

bosatsu. A bodhisattva.

bugaku. The stately dances performed to the accompaniment of gagaku music.

bunjin. A literatus. The ideal "gentleman," especially during the Tokugawa period.

butsumei. Poems that include "hidden words" by means of puns. Literally, "names
of things." Also known as mono no na.

chaka. A long poem of indeterminate length, consisting of alternating lines in five

and seven syllables with a final extra line in seven syllables. Most skillfully used
by the Man'yoshi; poets.

chokuscnsh«. A collection of poetry (mainly waka) compiled by command of a

sovereign.

chonin, A townsman. This class did not enjoy many privileges until the Tokugawa
period.

chugu. The meaning of this term varied somewhat according to the period, but it
generally designated an empress, the consort of an emperor.

chunagon. A "middle counselor."

dai. Topics of waka poetry, such as the seasons.

Glossary 1177

daisaku. A poem composed for another person.

daruma-uta . A term expressing dislike or contempt for difficult poems; used spe-
cifically of some of Teika's poems.

Dazaifu. One of several military stations. The most important was III northern
Kyushu,

dengalru, Literally, "field music." A kind of drama, originally performed by peasants

in order to please the gods, later developed into an art that rivaled No.

doka. A religious or didactic song, used especially of those composed in the middle
ages.

engo. A "related word." In order to give unity to a poetic composition a poet might
choose from among various synonyms one related to his subject. Thus, with tsuyu
(dew) the word okidolearo (rather than some synonym) was likely to be used to
mean a "place to stay" because the verb oleu also was used of dew "settling."

ennen. A kind of play, resembling No, that was performed at temples in the
Kamakura period. The name means "prolong life," suggesting ennen was originally
an offering to the gods made in the hope of prolonging someone's life.

fu, A Chinese form of rhymed prose. Burton Watson, who translated many ex-
amples, called the form "rhyme-prose."

fudoki. A gazetteer, especially those made early in the Nara period.

gabun. "Elegant prose." Used especially of the pseudo-archaic compositions of the

Tokugawa period.

gagaku. The orchestral music that often serves to accompany bugaku dance-plays.

gekokujo. "Those underneath overcoming those above" - a phenomenon described

especially in the writings of the late middle ages.

gembue«. A boy's coming-of-age ceremony.

genzaimono. A No play without supernatural elements. The persons encountered

by the waki belong to the same period as himself; hence the name, "present-day
work."

gigaku. The earliest form of ritual dances, imported from China for performance
at the court during the Nara period. Superseded by bugaku.

giko monogatari. "Archaistic fiction." Used especially of the fiction written during
the Kamakura and Muromachi periods in imitation of the Heian tales.

gongen. A bodhisattva who manifests himself in Japan as a Shinto divinity in order

to save people.
 Glossary
gunki monogatari. Martial tales that describe warfare of the late Heian period.

hailrai no renga. The comic style of renga that gave birth to the haikai poetry of
the Tokugawa period.

hahama. The trousers of a formal Japanese costume.

hanlta, An "envoy" to a Man'voshu poem. One or more of these envoys, 10 the

form of a u/alea, was appended to a cholea,

hiragana. The flowing style of kana writing. Lends itself to graceful calligraphy,
and is used today to record Japanese words, as opposed to importations.

hoben. Originally, an expedient used by the Buddha and the bodhisattvas to save
human beings by adapting the teachings to fit individual capacities. Later, a jus-
tification for literature as a painless means of spreading doctrine.

hoin. A general term denoting a Buddhist priest, used during the middle ages and
later.

honji suljaleu, Literally, "original substance manifests traces," used to mean that
the budd has had manifested themselves in Japan as Shinto deities.

honka-dori. "Allusive variation"-the borrowing of some elements of an earlier

poem in making a new poem, a feature especially of Shin Kokinshi; and later toalea
poetry.

hoshi. A priest; however, it sometimes designated anyone who dressed as a priest

even if he was a professional entertainer. Biwa hoshi were such entertainers who
played the biwa.

hyakushu. A sequence of one hundred poems. The celebrated Hyakunin Isshu is

such a sequence, though it lacks the connections between one poem and the next
characteristic of the best hyakushu.

iemoto. The head of a school of No, Kyogen, and many other traditional Japanese
arts.

trnavo . "New style"-popular songs of the late Heian period, usually sung by
shirabvosh]. They were in four lines, each containing seven plus five syllables. Ryojin
Hisho contains many such imayo,

ji-amari. "Excess syllables"-said of a line in a ioalea with more than the normal
five or seven syllables.

jirik], "Self-efforts"-a belief that one can save oneself by one's good works and
other efforts, typical of Zen Buddhism.

jisei. A farewell verse to the world, usually composed immediately before a person
dies.
Glossary 1179

[odo, The Pure Land-the paradise of Amida Buddha. Believers in [odo Buddhism
pray that Amida will receive them in this paradise.

jo, ha, !ryu. The three tempi of a No play-slow, fast, and very fast. The ha section
contains the development of the plot of the play and is much longer than either
of the other two.

jokotoba, Same as Joshi or jo.

Joshi. (Also called jo.) The "preface" to a poem consisting of one or more lines,
often related to what follows not by sense but by an association or word-play.

kagami. A mirror, and by extension, a kind of history that "mirrors" the past.

kagura. Sacred dances performed at Shinto shrines.

kakekotoba. A word that differs in meaning depending on the word it follows and
precedes; sometimes also a portmanteau word.

kambun (or kanbun). Prose written in classical Chinese.

kampaku. The "chancellor"-the highest position to which a person not of the

imperial family could rise.

kan. A scroll or volume of a longer work.

kana. The syllabary used to record the sounds of Japanese. Two forms, the flowing
hiragana and the severer katahana, are used.

kanshi. A poem composed in classical Chinese.

kana zoshi, A work of fiction written mainly In words of Japanese origin and
transcribed mainly in kana.

kata-uta. A "half-poem" consisting of the first three lines of a sedolea (5-7-7 syllables).
Of importance in the Man'yoshu and other early poetry, and revived unsuccessfully
in the Tokugawa period.

kemari. "Kickball." A kind of football played by courtiers in the Heian period and
afterward that survives vestigially.

kin. A stringed musical instrument imported from China.

kinsei. The premodern period, from 1600 to 1867.

kogo. Empress, the consort of an emperor. In some periods there was both a kogo
and a chugu, both considered to be empresses.

kokata. The role of a child in a No play.

kokoro. As a term of u/alea criticism, it meant the affective quality of a poem.

koto. A stringed instrument; sometimes translated as "zither."

lI80 Glossary
kotoba. "Words"-the language used in a poem to express the poet's feelings.

kotobagaki. A preface to a poem, often expressing the circumstances under which

the poem was composed.

kunimi. "Looking at the country"-a ritual act of observation performed by an

emperor.

Kyagen. The comic plays performed in conjunction with No. Also, the ai-kYagen,
the short plays or narrations performed in between the two parts of a No play.

kYagen kigyo. "Wild words and fancy language"-a characterization of literature,

used often when discussing literary expression as a hoben for enlightenment.

kYaka. A comic toalta,

maeurabotoba. A fixed epithet in five or seven syllables, used in poetry, often before
place names.

mana. Chinese characters, as opposed to the kana.

mappo, The last period of the Buddhist Law, when people would no longer be
able to understand or practice the teachings of Buddha.

menoto. Originally, a wet nurse; also used to mean a governess, and (in the case
of a male) a preceptor.

monogatari. A work of fiction; literally, a "relating of things" from mono (things)

and katari (relating).

mono no aware. A sensitivity to things, usually used in connection with an awareness

of tragic implications.

mono no ke. An evil spirit that causes sickness or death.

mugen. A variety of No in which the central character (shite) is a spirit or ghost.

mujo, The inconstancy of the things of this world. A Buddhist principle that lay
behind much poetic expression.

nembutsu. The invocation to Amida Buddha-namu amida butsu-pronounced by

believers in [odoshu or [odo Shinshu Buddhism.

nenga. A "reign-name." Since the Meiji period there has been only one reign-name
for each emperor, but in the past the nenga was changed in certain years of the
cycle of sixty or else when unusually auspicious or ill-ornened events occurred.

nikki. A diary, though many examples of this genre were written long after the
events described.

nikki bungaeu, "Diary literature"-the genre to which the literarily conceived

diaries belong.
Glossary IISI

No. The classical drama, usually tragic in character. There are two main varieties:
mugen No, in which the shite is a spirit or ghost, and genzaimono, in which the
shite is a person of this world.

onryo, A vindictive spirit who returns to this world to afflict those he considers
were responsible for his grief while he was alive.

otogi-zoshi, Tales composed in the Muromachi or early Tokugawa period.

p'icn wen. A form of Chinese parallelism in literary composition.

rakugo. Recitations of comic anecdotes.

renga. "Linked verse"-one of the major forms of poetic composition during the
middle ages.

rcnsahu. A series of poems, sometimes united by a common theme.

risshi. Originally, a Buddhist priest who was especially familiar with the Bud-
dhist Law; the third highest rank bestowed on learned priests, after sojo and
siizu,

rufubon. A vulgate text, the most widely known version of a particular text.

sabi. The quality of appreciating loneliness, poverty, or even desolation-an ideal

in poetry from the time of Fujiwara Shunzei.

sadaijin. Minister of the Left. A high-ranking office immediately below that of

dajodaijin (prime minister).

saig«. The imperial princess who served as the high priestess at Ise.

sakoku. "Closure of the country"-a condition that persisted during much of the
Tokugawa period.

sarugaku. An early name for No, sometimes written with characters meaning
"monkey music."

sedolea. A poem In six lines of 5-7-7-5-7-7 syllables which appears chiefly in the
Man'yoshu,

sekkYo. Originally, an explanation of the sutras, but as the explanations became

more dramatic, it turned into a pronouncedly lachrymose variety of theatrical
entertainment.

scmmvii. Originally, an imperial rescript written in Japanese but including words

of Chinese origin. It gave rise to the mixed style of Chinese and Japanese known
as u/alean konko.

sessho . A regent-the name by which a kampaku was known when the sovereign
was a minor.
 Glossary
setsutoa, Tales of the variety found in Tales of Times Now Past, especially of the
late Heian and Kamakura periods.

shimai. The climactic dance of a No play.

Shingon. One of the principal Buddhist sects, founded in Japan by Kobo Daishi
(Kiikai).

shirabyoshi. Women dancers and entertainers, especially during late Heian and
Kamakura times. They figure prominently in such works as The Tale ofthe Heile«,

shite. The principal actor in a No play.

shiimyo, Buddhist chanting to Sanskrit or Chinese texts.

shonagon. Lesser counselor-a fairly high rank in the court bureaucracy.

shosetsu, "Novel"-a term borrowed from China and first used by the Japanese
in the eighteenth century.

shu. "Collection," found in such titles as Kohinshu,

sorobun. A style characterized by the use of the copula verb siiro, First used in the
Kamakura period, it appears in the prose sections of the No plays and eventually
became the epistolary style in use until about 1945.

soshi. A work of fiction, found in such terms as kana sosh! and ukiyo zoshi.

soshiji. The voice of the novelist, intruded into such texts as The Tale of Genji.

tanka. The classical verse form, composed in five lines of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. More
commonly called waka before the Meiji Restoration.

tarik],"Other's efforts"-the kind of Buddhism characterized by a belief that

salvation is possible only through the intercession of Amida Buddha.

Tendai. A Buddhist sect of particular importance during the Heian period. Founded
in Japan by Dengyo Daishi (Saicho).

tsure. A "companion" to the shite or waki in a No play.

udaijin. Minister of the Right. A high-ranking office immediately below sadaijin

(minister of the Left).

uguisu. A songbird that is frequently mentioned in spring poems.

uta. A song, but also a poem; used interchangeably with u/alea,

uta-ataase. A poem competition. Two teams (the left and right) composed poems
on specified topics, and a judge awarded victory or a tie to each competing pair.

utagah). In ancient times an exchange of poems between men and women that
often led to mating.
Glossary
utagatari. Talks on poetry, usually by a group of poets trying to ascertain the
meaning of obscure poems.

utamaleura, Generally, a place that had inspired poetry and was believed to be still
capable of inspiring new poems.

uta monogatari. A work consisting of episodes centered around one or more toalea,
typified by Tales of Ise.

wabi. A taste for simplicity, especially in the tea ceremony.

u/akan konko. A style that mixes Japanese and Chinese words, typified by The Tale
of the Heih«, as opposed to the "pure Japanese" style of The Tale of Genji.

waki. The secondary actor in a No play, often a traveling priest.

yamabuki. A yellow flower, sometimes called a "kerria rose," that blooms late in
the spring.

yamabushi. Ascetic "mountain priests" who live in remote places and practice
austerities that enable them to perform miraculous cures, etc.

yugen. "Mystery and depth"-an ideal associated especially with the No theater,
though the term was also used for waka and renga. The connotations of the word
varied considerably according to the user.

zato, Blind entertainers; they figure importantly in several Kyogen plays.

zuihitsu. "Following the brush"-miscellaneous essays, typified by The Pillow Book

of Sei Shonagon and Essays in Idleness.

zuryd. The provincial governor class during the Heian period, consisting of mem-
bers of the middle- or lower-class aristocracy.
 Selected List of
Translations znto English

This list does not attempt to be complete. It does not include translations that
are part of longer studies, or translations of single No or Kyogen plays. Works that
are primarily of historical, rather than literary, interest have generally been excluded.

Works Covering Several Periods

Carter, Steven D. Traditional Japanese Poetry. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1991.
- - - . Waiting for the Wind. New York: Columbia University Press, 1989.
Keene, Donald. Anthology of Japanese Literature. New York: Grove Press, 1955.
McCullough, Helen Craig. Classical Japanese Prose: An Anthology. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1990.
Miner, Earl. Japanese Poetic Diaries. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969.
Plutschow, Herbert, and Hideichi Fukuda. Four Japanese Travel Diaries of the
Middle Ages. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University East Asia Papers, 1981.
Reischauer, Edwin 0., and Joseph K. Yamagiwa. Translations from Early Japanese
Literature. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1951.
Sato, Hiroaki, and Burton Watson. From the Country of Eight Islands. Garden City,
N.Y.: Doubleday, 1981.
Watson, Burton. Japanese Literature in Chinese, 2 vols. New York: Columbia Uni-
versity Press, 1975-76.

Ancient and Nara Periods

"The Footprints of the Buddha": an Eighth-CentUlY Old Japanese Poetic Sequence, trans.
by Roy Andrew Miller. New Haven, Conn.: American Oriental Society, 1975.
Selected List of Translations into English
Ko-ji-Ki, or Record of Ancient Matters, trans. by Basil Hall Chamberlain. 2nd ed.
Kobe: J. L. Thomson, 1932.
Kojiki, trans. by Donald L. Philippi. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1968.
The Manyoshu. The Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai Translation. New York: Co-
lumbia University Press, 1965.
Man'yoshu, Volume One, trans. by Ian Hideo Levy. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 1981.
Nihongi, trans. by W. G. Aston. Reprint ed. Tokyo: Tuttle, 1972.

Heian Period
As I Crossed a Bridge ofDreams, trans. by Ivan Morris. New York: Dial Press, 1971.
The Changelings, trans. by Rosette F. Willig. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1983.
The Emperor Horikatoa Diary, trans. by Jennifer Brewster. Honolulu: The Uni-
versity of Hawaii Press, 1977.
Ennin's Diary: The Record of a Pilgrimage to China in Search of the Law, trans. by
Edwin O. Reischauer. New York: Ronald Press, 1955.
The Gossamer Years (Kagero Nikki), trans. by Edward Seidensticker. Reprint ed.
Tokyo: Tuttle, 1964.
The Izumi Shikibu Diary, trans. by Edwin A. Cranston. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1969.
Kokinshu, trans. by Laurel Rasplica Rodd with Mary Catherine Henkenius. Prince-
ton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984.
Kokin Wakashu, trans. by Helen Craig McCullough. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford
University Press, 1985.
Mirror for the Moon: A Selection of Poems by Saigyo (I II 8- IIgO), trans. by William
R. LaFleur. New York: New Directions, 1978.
Murasaki Shikibu: Her Diary and Poetic Memoirs, trans. by Richard Bowring. Prince-
ton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1982.
Okagami, The Great Mirror, trans. by Helen Craig McCullough. Princeton, N.J.:
Princeton University Press, 1980.
The Pillow-Book ofSei Shonagon, trans. by Arthur Waley. London: Allen & Unwin,
1928.
The Pillow Book ofSei Shonagon, 2 vols., trans. by Ivan Morris. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1967.
The Poetic Memoirs ofLady Daibu, trans. by Phillip Tudor Harries. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1980.
The Riverside Counselor's Stories, trans. by Robert L. Backus. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1985.
"Takamura Monogatari," trans. by Ward Geddes in Monumenta Nipponica 46:3, 1991.
A Tale of Eleventh-Century Japan: Hamamatsu Chiinagon Monogatari, trans. by
Thomas H. Rohlich. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1983.
JI86 Selected List of Translations Into Engllsh
The Tale of Genji, trans. by Arthur Waley. One-volume edition. New York:
Random House, 1960.
The Tale of Genji, trans. by Edward G. Seidensticker. New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1976.
Tales ofhe, trans. by Helen Craig McCullough. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1968.
Tab of Yamato, trans. by Mildred Tahara. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press,
'9 80.

Kamaltura Period
The Confessions of Lady Nijo ; trans. by Karen Brazell. Garden City, N.Y.: Dou-
bleday, '973.
"Fitful Slumbers: Nun Abutsu's Utatane," trans. by John R. Wallace in Monumenta
Nipponica 43A, '9 81\.
Fujiwara Teilra's Hundred-Poem Sequence of the Shoji Era, trans. by Robert H.
Brower. Tokyo: Sophia University, 1978.
Fujiwara Teika's Superior Poems of Our Time, trans. by Robert H. Brower and Earl
Miner. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1967.
Lady Nijo's Own Story, trans. by Wilfrid Whitehouse and Eizo Yanagisawa. Tokyo:
Charles E. Tuttle, 1974.
"Recluses and Eccentric Monks: Tales from the Hosshinshu by Kamo no Chomei,'
trans. by Marian Ury in Monumenta Nipponica 2]:2, 1972.
Record of Things Heard [rom the Treasury of the Eye of the True Teachings, trans.
by Thomas Cleary. Boulder, Colo.: Prajna Press, 1990.
Sand and Pebbles (Shasekishii), trans. by Robert E. Morrell. Albany: State University
of New York Press, 1985.
A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, 2 vols., trans. by William H. and Helen Craig
McCullough. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1980.
The Tale of the Heih«, trans. by Hiroshi Kitagawa and Bruce T. Tsuchida. Tokyo:
University of Tokyo Press, '975.
The Tale ofthe Heike, trans. by Helen Craig McCullough. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford
University Press, 1988.
The Tale of Matsura: Fujiwara Teilea's Experiment in Fiction, trans. by Wayne P.
Lammers. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Mich-
Igan, 1992.
"TamekanekYo Wakasho," trans. by Robert N. Huey and Susan Matisoff in Mon-
umenta Nipponica 40:2, 1985.
Tannisho: A Primer, trans. by Dennis Hirota. Kyoto: Ryukoku University, 1982.

Muromachi Period
"Bunsho Soshi: The Tale of Bunsho, the Saltmaker," trans. by James T. Araki in
Monumenta Nipponica 38:3, 1983.
Selected List of Translations into English II 87

Conversations with Shotetsu, trans. by Robert H. Brower. Ann Arbor: Center for
Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 1991.
Essays in Idleness: the Tsurezuregusa of Kenko, trans. by Donald Keene. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1967.
Granny Mountains: A Second Cycle of No Plays, trans. by Royall Tyler. Ithaca, N.Y.:
Cornell University East Asia Papers, 1978.
IkkYa and the Crazy Cloud Anthology, trans. by Sonja Arntzen. Tokyo: University
of Tokyo Press, 1986.
japanese No Dramas, trans. by Royall Tyler. London: Penguin, 1992.
japanese Noh Drama, 3 vols., trans. by Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai. Tokyo,
1955- 60.
Like a Boat in a Storm: A Century ofSong in japan, trans. by Frank Hoff. Hiroshima:
Bunka Hyoron, 1982.
The No Plays of japan, trans. by Arthur Waley. Reprint. New York: Grove Press,
1957·
Noh Drama and The Tale of Genji, trans. by Janet Goff. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 1991.
On the Art of the No Drama, trans. by J. Thomas Rimer and Yamazaki Masakazu.
Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984.
"Pilgrimage to Dazaifu: Sogi's Tsuleushi no Michi no Ki, trans. by Eileen Kato in
Monumenta Nipponica 34:3, 1979·
Pining Wind: A Cycle of No Plays, trans. by Royall Tyler. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell
University East Asia Papers, 1978.
Poems of the Five Mountains, trans. by Marian Ury. Tokyo: Mushinsha, 1977.
Rethinking Sorrow: Reuclatorv Tales of Late Medieval japan, trans. by Margaret Helen
Childs. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 1991.
Salea's Diary of a Pilgrimage to Ise, trans. by A. L. Sadler. Tokyo: The Meiji Japan
Society, 1940.
The Tale of the Soga Brothers, trans. by Thomas J. Cogan. Tokyo: University of
Tokyo Press, 1987.
The Taihciki, trans. by Helen Craig McCullough. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1959.
Tales of Tears and Laughter: Short Stories of Medieval japan, trans. by Virginia
Skord. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1991.
Twelve Plays of the Noh and Kyogen Theaters, trans. by Karen Brazell and others.
Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell East Asian Program, 1986.
Twenty Plays of the No Theatre, trans. by Donald Keene and others. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1970.
Yoshitsune, trans. by Helen Craig McCullough. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press,
1966.
Zen Poems ofthe Five Mountains, trans. by David Pollack. New York: The Crossroad
Publishing Co., 1985.
 INDEX

(In general, poetry collections and plays are indexed under their
Japanese titles; prose works-tales, diaries, and histories-r-are
indexed under their English titles.)

Abe no Nakamaro, 254, 362, 702, 737n opening of, 759-60

"About a Painting" (Ichu Tsujo), 1068 stylistic features of, 760
Abutsu, 278, 7°6, 709, 738n-39n Account of the Takemuki Palace [Take-
diaries of, 834-37 multi ga Ki] (Hino Nako), 844-47
Account of a Pilgrimage to the Great Account of the Visit of the Cloistered
Shrine at Ise [Ise Daijingi: Emperor Gotoba to Kumano
Sankeik i] (Jubutsu), 971-73 [Gotoba-in Kumano Goko Ki]
Account of Fujikawa [Fujikawa no Ki] (Fujiwara Teika), 831
(Ichijo Kaneyoshi), 976-78, 993n- Acrostic poems, 230
94n Actors:
Account of Miracles in Japan [Nihon Kyogen. See Ai
Ryoiki] (Kyokai, or Keikai), professionalism of, 17
206-9, 466n, 509n, 568, 570, 57 1, see also Drama; No
574, 579, 595n , 985 Aesop's Fables, 18-19, II62
compilation of, 206-7 Agui (Kyoto), 988
didactic purpose of, 207, 208-9 Ai (Kyogen actors), 1007, I031-32,
Kannon's miracles in, 207-8 1046n
Account of My Hut, An [Hojoki] interval narrations by, IOI9-20,
(Kamo no Chomei), 347, 759-65, I028, 1155
782n language used by (sorobun), I007-8
allusions to poetry in, 763-64 Aigo no Waka, II58, 117m, 1172n
assessment of, 765 Ai-kyogen (short plays or narrations
autobiographical sketch in, 762 performed between parts of No
borrowings in, 762, 763 play), 1019-20, 1028, 1155
Buddhist imagery in, 760, 763 Aimiya, 372, 373, 374, 390, 404n , 51m
examples of disasters in, 760-61, Ainu, 35
764,765 Ajari [ojin, Mother of. See Mother of
hardships of life in, 761-62 the Ajari Jojin
Hosshinsbu compared to, 766, 767 Akahito. See Yamabe no Akahito
last section of, 762-65 Akamatsu Mitsusuke, 91m
 Index
Akamatsu Yoshinori, I075 lmashimmei Shrine on Anegakaji),
Akazome Emon, 293, 295, 298-300, 944
305, 334n, 552, 553-54 Anko, Emperor, 51
passages in Collection of Old Setsuwa Anrakuan Sakuden, 1054n
Texts about, 578 Antoku, Emperor, 321, 322, 564, 633,
Akechi Mitsuhide, 1136, "52 634, 653, 686n, 827, 909n, 9 15n
Akechi-uchi [The Slaying of Akechi], Aoi no Ue, 1053n
1152, 1169n Aoki Takako, 102
Aki no Yo no Nagamonogatari. See Arai Hakuseki, 233
Long Tale for an Autumn Araki, James, "53-54, ,,63
Night, A Araki Yoshio, I 131
Akikane. See Fujiwara no Akikane Arakida Reijo, 564, 915n
Akiko. See Shoshi Arakinomiya (temporary enshrine-
Ahimichi, "12-14 ment), 107, 166n
Akisuke. See Fujiwara no Akisuke Archaistic fiction (giko rnonogatari),
Akitsushima Monogatari. See Tale of 516,790, 818n, "58-59
Akitsushima, A see also Courtly fiction
Ako, Lord of, 20 Are. See Hieda no Are
Aka incident (887), 201-2 Ariake no Wakare. See Parting at Dawn
Akugenta Yoshihira, 625-26, 628, Aridoshi, 1043n
6400 Arihito, Prince, 923-24, 959n
Akutagawa Ryunosuke, 577, 603n Arima, Prince, 140
Allegory, in poetry, 7 15, "33 Ariwara no Narihira, 16In, 221, 224,
Amaterasu, 36, 40, 42, 45, 50, 68, 69, 225-34, 236, 237, 2400 , 245, 255,
106, 678, 873, 983, 995n 268, 27m, 280, 294, 346, 460, 462,
Ame-no-uzume, 36, 37, 42 524,7° 1, "33
Amida Buddha, 313, 327, 33m, 513n, ambiguity in poems by, 225-29
61 I, 622, 628, 764, 775, 777, 784n , as celebrated lover, 225, 231-32
785n, 983, 995n, 1101 distinctive poetic devices of, 227,
Christian influence and, 1156-57 229-3 1
invocation to (nernbutsu), 751-55, last poem by, 232-33
757, 774, 779n- 80n love poems by, 225-26
Amida no Muneu/ari [The Riven Breast Shotetsu's yugen concept and,
of Amida], "56-57, "7 In 733-34
Arnida-bo, 677 Tales of lse and, 452-57, 472n
Amoghavajra, 186 travel poems by, 23°-31
An Lu-shan, 795, 819n Uda's wrestling match with, de-
Analects (Confucius), 51, 71, 8In, 131, scribed in The New Mirror, 563
188, 2IOn, 213n, I070 Arte da Lingoa de lapam (Rodrigues),
Ando Tsuguo, 664 768
Anegakaji lmashimmei Hyakuin [One Asai Ryoi, 19
Hundred Verses Composed at the Asaka, Prince, 152-53
Index II9 1

"Asakayama," 238n Avatamsake Sutra (Kegon-kyo), 588,

Asakura family, 1135 60 In
Asano no Katori, 195 Awa no Naishi, 634, 882-83
Asauzu, 384-85 Aware (moving qualities of sights
Ashikaga Gakko, I062, I083n-84n and experiences of world), 247,
Ashikaga Motouji, I069, I075 422
Ashikaga shoguns, 610, 725, 853, 909n, and mono no aware in The Tale of
996n, II3° Genji, 489-90
Yamana family's revolt against, Azuchi-Mornoyarna period (1560-
883- 87 1600),609,1129-1175
Ashikaga Tadayoshi, 877, 878-79, dating of, 1164n
9 08n dramatic entertainments of, I 129,
Ashikaga Takauji, 720~21, 722-23, 1148-5 8
725, 874-75, 876, 877, 879, 884, European influence in, 1149, 1156-
907n- 8n, 9 17n, 9 27, 975-76 57, 1161- 64, 117 In - 73n
Ashikaga Yoshiaki, I 138, 1142, I 164n Kowaka of, II49, 1153-55, 1158,
Ashikaga Yoshiharu, 1135 1163, 1169n-7on, 117In, 1172n
Ashikaga Yoshimasa, 737n , 949, I040 No plays of, II29, 1134, II48-53,
Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, 883, 908n, 963n, 1168n-69n
1010, 1013, 1063, 1069-7~ 1075- popular songs of, 1145-48, 1167n-
76, I086n 68n
as patron of No, 1014, 1015-16 prose writings of, 1158-61
Ashikaga Yoshirnochi, 10 I 6 religious vogues of, 1165n
Ashikaga Yoshinori, 91 In, 941, 944, renga of, 1129, 1134, 1135, 1136-37,
1016 1138- 44
Ashikaga Yoshiteru, 1142 waka of, 1129-38, 1141, 1143,
Ashileari [The Reed Cutter], 1027 1146
Aston, W. G., xi Azuma Mondo [Questions and Answers
Asuka, Princess, 104 in the East] (Sogi}, 951, 952
Asukai family, 1130 Azuma poems (in Eastland dialect),
Asukai Masaari, 403n-4n, 837-38 157-5 8
Asukai Masachika, 951, 1094 Azuma-uta (songs), 1144
Ataka, 897, 1028, 1168n, 1170n
Atalanta, 40 Baishi, Princess, 519, 541-42
Atsuhira, Prince, 378, 409n Baishoron , 909n
Atsumichi, Prince, 297, 298, 375-77, Banka (elegies), 92, 93
4 06n, 554, 555 by Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, 102-

Atsumori, 635-36, 884, 886 13, 122-23, 166n

Atsumori (Kowaka), II54-55 Bami Shukvu, 1°76-78, 1087n
Atsumori (No play), 1018, 1019 criticism of, 1077-78
Autobiographies, 729, 730-32 ordinary daily life described by,
see also Diaries 1°76-77
 Index
Banshu Go Seibatsu no Koto [The Con- 57 1, 765-66, 775, 786n, 835, 882,
quest of Banshu] (Omura Yuko), 930, 947, I044n
II5 1 of future (Miroku or Maitreya),
Baramon Soja, 29°-91, 985, 995n-96n 785n, 995n, I044n
Bards, 35 healing (Yakushi), 785n, 995n,
see also Narrators poems carved into stone represent-
Basho. See Matsuo Basho ing footprint of, 90, 16rn-62n
Bashii, rozo Roshana, 153
Battles of Coxinga, The, 59n see also Amida Buddha; Shakya-
Ben, Lady, 838-39, 840 muni Buddha; Vairochana
Ben no Naishi, 805 Buddha
Ben no Naishi Nikki. See Diary of Lady Buddhism, 14, 15, 23, 33, 34, 50, 62,
Ben, The 66,7°,7 1,73,74,78, 103,119,
Benkei. See Musashibo Benkei 136, 138, 153, 181,2°3, 209n,
Benl, Oscar, 513n z rozr, 342, 392, 479, 61 7, 621, 630,
Bessho N agaharu, II 31-32 632, 678, 988, II62
Binga Shu (Sesson Yubai), 1067 as academic discipline vs. religion,
Biographies, I, 70 289- 9 0
of Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Amida,33 2n
Hideyoshi, I 159-6 I belief in transitoriness of world in
Biography of Iron Hammer [Tettsuiden], (mujo), I09-IO, 677-78, 760, 856,
348 857, 859-60, 862
Biography of Ryoshun for His Son Christian influence and, 1156-57
[Ryoshun Isshi Den 1 (Imagawa coexistence of Shinto and, 762,
Ryoshun), 73°-32 775
Birds, as messengers from world of Jodo (Pure Land), 750-55, 775
dead, 125 of Kukai, 183, 185-88, 189
Biwa (stringed musical instrument), Kukai's Indications and, 183-85
887 Mahayana, 185, 750
Biwa has hi (entertainers who played Man'voshti and, 90, I09-IO, 141-42,
biwa; narrators of war tales), 617, 143
629- 30, 636-37, 87 8 medieval fusion of Shinto and, 971-
"Boat in the Moonlight" (Kokan 72,973. 9 83, 993n, 995n
Shiren), 1068-69 medieval war tales and, 879-80
Bodhidharma, 1079 miracle stories and, 206-9
Bokusai, ro81 new sects of, in middle ages, 611-12
Bonta, 939, 940, 963n , 964n Nichiren or Hokke (Lotus Sutra),
Brief Sayings of the Great Teachers 75 1,774-75
[Ichigon Hodan I, 754-55, 780n persecution of, in China, 360
"Brothel, The" (Ikkyu Sojun), 1082 pilgrimages to holy places of,
Brower, Robert H., 719, 74rn 97 1-73
Buaku, 1039-40 reincarnation concept in, 538-39
Buddha, 188, 20~ 208, 3°8, 49~ 562, renga and, 944, 946
Index II93

Rinzai, 751, 756, 1069, 1075 as depicted in Tales of Times Now

sectarian differences in, 749, 750- Past, 575, 597n
75 1 diaries of, 358, 359-61, 407n-8n,
secular arts in dissemination of, 97 1-73
187-89,314,75°, 1030, 103I diary describing family's grief over,
Sekkyo and, I 157-58 37 1-74
Shin, 750-5 I, 753 kanshi by, 1062-91. See also Five
Sino-Japanese pronunciation related Mountains poetry
to, 86, 16m nonreligious poems by, 778-79
sore, 75 I, 756 otogi-zoshi about, 1093-94, 1100-
special vocabulary of, 618 II08
taking Great Step in, I 100-IIOI, as poets, 778
I 105-8 Shuishu poems by, 289-91
The Tale of Genji and, 6, 489-90, see also specific priests
49 2, 507, 562, 749, 750 Buddhist writings, 443
The Tale of Sagoromo and, 519, of Kamakura period, 749-88
529 sermons, 750-59, 779n-82n
The Tale of the Heik« and, 879 setsuwa, 206-9, 568, 57°-72, 573,
upsurge of, in Kamakura period, 574, 577. 579- 80, 759, 765-76,
749 7 8m-85n
Yamanoue no Okura's poems and, zuihitsu (essays), 759-65
141-42, 143 Bugaku (dances), IOOI-2, 104m
see also Shingon Buddhism; Tendai Bukkoku Kokushi, 930
Buddhism; Zen Buddhism Bunka Shurei Shu [Collection of Master-
Buddhist Law (dharma), 571, 757 pieces of Literary Flowers], 191,
last phase of (mappo), 382, 507, 192-94, 197-98, 21m
5I3 n , 752, 775, 77~ 854, 882 BunkYo Hifu Ron. See Secret Treasure-
Buddhist poetry (shakkyoka], 776-79, house of the Mirrors of Poetry
785n-86n Bunna Senku, 963n
Five Mountains, 735, 1062-9I. See Bunraku, 508
also Five Mountains poetry based on The Tale of the Soga
in Goshuishu, 291, 293, 299, 776, Brothers, 892, 9I3n
785n see also [oruri
hymns (imayo), 777-78 Bunsho Soshi. See Tale of Bunsho, The
in Kin'yoshu, 313-14 Buretsu, Emperor, 52
of Kukai, 187 Burial practices, 107, I66n
in Senzaisha, 327 Buson, xii
by Shotetsu, 735 Bussokuseki-tai ("style of the footprint
in Shuishu, 288-91 of the Buddha"), 90
Buddhist priests, 466n Busu, 1033-34, I054n
absent from Honcho Monzui, 344, Butsumei (poems including "hidden
345 words"), 123, 252, 286-87
Chinese learning among, 182 Butsumyo, 767
 Index
Calligraphy, 17,62,219-20,1135 China, 14, 25-26, 50, 51, 99
penmanship exercises and, 220, 238n citing of precedents relating to, 26-
Carter, Steven D., 939 27,3 8
Censorship, 20, 24, I036 complex feelings entertained by Jap-
Chang Cheng-chien, 76, 83n anese toward, 539
Chang Liang, 1I7on culture of, absorbed by Japanese, 62,
Chang Tzu, 135, 173n, 194 77-7 8,86, lI8, 119, 13 1, 135-37,
Ch'ang-an: 139-40, 146
Chinese capital at, 63, 181 early accounts of Japan in dynastic
Kiikai's visit to, 185-86 histories of, 72-74, I09
Chang-hen-eo. See "Song of Unending Ennin's diary of embassy to, 359-
Sorrow, A" 61,3 65
Chan-huo Tse [Intrigues of the Warring Japanese desire to appear civilized
States]' 587 to, 86
Chao Meng-fu, I086n Japanese esteem for, 794
Chao-ming, Prince of China, 66 renewal of trade between Japan
Ch'en dynasty, 74 and, 1062-63
Ch'en Shou, 82n suspension and resumption of em-
Cherry blossoms, 91, 135, 19°,253- bassies to, 245, 1062, 1063
54, 255, 860 see also specific dynasties and historical
cult of, 4 figures
excluded from postwar poetry, 26 Chinese characters, 33-35, 837
Fujiwara Teika's poem on, 664-65, kana developed from, 218-20, 221,
69 0n 23 8n
mitate (taking one thing for an- used as ideograms, 34, 88
other) and, 258-59 used as phonograms to transcribe
personification of, 236 Japanese syllables, 34, 64, 87- 88,
poems on, 91, 135, 190 218, 219
Saigyo's poems on, 679 see also Writing systems
as symbol of beauty, 264-65, 275n Chinese language, I, 16,609
Chia I, 346, 354n-55n Japanese poetry written in. See
Chibiki, I I20n Kanshi
Chieh, Emperor of China, 939, 963n Japanese prose written in. See Karn-
Chigo tales (otogi-zoshi about aco- bun
lytes), lIOO, 1101-5 Japanese women not instructed in,
Chih-i, 402n 232, 345, 363
Chih-k'ai, 598n, 770 Japanese words borrowed from, I I,

Chikafusa. See Kitabatake Chikafusa 12, 86-87, 160n, 256, 467n, 617-
Chikamatsu Monzaemon, xi, xii, 7, 13, 18
15,20-21,22,23, 59n, 1164 mixture of Japanese and (wakan
Chikat«, I053n, 115° konko), 833
Chikatsune. See Fujiwara Chikatsune printing of works of literature in,
Ch'in dynasty, 1074 16
Index
tale literature (setsuwa) translated by Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, 102-
from, 582-84 13, 124
Chinese literature: by Kasa no Kanamura, 128-30
Buddhist writings influenced by, in Mushimaro Collection, 127-28
760,765 by Otomo no Tabito, 131-32
parallelism (p'ien wen) in, 64, 76, by Otorno no Yakamochi, 153-55
86, IOI-2, 185, 637, 760 by Yamabe no Akahito, 124-26
prestige of, 159 by Yamanoue no Okura, 142-46
The Tale of Genji influenced by, Chokei, Emperor, 728
48I, 482, 488-89 Chokusenshu (imperially sponsored
see also specific literary figures and anthologies of poetry), 643, 68rn
works see also specific anthologies
Chinese poetry, I I, I 18, 25I Chomei. See Kamo no Chomei
allusions to, 76, 223-24, 231 Choryo, I046n
allusions to poetry of past in, 682n Chou, Emperor of China, 939, 963n
couplets, 341-44, 345, 353n Christianity, 18,21,23,612, 1I7rn-
Japanese poetry influenced by, 86- 72n
87,9°, IOI-2, I09, II5, 135-3 8, [oruri and, 1156-57
224, 245, 246, 248, 258, 259, 260, missionaries and, 18-19, 768, 771,
262, 27In, 665, 666, 294-95, 333n, I 125n, 1149, 1156, II61-62, 1163
343, 344 Chronicle of the Bright Moon [Mezget-
Japanese poetry vs., 222-23, 247, suki] (Fujiwara Teika), 657, 662,
248 828-32, 847n-48n
lien-chu (renku), 930, 960n account of Gotoba in, 83°-31
literary sophistication in, 248 literary value of, 829
The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon Teika's private life not revealed in,
and, 418, 428n-29n, 430n-3rn 829- 30
shift from close to freer use of, title of, 831
245 Chronicles of japan, The, 491-92
waka inspired by line from, 223-24 Chrysanthemums, 255
see also Kanshi; Po Chil-i; specific Chu Yun, z ros
poets and works Chuai, Emperor, 50
Chinese studies, growth of scholarship Ch'uan Shih, I073-74
in, 1062-63 Chuang Tzu, 861, I083n
Chisato. See Oe no Chisato Chueh-chii or zekku (four-line
Chitei no Ki. See Record of the Pond poems), I064-69, 1070, 1°71,
Pavilion, A 1074, I076, 1077, 1079, 1080-83
Chiun, 94 1, 944 described, 1067-68
Choka (long poems), 4, 89, 90, 114, Chugaish», 582, 59~
121, 138, 164n, 252, 279, 702 Ch'un ch'iu. See Spring and Autumn
disappearance of, I07, 108, 128, 248 Annals
in The Gossamer Years, 37°-71 Chiisei (middle ages):
hanka appended to, 98-99, 124-26 use of term, 609
II9 6 Index
Chusi (middle ages) (cont.): rape by Gofukakusa in, 841-42,
see also Azuchi-Momoyarna period; 843-44
Kamakura period; Middle ages; style of, 843-44
Muromachi period Confucianism, 14, 15, 71, 78, 90, 103,
Chushingura, I II4 119,138,14 1-42,146,197,2IOn,
Chuyuki (Fujiwara no Munetada), 351, 306,426,617,624,631,632, 1062,
399-4°1 1070, 1083n, 1153, 1161
Cicero, 1162 Honcho Monzui and, 345-46
Cinderella, 815 hostility toward poets and, 203
Civil service examinations, 2 I 3n Kukai's Indications and, 183-85
Clear Mirror, The [Masukagami], 564, medieval war tales and, 874, 878,
674, 881, 899-906, 915n-18n, 879- 80
1124n poetry about social conditions and,
authorship of, 900, 915n-16n 212n
borrowings from literary works in, poetry in teaching doctrines of,
901-2, 91OO-17n 187- 89
convention of old person recalling Shotoku's Constitution and, 71, 8In
past in, 899-900 tale literature (setsuwa) and, 568,
date of composition of, 900 573, 574, 59°-9 2
"Kume no Sarayarna" chapter in, The Tale of Genji and, 489-90
902-5, 9 17n university and examination system
title of, 899 and, 213n
"Climbing Kagu-Yam a and Looking Confucius, 51, 71, 188, 27 In , 346, 354n
Upon the Land" (Jomei), 96-98 Consolation of the Brush, The [Fude no
Collcutt, Martin, 1070 Susabi] (Ichijo Kaneyoshi), 942-
Collected Works of Po csa.: The [Ha- 43
kushi Monju] , 196, 204, 332n, Constitution, written by Shotoku, 70-
428n, 683n, 1134 71, 8In-82n
Collection of Old Setsuwa Texts [Kohon Contests:
Seuuwa Shu], 577-79, 589, 5900 poetry-writing. See Uta-awase
Collection of Tales Heard, Present and story-matching, 54 I -42
Past [Kokon Chomonjai (Tachi- Couplets, Chinese:
bana no Narisue), 592-94, 603n combined with waka in Wakan Roei
Collection of Things Heard [Uchigiki Shu, 341-44, 345, 353n, 580
Shu], 571, 572, 595n influence of, 344
Colloquialisms, 12- I 3 Courtly fiction:
Companion of a Quiet Life [KankYo no giko monogatari (archaistic fiction),
Tomo] (Keisei), 768-70, 771, 5 16, 790, 818n, II5 8- 59
783n - 84n Heian, 477-550, 789, 790, 793, 818n.
Confessions of Lady Nijo, The [Towazu- See also Tale of Genji, The
gatari], 790, 841-44, 849n of Kamakura period, 789-824, 1°92
The Clear Mirror and, 902, 916n, of Muromachi period, 543, 815, 817,
9 17n 989-93, 996n
Index II97

Crane at Night, The IYoru no Tsuru 1 Wakefulness at Night attributed to,

(Abutsu), 278, 706 530, 536-37, 546n-47n, 548n
Creation myth: "Day Lilies" (Sesson Yubai), 1066-67
in Kojiki, 38-41, 57n, 68-69 Dazai Shundai, 117m
in Nihon Shok], 68-69 De Amicitia (Cicero), 1162
Cremation, 107 Dengaku ("field music;" kind of
drama), 4, 5, I002-3, I006, IOI5,
Dadaists, 13 I043n, I054n
Dai (topics of waka), assigned, 123, Dengaku-bushi (songs), 1145
254, 262, 263, 286, 306 Dialects, 13
Dai Nihon Shi [The History of Great "Dialogue on Poverty" (Yamanoue no
Japan I, 881 Okura), 143-46
Daibu, Lady, 826-28 Diaries (nikki or nikki bungaku), I,
Daigo, Emperor, 197, 203-4, 209, 250, 8-9,29, 6°9,610,611,934,1159
27 m, 37 2, 390, 404n , 4 87, 658, alternative titles of, 405n
659,877 of Azuchi-Momoyama period, 1130,
Daini no Sammi, 301, 478, 480 1134,1141, I I 64n, II65n
Dainichi (Vairochana Buddha), 186, blurring of distinction between fic-
67 8, 679, 777. 785n , 983 tion and, 359, 363, 405n
Daisaku (poems written in place of of Buddhist priests, 358, 359-61,
another person), 299-3°0, 334n 407n-8n, 971-73
Daisan (third verse of renga), 932 of court ladies, 358, 359, 366-71,
Daito, 1081 375- 83, 390-97, 53 1, 826-28,
Daitoku-ji, 1079-80, 1081 834-37, 838-47, 97 1
Danjo Kon'tn no Fu. See Rhyme-Prose of Heian period, 351, 358-4 11, 531,
on the Marriage of Man and 55 1, 825, 826-3 0, 837-3 8, 97 1
Woman of Kamakura period, 790, 825-51,
"Dark age," use of term, 209 97 1, 974
Daruma-uta (early poems of Fujiwara of male courtiers, 358, 359, 398-402,
Teika),665 55 1
Daughter of Shunzei, 682n, 706 of Muromachi period, 953, 958,
Daughter of Takasue, 383-90, 406n, 97 1-83, 993n-94n
112m nikki as word for, 359, 363
The Hamamatsu Middle Counselor poems contained in, 359, 362-63,
attributed to, 536-37, 548n 365, 366, 37°-7 1, 375, 376, 392,
at Heian court, 384, 387-89 393-94
immersed in tales, 383-85, 386-87, as precursors of The Tale of Genji,
3 88 45 1, 466, 477, 4 88, 495
marriage of, 388 as precursors of war tales, 617
religious devotion of, 387, 389- of renga poets, 953, 95 8, 974-83
39° temporal framework of, 359
The Sarashina Diary by, 530, 53I, travel accounts, I, 832-34, 836-37,
536-37, 546n, 547n 973-74
 Index
written in kambun, 351, 358, 359- "Dusk Cicadas" ["Higurashi"] (Otorno
61, 362, 365, 397, 398-401, 407n - no Yakamochi), 150
8n, 409n, 551, 617, 720, 825, 828-
29,831,971,974, 1164n Earlier Nine Years' War (1051-1062),
see also specific diaries 615
Diary of Lady Ben, The [Ben no Naishi Eboshiori, 1028
Nikki] (Lady Ben), 838-39, 840, Echigo no menoto, 924, 959n
9 17n Echin,878
Diary of Lady Nakatsuleasa, The Edo period, 349
[Nakatsukasa no Naishi no Nikki], Eguchi, 772
839-4 1,844 Eguchi, courtesan of, 771-73
Diary of the Waning Moon, The [Izayoi Egya, 289-90, 984
Nikki] (Abutsu), 834, 836-37 Eifukumon'in, Empress, 712, 713,
Doctor Faustus, 1065 7 18-20, 721, 739n
Doctrine of the Mean, The, 1070 Elga Monogatari. See Tale of Flowering
Dagen, 686n, 751, 779n, 78In Fortunes, A
life of, 756 Eigen, 572, 595n
sayings of, compiled in Zuimonki, Eight Bridges, Narihira's poem on ir-
757-59 ises at, 23°-3 I
Shobo Geneo by, 755-57 Eisai, 75I, 756
Dain,3 23 Eji (Hyo-cha), 69-70, 80n-8In
Dojo-ji, 1028-29, 1053n, 1168n Eja, 757-59
Doka (religious or didactic songs), Elements (Euclid), 1162
"33 Eliot, T. S., 1065
Dokan. See Ota Dokan Emai troupe, 1045n
Dokyo, 18I, 208, 585-86, 600n Emakimono (hand scrolls):
Damya,295 otogi-zoshi and, 1094, 1096-97,
Drama, 1-2,6-7 112In, 1122n
of Azuchi-Momoyama period, 1129, war tales illustrated in, 624, 627
1148-5 8 Emmei ]izokYo, 777
Bunraku, 508, 892, 913n Emon-no-jo, 349-50
colloquialisms in, 13 Emperor Horikaeoa Diary, The. See Sa-
[oruri, 7, 10,20-21, 1129, "54, nuki no Suke Diary, The
"55-57, 1158, "7 In, "7 2n En no Gyaja, 985, 995n
Kowaka, 897, "49, "53-55, 1158, Engikak u, 27In
1163, 1169n-7on, "7In, "7 2n Engishiki [Institutes of the Engi Period],
professional actors and, 17 249,27 In
sekkyo-bushi, "55, "57-5 8, "7 In, Engo ("related words"), 229-30,
1172n 24In
see also Entertainments; Kabuki; in Kokinshu, 259-60, 267, 269
Kyogen; No in No, 1016, 1049n
"Dreaming of Amaro" (Sugawara no Ennen (kind of play), 1003-4, 1043n-
Michizane), 198-99 44n
Index II99

Ennin, 196,391, 1074 Essentials of Salvation, The [Oja Yashu]

diary of, 359-61, 365, 402n (Genshin), 750, 755
Entertainments: Hosshinshii influenced by, 766, 767,
bugaku, 1001-2, 1042n 768
dengaku, 4, 5, 1002-3, 100~ 1015, Euclid, 1162
1043n, lo54n European influence, 23-26, 27, 29, 78,
ennen, 1003-4, 1043n-44n 1161- 64,117 In-73n
gigaku, 1001 dramatic entertainments and, 1149,
sangaku, 1002, 1003, lo43n 1156-57
sarugaku, 349-50, 1003, 1005, 1006, The Odyssey and, 1158, 1162-63,
I043n 1172n-73n
see also Drama; Kabuki; Kyogen; period of isolation from, 21-23,
No 1163-64
Entoku Yonen Sagi Dokugin Nanimichi Eurydice, 40
Hyakuin (Sogi), 9600 Examination system, 213n
Epic poetry, 35, 41
Epistolary composition, 355n Fables:
Letters by Unshii, 349, 350-51 in Kojiki, 43-44, 57n
Esashi jas [The Bird Catcher in Hades], see also Tale literature
1035- 36 "Falling Blossoms" (Shotetsu), 732-33
Esoteric scriptures, 186-87 Fei Cho, 574
Essay on Comedy (Meredith), 426 Fernandez, Juan, 1163
Essay on Man, An (Pope), 185 Fiction, I, 3, 5-6, 10
Essays, I, 9, 580, 762 archaistic (giko monogatari), 516,
Buddhist, 759-65 790, 818n
see also Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, beginnings of, 433-76
The blurring of distinction between
Essays in Idleness [Tsurezuregusa] diaries and, 359, 363, 405n
(Kenko), 420, 425, 629, 715, 780n, first book-length work of, 442
852 - 67 flashbacks in, 522-23
aesthetic ideal put forward in, 857- increase in religious elements in,
60 817
arrangement of essays in, 853, 864n monogatari as term for, 433
composition of, 853 oldest work of criticism of, 517. See
conviction that world is steadily also Story Without a Name
growing worse in, 854-55 printing of, 18-19
date of composition of, 852, 863n scorned by men, 480, 481
Kenko's daily contacts with world wicked stepmother theme in, 449-
recounted in, 855-56 5°,491,815, 82In, 822n, 1097-98
as manual of gentlemanly conduct, see also Courtly fiction; Invented
860-61 tales; Monogatari; Poem) tales;
The Pillow Book of Sei Shiinagon Tale literatur
compared to, 853-54 Finnegans Wake (Joyce), 24In
[200 Index
"Fish-oil Lamp at a Roadside Inn" Frye, Northrop, 989
(Banri Shukyu), ro77 Fu (Chinese form of rhymed prose),
Fitful Slumbers l Utatane] (Abutsu), 98
834-3 6, 837, 838 in Honcho Monzui, 345-47
Five Mountains poetry, 735, ro62-9I Fu on the Owl (Chia I), 346, 354n-55n
of Banri Shukyu, ro76-78, ro87n Fuchiki, 409n
of Gido Shushin, ro63, ro69-73, Fude no Susabi. See Consolation of the
wrr. I086n Brush, The
growth of scholarship in Chinese Fudo, 995n
studies and, ro62-63 Fudoki (gazetteers), 63-65, 78n, I60n
metaphysical imagery in, 1064-66, folktales recorded in, 569-70, 595n
ro84n Fugashu [Collection of Elegance], 7°8,
ordinary daily life described in, 713,715,716,718,719,720-22,
1076- 77 723, 74 In, 742n, 743n
religious meaning given to descrip- compilation of, 721, 724
tions ill, 1068, I084n-85n Kogon's poems in, 722
of Sesson Yubai, 1064-67 Fugen, 772, 995n
verse forms typical of, ro67-68 Fuhito. See Fujiwara no Fuhito
of Zekkai Chushin, ro63, 1069, Fuji, Mount, travels to, 974
ro73-76, 1077, I085n, ro86n-87n Fujikawa no Ki. See Account of Fuji-
on Zen teachings, 1°71-72 kawa
Flashbacks, 522-23 Fujioka Sakutaro, 541
Flower Wreath Sutra lKegon-lryoJ, 773 Fujiwara Ariie, 650-51, 657, 659, 684n
Folk songs, 4, 120-21, 237, 250, 1145, Fujiwara Chikatsune, 656, 659, 688n
II4 8 Fujiwara family, 62, 154, 196, 202,
Folktales, 4, 128, 207, 466n, 888 292,49°, 5IIn, 560, 613, 718,
in Kojiki, 43-44, 57n 736n, 739n, 8° 5, 909n, 926
Kyogen and, ro3I displaced from power, 305-6, 319,
No plays based on, rooo, ro05 613, 61 7, 637n-3 8n
otogi-zoshi and, 1093, 1118, I126n rise of, 119, 132, 181,220,249,344
tale literature (setsuwa) and, 568, Fujiwara Hidehira, 894
569-70, 587, 594n-95n Fujiwara Ietaka, 654, 657, 660, 669,
The Tale of Genji and, 49°-91, 5IIn 676, 682n, 686n, 692n, 694n, 7°6,
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter and, 947
43 6, 437, 44°-4 1, 468n-7on Fujiwara (or Kujo) Kanezane, 662,
Tales of Yamato and, 458, 459 663, 666-67, 69In
"For a Bath at Kakezuka They Fujiwara Masasune, 657
Charged roo Pieces" (Banri Shu- Fujiwara Michiie, 692n, 705, 738n
kyu), 1077 Fujiwara no Akihira, 344, 348, 349-
Four Books of Confucianism, 1070, 51, 355n, r ooz
I083n Letters by Unshu and, 349, 350-51
Four Deva Kings of Waka, 723, 743n A New Account of Sarugaku by,
Frois, Luis, 1159-60 349-50, 35 1
Index 1201

Fujiwara no Akikane, 585-87 Korechika's rivalry with, 414

Fujiwara no Akinobu, 553 manuscript of The Tale of Genji
Fujiwara no Akisue, 309 and, 382, 383
Fujiwara no Akisuke, 314, 315-17, as supposed model for Genji,
3 19, 323 379- 80
Fujiwara no Ariie, 646 Fujiwara no Michinori (also known as
Fujiwara no Chikane, 459 Shinzei), 582, 619, 624-25, 626-
Fujiwara no Fuhito, 77, 118-19, 130, 27,63 2,634
131 Fujiwara no Michitaka, 414
Fujiwara no Fusasaki, 134-35, 17211- Fujiwara no Michitoshi, 292, 293, 649
73n Fujiwara no Momokawa, 586, 600n
Fujiwara no Fuyuo, 199 Fujiwara no Moritsune, 308
Fujiwara no Fuyutsugu, 191-92, 212n, Fujiwara no Morofusa, 351-52
479 Fujiwara no Morosuke, 372, 373-74,
Fujiwara no Kamatari, 1170n 400, 404n, 408n
Fujiwara no Kaneie, 398, 404n, 552, Fujiwara no Motofusa, 64In
553, 554, 556, 598n Fujiwara no Mototoshi, 3°8, 310-1 I,
account of dream prophecy vouch- 315, 1123n
safed to, 580-8 I Fujiwara no Mototsune, 200, 201-2,
The Goasamer Years and, 366, 367- 236
69, 37°-7 1, 379 Fujiwara no Munetada, 351, 399-401
Fujiwara no Kanesuke (Tsutsumi no Fujiwara no Muneyo, 427n
Chunagon), 280, 282-83, 458-59, Fujiwara no Muneyoshi, 399
479 Fujiwara no Nagako, 394-97
Fujiwara no Kinnori, 959n Fujiwara no Nagata, 33~
Fujiwara no Kinta, 283, 284, 285, 286, Fujiwara no Nagayoshi, 96211
33In, 60211, 96211 Fujiwara no Nakamaro, 152, 155,
Murasaki Shikebu's account of, 16In, 208
380- 81 Fujiwara no Nobuyori, 624, 625-26,
Wakan Raei Shu compiled by, 341, 627-28, 631
342,343 Fujiwara no Nobuyoshi, 427n
Fujiwara no Kiyosuke, 250, 3 19, 337n, Fujiwara no Norimichi, 341
4 17, 648, 649-5 0 Fujiwara no Okikaze, 259
Fujiwara no Korenari, 316 Fujiwara no Sadataka, 458
Fujiwara no Kunitsune, 280-81 Fujiwara no Sadayori, 301, 302, 591-
Fujiwara no Michikane: 92, 60211, 95gn
The Great Mirror and, 556-59 Fujiwara no Sane kane, 580
Kazan's abdication and, 556-58 Fujiwara no Sanekata, 701
A Tale of Flowering Fortunes and, Fujiwara no Sanesada, 326-27
55 I, 553, 554 Fujiwara no Saneyori, 408n
Fujiwara no Michinaga, 341, 378, 479- Fujiwara no Shigeie, 651, 684n-85n
80,481, 561, 681 Fujiwara no Shigenori, 582
diary of, 398-99 Fujiwara no Suetsuna, 959n
I202 Index
Fujiwara no Sukemi, 286-87 and Gotoba's command for
Fujiwara no Sumitomo, 615 hundred) poem sequences,
Fujiwara no Tadahira, 614 654-55
diary of, 398, 408n The Izumi Shikibun Diary and, 405n
Fujiwara no Tadamichi, 317-18, 351, most celebrated waka by, 325-26
356n, 616 Senzaishu and, 320, 325-26, 680,
The Puppeteers by, 352-53 693n
Fujiwara no Tadazane, 582, 599n Shin Kohinshii and, 658, 676, 682n,
Fujiwara no Takamitsu, 372-74, 390, 687n, 694n
4°4 n - 5n as uta-awase judge, 649-52, 666
Fujiwara no Takanobu, 827 yugen of, 735
Fujiwara no Tametoki, 478, 479-80, Fujiwara Suetsune, 654
509n , 702-3 Fujiwara Sueyoshi, 684n
Fujiwara no Tametsune, 548 Fujiwara Takafusa, 654, 686n
The New Mirror attributed to, 559, Fujiwara Tameaki, 743n
563 Fujiwara Tameie, 693n, 7°6-7, 7°8,
Fujiwara no Tameyori, 285-86 709, 7 12, 73 8n, 739n, 74on, 836,
Fujiwara no Tanetsugu, 89, 181, 183 837, 838
Fujiwara no Tokihira (also known as Fujiwara Tamenori, 708
Shihei), 200, 203, 204, 205, 249- Fujiwara Tamesuke, 836, 837, 838
50, 281, 558 Fujiwara Tameuji, 707-8, 836, 838,
Fujiwara no Toshiyuki, 229-30 839
Fujiwara no Tsunetada, 310 Fujiwara Teika, 264, 327, 643, 659-
Fujiwara no Umakai, 127-28 76, 680-81, 682n, 689n-93n, 694n,
Fujiwara no Yorimichi, 351-5 2, 399, 695n, 707, 7 12, 7 29, 734-35, 73 8n,
758, 78w-82n 9 13n, 940, 947, 981, 982, "35
Fujiwara no Yorinaga, 616, 640n in compilation of Shin Koleinshu,
diary of, 397, 4°1 657, 658-59, 668, 687n, 705
Fujiwara no Yoritada (also known as conservative and aristocratic tastes
Prince Rengi), 285-86 of, 662, 689n
Fujiwara no Yoshifusa, 436 diaries of, 657, 662, 828-32, 847n-
Fujiwara no Yoshitsune, 651-52, 685n, 48n
947 earliest poems by, 663-66
Fujiwara no Yukinari, 398, 408n experimentation by, 665-66
Fujiwara Nobuzane, 907n father's judging of, in uta-awase,
Fujiwara Shunzei, 247, 273n, 285, 3IO, 65°-51
327,663, 667, 684n-85n, 69 2n, fierce temper of, 662-63
695n, 7 12, 8°9, 82W, 831, 913n, Cotoba's criticism of, 675-76
947,9 81,1137 Gotoba's relations with, 67°-72,
daughter of. See Daughter of 83°-3 1
Shunzei The Hamamatsu Middle Counselor
death of, 659, 668, 69w and, 536-37
Index 1203

honka-dori in poems by, 659-62, Shin Kokinshu and 656, 658, 676,
669-7 1 682n, 687n, 688n, 694n
honka-dori rules laid down by, 647, Fujokan (contemplation of pollution),
683n, 688n- 89n 769-70
Hyahunin lsshu compiled by, 674 Fukakusa no Shosho, 234, 1010, 1012
illnesses of, 662, 689n Fuke Go, or Fuke Godan, 582, 599n
influence of, 674 Fuku6 school (No), 1042n
invited to compose hundred-poem Fukuro. See Owl, The
sequence, 654-55, 686n-8~ Fuhuro Zoshi [Book of Folded Pages]
later works by, 672-74 (Fujiwara no Kiyosuke), 291,
Man'yoshi; imagery incorporated by, 337n
669-7 0 Fukushiki mugen no ("compound
Minamoto Sanetorno's relationship dream-unreality No"), 1019-20,
with, 669, 700-701, 705 1022
"Moon over the Spring Mountains" Funa Benkei [Benkei in the Boat], 1020,
by, 670-71 1029, 1046n, 1168n
poem on cherry blossoms by, 664- Fun'ya no Yasuhide, 224-25, 235
65,69 0n Fusasaki. See Fujiwara no Fusasaki
poem on "floating bridge of Fushimi, Emperor, 718-19, 720
dreams" by, 659-61 Gyokuyoshu compilation and, 710,
"rhyme poems" by, 666, 690n-9In 7 12, 740n
sabi evoked by, 661-62 poems by, 712, 713, 7 16- 17, 739n,
Shin Chokuscnshi; compiled by, 669, 74In
672, 6n 692n-93n, 705-6, 826 Fushimono (set topic for renga ses-
Shokushi's relations with, 829-30, sion), 9 24-25, 933
848n Fuso Ryakki [A Short History ofJapan],
Shotetsu's devotion to, 732, 734 563-64
The Tale of Sagoromo and, 518-19, Fuwa Barrier, 973, 976
529 Fuyoshii l Wind and Leaves Collection],
The Tale of the Matsura Palace by, 544 n , 7 89, 790, 798, 80 4, 808, 81 7,
69 In, 791-98, 799, 806, 818n- 19n 818n, 82In, 990
Wakefulness at Night and, 530,
53 6-37 Gagaku (orchestral music), 1001
Fujiwara Yasuhira, 894-95 Gaishi, 916n
Fujiwara Yoritsune, 738n Gashi (Masako), Princess, 404n
Fujiwara (or Kujo) Yoshitsune, 690n, Gekokuj6 (overturn of social order),
69 In, 692n, 768 882, 943, 95 1, 97 6-77, 993n
death of, 668, 69In-92n otogi-zoshi and, I I 16, I I I 8
Fujiwara Teika's experiments and, Gemmei, Empress, 38, 66, 130, 132,
665-66 166n
poetry gatherings convened by, 663- Gemmu Monogatari. See Tale of
65,666,667 Gemmu, The
1204 Index
Gempei Seisui Ki [A Record of the Rise Taiheiei and, 874, 875-78, 879, 880-
and Fall of the Minamoto and 81, 908n
Taira 1, 640n-4In, 676 Godansho. See Selection of De's Conver-
Geri'e, 878, 880 sations
No and, 1031, 1040, 1055n Gofukakusa, Emperor, 708-9, 710,
otogi-zoshi by, 1092, 1103 7 18, 739n, 838, 843, 849n, 9 16n,
Genji Monogatari. See Tale of Genji, 9 17n
The The Clear Mirror and, 900, 902
Genki, Abbess, 854-55 Lady Nijo raped by, 841-42,
Genroku era, 22 843-44
Genshi, Empress, 561 Gofushimi, Emperor, 710, 711, 718,
Genshin, 291, 332n, 750 720, 721, 905, 9 17n
Genzaimono ("contemporary" No Gohorikawa, Emperor, 673, 705
plays falling under fourth cat- Goichijo, Emperor, 560, 566n
egory), 1013-14, 1019, 1026, "Going Deep into the Mountains of
1027-29, 1150-51 an Autumn Day" (Saga), 190-91
Ghost stories, 206 Gokashiwabara, Emperor, 1135
Ghosts [Yurei] (Kita Morio), 28-29 Gokogon, Emperor, 334n, 975-76
Gido Shushin, 1063, 1069-73. 1°76, Gokomatsu, Emperor, 1°78
1077, 1085n, 1086n Gomurakami, Emperor, 723, 728
collected writings of, 107°-71 Gonijo, Emperor, 71 I, 852
diary of, I °70, 1085n Gonii (Fujiwara no Yukinari), 398,
life of, 1069-70 408n
poems on Zen teachings by, Con-no-kami Kanefusa, 895, 896, 899,
1°7 1-72 9 14n
Gigaku (ritual dances imported from Goreizei, Emperor, 352
China), 1001 Gosaga, Emperor, 334n, 7°8-9, 916n
Gikeiki. See Yoshitsune Gosanjo, Emperor, 306
Giko monogatari (archaistic fiction), Gosenshu, or in full Gosen Waka Shu
516, 790, 818n, 1158-59 [Later Selection of Waka 1, 265,
see also Courtly fiction 267, 277-83, 285, 286, 289, 291,
Godai Teio Monogatari, 917n 292, 307, 308, 3 15, 328n-3on,
Godaigo, Emperor, 825, 927 334n, 363, 4 12, 459, 479, 529, 647,
ascension of, to throne, 709, 720 656, 657, 65 8, 693n, 7 12, 7 19
The Clear Mirror and, 900, 902-6, anonymous poems in, 279-80,
9 17n 281-82
exile of, 721, 725, 903-6, 917n arrangement of poems in, 278, 279,
Munenaga's poem on death of, 727 329n
as poet, 728, 905, 917n compilation of, 277-78, 329n
posthumous name of, 877, 909n dialogue poems in, 279, 280-81
reputation of, 876-77 evaluations of, 278
revolt led by, 721, 723, 724-25, 726, Kokinshu compared to, 278-79, 281-
844-45, 852, 853, 1108 82, 283
Index 1205

large number of poems by women author's candor in, 368-69

in, 282 last volume of, 370
love poems in, 279, 280-81 poems in, 37°-71
prefaces to, 278, 279, 280 as precursor to The Tale of Genji,
prefaces to poems in, 45 I 37 1 , 488
social positions of poets in, 278, 284 purpose of author in, 367
special connection between scenic descriptions in, 369-70
Man'voshu and, 283, 330n title of, 368
words outside elegant poetic diction Gotoba, Emperor, 650, 663, 666-67,
allowed in, 281-82 681, 685n-87n, 692n, 694n, 7°6,
Goshirakawa, Emperor, 4, 653, 871, 74 2n, 833, 947
883,894 abdication of, 653-54, 668
Heiji disturbance and, 624-28 ascension of, to throne, 321, 653
Hogen Rebellion and, 318-19, 616, The Clear Mirror and, 900, 901
618, 621 exile of, 672, 674-75, 83 1, 872, 874,
Ryojin Hisho compiled by, 777 901, 903, 904
Senzaishu and, 320-2 I, 322 Fujiwara Teika's relations with,
Taira uprising put down by, 321, 67°-7 2, 83°-3 1
322, 632, 633 hundred-poem sequences ordered
The Tale of Heike and, 63°-31, 632, by, 650, 653, 654-55, 686n- 87n
633, 634, 883 Jakyu Rebellion and, 869-74, 9000
Goshaisha, or in full Goshid Waka Sha, jokYaki and, 871-84
292-3°5, 307, 3 16, 33 2-34n, 335 n, Minase renga sequence and, 953,
509n 954, 9 66n
arrangement of poems in, 293 as poet, 417, 650, 653, 654, 655, 656,
Buddhist poems in, 291, 293, 299, 657, 658, 668, 674-75, 687n, 693 n,
776, 785n 73 8n, 830, 872-73
Chinese influence in, 294-95, 333n Shin Kohinshi; compilation and,
compilation of, 292 653-57, 658-59, 674, 688n, 705,
criticism of, 292-93, 332n-33n 83 1
emphasis on contemporary waka in, Gotoba-in Gokuden rOral Instructions of
292, 3°8-9 the Cloistered Emperor Gotoba]'
Nain's poems in, 293, 302-5, 334n 675
shift away from past in, 292, 305 Gotoba-in Kumano Goko Ki. See Ac-
shift to descriptive poetry in, 295 count of the Visit of the Cloistered
Six Poets' works in, 293-94, 295 Emperor Gotoba to Kumano
women poets represented in, 293, Gotsuchimikado, Emperor, 933
295-302, 308 Gouda, Emperor, 334n, 709, 7ID, 711,
Gossamer Years, The rKagero Nikki] 739n
(Mother of Michitsuna), 8, 28, Coyozei, Emperor, 1136
3 15, 366-71, 37~ 37~ 385, 4°3 n- Gozan Bungaku (Literature of the
4n, 433, 445, 5 II n, 553, 59 8n, 837, Five Mountains), ID63
844, 1I2In see also Five Mountains poetry
1206 Index
"Great Lay Priest" (Oe no Masafusa), Haiku, 3, 4, 9- 10, 12, 13, 14, 18,27,
580-81 85, 160n, 257, 648, 716, 728, 925,
Great Mirror, The [Okagam i], 377, 933, 1019, 1075, 1083, II64
404n , 555-59, 560, 561, 562, 563, "Haizumi." See "Lampblack"
564, 565n, 568, 598n, 618, 67 1, Hakushi Monju. See Collected Works of
900, 9 15n, 930 Po Chii-i, The
Kazan's abdication recounted in, Hamamatsu Middle Counselor, The
556-5 8 [Hamamatsu Chiinagon Monoga-
Michinaga's response to sister's tari], 536-39, 547n-48n, 792, 794>
pregnancy in, 558-59 817
as reminiscences of two old men, authorship of, 536-37, 548n
555-5 6, 559 date of composition of, 537, 548n
Greater East Asia War (1941-1945), plot summary of, 537-39
37 Han E, 785n
Gregorian chant, 1161, 117In Han Shu, 82n, 351
Gukansho (Jien), 616, 69In Han Yii, 880
Gunki monogatari (martial tales), 516, Hanago, 1040, 1056n-57n
517, 565n, 616 Hanawa Hokinoichi, 330n
see also War tales Hanazono, Emperor, 71 I, 720-21,
Gyokuyo. See Jeweled Leaf 74 2n, 905n, 9 17n
Gyokuyoshu [Jeweled Leaves Collection], Hanazono-in Shinki or Hanazono-in
708-20, 722, 739n-42n, 743n, Gyoki [Diary of the Cloistered Em-
82In peror Hanazono], 720, 739n, 742n
choice of poets for inclusion in, 712 Hanjo, 1027
evaluations of, 712-13 Hanka ("envoys" to choka of
love poems in, 717-18, 7 19, 74In Man'yoshu), 130
political background to compilation of Akahito, 124-26
of,708- 12 meaning of word, 98-99
Hanshi, Empress Dowager, 222
Ha (development), 931, 96In, 1002, "Hardships of a Professor" ("Hakase
1017 Nan") (Sugawara no Michizane),
arrangement of No plays and, 197, 199
1017-18, 1027 Hashihito Oyu, 99
Hachikazuki, 112In Hatakeyama Yoshifusa, 1166n
Hachiman, 614, 873, 907n , 983 Hatsuvuki, 1029
Hachiro Tametomo, 625 "Head inspection" (kubi jikken), 623,
Hadano Yoshimichi, 62 I -23 1133
Hagitani Boku, 364 "Hearing Flutes Along the Road in
Haikai (comic poems), 252, II38 the Autumn Night: to Match a
in Goshidshu, 293 Poem by the Director of the Im-
in Kokinshu, 281, 330n perial University Sugawara no
Haikai no renga (comic style of Kiyotata" (Fujiwara no Fuyu-
renga), 933, 958, 982, 994n tsugu), 191-92
Index 120 7
Heian (now called Kyoto): preoccupation with gossip in, 255,
capital moved to, 181-82, 209n 376-77, 44 1, 535-3 6
see also Kyoto refinement and perfection stressed
Heian period (795-1185), 3, 8, 21, 63, in, 254, 256
66-67, 181-6°5, 882, 1099 renga of, 922-23
accounts of warfare in, 613-15 songs of, 1144-45, II67n
beginnings of fiction in, 433-76 tale literature (setsuwa) of, 568-88,
Buddhist influence on literary 594n-60 m
works of, 749-50 waka of, 221-37, 240n-43n, 245-
courtly fiction of, SIS-50, 789, 790, 340. See also Waka
793, 8I8n. See also Tale of Genji, Heichu. See Taira no Sadafun
The Heichu Monogatari. See Tales of Heichi:
courtly fiction of Muromachi per- Heiji disturbance (1I60), 563, 582, 631
iod related to, 989, 990, 992, war tale about, 623-29, 639n-4on
99 6n Heiji Monogatari. See Tale of the Dis-
destruction of cultural artifacts of, turbance in Heiji
999 Heike. See Taira family
deterioration of morals in, 515-16, Heike Monogatari. See Tale of the
522, 541, 79°-9 1 Heike, The
diaries of, 351, 358-411, 531, 551, Heishi. See Taira family
825, 826-3 0, 837-3 8, 97 1 Heizei, Emperor, 89, 16m, 189, 190,
emphasis on culture of capital in, 197, 224, 453, 769
610-1 I Hekiganroku [Pi-yen-lu], lO7I
end of, 6°9, 613 Hekirensho (Nijo Yoshimoto). See
"femininity" of, 91 Renri Hisho
historical tales of, 617, 618 Henjo, 222, 224, 435, 645
imperially sponsored waka antholo- Henjo Hakki Seirei Shu. See Seirei Shu
gies of, 221-24, 239n, 245-340. Hidehira. See Fujiwara Hidehira
See also Gosenshu; Goshuishu; Hidesato. See Tawara Toda Hidesato
Kin'yoshu; Kokinshu; Scnzaishu; Hidetsudi. See Toyotomi Hidetsuhi
Shikashu; Shinsen Man'yoshu; Hideyoshi. See T oyotomi Hideyoshi
Shuishu Hie (chill), 999-1000
importance of calligraphy in, Hieda family, 37
219- 20 Hieda no Are, 36-37, 38, 43, 92
invention of kana in, 218-20, 221, Hikketsu no Monogatari (Ishii Yasu-
23 8n naga), 1I20n
marriage customs among nobility Hino Nako, 844-47, 849n
in, 815 Hino Suketomo, 845
"mirrors" of history of, 551-67 Hiragana (flowing style of kana), 10,
move of capital at start of, 181-82 219, 221, 238n
poetry and prose in Chinese of, Hirata Atsutane, 36, II7m-72n
181-217,221, 222-23, 23~, 341- Hiromi. See Tachibana no Hiromi
57. See also Kambun; Kanshi Hisamatsu Sen'ichi, 100
I208 Index
Historical romances, 868, 887-906 Hojo Ujinao, II52
Historical works: Hojo Yoshitoki, 869
categorization of, 565n Hojoki. See Account of My Hut, An
distinction between literary works Hokke or Nichiren (Lotus Sutra)
and, 551 Buddhism, 751, 774-75
of Heian period, 551-67 Hokku (opening verse of renga), 930,
inclusion of poetry in, 50 932, 933, 935, 95 1
A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, Honcho Monzui rLiterary Essence of
55 1-55 Our Country], 344-49, 35 1, 354n-
see also Diaries; Kojilii ; Mirrors of 55n
history; War tales political content of, 345-46
History ofJapanese Literature, A (Koni- A Record of the Pond Pavilion in,
shi [in'ichi), xii 346, 347-4 8, 355n
Hitachi Fudoei, 63-64, 78n Rhyme-prose on the Marriage of Man
Hitomaro. See Kakinomoto no Hito- and Woman in, 346, 347-48,
maro 355n
Hitomaro Kashu rHitomaro Poetry Col- Song of the Tailless Ox in, 346, 348
lection], 104, 114-16, 168n, 169n style of selections in, 345
Hitomotogieu. See Single Chrvsanthe- women writers and Buddhist priests
mum,A absent from, 344-45
Hitorigoto rTalking to Myself] Honcho Mudai Shi [poems of This
(Shinkei), 948 Country Without Titles J, 352, 356n
Hoan. See Oze Hoan Honcho Reiso, 479
Hoben (expedient for gaining salva- Honcho Shinsen Den. See Lives of Japa-
tion), 750, 779n, 1030 nese Spirit Immortals
Hogan-biiki (sympathy for underdog), Honcho Zoeu Monzui [Japanese Mon-
893 zut, Continuedi, 351, 352
Hogen disturbance (II 56), 319, 563, Honen, 752, 753, 754, 779n-80n, I I I I,

582 1112
historical significance of, 616-17 Honji (fundamental dicta), 35, 56n
war tale about, 616-23, 624, 638n- Honji suijaku (belief that Japanese
39n , 64 00 gods are local manifestations of
Hogen Monogatari. See Tale of the Dis- buddhas and bodhisattvas), 774,
turbance in Hogen 7 84n,97 2
Hojo, 1152 Honka, 657, 69 In
Hojo family, 700, 709, 725, 736n, 831, in Man'yoshu, 669-70
833, 852, 853, 875, 879 Honka-dori (borrowing of language
Hojo Masako, 869 and images of earlier poetry),
Hojo no Umi. See Sea of Fertility, The 121-2~ 262-63, 303-4, 328, 516,
Hojo Sadatoki, 1063 74 2 n , 763, 79 1, 93 I
Hojo Sanetoki, 1062 with close relation to original, 645
Hojo Takatoki, 875, 908n, 1003 as exemplified in Fujiwara Teika's
Hojo Ujimasa, 1152 poems, 659-62, 669-71
Index 1209

Fujiwara Teika's rules on, 647, reasons for compilation of, 766
683n, 688n- 89n story of Butsumyo in, 767
intention in, 644, 647 story of retired priest's dream in,
in Minamoto Sanetomo's poems, 767-68
701, 702-3 Hosso sect, 598n
Nijo school and, 708 Hsia dynasty, 963n
nostalgia and, 647 Hsieh Ling-yun, 239n
in Shin Kokinshu, 644-47, 683n Hsu Fu, 1074
with transformation of original, Hsu Hun, 947-48
645-4 6 Hsuan Tsung, Emperor of China, 295,
uncovering of source poems in, 488-89, 561, 917n-18n
646-47, 661 Hsuan-tsang, 598n
Honkyo Gaihen (Hirata Atsutane), Hsuan-tsung, Emperor of China, 295
117 In-72n Huai-nan Tzu, 165n
Honnami Koetsu, 18 Hui-kuo, 185- 87, 539, 794, 1073, 1079
Honsetsu (borrowing from works of Hut in the Rocks, The [Iwaya I, 1097-98
prose), 516, 647, 683n Hyaeunin Isshu, or Ogura Hyaliunin
Horikawa, Emperor, 306-7, 652 Isshu [A Hundred Poems by a
death of, 394-96, 397, 4°°-4°1 Hundred Poets], 268-69, 277, 290,
Fujiwara no Munetada's description 297-9 8, 4 12, 674, 693n, 79 8
of, 4°0-4°1 Hyakuza Hodan Kikigaki Shoo See
The Sanulii no Suke Diary and, 394- Notes on One Hundred Sessions of
97,4 08n Sermons
Horiltaioa-in Ontoki Hyaleushu Waka
[One Hundred Waka Composed in "I novel," 8-9, 359
the Time of the Cloistered Emperor Ichigon Hodan. See Brief Sayings of the
Horikawa I, 306-7, 3 16, 334n, 335n Great Teachers
Hoshi (priest or biwa hoshi), 556, 878 Ichijo, Emperor, 378, 379, 3 82, 4 14,
Hosho school (No), 1042n, 1045n, 4 28n, 479-80, 481
1047n Ichijo Kaneyoshi, 743n, 933, 939-40,
Hosokawa family, 909n, 1135 94 1, 942-43, 965n
Hosokawa Katsumoto, 977 career of, 940
Hosokawa Yoriyuki, d74, 1075, 1076 code of renga revised by, 939-40
Hosokawa Yusai, 1135-38, 1166n, diary of, 974, 976-78, 993n-94n
1143 Heian classics studied by, 940, 943
Kokin Denju and, I 136, I 138 otogi-zoshi by, 1092, 1093, I 12 on
puns and word-play of, 1137-38 as refugee in Nara, 942-43
in renga sessions, 1136-37 Sogi as protege of, 95 I, 966n
Hosshinshu [A Collection to Promote Ichiko Teiji, 1093-94, 1100, 1108
Religious Awakening 1 (Kamo no I-ching [Book of Changes], 21Dn
Chomei), 765-68, 769, 770, 782n- Ichizan Ichinei (I-shan l-ning), 1063
83n Ichii Tsujo, 1068
preface to, 765-67 Ietaka. See Fujiwara Ietaka
[2[0 Index
Ieyuki. See Watarai Ieyuki "In Response to a Request to Explain
If ICould Only Change Them [Torikae- the Secret Teaching" (Gida
baya Monogatarii, 516, 517, 540- Shushin), 1071
41, 548n, 817, 820n Indications of the Goals of the Three
Parting at Dawn compared to, 799, Teachings [Sango Shiikil (Kiikai),
803 136, 183- 85, 188,435
Iga Mitsusue, 869-70 Insei (cloister government), 306
Ihara Saikaku, xii, 6, 12, 13, 19,22, Inu Tsukuba Shu, 994n
23,508,517,575, 597n, 1116, r r rS Invented tales (tsukuri monogatari),
Iio Mototsura, 112In 433-51, 466n-7 In
Ike no Mokuzu. See Scraps of Water- use of term, 433-34
weed in the Pond see also Tale of Ochikubo, The; Tale
Ike no Zenni, 628, 632, 640n of the Bamboo Cutter, The; Tale
Ikeda Izumi, 1132 of the Hollow Tree, The
Ikeda Yasaburo, I 19, 120-2 I, 125 Invisible-Making Cape, The [Kakure-
"Iken Hoji [unikajo." See "Opinions mino], 803-4, 820n
in a Sealed Document in Twelve Ippen, 754
Articles" lroha (poem that uses each of the
Ikkyu Sojun, 782n, 958, 1078-83, forty-seven kana symbols only
1087n-89n, 1092 once), 189, 220, 238n
life of, 1078-80 Ise, 268, 282, 284
love poems by, 1082-83 Ise Daijingi: Sankeiki. See Account of
and poems of hatred directed at a Pilgrimage to the Great Shrine
corruption of Zen establishment, at Ise
1081-82 Ise Monogatari. See Tales of Ise
"red strings" metaphor in poetry of, Ise no Taifu, 959n
1080, 1081-82, 1088n I-shan I-ning (Ichizan Ichinei), 1063
tales about, 1078, 1087n l-shan tsa-tsuan [/-shan's Miscellany]
Ikuta Atsumori, I I I, I 120n (Li Shang-yin), 418
Iliad, The, 56n Ishida Yoshisada, 672, 856
Illustrations of the Three Jewels Ishii Yasunaga, I 120n
[Sambo-e] (Minamoto no Tame- Ishikawa Takuboku, 27In, 1168n
norij, 57 1, 574, 595n Isshiki Sakyodayu Akinori, 885
Imagawa family, 1135 Issun Boshi, I I 18, 112In
Imagawa Ryoshun, 730-32, 744n-45n, Ito Haku, 95, 117-18
853, 878, 879, 947, 963 n Ito Sachio, 103, 737n
Imagist poets, 27 Itsukushima, visits to, 974
Imakagami. See New Mirror, The Iwade Shinobu Monogatari. See Tale of
Imayo ("new-style" songs), 632 , 777- Unspoken Yearning, A
78, 1145 l u/ashi-uri Koi no Hibiami [The Sardine
Imbe clan, 435 Seller and the Dragnet of Love]
Imperial Palace, Kenko's account of (Mishima Yukio), I126n
construction of, 854-55 Iwaya. See Hut in the Rocks, The
Index 12II

I-wen Lei-chic ILiterary References] levels of politeness in, 10-1 I

(Ou-yang Hsun), 66 mixture of Chinese and (wakan
Izanagi, 38-42, 57n, 68, 1170n konko), 833
Izanarni, 38-41, 42, 57n, 68, 1170n in post-Genji courtly fiction,s I 6
Izayoi Nikki. See Diary of the Waning punnmg in, 922
Moon, The reserved for private emotions, 194
Izumi. See Ikeda Izumi vowel system of, 59n
Izumi school (Kyogen), 1035, 104°-41 words of foreign origin in, 10, I I,

Izumi Shikibu, 284, 293, 295-99, 301, 26, 86-87, 160n, 467n, 617-18,
3°2,3°5,315,323,399,419,554, 636-37
555 world literature and, 26-30
diary of, 375-77, 405 n - 6n , 554- 55 writing systems for, 33-35, 87-88.
Murasaki Shikibu's comments on, See also Kana; Writing systems
381-82 Yamato language and, 486, 636,
otogi-zoshi and, 1098-1100, 112m- 637
23n Japanese literature:
as poet, 288-89, 33 In, 644 borrowings from foreign literature
tale literature (setsuwa) about, 591, m,14
60m about commoners, 20-21
Izumi Shikibu (otogi-zoshi), 1098-1100, conservatism of, 9-10
1122n-23n continuity from classical to modern
Izumi Shiltibu Diary, The [Izumi in, 28
Shikibu Nikki] (Izumi Shikibu), esoteric transmission of secrets of,
375-n, 405n-6n, 554-55 15- 16
alternative title of, 405n importance of women writers to, 8
authorship of, 375, 405 n Japanese language and, 10-13, 14,
Izumo, 42-43, 44, 45, 47-4 8, 57n , 63 3°
Izumo Fudohi, 63 during period of isolation, 21-23
Izumo-takeru, 47-48 philosophic background to, 14-16
lzutsu [The Well-Curb], 1020-21, 1022 printing of, 16-17, 18-19
professional writer and, 16-21
[akuren, 666, 667, 786n, 947 translated and read abroad, 25, 27-
Shin Kokinshu and, 657, 68m, 687n, 28,3°
694n,695n and translations of European litera-
Jakuzen (jakunen), 678, 681 ture, 23-26, 27, 29
Japanese language, 10-13, 14,26,480 see also specific topics
ambiguity of waka and, 228-29 Jataka tales, I I 18
changes in, 280, 1°94 Jesuit Mission Press, 19
classical vs. modern, 10, 13 Jesuits, 1125, 1162, 117m
colloquialisms and, 12- 13 Jeweled Comb, The [Tama no Ogushi]
conducive to long sentences, 93 I (Motoori Norinaga), 489-90
invention of kana and, 189, 218-20, Jeweled Leaf [Gyokuyo] (Fujiwara
221, 238n Kanezane), 662
I2I2 Index
[i-arnari (extra syllables in waka), 227, Tannisho and, 751-54
7 14- 15, 7 19-20, 74 In [oha, See Satomura [oha
[ichin, 947 John of Gaunt, 96
[ien, 320, 60In, 616, 64on, 666, 676, [ojin, 391-94, 407n-8n, 8I9n
682n, 687n, 69In, 692n, 694n, 706 Jojin Ajari Haha no Shu. See Poems of
Jigoku-hen (Akutagawa Ryunosuke), the Mother of Ajari Jojin, The
603n Jokotoba. See [o, joshi, or jokotoba
[ikaku Daishi, 579 Jokyu Rebellion (1221), 672, 679, 693n,
Jikkinsho. See Miscellany of Ten 705, 83 1, 833, 869- 74
Maxims, A cause of, 869, 872
Iimmu, Emperor, 46, 57n, 67, 80n, first fighting in, 869
565n , 875 JokYuk i [Record of /OkYu], 869-74,
[inen Koji [Jinen the Priest], 1006, 906n-7n
1°°7-10, 1013, 1045n, 1046n-47n, account of Gotoba in, 871-74
I048n, 1157 Buddhist monks as combatants in,
plot summary of, 1009 87°-7 1
realism of, 1009- 10 story of Mitsusue's son in, 869-70
Zearni's revisions of, 1007, 1010, summation of authors' observations
1047n at end of, 873-74
[ingu, Empress, 50, 72, 73, 82n various texts of, 869, 9000
[inno Shotoki [A Chronicle of Gods and [ornei, Emperor, 93, 96-98, I63n
Sovereigns, 1339-1343] (Kitaba- [or in Ryosa, 1073, 1074, 10800
take Chikafusa), 877-78 [oruri (puppet theater later knovn as
[inshin no Ran (Disturbance of 672), Bunraku), 7,10,20,1129,1154,
102-3, 108-9, I62n, I65n II55-57,II5 8,II7 In
[isei (farewell poems to world), 247, about lives of commoners, 20-21
1131-32 European influence and, 1156-57,
Jishin, 780n II7 2n
[ito, Empress, 16, 37, 82n, 102, 103-4, [oruri, Lady, 1156
107, 115, 118,125,I32,I66n [oruri [unidan Soshi. See Story of[oruri
[izo, 777. 995n in Twelve Episodes, The
[o (slow introductory tempo): Joshi. See [o, joshi, or jokotoba
arrangement of No plays and, Joson,4°7n
1017-18, 1019, I050n Journey Along the Seacoast Road
in No plays, 96In, 1002, 1017 [Kaidaki], 440, 4700 , 832-34
In renga, 931 Journey Along the Tsukushi Road [Tsu-
[o, joshi, or jokotoba (introductory kushi no Michi no Ki] (Sogi), 953,
phrases of poems), 23°-31, 242n, 974, 979- 81, 994n
267, 273n, 1016 Journey East of the Barrier, A [Takan
[oben, 723, 864n Kiko],834
[odo (Pure Land) Buddhism, 750-55, Journey to Shiraleau/a [Shirakawa Kika]
775 (Sogi), 978-79
Brief Sayings and, 754-55 Joyce, James, 24In
Index 1213

[ubutsu, 971-73 Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, 16, 86, 98-

[ukkai (poems complaining about per- 99, 100, 102- I 8, "9, 128, 138,
sonal grievance), 663 139, 146, 149, 150, 17on, 175n,
Juntoku, Emperor, 277, 668, 670, 671, 24°,248,249,283, 33In, 662, 702,
672, 69211, 693n, 738n, 83 I, 873, 73 8n
909n choka on wife by, 107, "2-13,
I 67n-68n

Kabuki, 7, 9, 10, 15, 22, 205, 508, 623, death of, 116-18, 168n, 169n
1027, 1028, 1040, 1129, "31, elegy on corpse of unknown man
"49, "54, "55, "56, "57, "58 by, "0-12
based on Minamoto Yoshitsune, eulogy for Prince Kusakabe by,
897-9 8 104-6, 1°7
origins of, 1158 eulogy for Prince Takechi by, 102-
The Tale of the Soga Brothers and, 3, 108-9, 166n
888-89, 891, 892, 912n, 913n Hitomaro Collection and, "4, "5-
Kacho Yojo [Overtones of Flowers and 16, 168n-69n
Birds I (Ichijo Kaneyoshi), 940 influence of, I " - 12, I I 3
Kafu. See Nagai Kafu Kasa no Kanamura compared to,
Kaga family, 1040 128-29
Kagai, or utagaki (exchange of amo- Takechi no Kurohito compared to,
rous poems), 97-98 122-23
Kagawa Kageki, 226 uta-awase sessions staged before
Kagero Nikki. See Gossamer Years, The portrait of, 655, 687n
Kagetsu Hvakushu [One Hundred Poems Yamabe no Akahito compared to,
on Blossoms and the Moon I (Fuji- 123-25, 126
wara Teika), 664 Kakinomoto no Sam, 168n, 170n
Kagura (sacred dances), 1002 Kakitsu disturbance (1441), 91In
Kagura-uta (songs), 1144 Kahitsu Monogatari, 91In
Kaidok1. See Journey Along the Seacoast Kakitsubata, 1025
Road Kakuen, 983-84
Kaifiiso [Fond Recollections of Poetry]' Kakuichi, 629-30
74-77, 83n, "9, 136, 148, 182, Kakuka, 70, 8In
190, 191, 192, 224, 247, 253 Kaleuremino. See Invisible-Making Cape,
Chinese models followed closely in, The
76 Kakushin, 871
C>tsu's poems in, 75 Kamada Masakiyo, 621-22
preface to, 77 Kamakura, shoguns' capital estab-
K'ai-huang era (581-600), 73 lished at, 182, 609, 610, 790
Kajiwara Kagetoki, 894 Kamakura period (1185-1333),349,
Kakekotoba (pivot words), 229, 230, 449, 450, 609, 996n, 1062
24In, 242n, 282, 692n, 1137 Buddhist writings of, 749-88
in Kokinshu, 258, 259-60, 267, 269 courtly fiction of, 516, 789-824,
in No, 1016, 1024 1°9 2
12 14 Index
Kamakura period (cant.): war tales written in, 613, 615, 638n,
dating tales of, 544n 868
diaries of, 790, 825- 51, 97 1, 974 Kamegiku, 869, 872-73, 907n
fusion of Shinto and Buddhism in, Kameyama, Emperor, 7°8-9, 710,
983,995n 849n, 900
religious tales of, 983-85 Kamigakari schools of No (Kanze and
tale literature (setsuwa) of, 582, Hosho), I042n, I045n, I047n,
588-94, 60In-3 n 1057n
upsurge of religious belief during, 749 Karni-uta (god songs), 1001-2
uta-awase in, 648-52 Kamman Gyoki (Sadafusa), 883
waka of, 643-7 20, 794-95, 804-5, Kammu, Emperor, 89, 181, 209n,
826, 840, 843-44. See also Shin 600n, 6 14
Kokinshu Kamo no Chomei, 318, 347, 649-50,
war tales of, 868, 869-74, 892-99 687n, 759-68, 782n-83n, 951-52
Kambun (prose written in classical An Account of My Hut by, 759-65,
Chinese), 12, 197, 199, 609, 750 766, 767, 78w
biographies written in, 1160-61 Buddhist tales compiled by, 765-68,
diaries written in, 351, 358, 359- 61, 769, 770, 783n
362, 365, 397, 398-401, 4°7 n-8n, Kenko compared to, 856
409n, 551, 617, 720, 825, 828- 29, Kamo no Mabuchi, 124, 278, 702-3,
83I,97I,974,II64n 704,737n
early Heian, 182-89, 206-9 Kamoyama, as site of Hitomaro's
essays written in, 762 death, 116-17, 169n
first germs of The Tale of Genji Kampvo no ontoki Kisai no Miya Uta-
written in, 482, 509n awase [Poem Competition at the
fu (rhyme-prose) written in, 345-47 Empress's Palace During the
fudok (gazetteers) written in, 63-65 Kampy6 Era] (893), 222
of Gido Shiishin, 1069, 1070 Kana (syllabary used to record sounds
historical works written in, 563-64, of Japanese), 88, 363, 467n-68n,
565n, 900 837,9° 0
in Honcho Monzui, 344-49, 354n- invention of, 189, 218-20, 221, 238n
55n two forms of, 219, 238n
of Kiikai, 182-89 Kana zoshi (tales of seventeenth cen-
late Heian, 34 1, 344-51 tury), 993, 1158
miracle stories written in, 206-9 Kan'arni, 772
of Nara period, 62-74 Kanamura. See Kasa no Kanamura
Nihon Shoki, 64-n 74, 78n-82n Kanazawa Bunko, 1062
problems in reading of, I085n Kaneakira, Prince, 345-46
religious tales written in, 985-86 Kanehira, 1019
tale literature (setsuwa) written in, Kaneie. See Fujiwara no Kaneie
5n 578-82, 585, 593, 596n Kanemori. See Taira no Kanemori
The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter and, Kanesuke. See Fujiwara no Kanesuke
467n-68n Kaneyoshi. See Ichijo Kaneyoshi
Index 121 5
Kanezane. See Fujiwara Kanezane in Honcho Monzui, 344-47, 348-49
Kanginshi; [Collection for Quiet Sing- by Ikkyu Sojun, 1078-83, 1087n-
ing], 1145-48, 1167n-68n 89n
categories of songs in, 1145-46 imperially sponsored anthologies of,
compilation of, 1145, 1146 182, 189-95, 2IIn-12n, 221
pillow poems in, 1146-47 and introduction of Po Chu-i's
prefaces of, I 145 works into Japan, 196
Kanjincho [The Subscription List]' 897- in KaifUso, 74-n 83n
98, 1170n and Kukai's study of Chinese
Kank« Bunso (Sugawara no Michi- poetics, 187-88
zane), 197 late Heian, 341-47, 348-49, 351-53,
Kanke KoshU (Sugawara no Michi- 354n, 35 6n
zane), 197 matching of waka and, 222-23
Kankyo no Torno. See Companion of a of Nara period, 63, 74-77
Quiet Life Saga and, 189-95, 21In, 212n
Kannami, 1003, 1004, 1005-14, 1015, in Shinsen Man'yosha, 221, 222-23,
1016, 1018, 1021, 104In, 1045n- 239n
48n, 1050n, 105In singing of, 160n
characteristics of plays by, 1011, success at court tied to abilities in,
1047n 76- 77
[inen Koji by, 1006, 1007-10, 1013, of Sugawara no Michizane, 197-
1045n, 1046n-47n, 1048n, 1157 206, 2I2n-15n
Sotoba Komachi by, 1006, 1010-13, and tendency to use Chinese for
1027, 1047n-48n public convictions, 194
Kannon, 775, rn. sn. 9 85, 986, 995n, waka vs., 222-23
112In in Wakan Roei Shu, 341-44, 345,
pilgrimages to temples sacred to, 353n-54n
1097 Wen Hsiian as influence on, 224
story about, in Account of Miracles, women writers of, 195
207- 8 see also Chinese poetry; Poetry
Kana Heigo, 884-85, 886 Kanze Kannami, 17
Kanshi (poetry composed in classical Kanze Nagatoshi, 1029, 1053n, 1149-
Chinese), 3, 16, 27, 27, 118, 50
119, 233, 247, 250, 257, 267, Kanze Nobumitsu, 1028-29, 1149,
278, 399, 445, 479- 80, 609, 735, 1168n
1085n Kanze school (No), 104w, 1045n,
close following of Chinese models 1047n, 1057n
in, 76 Kao Ch'i, 1073
early Heian, 187, 189-206 Kara Monogatari. See Tales of China
expression of political matters pos- Karaki [unzo, 455
sible in, 346 Karu, Prince, 51
Five Mountains poetry, 1062-91 Karu, Princess, 5 I
freer use of Chinese in, 206 Karuleava Doshin, 1158, 117In
1216 Index
Karuta (New Year's game of poem Keikokushu [Collection for Governing
cards), 674, 693n the Country], 194-95, 197,251
Kasa, Lady, IS I-52 Keimvo, I056n
Kasa no Kanamura, I28-30, 149 Keisei, 768-70, 783n-84n
Kaso Soden, I079 Keiun, 723, 743n, 864n
Kasuga Gongen Gcnlti. See Miracles of Kemmu Restoration (1333-1336), 720,
the Kasuga Deity, The 724, 875-76, 8]7, 900, 906
Kasuga Shrine (Nara): Kenko (also known as U rabe Kane-
deity of, 983-85, 995n yoshi or Yoshida Kaneyoshi),
in early history of No, 1004, I006 629, 64on, 694n, 723, 780n, 840,
Kasui [River Waters], I053n, I IS0 852 - 67
Katakana (severe style of kana), IO, aesthetic preferences of, 857-60
219, 238n considered to be recluse, 856
Kataribe (guild of narrators), 35, 55n- gentlemanly behavior as viewed by,
56n 860-61
Kata-uta ("half-poem"), 58n, I IS, 921, involved in secular world, 855-56
958n-59n plea-ure in solitude felt by, 861-62
Katsura, Princess, 434 as poet, 852-53, 855, 864n
Kawabata Yasunari, 477, 7 86n, 973 on taking the Great Step, 862-63
Kawada [un, 737n see also Essays in Idleness
Kawaguchi Hisao, 349 Kenreimon'in (former Empress
Kawara-no-in, poetry gathering at, Tokuko), 634, 637, 826-27,
289, 290 847n, 872
Kawasaki Taito, 885 Kenreimon'in UkYo no Daibu no Shu.
Kayoi Komachi, I04Sn, I046n, I047n, See Poetic Memoirs of Lady Daibu,
I048n The
Kazan, Emperor, 283-84, 33on, 427n, Kensai, 95I, I 134
586 Kenshi, Empress, 586-87
abdication of, 556-58 Kensho, 453, 649, 684n
Kazan'in Nagachika (also known as Kensho Chinjo (Kcnsho), 684n
Koun),728 Khitan, script devised by, 220
Kaze ni Tsurcnaki Monogatari. See Ki family, 249
Pitiless Winds, The Ki Kiyondo, 66
Kazuramono (third category of No Ki no Haseo, 203, 206, 344, 435, 467n
plays), 1018, 1020-26 Ki no Suemochi, 76, 83n
"mad" scenes in, 1020-22, 1024-25, Ki no Tokifumi, 289, 329n, 363
1026- 2 7 Ki no Tomonori, 249, 250, 260-61,
Kegon sect, 778 269
Kegon-kYo. See Flower Wreath Sutra Ki no Tsurayuki, 227, 289, 308, 329n,
Keichii, 89, 225, 236 344, 7 14, 981
Keikai. See Kyokai; Sensai as compiler of Kokinsh«, 249, 250,
Keiko, Emperor, 46-47, 48, 58n 268
Index 121 7
importance of, 264, 268 title of, 308, 314
late poems by, 267, 268 Kiri no (No plays of fifth category),
poems in Kokinshu by, 250, 255, 1029- 3°
256, 257-58, 261, 263, 264-68 Kishi Shoz», 988
preface to Kokinshu by, 2, 224, 245- Kiso no Yoshinaka, 321, 633, 827, "39
47,248-49,25°,251,257,264, Kita Morio, 28-29
270, 3 29n, 35 8, 362, 724, 775 Kita school (No), 1042n, 1045n, 1047n
represented in Gosenshu, 278, 280, Kitabatake Chikafusa, 877-78
33 0n Kitano Shrine, 944, 964n
represented in Shuishu, 283 Kiyohara no Fukayabu, 412-13
technical virtuosity of, 258, 265-67 Kiyohara no Motosuke, 412
The Tosa Diary by, 8, 219, 268, 289, Kiyokimi. See Sugawara no Kiyokimi
34~ 35 8, 361-6~ 37 1, 393, 39 8, Kiyomori. See Taira no Kiyomori
4 02n, 404n, 837 Kiyosuke. See Fujiwara Kiyosuke
Ki no Yoshimochi: Kiyotsune, 1046n
poems by, 258-59 Kiyoyuki. See Miyoshi no Kiyoyuki
preface to Kokinshu by, 245, 246, Kiyozawa Manshi, 753
272n Ko Atsumori. See Little Atsumori
Kiami, 1003, 1043n, 1049n, 105In Ks no Moronao, 853
Kimmei, Emperor, 69 Kobayashi, 91 In
Kindai Shuka. See Superior Poems of Kobayashi Hideo, 737n
Our Time Kobo Daishi, 579, "52. See Kukai
Kin'eda, See Sanjonishi Kiri'eda Kobun, Emperor (formerly Prince
Kinlor[u [Songs to Koto Accompani- Otomo), 102, 103, 165n
ment], 160n, 17on-7 In, "44, Koen, 564
,,67n Kofuku-ji (Nara), 62
Kinkai Waka Shu, 701-5, 736n-38n in early history of No, 1003, 1004,
title of, 736n-37n lO44n
Kinmune. See Saionji Kinmune Koga family, 914n
Kinoshita [unji, 1 I26n Kogon, Emperor, 720, 721-22, 723,
Kinsada. See Toin Kinsada 74 2n, 844-45, 846, 853, 9 17n
Kintaro. See Sakata Kintoki Kohon Setsuwa Shu. See Collection of
Kinto, See Fujiwara no Kinto Old Setsuwa Texts
Kin uta , 1015-16 Kojidan. See Tales About Old Matters
Kin'yori, See De no Kin'yori Kojiki [Record of Ancient Matters], 33-
Kin'yoshu; or in full Kin'vo Waka Shu 61, 73, 82n, 348, 4 66n, 551
[Collection of Golden Leaves], 305- artistic worth of, 37-38, 53, 56n
14,3 19, 334 n-36n, 959n compilation of, 36-37, 65-66
emphasis on contemporary waka in, creation myth in, 38-41, 57n, 68-69
3° 8-9,3 15 death dates of emperors in, 46
renga section in, 922-23 first book of, 38-46
three versions of, 3°7-8 folktales and fables in, 43-44, 57n
1218 Index
Kojiki (cont.): kinshu), 15-16,310-11,951,1134,
in history of Japanese literature, 54 1136,1138,1141,1165n
importance of, 33, 37 Koltin Waka Rokujo [Six Volumes of
Japanese pronunciations for, 34-35, Japanese Poetry, Old and New],
53, 55n, 59n 262
lack of unity ascribed to, 41 Koleinshu, or in full Kokin Waka Shu
Man'yoshu related to, 85-86, 90, 93, [Collection of Waka, Old and
97, 109, II5, 159 New], 2-3, 4, 16, 90, 126, 145,
Nihon Shoki compared to, 65-66, 146, 149, 156, 16m, 162n, 195,
67- 69 209, 230, 245-76, 280, 307, 3°8,
plays based on, 59n 309, 326, 334n, 337n, 344, 425,
poetry in, 33, 37, 43, 49, 50, 52-53, 45 2, 460, 472n, 643, 649, 651, 666,
54, 58n, 85- 86 669, 694n, 699, 700, 7° 8, 709, 7 12,
political implications of, 4 1 , 53 7 14- 15, 7 19, 733-34, 736, 743n,
postwar scholarship on, 53-54 798-99, 838, 843, 928, 935, 952,
preface to, 34, 35-36, 38, 59n, 218 981,1025,1132,1147
questions about authenticity of, 54, anonymous poems in, 236-37, 250,
59n 259, 261, 263-64, 279, 645-46
recited by kataribe, 35 arrangement of poems in, 2, 251-
renga origins traced to, 58n, 921, 254
93°,979 borrowings from, in Shin Kokinshu,
second book of, 46-5 I 644-46, 656, 660, 687n
sex of compiler of, 36-37 Chinese influence on, 224, 229, 245,
songs in, 33, 34, 35, 45, 47-4~ 5~ 246, 248, 258, 259, 260, 262, 27m,
159, 1144 343
sources of, 35-36 compilation of, 245, 249-51, 27m
Susano-o as first hero of, 40, 41-43, date of formal presentation of, 250
44-45, 49, II08-9 dimunition of scale of poetry in, 248
tale literature (setsuwa) in, 568 engo and kakekotoba in; 258, 259-
third book of, 5 I -53 60,266, 269
writing system of, 33-35, 55n, 56n, extra syllable (ji-amari) in poems of,
63, 66, 88, 218 714- 15
Yamato-takeru as second hero of, "femininity" of, 91
46-50, 54, 58n Gosenshu compared to, 278-79, 281-
Kojima hoshi, 878, 879, 909n 82, 283
Kojiro, See Yamana Kojiro haikai (comic poems) in, 281, 330n
Kokan Shiren, 1068 imperial sponsorship of, 245
Kokata (role of child in No play), importance of particles in, 256
1007, 1028, 1046n Ki no Tsurayuki's poems in,
Koh« no Koromo. See Moss-Colored 250, 255, 256, 257-58, 261, 263,
Robe, The 264- 68
Koken, Empress, 89 love poems in, 250-51, 252-53, 254-
Koltin Denju (secret traditions of Ko- 55, 263, 264-65, 279
Index 1219

Man'yoshi; compared to, 248, 251, stereotyped phrases and themes in, 263
254, 255 topics and themes of poetic compo-
mitate (taking one thing for an- sition in, 262-64
other) in, 258-59, 328 travel poems in, 252, 253
ninth-century poems in, 221, 222- waka given prestige by, 445
23, 224-37, 240n-43n, 268, 272n word-play in, 259-60, 266, 269, 286
obliqueness of expression in, 257- writing system of, 219
58 Koko, Emperor, 200, 202
personification in, 260-62, 274n Kohan Chomonja. See Collection of
poems composed at uta-awase in, Tales Heard, Present and Past
222 Kokugaku (National Learning), 69,
poems from Shinsen Man'yosha in, 91, 278, 818n
223, 23~ Kokuzo, 995n
poetic diction of, 10, 12, 248, 254- Kokyii (musical instrument), I 17In
57,281,665,93 1 Komachi. See Ono no Komachi
poetic techniques of, 257-62, 266-67 Komparu school (No), 1042n, 1045n,
prefaces to, 2, 123, 16In, 169n, 220, 1047n, 1169n
224, 225, 232, 245-49, 250, 25 1, Komparu Shirojiro, 1055n
257, 264, 270, 272n, 329n, 35 8, Komparu Yasuteru, 1169n
362, 434, 467n , 593, 656, 775, Komparu Zernpo, 1029
960n Komparu Zenchiku, 1016, 1026, 1029,
prefatory and appended notes to 1048n, 1052n, 1169n
poems in, 253-54 Kornyo (consort of Shomu), 131
prestige and influence of, 255-57, Komyo, Emperor, 723, 927
262-63, 264, 270, 285, 328 Kongo school (No), 1042n, 1045n,
ranks of contributors to, 250 1047n, 1168n
regret over changes brought about Konin, Emperor, 181
by passage of time as dominant Konishi [in'ichi, xii, 258, 259, 445, 652,
theme of, 247-48, 257 7 16- 17, 7 18, 933, 949, 1065
screen poems in, 263, 265, 268 Konjaku Monogatari. See Tales of
seasonal poems in, 251-53, 266, 279, Times Now Past
645-4 6 Konoe, Emperor, 616
secret traditions of (Kokin Denju), Konoe family, 1141
15-16,310-1 1,951, 1134, 1136, Konoe Masaie, 933
1138, 1141, 1165n Korai Fateisho [Notes on Poetic Style
sequels to, 277-340. See also Gosen- Through the Ages] (Fujiwara
sha; Goshaisha; Kin'yosha; Senza- Shunzei), 322
ishu; Shikasha; Shuishu Korea, 14, 18, 41, 50, 54, 67, 72
Shin Kokinshi; compared to, 327-28, Chinese conquest of (660), 86
657-58, 659, 682n, 688n cultural influences from, 5 I
Shaisha compared to, 284, 291-92, Japanese conflict with (663), 99, 100,
33 2n 139, 164n
six styles of poetry in, 248, 272n see also Paekche
1220 Index
Korechika, Lord, 4 I3, 4 14, 4 I5 Kujo Yoshitsune. See Fujiwara Yoshi-
Koremune Takayori, 318 tsune
Korenari. See Fujiwara no Korenari Kukai (also known as Kobo Daishi),
Koretaka, Prince, 227-28 182- 89, 191, 205, 209n, 34 2, 353n,
Koreyoshi. See Sugawara no Kore- 539, 769, 794, 8I9n, I073
yoshi background of, 182-83
Kose no Shikihito, 195, 2I2n Buddhist priesthood entered by,
Koshikibu, 542 183, 185- 86
Koshikibu Naishi, 301, 591-92, China visited by, 185-87
602n credited with invention of kana,
Koshima, 134 189, 218, 238n
Koshoku Ichidai Otolo». See Life of an Indications of the Goals of the Three
Amorous Man, The Teachings by, 136, 183-85, 188,
Kotobagaki (prefaces to wak a), 141, 435
253 A Memorial Presenting a List of
poem-tales related to, 45 I, 47m-72n Newly Imported Sutras by, 185-87
Koun (also known by lay name, Seirei Shu by, 187, z rozr
Kazan'in Nagachika), 728 study of Chinese poetics by, 187-88
Ko-uta (short songs), 1145, 1146-48, Kumagai Naozane, 635-36, 886, I I I 1
1I68n Kumano deity, 985, 987-88
Kowaka (ballad-dramas), 897, 1149, Kumano no Honji, 987
1153-55, 1163, 1169n-7on, 1172n Kumaso, 47, 69
origins of, 1153-54, 1169n Kunaikyo, 658
performance of, 1154, I ISS Kunimi ("looking at the land;" reli-
sekk yo influenced by, 1158, 117m gious rite), 98, 104, 163n
Kiiya-mode [Pilgrimage to Koya], 1152, Kunisada, 923
II69n Kunitokotachi, 68
Koyu, Abbot, 858 Kuramochi, Prince, 436
Kuang-wu, Emperor of China, 876 Kurano Kenji, 53
Kubi jikken ("head inspection"), 623, Kurohito. See Takechi no Kurohito
1133 Kusakabe, Prince, 132
Kudai Waka [Waka on Themes of Hitomaro's eulogy for, 104-6, I07
Lines] (Oe no Chisato), 223-24, Kuse (section of No play), 1006, I045n,
239n 1167n
Kudara. See Paekche Kusemai (section of No play), 1154
Kugeshu [SkY Flowers Collection I (Gido Kusonoki Masashige, 874, 875, 876,
Shushin), 1°70-71 879, 881, 908n, 9Ion, 975, 1108
Kuji, or kyuji (ancient dicta), 36, 56n Kyobutsu (Kyobutsu-bo), 754, 755,
Kujo family, 738n 78(,n
Kujo Kanezane. See Fujiwara Kane- Kyogen (comic plays performed in
zane conjunction with No), 16,611,
Kujo Norizane, 672-73 I030-4I, I053n-57n
Index 1221

beginnings of, 1030-31, 1054n capital established in, 181-82, 209n

Busu, 1033-34, 1054n capital moved from, 761
categories of, "37-40, 1056n seasonal preferences related to cli-
early performances of, 1031-32, mate of, 251-52
1054n Kyii (climax or conclusion):
humor of, 1035-37, 1039, 1056n arrangement of No plays and,
ko-uta in, 1148, 1168n 1017- 18
language of, 1034, 1035 in No plays, 1002, 1017
No plays contrasted with, 1034, in renga, 931, 96In
1035, 1039 Kyureki (Fujiwara no Morosukc), 408n
No plays performed with, 1018, Kyusei, 928, 941
1031, 1056n in compilation of renga rulebook,
origin of term, 1030, 1053n 936-37
schools of, 1035, 1040-41, 1057n Nijo Yoshimoto as pupil of, 926
Sotoba Komachi com pared to, 101 I, Shua contrasted with, 937-38
1047n Tsukuba Shu and, 934, 935-36,
texts of, 1033-34 960n, 963n
Zearni's writings on, 1032-33 Kyusojin Hitaku, 226
Kyogen actors. See Ai Kyounshu 'Crazy Cloud Collection]
Kyogoku school (waka), 708, 713, 714, (Ikk yu Sojun), 1080-81
7 24, 739n, 740n
demise of, 722-23 "Lady Who Loved Insects, The"
extra syllable (ji-amari) as feature '''Mushi mezuru hirne"], 542
of, 714-15, 719-20, 74In "Lamp Goes Out, The" (Sugawara no
love poems of, 717-18, 719, 74In Michizane), 205
political concerns and, 708-12 "Lampblack" ["Haizumi"], 543
represented in Shin Kokinshu, 712- Landscape paintings, 785
20 Lankavatara Sutra, 1071
Kyogoku Tamekane, 7"-16, 739n, Lao Tzu, 204, 861, 1083n
74In "Late Autumn Thoughts" (Lady
arrests and exiles of, 710, 715-16, Otomo), 195
7 19, 739n Later Tales from Vji rL!ii Shui Monoga-
Gyokuyoshu compiled by, 710, 7"- tari], 577> 588-9 0 , 594n, 595n,
12, 740n 596n, 60In-2n, 603n
poems by, 713-15 compilation of, 588, 60In-2n
Kyogoku Tameko, 712 literary qualities of, 589-90
Kyojornono (madwoman plays), 1026- political content absent from,
27 588-89
K yok a ("wild poems"), I 131 Latter Han dynasty, 876
Kyok ai (also known as Keikai), 206-7, Letters by Unshu [Vnshu Shosoku] (Fu-
215n jiwara no Akihira), 349, 350-51
Kyoto (formerly Heian), 609, 610, 61 I Li Han, 582
1222 Index
Li Kuang, 583-84 Love Suicides at Sonezaki, The [Sone-
Liang dynasty, 74, 224 zaki Shinju], 21
Liang K'ai, 755 "Lover's Complaint" (Lady Otorno of
Liang Shu, 82n Sakanoue), I 13
Lieh Tzu, 785 Lo-yang, Chinese capital at, 295
Lien-chit (renleu}, 930, 960n Lucretius, 185, 188
Life of an Amorous Man, The [Koshoku Lu-shih or risshi (eight-line poems),
Ichidai Otoko] (Ihara Saikaku), 19, 1066, 1072-73, 1074-75
5°8 described, 1067
Linked verse. See Renga
Literacy, 19-20, 23, 51, 569 Mabuchi. See Kamo no Mabuchi
Literature of the Five Mountains. See McCullough, Helen Craig, 224, 228,
Five Mountains poetry 239n
Little Atsumori [Ko Atsumori], 1110-12, Maeku (first half-poem of short
I rzoe, 1125n renga), 922-23
Liu An, 165n Mahakashyapa, 757
Lives of Japanese Spirit Immortals Mahayana Buddhism, 185, 750
[Honcho Shinsen Den I (Oe no Maigetsusho [Monthly Notes] (Fujiwara
Masafusa), 579-80, 598n Teika),83 2
Long Tale for an Autumn Night, A Maimai (dance-dance), 1169n-7on
[Aki no Yo no Nagamonogatari], Maitreya (Miroku), 785n, 995n, 1044n
llOl-3, 1123n Makioka Sisters, The [Sasameyuki]
Lotus Sutra, 385, 386, 402n, 408n, 571- (Tanizaki [un'ichiro), 6
72, 595n, 598n, 775, 779n Maeura Soshi. See Pillow Book of Sei
Buddhist poetry based on, 776, Shimagon, The
777 Makurakotoba (epithets used before
Hokke or Nichiren Buddhism and, place names), 43, 90, 162n, 258,
75 1, 774-75 269, 282, 335n, 336n, 702, 843
Love poems, 2, 150-52, 252-53, 6°9, dangers in translating of, 167n-68n
652,859, 1082- 83, 1146, 1147 Mafijusri (Monju), 360, 562, 78w,
Chinese vs. Japanese, 346-47 995n, 1044n, I 1°5
exchanged between men and Mann, Thomas, 29
women, 247, 279, 280-81 Mansei, 138, 291
in Gosenshu, 279, 280-81 Manuscript in My Knapsack [Oi no Ko-
of Izumi Shikibu, 296-97 buni] (Basho), 681
in Kokinshu, 250-51, 252-53, 254- Man'yogana (mixture of Chinese char-
55, 263, 264- 65, 279 acters used both as phonograms
of Ky6goku school, 717- 18, 719, and ideograms), 218, 219, 221,
74 In 116Jn
in Man'yoshu, 92, 1147 Man'yoshu, 4, 53, 58n, 63, 85- 180, 192,
of Sagami, 301-2 229, 230, 233, 236, 238n, 240n,
in Shin Kokinshu, 646 250, 262, 267, 270, 27w, 274n,
Love songs, in Kanginshii, 1146-47 278, 279, 283, 29 1, 292, 33on,
Index 1223

334n, 433, 456, 643, 694n, 928, mitate (taking one thing for
96 In, 1075 another) in, 259
allusions in No plays to, ro05, Mushimaro Collection in, 127-28
1024 number of poems in, 88, 16m
anonymous poems in, 157-59, 283 only poem composed in foreign
arrangement of poems in, 93, 157, country in, 140
I62n, 221, 253 Chomo no Yakamochi's "poem-
borrowings from, 651, 656, 657, diary" in, 146-57
669-70, 684n plethora of scholarship on, 88,
Chinese influence in, 86-87, 90, 95-9 8
101-2, 109, II5, 135-38 poems describing emotions on
compilation of, 88-89, 121, 151, seeing dead body in, 369
156-57, 16m, I62n poems from Hitomaro Kashu in,
comprised of twenty books, 91-92, 114-16, I68n
I62n prefaces to poems in, 451
dating periods of, I62n prestige and influence of, 732, 791,
"doubles" in, 120-21 792, 8I8n
early period of (645-672), 92-102 principal categories of poetry in, 92
fourth period of (730-759), 146-59 renga in, 922, 929, 930
Fujiwara Teika's borrowings from, rich vocabulary of, 90, 702
669-7 0 second period of (673-701), 102-18
Gyokuyoshu and, 708, 710, 713, 739n Shin Kokinshi: compared to, 657,
heterogeneity of poets represented 658
In, 9°-91 Sogi's allusions to, 979, 980
impermanence of works of man la- singing of poems in, 1145
mented in, 1°9-10 special connection between Gosenshu
Japanese pronunciations for, 87-88, and, 283, 330n
16m subject matter of poetry in, 90
[omei's poem in, 93, 96-98, I63n Tanabe Sakimaro collection in,
Kakinomoto no Hitornaro's elegies III-12, I67n
in, 102-13, 122-23, 1600 third period of (7°2-729), I 18-46
kanshi in, 75 tragic and harshly dramatic subjects
Kojihi related to, 85-86, 90, 93, 97, in, 91
109, I IS, 159 travel poems in, II9-23
Kokinshu compared to, 248, 25I, unreliability of attributions in, 99-
254, 255 100
last dated poem in, ISS variety of poetic forms in, 89-90
longest poem in, 108 waka revival and, I 130, I 138
love poems in, 92, 1147 women poets of, 92, 99-102, 134,
"manliness" of, 85, 91, 92 151-52
meaning of title of, 88 writing system of, 3, 87-88, 221
Minamoto Sanetomo influenced by, Yuryaku's poem in, 93-95, I6w-
699, 701-2, 703, 704, 737n 63n
1224 Index
Mappo (last period of Buddhist law), translation of European literature
35 2,507, 5 13n, 75 2, 775, 779, 854, in, 23-24
882 Meitoku Rebellion (1391), 1076
Martial tales (gunki monogatari), 516, Meitokuki, 883-87, 91 In
517 deaths of Yamana family members
see also War tales in, 884-86
Maruya Saiichi, 672 events recounted in, 883, 884
Masaari. See Asukai Masaari last days of Ujikiyo's widow in,
Masakado. See Taira no Masakado 886- 87
Masako (Gashi), Princess, 404n recitations of, 883-84
Masakiyo. See Kamada Masakiyo writing style of, 884
Masashige. See Kusonoki Masashige Memorial Presenting a List of Newly
Masatada. See Koga Masatada Imported Sutras, A [Sharai Moleu-
Masayuki. See Minamoto Masayuki rokuJ (Kukai), 185-87
Masuliagami, See Clear Mirror, The Meng Ch'iu (Li Han), 582, 583-84,
Masumune Hakucho, 1166n 599 n, 1134
Matsuhoura Monogatari. See Tale of Meredith, George, 425-26
Matsuhoura, The Meter, in poetry, I I, 43
Matsukazc, 5 I In, 1003, 1016, 1017, Mibu no Tadamine, 249, 250, 252, 285,
1020,1021-26, 1043n, 105In-52n 33 In , 660, 74 on, 79 8-99
allusions and poetic devices in, Michi ("way" particular to an art),
1024-26, 1052n 15- 16
borrowings from The Tale of Genji Michikaze. See Ono no Michikaze
In, 1022-24 Michinaga. See Fujiwara no Michi-
"mad" scene in, 1021-22, 1024-25, naga
1027 Michitoshi. See Fujiwara no Michi-
Matsunaga Hisahide, I 142 toshi
Matsunaga Teitoku, 866n, II 38, 1140 Michiyuki ("journey" in plays), 13
Matsuo Basho, xi, 4, 8, 12, 18, 22, 23, Michizane. See Sugawara no Michi-
347-48,364, 562, 662, 681, 694n, zane
7 16, 77 2, 89 8, 95 2, 973, 1075, 1164 Middle ages:
Matsuranomiya Monogatari. See Tale of end of, 612
the Matsura Palace, The increased importance of places out-
Maya, 392 side capital in, 61O-II, 612
Medieval period: new genres created in, 6°9-10
use of term, 332n religious fervor of, 6 I I - I 2
see also Azuchi-Momoyama period; renga of, 921-7°,1129,1134,1135,
Kamakura period; Middle ages; II36-37, II38-44. See also Renga
Muromachi period role of women in, 628
Meigetsult), See Chronicle of the Bright travel during, 972
Moon uta-awase in, 648-52
Meiji period, 45 I, 880, 881 waka of, 609, 643-74 8, 794-95,
reopening of Japan in, 22-23 804- 5, 826, 840, 843-44, 921,
Index 1225

1129- 38, "41, "43, "46. See as model for Genji, 487, 490
also Shin Kokinsh« Minamoto no Takakuni, 572, 573, 588,
war tales of, 21, 613-42, 868-920. 593, 596n, 600n
See also War tales Minamoto no Takasue, 336n
see also Azuchi-Momoyama period; Minamoto no T amenori, 57I
Kamakura period; Muromachi Minamoto no Tametomo, 616, 618-19,
period 620, 621, 628, 633, 639n
Mido Kampahu Ki. See Records of the Minamoto no Tameyoshi, 616, 621-22
Mido Chancellor Minamoto no Toru, 289
Mikata, Prince, 155 Minamoto no Toshiaki, 586-87, 600n
Mikohidari school (waka), 654, 666, Minamoto no Toshiyori (also known
667 as Shunrai), 3"-'4, 315, 318,
Minamoto family (Genji), 6, 17,319, 322, 323, 335n, 336n, 596n, 1123n
320, 321, 353n, 490, 51 In, 560, Buddhist poems by, 313-14
609, 610,61 3, 6 16, 637n, 825, 828, grievances expressed in waka by,
893,9 09n 3 12- 13, 336n
Minamoto family, warfare between Kin'yoshu compiled by, 307, 308-9,
Taira family and, 588, 610, 613, 310
653,761,893 "radical" tendencies of, 308-9, 3"
final defeat of Taira in, 321-22, Minamoto no Tsunefusa, 429n
564, 6°9, 827-28 Minamoto no Tsunenobu, 307, 308,
Kowaka (ballad-dramas) about, 3",649,73 1,745n
"49 Goshiashu criticized by, 293, 332n-
martial tales about, 6, 17, 624-37. 33n
See also Tale of the Heike, The Minamoto no Yoriie, 294
No plays about, 551, 1028 Minamoto no Yorikuni, 518
otogi-zoshi about, "08, "10-12 Minamoto no Yorimasa, 304, 3 I 8, 325
Zekkai Chushin's poem about naval Minamoto no Yoritomo. See Mina-
engagement in, 1074-75 mota Yoritomo
Minamoto Ienaga, 657, 673, 687n Minamoto no Yoritsuna, 292-93
Minamoto Masayuki, 662 Minamoto no Yoriyoshi, 615
Minamoto Michitomo, 657 Minamoto no Yorizane, 293-94, 295,
Minamoto no Kintada, 267 962n
Minamoto no Masanobu, 353n Minamoto no Yoshitane, 434
Minamoto no Masayori, 566n Minamoto no Yoshitomo, 616, 621-22,
Minamoto no Michichika, 653, 654, 624, 625, 627-28, 629, 632
660, 666-67, 668, 686n, 687n, 756 Minamoto no Yoshitsune, 633-34, 635,
Minamoto no Mitsuyuki, 583 637
Minamoto no Mototoshi, 322, 323 Gikeiki and, "59
Minamoto no Otowaka, 622-23 Minamoto Raiko, 1109
Minamoto no Shitago, 33on, 346, 348, Minamoto Sanetomo, 692n, 699, 700-
435, 442, 447, 47 on-7 In 705, 706, 73 6n-3 8n, 765, 83 I, 869,
Minamoto no Takaakira, 404n, 51 In 875
1226 Index

Minamoto Sanetomo (cont.); Miroku (Maitreya), 785n, 995n, 144n

Fujiwara Teika's relationship with, Mirror of the East, 700, 737n, 906n
669, 700-7°1, 705 "Mirrors" of history, 555-66, 915n
honka-dor i in poems by, 701, 702-3 use of word "mirror" in, 555
Man'yoshu's influence on, 699, see also Clear Mirror, The; Great
701-2, 703, 704, 737n Mirror, The; Historical works;
poems related to military life of, New Mirror, The; Water Mirror,
70 4- 5 The
works written about; 736n Miscellany of Ten Maxims, A
Minamoto Yoriie, 700 [fikkinsho], 59°-92, 602n-3n
Minamoto Yorisada, 558 Mishima Yukio, 47, 537-38, 11200
Minamoto [no] Yoritomo, 614, 700, Missionaries, 768, 77I, I I25n, I 149,
705, 827, 869 1156
Fujiwara Kanezane's relations with, European influence and, 1161-62,
666-67, 69In 1163
as poet, 692n, 706 printed publications of, 18-19
Saigyo and, 676, 694n Mitani Kuniaki, 425
shogunate established at Kamakura Mitate (taking one thing for another),
by, 610 258-59,328
Tale of the Disturbance in Heiji and, Mitsubuchi Harukazu, 1I66n
628-29 Mitsuhide. See Akechi Mitsuhide
The Tale of the Heik« and, 629, Mitsuhide to Shoha (Masumune Haku-
63 2-33 cho), 1I66n
Yoshitsune defeated by, 892-95 Mitsune. See Oshikochi no Mitsune
Minamoto Yoshitsune, 6 IO, 892-99, Mitsusue. See Iga Mitsusue
1125, 1156 Miyake Fujimaro, 66
as hero of Kowaka, I 154 Miyake no Omi Kanatari, 63
No plays about, 897, 913n Miyaki, 776, 785n
otogi-zoshi about, I I 12 Miyako no Yoshika, 197-98
supernatural legends about, 897 Miyamasu, 9IIn, 1028, I046n, I052n-
Yoshitsune and, 893-99, 913n-I5n 53n
Minase Sangin. See Three Poets at Miyazu-hime, 48-49
Minase Miyoshi Kiyotsura, 469n
Minemori. See Ono no Minemori Miyoshi no Kiyoyuki, 204, 206, 215n
Miner, Earl, 7 19, 74In Miyoshi Tatsuji, 13
Ming dynasty, I073 Mizultagami. See Water Mirror, The
Ming T'ai-tzu, Emperor of China, Mizultumi, I 168n
I073-74 Mogyu Waka [Meng Ch'iu Waka], 583-
Ming-pao chi [Account of Retribution in 84
the Afterworld] (Tang Lin), 574n Mokujiki Ogo, 932
Miracle stories, 206-9 Momijigari, 1028, 1I68n
Miracles of the Kasuga Deity, The Momrnu, Emperor, 118, 119, 158-59,
[Kasuga Gongen Genkil, 983-85 170n
Index [227

Momonoi Naoaki, 1153 "Moon over the Spring Mountains"

Momoyama period, I 129, I 164n (Fujiwara Teika), 670-71
see also Azuchi-Mornoyama period Mori, 1082-83
Mongaku,632-33 Mori family, 1143
Mongol (Yuan) dynasty, 1073 Mori Motoyasu, 1143
Mongols, 825, 841, 1108, 112~, 1162, Mori Ogai, 24
1163 Morinaga, Prince, 875, 877
Monju (Marijusri), 360, 562, 782n, Moritsune. See Fujiwara no Moritsune
995n, I 044n, I I 05 Moroe. See T achibana no Moroe
Mono no aware (sensitivity to things), Morofusa. See Fujiwara no Morofusa
embodied in The Tale of Genji, Moronao. See Ko no Moronao
489- 90 Moronobu, 19
Monogatari ("telling of things;" works Morris, Ivan, 49, 4 16, 425, 892-93
of fiction), 5-6, 609 Moshigo (children born in response
anthology of poems from. See Fuyo- to prayers addressed to god or
shu buddha), I 115
dating of, before late thirteenth cen- Moss-Colored Robe, The [Koke no
tury, 544n Koromo],79 1
demise of, I 158-59 Mother of Michitsuna, 366-71, 403n,
giko (archaistic fiction), 516, 790, 5 11n
818n, 1158-59. See also Courtly Mother of Nagazane, 336n
fiction Mother of the Ajari [ojin, 390-94,
gunki (martial tales), 516, 517, 565n, 4°7 n-8n
6 I 6. See also War tales Motomasa, 1027, 1050n
of Kamakura period, 789-824 Motomezulta [The Soughtjor Grave],
otogi-zoshi and, 992-93, 1100 473n, 1005-6
of post-Genji era, 515-50 Motoori Norinaga, 34-35, 226, 278,
rekishi (historical tales), 55 I -55, 489-90, 508, 707
556, 561, 565n, 566n, 906 Mototoshi. See Fujiwara no Mototoshi
senki (battle tales), 565n Motoyasu, Prince, 263
tsukuri (invented tales), 433-51, Motoyoshi, 1013, 1015
466n-7In. See also Invented tales Movable-type printing presses, 18-
use of term, 433 19
uta (poem-tales), 434, 45 1-66, 47 In- Mugaku Sogen (Wu-hsuh Tsu-yun),
74n. See also Poem-tales 1064
wicked stepmother theme in, 449- Mugen ("dream-unreality" No plays),
50, 491, 815, 82In, 822n 1013-14, 1019-20, 1022
see also specific monogatari Mujo (transience of life; Buddhist
Monokusa Taro, 112In principle), 109-10, 677-78, 760,
Montoku, Emperor, 212n 856, 857, 859-60, 862
Montoleu [itsuroleu [The Chronicles of as essential element of beauty,
the Emperor Montoh« I, 197 859- 60
Monzen. See Wen Hsuan Muju Ichien, 773-76
1228 Index
Mukashibanashi ("stories about long Heian court life depicted in, 379,
ago"), 569, 1054n 380- 81
see also Folktales The Tale of Genji mentioned in,
Mumyo Zoshi. See Story Without a 37 8-79, 382-83, 406n, 478, 481
Name Murasahino Sene«, 963n
Mumvosho [Nameless Selection j (Kamo Murase Toshio, 249
no Chornei), 649-50 Muro no Yashima, 545n
Munenaga, Prince, 723-28, 743n Muromachi period (1333- 1573), 449,
life of, 725 564, 6°9, 759, 9 15n
poetry of, 725-28 courtly fiction of, 543, 815, 817,
Shin'yoshu preface by, 724-25 989-93, 996n
Munetada. See Fujiwara no Munetada diaries of, 953, 95 8, 97 1-83, 993n-
Muneyuki. See Nakamikado Mune- 94n
yuki disse.nination of culture to hinter-
Murakami, Emperor, 277, 278, 329n, lands in, 999, I 108
556, 597n, 655-5 6, 658 division between Northern and
Murasaki Shikibu, 6, 16, 27, 65, 284, Southern courts in (Narnboku-
3° 1,397, 403n, 422, 425, 435, 45 1, cho), 721, 722-23, 725, 728, 844-
461, 466, 515, 5 17- 18, 529, 554, 46, 875, 877> 881, 884, 908n, 975-
560, 566n, 798, 1096 76,977> 996n
aware in writings of, 422, 489-90 growth of scholarship in Chinese
biographical sketch of, 479-81 studies during, 1062-63
diary of. See Murasahi Shiltibu kanshi of, 1062-91. See also Five'
Diary, The Mountains poetry
family background of, 479-80 No in, 999-103°, 104In-53n
Fujiwara Shunzei's praise for, 652, periodization of, 9900
685n religious and secular tales of, 983-
at Heian court, 481 89, 994n-96n
knowledgeable about Chinese writ- renga of, 921-7°. See also Renga
ings, 378-79 resemblances among arts in, 999-
loneliness of, 380, 381, 382 1000
reputedly doomed to suffer in hell, short stories of (otogi-zoshi), 1092-
561-62, 566n 1128
Sei Shonagon's rivalry with, 414-15 The Tale of Genji as viewed in, 477,
tale literature (setsuwa) about, 578, 478
59 8n waka of, 720-36, 921
see also Tale of Genji, The war tales of, 868, 874-906
Murasahi Shikibu Diary, The [Mumsaki see also Middle ages
Shikibu Nikki], 195, 378- 83, 39 8, Musashibo Benkei, 894, 895, 896, 897-
4 06n , 409n, 4 14- 15, 4 87, 837, 902 98,9 14n
comments on other women writers "Mushi mezuru hime." See "Lady
in, 381-82 Who Loved Insects, The"
Index 1229

Mushimaro. See Takahashi no Mushi- Namori (self-introduction in No play),

maro 1008
Mushin (comic renga), 934 Nan Goshui [Faulting the Goshui], 293
Music: Nan Shih, 82n
Gregorian chant, 1161, 117In Nan Taihcihi [Anti-Taiheiki] (Imagawa
see also Songs Ryoshun), 878, 879
Muso Kokushi, 930 Nanibito Hyakuin, 951
Muso Soseki, 1064, 1069, 1073 "Naniwazu," 238n
Mutsu Waki. See Tales and Records of Naohito, Prince, 723
Mutsu Naozane. See Kumagai Naozane
Myoc, 768, 778-79, 786n, 984-85 Nara:
Myozcn, 756, 780n capital moved from, 181, 209n
establishment of capital at, 62,
Naga no Imiki Okimaro, 123, 140 lI8
Nagaharu. See Bessho Nagaharu Nara Ehon (Nara picture books),
Nagai Kafu, 24, 26 1097, 1122n
Nagaoka, capital moved to, 181 Nara period (710-784), 62-181, 190,
Nagatoshi. See Kanze Nagatoshi 2°4
Nagaya, Prince, 13°-31, 134, 137, 140, gigaku in, 1001
172n poetry of, 85-180. See also
Nakahara no Moromoto, 582 Man'yoshi;
Nakamaro. See Abe no Nakamaro; Taoism in, 136
Fujiwara no Nakamaro writing systems in, 87-88, 219
Nakamikado Muneyuki, 833 writings in Chinese of, 62-84, 182
Nakanishi Susumu, 92, 93, 99, 114, Naraimono (secret works of Kyogcn),
115-16, 160n, 162n, 163n, 166n, 1037, 1056n-57n
173n Narichika, 631-32
Nakao, Prince, 193-94 Narihira. See Ariwara no Narihira
Nakatsu, Princess, 99-102, 164n-65n Narisue. See Tachibana no Narisue
Nakatsukasa, Lady, 457, 67°-7 1, 839- Narrators:
4 1,844 of myths and legends in Kojiki (ka-
Nahatsueasa no Naishi no Nikki. See taribe), 35, 55n-5 6n
Diary of Lady Nakatsueasa, The of war tales (biwa hoshi), 617, 629-
Nakayama no Tadachika, 563 30, 63 6-37, 638
Nakayama Yukitaka, 640n Narrow Road of Oku, The [Oku no Ho-
Nako. See Hino Nako somichi] (Matsuo Basho), 8, 562,
Narnboku-cho (period from 1336 to 68 I, 772, 898-99
1392 when rule of country was Narugo, lI68n
divided between Northern and National Learning (kokugaku), 69, 91,
Southern courts), 721, 722-23, 278, 818n
725, 728, 844-4 6, 875, 877> 881, Nationalism, 37, 74, 153, 876
884, 908n, 975-7 6, 977> 996n Natsume Soseki, 16, 24
1230 Index
Nature: Nijo, Emperor, 319, 627
contact with, 28-29 Nijo, Lady, 841-44, 902, 916n
worship of, 14-15 Nijo school (waka), 692n-93n, 707-8,
Nawa Nagatoshi, 846 7 15, 7 19, 739n, 852, 926, 93 1, 947,
Nembutsu (invocation to Amida Bud- 952,1133,1134,1135, II37
dha), 751-55, 757, 774, 779n-80n Imagawa Ryoshun's disagreements
New Account of Sarugaltu, A [Shin Sa- with, 730, 731-32
rugaku Ki] (Fujiwara no Aki- imperial collections compiled by,
hira), 349-50, 351, 1002 7°7,7° 8, 7 10- II, 720, 721, 723-
New Mirror, The [Imakagami], 3°8, 28,743 n
559- 63, 5600, 9 15n political concerns and, 708- I 2
anecdote section of, 561-62 Nijo Tamesada, 725-26
authorship of, 559 Nijo Tameyo, 710-12, 724, 739n-40n,
beginnings of chain renga recounted 864n
Ill, 923-24 Nijo Yoshimoto, 98, 743n, 852-53,
date of composition of, 559 900, 901, 9 16n, 9 17n, 926-37, 939,
"New Yueh-fu" ballads" (Po Chu-i), 940, 960n-62n, 963n, 1070, 1°92
213n diary of, 974-76, 977
Nichiren or Hokke (Lotus Sutra) Dan Shinshiki compiled by, 936-37
Buddhism, 75 1, 774-75 Renri Hisho by, 927-28, 929-30,
Nihon Kiryaeu, 600n, 1002 936,960n
Nihon Ryoiki. See Account of Miracles Tsukuba Mondo by, 98, 928-29,
in Japan 930-34, 96211
Nihon Shoki, or Nihongi [Chronicles of Tsukuba Shu compiled by, 934-36,
Japan], 33, 4 1, 42, 49, 50, 52, 53, 960n
54,4I,42,64-73,74,78n-8211, Nikki (diaries):
85, 88, 109, 159, 173n, 209n, 27 In, use of word, 359, 363
37 8-79, 38~ 39~ 4 81, 55 1, 564, see also Diaries
658,688n Nikki bungaku (diary literature),
compilation of, 65-66, 79n 361-62
considered as literature, 69, 80n see also Diaries
creation myth in, 68-69 Nimmei, Emperor, 196,233
date of composition of, 65, 79n "Nine Arguments" (Sung Yii), 191
dating of events in, 67-68, 80n Ninigi-no-mikoto, 45-46, 106, 154
foreign sources quoted in, 66, 67, Ninshi,663
72-73 Nintoku, Emperor, 51, 97, 761
Japanese pronunciation for, 66-67, Nippon Eitagura (Saikaku), 597n
79n Nirvana Sutra, 765-66
Kojih] compared to, 65-66, 67-69 Nitta Yoshisada, 874, 875, 876, 881,
Prince Shotoku in, 69-71 975
songs in, 17on-7In Nitto Guho Junrei Gyoki. See Travel
title of, 65, 79n Diary of a Pilgrimage to China in
Nihongi. See Nihon Shoki Search of the Law
Index 1231

No, 4,6-7,9, 10, II, 13, 14, 18,20, about Minamoto Yoshitsune, 897,
59n, 225, 23 1, 234, 24 on, 55 1, 609, 9 13n
610, 612, 758, 775, 803, 859, 91In, musical structure of, IOOO-IOOI,
9 13n, 999- I030, I04In-53n, I04In
I054n, IIII, II 54, 1155, II57 obscurity of, IOI6
acting troupes for, I045n 0kina, 1004-5, IOI8, I044n
alterations in texts of, 1014, I049n otogi-zoshi and, 1120n
Ashikaga Yoshimitsu's patronage of, parodied by Kyogen, I035-36
IOI4, 1015-16 parts or roles in, I007, I009, 1029-
Atsumori, IOI8, 1019 30, I045n-46n
of Azuchi-Mornoyama period, 1129, poetic meter of, I008
1134, 1148-53, 1I68n- 69n renga compared to, 934, 999-1000
continued popularity of, 1030 return of, to provinces, 1148-49
created in order to please audiences, roles and parts in, I 150
1148-49, II 50 Sarugaku as predecessor of, 349-50,
Dojo-ji, 1028-29, I053n, 1I68n 1003, I005, 1006, I043n
Eguchi,77 2 schools of, 1014, I040, I042n, I045n
of fifth category (kiri no), 1029- 30 of second category (shurarnono),
of first category (waki no), 1018, 1018-20, 1022, I05en
I037, I042n, I043n, I044n, I050n secret information on techniques of,
five categories of, 1017-18, I050n 849n
of fourth category (kyojornono and soka (fast songs) in, 1I67n
genzaimono), 1013-14, 1019, Sotoba Komachi, 1006, IOIO-I3,
1026- 29, I053n, 1150-5 1 1027, I047n-48n
genzalmono vs. mugen, IOI3-14 speaker's description of his own ac-
historical background of, IOOI-4, tions in, I009
I032, I054n The Tale of Genji and, 486, 499,
importance of text vs. performance 508, 51In, IOI8, I022-24
in, 1000-1001 The Tale of the Heike as source for,
interval narrations by ai in, 1019- 636, IOOO, IOI8, 1019, 1020, 1026,
20, I028, I 155 I05In, II49-5°
Izutsu, 1020-21, 1022 The Tale of the Soga Brothers and,
Jinen Kaji, I006, I007-IO, 1013, 892, 9 12n, 9 13n
I045n, I046n-47n, I048n, II57 Tales of Times Now Past as source
Kyogen contrasted with, 1034, I035, for, 575
1°39 Tales of Yamato as source of, 458,
Kyogen performed with, 1018, I03I, 473n
I056n Teika, 829
literary allusions in, 344, I005, IOI6, tempi in, 96In, 1002, 1017
I024-26 third category of (kazuramono),
Matsubaz«, 51In, I003, 1016, 1017, IOI8, 1020-27
1020, 1021-26, 1027, I043n, in Tokugawa period, IOI4, 1018,
I05In-52n 1149, 1150, 1153
1232 Index
No (cont.): o no Yasumaro, 34, 38, 43
vocabulary of, 1008-9 Dan Shinshiki [New Rules of the Dan
word-play in, 1016, 1024, 1044n Era 1 (Nijo Yoshimoto and Kyii-
written by order of Toyotomi Hide- sei), 936-37
yoshi, 1150-53, 1169n Oborozukiyo, 685n
Yamato-bushi and, 1145-46 Ochileubo Monogatari. See Tale of Ochi-
yiigen (mysterious depth) in, 999- kubo, The
1000, 1017, 1026, 1029 Oda Nobunaga, 4om, 612, 996n, 1129,
Yuya, 1020, 1026, 1027 1131,1142-43,1I64n
Zeami's treatises on, 735,1014-15,1017, biographies of, 1139, 1159-61
1018, 1020, 1032-33, 105on, 105In ko-uta songs and, 1148, 1168n
Nobel Prize in Literature, 25 Kowaka (ballad-dramas) and,
Nobility of Failure, The (Morris), 49, 1154-55
892-93 murder of, 1136, 1143, 1152
Nobumitsu. See Kanze Nobumitsu Odyssey, The, 1158, 1162-63, 1172n-
Nobunaga. See Oda Nobunaga 73n
Nobutaka. See Fujiwara no Nobutaka o. family, 344, 345
Noin, 293, 302-5, 308, 334n, 696n, 973, Oe no Asatsuna, 344, 346-47, 993n-
979,994 n 94n
Nonomiya [The Shrine in the Fields], Oe no Chisato, 223-24, 239n, 273n,
499, 8°3, 1017 337n, 69 In
Nose Asaji, 1005 Oe no Kin'yori, 301, 302, 922
"Nostalgic Remembrances of the Past Oe no Masafusa, 300, 307, 315-16,
Addressed to the Moon" (Fuji- 35 1-5 2, 356n, 548n, 599n
wara Teika), 668, 69In-92n tale literature (setsuwa) compiled
Notes on One Hundred Sessions of Ser- by, 579- 81, 593
mons [Hyakuza Hiidan Kikigaki o- no Masahira, 299, 344, 345, 35 1,
Sho!, 571-72 552, 581
Novels, I, 5-6, I I passages in Collection of Old Setsuwa
colloquialisms in, 12, 13 Texts about, 578
and emergence of professional Oe no Otondo, 581
writer, 19 Oe no Yoshitoki, 303-4
"I novel," 8-9 Ogai. See Mori Ogai
of modern Japan, 24-26 Ogimachi, Emperor, I 131
see also Fiction; Monogatari Dgisho (Fujiwara no Kiyosuke), 337n
Noyo, 743n Ogura Hvahunin Isshu. See Hvaleunin
Nukata, Princess, 103 Isshu
Numazawa Tatsuo, 743n Oguri, 1158
Nunakawa, Princess, 45 Ohime, 666
Oi no Kobuni. See Manuscript in My
o naki Ushi no Uta. See Song of the Knapsack
Tailless Ox Oi no Susami fA Diversion of Old Agel
o no Yasuki, 1167n (Sogi), 956-57
Index 1233

Ojima no Kuchizusami. See Reciting Minase sequence and, 955-56

Poetry to Myself at Ojima poets driven from capital during,
Ojin, Emperor, 50-51, 52 942-43, 948-49, 952, 974
Djo Yiishu. See Essentials of Salvation, Dninki, 91 in
The Ono no Kornachi, 221, 224, 225, 233-
Dkagami. See Great Mirror, The 3 6,237, 24 0n, 24 2n-43n, 245,
Okashi ("amusing" or "funny"), 421- 248, 255, 268, 27 2n, 294, 346, 644,
22, 430n 7°1
Okimaro. See Naga no Imiki Oki- biographical sketch of, 233
maro legends about, 233-35, 1010
Okina [The Old Man], 1004-5, 1018, otogi-zoshi and, 1094, 1098, 1099
lO44 n Sotoba Komachi and, 1006, 1010-13,
0ku no Hosomichi. See Narrow Road of 1027, 1047n-4 8n
Oku, The word-play of, 234, 235
Okumura Tsuneya, 256, 258-59 Ono no Michikaze, 282
Okuni, 1I58 Ono no Minernori, 190
Okuninushi, 44-45 Ono no Takamura, 196
Okura. See Yamanoue no Okura The Tale of Takamura and, 461-66,
Okura school (Kyogen), 1035, 104°- 473 n-74n
41, I054n-55n, I056n Ono Susumu, 95, 220
Okura Yaemon Toraaki, 1033, 1055n Onomatopoeia, 337n, 1147
Omi: Onzoshi Shimawatari. See Yoshitsune's
capital moved to, 100, 164n Crossing to the Islands
laments for ruined palace at, 109- "Opinions in a Sealed Document in
10, 122-23 Twelve Articles" ["Iken Hoji Ju-
Omodaka Hisataka, 117 nikajo"] (Miyoshi no Kiyuyuki),
Omura Yuk o, 1I50-52, 1153, 1154, 206
1161, 1I69n Origuchi Shinobu, 88, 89, 119, 16m,
"On Hearing the Wild Geese Cry" 449
(Oshikochi no Mitsune), 261 Orochi,59n
"On Lo-t'ien's Poem on the Three Orpheus, 40
Friends of the Northern Win- "Osaka koenu Gon Chunagon." See
dow" (Sugawara no Michizane), "Provisional Middle Counselor
2°3 who Failed to Cross the Divide,
"On the Road I Met a White-haired The"
Old Man" (Sugawara no Michi- 6shikachi no Mitsune, 249, 250, 261,
zane), 200-201, 213n 269, 343, 344
Onakatomi no Yoshinobu, 290, 332n- Ota Dokan, 948, 1°78
33n ()ta Gyuichi, 1160-61
Onami, 1016 Otogi Bunko, 1°92, 1093, I I 12, I I 14-
Onin War (1467-77), 17-18,610, 16,III9n
91 In, 1°78, 1082, I 135 Otogi-banashi (stories for children),
diarists' descriptions of, 976-78 1118
1234 Index
Otogi-zoshi (short stories of Muroma- about taking Great Step, I IOO-I101,
chi or early Tokugawa period), I I05-8
I092-I128 The Tale of Bunsho, 1114-16,
adapted from Chinese classics, I I 18 I125n-26n
Akimichi, III2- I4 A Tale of Fugitive Dreams, I094-97,
about Buddhist priests, 1093-94, II2In
1100-1 I08 The Tale of Monkey Genji, I I 16-18,
categorization of, I093-94, I I04-5, 11200
1108, I I 10, 112m The Three Priests, I I05-8
chigo tales, I IOO, 1101-5 transition from monogatari to,
about commoners, 1094, I095, I I 14- 992-93
18, I125n-26n vendetta stories, I 108, I I 12- I4
dating and authorship of, I092, I120n about wars between Minamoto and
didactic intent in, I I07-8 Taira, 1108, I I IO-12
fables about animals, I I 14, I125n Otomo, Lady, 195, 2I2n
as first Japanese stories for children, Otomo, Prince (future Emperor
II 18 Kobun), I02, I03, I65n
gekokujo and, 1116, 1118 Otomo family, 152, 153-55, 157, 182
about heroes who vanquished mon- Otomo no Kojihi, 154
sters, I 108- I0, I I24n Otomo no Kuronushi, 224-25, 240n-
The Hut in the Rocks, 1097-98 4 m,248
illustrations of, I094, 1096-97, Otorno no Momoyo, 148
II2m,II22n Otomo no Tabito, 130-38, 139, 141,
Izumi Shikib«, I098-IIOO, II22n- 147, 148, I7~, I75n, 204
23n biographical sketch of, 130-3 I
lack of scholarship on, I093 Chinese tastes of, 131, 134-38
as literature of common people, early poems by, 131-32, I72n
I093, 112m Fujiwara family and, 132, 134-35,
Little Atsumori, I I 10-12, I120n, I 72n-73n

I125n and poems occasioned by wife's

about lives of nobility, 1093, I094- death, 132-34
1100 Otomo no Yakamochi, 124, 126, 13I,
A Long Tale for an Autumn Night, 146-57, I62n, I74n, I76n, 229,
1101-3, II23n 250, 74 m, 929
meaning of term, 1°92, I I I9n-20n borrowings of, 147-49, I75n, 240n
about military, I093, 1094, II04-5, as editor of Man'yoshu, 89, 151,
II08- I4 156-57, 16m
plays related to, II20n, 11200 ibusemi (frustration or melancholy)
religious endings of, I IOO expressed by, 149-50, 156, I75n,
stereotyped phrases and descriptions 243
in, I093, II20n love poems by, IS°-52
stylistic distinction lacked by, 1093 as official, 152-56
Index [235

Otorno no Yasumaro, 172n Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, The

Otomo Yoshiaki, I 132-33 IMakura Soshi] (Sei Shonagon), 8,
Otsu, Prince, 74, 107 27,28,4 12-3 2,663
Ouchi Masahiro, 953 assessment of, 425-26
Ouchi Yoshihiro, 1°76 circumstances of writing of, 420-22,
Ou-yang Hsun, 66 430n
Owari family, 1040 cruel wit in, 423-25
Owl, The [Fukuro], I125n epilogue of, 420-22, 425, 429n
Ozawa Masao, 226 Essays in Idleness compared to,
Oze Hoan, 1139, 1160, 1161 853-54
lists in, 4 I6, 4 I 8, 422-23, 428n
Paekche (Kudara), 5 I, 73, 86, 99, 139, love affairs discussed in, 419
164n meaning of title of, 415-16, 428n
source from, used for Nihon Sholei, opening of, 416-18
67,79n- 80n search for antecedents of, 4 I 8
Paintings: The Tale of Genji as "answer" to,
European influence and, 1161 48 1
on hand scrolls. See Emakimono two varieties of "catalogues" in, 418,
by Zen monks, 1068 4 28n
Parables. See Tale literature variant texts of, 420-21, 429n-30n
Parallelism, 125,35°, 353n, 363, 638n Pimiko, Queen, 72-73
in couplets, 34 2, 343 Pinus, Evgenia, xi
in Honcho Monzui, 345, 354n Pitiless Winds, The [Kaze ni tsurcnaltt
p'ien wen, 64, 76, 86, 101-2, 185, Monogatari], 817, Sz r»
637, 760 Pi-ven-lu IHekiganroku I, 1°71
Parting at Dawn IAriake no Wakare], Place-names:
798- 8°4 fascination with, 120
influences from earlier literature on, see also Utarnakura
799, 803- 4 "Play of Iwami, The," 117
plot summary of, 799-803 Plays. See Drama; Entertainments;
supernatural events in, 798, 799- Kabuki; Kyogen; No
800, 803-4 Plum blossoms, 147, 190, 205, 222-23
title of, 798-99 Otomo no Tabito's waka on, 135-
Persephone, 40 36, 138, 148
Personification, 231, 236, 318, 673, Po Chu-i, 2°3, 262, 5 19, 544n, 582,
692n, 711, 717-18 685n, 69 rn , 763, 797, 1083
in Kokinshii, 260-62, 274n allusions to poetry of, 560, 561, 645,
Philippines, 21 682n, 916n
P'ien wen (form of Chinese parallel- collected works of, 196, 204, 332n,
ism), 64, 76, 86, 101-2, 185,637, 428n, 683n, 1134
760 as devout Buddhist, 562, 566n, 750,
see also Parallelism 779n
123 6 Index
Po Chu-i (cont.): Chinese influence on, 86-87, 90,
influence of, 198, 199, 200, 213n, IOI-2, I09, lIS, 135-38,224,245,
223, 224, 229, 239n, 347, 4 18, 246, 248, 258, 259, 260, 262, 27m,
428n-29n, 430n-3 m 294-95, 333n, 343, 344
The Tale of Genji and, 488-89 circumstances of composing of, 247,
term kyogen kigyo first used by, 257, 267-68
1030, I053n comic, 252, 281, 293, 330n, 348,
Wakan Roei Shu and, 342, 343, 355n, 933, 958, 982, 994n, 1138
344 as communal undertaking, 933-34
"The White-haired Palace Lady" conservatism of, 9-10
by, 917n-I8n distinguishing of prose from, I I
"Poem on My Fishing Pole" (Chang division between ancients and mod-
Cheng-chien), 76 erns in, 649, 654, 666-67
"Poem to Set a Confused Heart dreams in, I094
Straight" (Yamanoue no Okura), engo ("related words") in, 229-30,
141-42 24m, 259-60, 267, 269
Poems of the Mother of Ajan Jojin, Five Mountains, 735, I062-91
The [Jojin Ajari Haha no Shu] functions of, 246-47
(Mother of the Ajari [ojin), imperially sponsored anthologies of,
390-94, 407n-8n 16, 182, 189-95, 2Im-I2n, 221,
reasons for writing of, 39°-91 245-34 0, 593, 643, 68m, 705-28.
Poem-tales (uta monogatari), 451-66, See also Gosensha; Goshaisha;
47 m-74n Kin'yosh«; Kokinshu; Senzaishii;
origins of, 451, 47m-721l Shikashu; Shin Chokusenshu; Shin
The Tale of Takamura, 461-66, Kokinsh«; Shi Shokukokinshu;
473n-74n Shinsen Man'yoshu; Shuishu
Tales of Heichu, 459-61, 473n as indispensable element of court-
use of term, 434 ship, 247
see also Tales of Ise; Tales of Yamato Japanese, nature of, 245-46
Poetic Memoirs of Lady Daibu, The Japanese language and, IO, 11-12, 13
[Kenreimon'in Ukyo no Daibu no Japanese vs. Chinese, 222-23, 247,
Shu], 564, 826-28, 847n 248
Poetry, I, 2-5, 9 lives of ordinary people as subjects
attributed to Susano-o, as first Japa- of, 143-46, 157-59, 196
nese poem ever composed, 43 as manifestation of eternal religious
of Azuchi-Momoyarna period, truth, 775
1129-44, 1146 as manifestation of well-governed
borrowing from previous works in. state, 306
See Honka-dori "masculine" vs. "feminine," 85, 91,
changes effected by time as grand 92
theme of, I09-IO as means of teaching Buddhist or
in Chinese. See Chinese poetry; Confucian doctrine, 187-89, 314
Kanshi meter and rhythm in, 11,43
Index 1237

of Nara period, 63, 74-77 Po-hai, 193

ninth century as "dark age" of, 221, Pollack, David, 1077, 1084n-85n
252 Pollution, contemplation of (fujokanl,
officials promoted for abilities in, 769-70
16,76-77 Pope, Alexander, 185
onomatopeaia in, 337n, 1147 Portuguese, 18,768,771,1161, 1162,
oral transmission of, 159 1163
parallelism in. See Parallelism Pound, Ezra, 1025
as penmanship exercises, 220, 238n Princess in Search of Herself, The [Wa-
perfection of language vs. original- gami ni tadoru Himegimi], 804-8,
ity in, 304 820n
personification in, 231, 236, 260-62, dating and authorship of, 805, 820n
274n, 3 18, 673, 692n, 7 11, 7 17- 18 plot summary of, 805-8
places that inspire. See Utamakura title of, 804-5
pivot words in. See Kakekotoba Printing, 16-17, 18-19, 355n-56n, 617
as pleasant adjunct to life, 305-6 Prose, I, 2, 5, 9
postwar, 26 of Azuchi-Mornoyama period,
professional writers of, 17- I 8 1158-61
in promotion of good government, biographies, I, 70, 1159-61
25° borrowings from (honsetsu), 516,
pronunciations intended for, 87-88, 647, 683n
16w in Chinese. See Kambun
puns in. See Puns classical vs. modern language in, 13
rhyme in, I I, 108 communally shared, 934
seasonal awareness and, 14-15 distinguishing poetry from, I I
singing of, 122, 160n, 17on-7w, see also Courtly fiction; Diaries;
34 1-42, 353n Essays; Fiction; Invented tales;
about social conditions, 200-20 I, Monogatori; Otogi-zoshi; Poem-
212n tales; Tale literature; War tales
stress accents in, 108 "Provisional Middle Counselor who
syllabics of, I I, 12, 43 Failed to Cross the Divide, The"
writing systems for. See Writing ["Osaka koenu Gon Chunagon"]
systems (Koshikibu), 542
written in persona of woman, 195, Pu Shang (also known as Tzu-hsia),
255, 273n 27 w
written in place of another person Publishing, 19-20
(daisaku), 299-300, 334n Puns:
see also Choka; Haiku; Renga; Se- Japanese language conducive to, 922
doka; Waka; specific poets, poems, in renga, 922, 923, 1138
and collections in waka, 252, 260, 263, 286-87, 646,
Poetry Bureau (waka dokoro), 278, 69 w-92n, 1131, 1137-38
283 Puppeteers, The (Fujiwara no Tadami-
Poetry competitions. See Uta-awase chi), 352-53
123 8 Index
Puppets. See [oruri Reizei school (waka), 7°8, 710, 712,
Pure Land Buddhism. See [odo 723, 72~ 947, 1133
Buddhism Imagawa Ryoshun as advocate of,
73°-3 2
Raigo,4 08n Reizei Tamehide, 731, 947, 963n
Raikeiv czz Reizei Tamesuke, 708, 709
Raiko. See Minamoto Raiko Rekishi monogatari (historical tales),
"Rainy Night" (Sugawara no Michi- 55 1-55,556,5 6 1, 565n, 5600, 906
zane), 204-5 Religion, 14-15, 103
Rakugo (humorous monologues), 1031, see also Buddhism; Christianity;
1054n Confucianism; Shingon Buddh-
Rarnbyoshi (stamping dance), 1028, ism; Shinto; Tendai Buddhism;
1029 Zen Buddhism
Rashomon, 1028 Religious tales:
Rebec (musical instrument), 117 In Buddhist setsuwa, 206-9, 568, 570-
Reciting Poetry to Myself at Ojima 72, 573. 574, 577. 579- 80, 759,
[Ojima no Kuchizusami] (Nijo 765-66, 7 8w- 85n
Yoshimoto), 974-7 6, 977 of Muromachi period, 983-89,
Record of a Pilgrimage to T'ien-t'ai 994n-96n
and Wu-t'ai Mountains [San recitation of, 987-89
Tendai Godaisan Ki] (Jojin), Renga (linked verse), 5, 17- 18, 54, 78,
4°7 n- 8n 27w , 29 1, 309, 3 17, 343, 6°9, 610,
Record of a Pilgrimage to Yoshino 611,64 8, 685n, 735, 743n, 900,
[Yoshino-mode no KiJ (Sanjonishi 921-7°, 10400, 1083
Kin'eda), 1141 of Azuchi-Momoyama period, 1129,
Record of the Pond Pavilion, A [Chitei "34, "35, "3 6-37, 1138-44
no Ki] (Yoshishige no Yasutane), chain (kusari renga), origins of,
34 6, 347-4 8, 355n, 762, 763 923- 24
Record of the Punitive Expedition collections of, 934-36, 951, 952,
Against Sumitomo [Sumitomo 959n, 960n, 963n, 994n
Tsuito Kil, 615 comic style of (haikai), 933, 958,
Records of the Historian (Ssu-ma 982,994n
Ch'ien), 489 decline in quality of, after Nijo
Records of the Mido Chancellor [Mido Yoshimoto's death, 937-39
Kampahu Ki] (Fujiwara no decorum at gatherings for, 932-33
Michinaga), 398-99 diaries by masters of, 953, 958,
"Red Threads on the Soles of Feet" 974- 83
(Ikkyii Sojun), 1081-82 differing styles of, 937-38
Reischauer, Edwin, 361 flow of sequences in, 931
Reizei, Emperor, 375 format for manuscripts of, 925-26,
Reizei no Tamekuni, 729, 744n 93 1
Reizei no Tamemasa (or Tametada), four grades of impressiveness in,
729, 730, 732, 744n 96 In-6w
Index 1239

as group endeavor, 933-34 uses of, 930

history of, 58n, 921-24, 929, 930, waka contrasted with, 931, 936
979 as "Way of Tsukuba," 58n, 921
hundred-link sessions, 924, 929 yugcn Ill, 944-45
Ichijo Kaneyoshi and, 939-40, 941, Renga Shlhosho [Book of the Supreme
942-43, 965n Treasure of Renga I (Satomura
learning composition of, 927-28, [oha), 1143
947, 96 w Renga Shinshiki Tsuilea Narabi ni Shin-
Minase sequence, 953-5 6, 957 shiki Kin'an (Shohak u), 967n
No compared to, 934, 999-1000 Rengi, Prince. See Fujiwara no Yori-
Nijo Yoshimoto and, 926-37, 939, tad a
940, 960n-62n, 963n Renkushi (linked-verse poems), I IS
present moment as concern of, 93 I, Renri Hisho [revised version of Heki-
93(, rensho! (Nijo Yoshimoto), 927-28,
puns in, 922, 923, 1138 9 29-3°, 936, 960n
religious significance of, 93°-3 I, Rensaku (poems composed in se-
96 w quence and meant to be read to-
revival of, in mid-fifteenth century, gether), 263, 296, 333n
939-43 Rhyme, I I, ro8
rules for composition of, 924-26, Rhyme-prose on the Marriage of Man
9 29, 93 2, 939-40, 96 w, 967n and Woman [Danjo Kon'in no Fu]
sari-kirai principal in, 924, 925 (Oe no Asatsuna), 346-47
set topics for (fushimono), 924-25, Rhythm, in poetry, I I, 43
933 Rikashu [Damson Blossom Collection]
Shinkei and, 938-39, 94 1-42, 944- (Munenaga), 725
50, 956-57, 963n-64n, 965n, 966n RikYu (film), II69n
short, 461, 921-23 Rinzai Buddhism, 751, 756, ro69, ro75
Socha and, 95 2, 953, 954, 957-5 8, Kinzai-roeu, ro69
967n Risshi. See Lu-shih or risshi
social class and, 928-29, 946, 951- Riverside Counselors Stories, The, or
52, 1140 The Tales of the Tsutsumi Middle
Sogi and, 930, 943, 944, 94 6, 949, Counselor [Tsutsumi Chunagon
950-57, 95 8, 966n Monogatari], 541-43, 548n-49n
solo (dokugin), 934 Rodrigues, [oao, 768, 771,1155, II70n
spread to provinces, 948-49, 999 Roei (singing of poetry to fixed mel-
Takayama Sozei and, 939, 94°-42, ody), 34 1-42, 353n
944, 94 6, 966n Rokkasen. See Six Immortals of Poetry
ten thousand-link sequence, 924, Rokujo school (waka), 309, 319, 654,
959n-60n 659, 666, 667
three levels of intelligibility of, 965n Romances, of Muromachi period, 989-
transition from one link to next in, 93,99 6n
9 25,93 1-32,936 Roshana Buddha, 153
two styles of, 934 Royalties, 16, 17
 Index
Ruch, Barbara, 988-89 Norikiyo), 318, 639n, 662, 664,
Ruiju Karin [Forest of Classified Poems], 676-81, 682n, 689n-9Dn, 694n-
IOO, 140, 164n 96n, 701, 7°6, 712, 764, 772, 916n,
Ryo no Gige, 196 947, 966n
Ryojin Hisho [Secret Selection of Dust courtesan of Eguchi's encounter
on the Beams], 320, 632, 777-78, with, 771-73
779, 785n-86n, 1145 death of, 663
Ryoshu, 603n identified with both Buddhism and
Ryoshun. See Imagawa Ryoshun Shinto, 678-79
Ryoshun Isshi Den. See Biography of influence of, 680-81
Ryoshun for His Son Kenko compared to, 855, 856
Ryounshu, or in full Ryoun Shinsh« mujo and wabi in poems by,
[New Collection Soaring Above the 677-7 8
Clouds], 189-92, 193, 197 priesthood entered by, 676-77, 694n
preface to, 190 Senjush« attribution and, 77°-71,
Ryudatsu, See Takasabu Ryudatsu 784n
Ryudatsu Ko-uta [Ryudatsu's Ko-uta 1, Shin Kohinshi; and, 643, 658, 680,
1148 681,695n
Ryuei Akai, 737n Sutoku's grave visited by, 616, 620,
Ryukyu Islands, 1149 63 8n, 679
Ryiizan Tokken, 1073 travels of, 197, 679, 695n, 696n, 952,
973. 981
Sabi (aesthetic ideal of lonely beauty), Saiju, 681
661-62, 678, 679-80, 689n Saikaku. See Ihara Saikaku
Sadafun. See Taira no Sadafun Saikaku's Parting with Friends [Saikaku
Sadafusa, Prince (also known as Nagori no Torno I, 953
Gosuko-in), 883, 91 In Saimei, Empress, 99-IOO, 164n
Sadako, Empress. See Teishi, Empress Saionji family, 672, 718, 738n
Sadakuni, 397 Saionji Kinmune, 844, 845, 846
Sadayori. See Fujiwara no Sadayori Saionji Kintsune, 692n
Saeki family, 153-54, 155, 182-83, Saionji Sanekane, 712, 715, 718, 739n
209n Saisho, Lady, 381
Saemon no Naishi, 378 Saito Mokichi, 104, 116, 117, 701,
Saga, Emperor, 189-95, 21In, 212n 70 3- 4
Sagami, 293, 295, 301-2, 305, 308 Sakanoue, Lady cJtomo of, 113, 147,
Sagi school (Kyogen), I035, I040-41, 174n-75n
1057n Sakanoue no Korenori, 329n
Sagoromo Monogatari. See Tale of Sago- Sakanoue no Mochigi, 329n
romo, The Sakata Kintoki (also known as Kin-
Saibara (songs), I005, I044n-45n, 1144, taro), I 124n
1167n Sakato troupe, I045n
Saicho, 182, 402n, 598n Sake, Otomo no Tabito's poems in
Saigyo (also known by lay name, Sato praise of, 136-38
Index
Sakoku (period of seclusion), 21-23, Sanjurokkasen [Poems of the Thirty-six
1163-64 Immortals]' 683n
Samai (variety of bugaku dances), Sanhashi; [Mountain Hut Collection]'
1001-2, 1042n 772
Sambii-e. See Illustrations of the Three Sannin Hoshi. See Three Priests, The
Jewels San-pao kan-ying yao-lueh-lc [Outline
Samisen (musical instrument), 1148, Account of Responses of the Three
1149, 1156, 1157 Treasures] (Fei Cho), 574
Samurai: Sansho Dayu, 1158, 117In
humor of Kyogen tolerated by, Sanskrit, 33-34, 238n
1036, 1056n Sansom, Sir George, 62
Kowaka of appeal to, 1149, 1153, Sanuk; no Suke Diary, The [Sanuki no
1155,117on Suke Nikki] [also known as The
otogi-zoshi about, I I 12-14 Emperor Horihatoa Diary] (Fuji-
rise of, 477 wara no Nagako), 394-97, 408n
Zen Buddhism attractive to, 1062 Saouchi no Hijri. See "Tale of the Im-
San Tendai Godaisan Ki. See Record of mortal Beaten with Poles, The"
a Pilgrimage to T'ien-t'ai and Wu- Sarashina, Lady, 406n
t'ai Mountains see also Daughter of Takasue
Sand and Pebbles [Shasekishu] (Muju Sarashina Diary, The [Sarashina Nikki]
Ichien), 773-76, 780n, 1054n (Daughter of Takasuc), 28, 374,
Sandai [itsuroeu [True Records of Three 3 83-90, 4 06n, 530, 53 1, 536-37,
Reigns], 225, 249, 27In 546n, 547n, 611, 835, 837, 112In
Sando [The Three Ways] (Zeami), 1020 author of, immersed in tales, 383-
Sanekane. See Saionji Sanekane 85, 386- 87, 3 88
Sanekata. See Fujiwara no Sanekata dreams recorded in, 385-86, 387,
Sanemori, 105In 39°
Sanesada. See Fujiwara no Sanesada purpose of author in, 390
Sanetaka. See Sanjonishi Sanetaka The Tale of Genji mentioned in,
Sanetomo. See Minamoto Sanetomo 47 8,5 09n
Sanetoshi, 846 Sari-kirai ("avoidance and dislike;"
Sangaku (entertainment), 1002, 1003, renga principle), 924, 925
1043n Saru Genji Soshi. See Tale of Monkey
Sango Shiiki. See Indications of the Genji, The
Goals of the Three Teachings Sarugaku (early name for No), 1003,
Sanjonishi family, 1141 1005, 1006, 1043n
Sanjonishi Kin'eda, 1141 Akihira's account of, 349-50
Sanjonishi Saneeda, 853 see also No
Sanjonishi Saneki, 1135-36 Sarugabu Dangi, 1013, 1015-16
Sanjonishi Sanetaka, 1133-35, 1136, Sasamegoto [Whispering] (Shinkei),
1165n 944-47, 94 8
diary of, 1134, 1165n Sasamcvuhi. See Makioka Sisters, The
erudition of, I 134, I 165n Sasara (musical instrument), 1157
 Index
Sashi (section of No play), 1023, 105In Sedoka (poems in six lines with total
Sato Haruo, 16 of thirty-eight syllables), 85, 89,
Sato Norikiyo. See Saigya 90, 114, 115- 16, 252, 279
Satomura [oha, 1136-37, 1138-44, kata-uta as half of, 921, 959n
II51, 1166n meaning of term, 115
advancement of, to renga master, Sei Shonagon, 284, 302, 378-79, 412-
114°-4 1,1142 32,853-54
assessment of, 1140 family background of, 412-13
background of, I139-40, 1141 at Heian court, 413-15, 418-19,
military leaders cultivated by, 1138- 422, 425, 4 27n, 429n
39, 1142-44 lower classes denigrated by, 423-25
in priesthood, I 139 marriages and love affairs of, 4 I 2,
Satomura school (renga), II41 4 18- 19, 4 27n, 43 0n
Satomura Shokyu, 1140, 1141 Murasaki Shikibu's comments on,
Scraps of Waterweed in the Pond [Ike 381,382
no Mokuzu] (Arakida Reijo), 564 Murasaki Shikibu's rivalry with,
Screen poems, 274n, 279, 300, 354n 414- 15
Fujiwara no Michinaga's description tale literature (setsuwa) about, 587
of, 399 see also Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon,
in Kokinshu, 263, 265, 268 The
in Shuishu, 284 Seidensticker, Ed ward, 486, 5 I 3n
Scroll paintings. See Emakimono Seinei, Prince, 52
Sea of Fertility, The [Hojo no Umi] Seirei Shu, or in full Henjo Hakki
(Mishima Yukio), 537 Seirei Shu [Collected Inspirations]
Seasonal poems, 296, 417-18, 609, 652 (Kukai), 187, 210n
arranged in single flowing "chain" Seishi, 995n
in Shikashu, 315-17 Seiwa, Emperor, 454, 455
in Gosenshu, 279 Sekigahara, Battle of (1600), 609
in Kokinshu, 251-53, 266, 279, Sekkyo-bushi (theatrical entertain-
645-4 6 ment), 1155, II57-58, 117In,
renga, 925 1172n
response to nature vs. conceptuali- paintings of, 1157, 117on-7In
zation in, 266 Selection of De's Conversations [GOdan-
in Shuishu, 284, 285 sho] (De no Masafusa), 351, 580-
Seasons: 81, 585, 593
disputes on relative merits of, Senji, 518-19, 544n
101-2, 165n Senjusho [Selection of Tales], 770-73,
Japanese poets' responsiveness to, 784n
25 1 authorship of, 77°-71, 784n
poems arranged by, 221 dating of, 771
Secret Treasure-house of the Mirrors of Saigyo's encounter with courtesan
Poetry [BunkYo Hifu Ron] of Eguchi in, 771-73
(Kukai), 187-88, 21On-1 In textual variants of, 770, 784n
Index 12 43
Senkaku, 89 Shiba Kokan, 1162
Senki (battle records), 613 Shibata Katsuie, 1152
Senki monogatari (battle tales), 565n Shibata-uchi [The Slaying of Shibata]'
Sensai (also known as Keikai), 1123n 1152, 1169n
otogi-zoshi about, I 101-3 Shigehito, 639n
as poet, 1101, 1102 Shigemori. See Taira no Shigemori
Senshi, 597n-98n Shigeno no Sad anus hi, 212n
"Sent to Someone When I Was Not Shigin (singing of kanshi), 160n
Feeling Well" (Izumi Shikibu), Shigure, 992-93, 996n
298 Shih Chi [Records of the Historian 1
Senzai Kaku [Splendid Verses of a (Ssu-rna Ch'ien), 351, 556, 582,
Thousand Years]' 342-43 584, 1083n
Senzaishu [Collection of a Thousand Shih Ching, 210n I
Years]' 304, 320-27, 337n-38n, Shih Ching [Book of Poetry]' 246, 27 In,
676, 679, 680, 693n, 702 "45
arrangement of poems in, 323 Shih Tsung, Emperor of China, 1063
aural imagery in, 326 Shihei. See Fujiwara no Tokihira
compilation of, 320-24 Shijo, Emperor, 673
prevailingly dark tone of, 326-27 Shikasha [Collection of Verbal Flowers],
Sequel Account of Japanese Reborn in 3 14-20, 3 24, 325, 33 6n-37n
Paradise [Zoku Nihon Gja Goltu- arrangement of poems in, 315-17,
raitu Ki] (Oe no Masafusa), 580 323, 328, 33 6n-37n
Sequel Tales About Old Matters [Zoku criticism of, 314-15
Kojidan I, 587-88 Shiki, Prince, 158-59
Serihau/a, 384-85 Shikishi, Princess. See Shokushi, Prin-
Sermons, Buddhist, 750-59, 779n-82n cess
Sessha Gappa ga Tsuji, "72n Shimada no Tadaomi, 197, 202, 214n
Sesson Yubai, 1064-67, 1077 Shimogakari schools of No (Kornparu,
Chinese language used by, 1067 Kongo, and Kita), 1042n, 1045n,
life of, 1064, 1067 1047n
metaphysical imagery of, 1064-66 Shin Buddhism, 750-51, 753
Setsuwa. See Tale literature Shin Chokuscnsnt; [New Imperial Col-
Settai,9 13n lection or "Uji River Collection"],
"Seventeen Article Constitution" (Sho- 669, 69 2n-93n, 705-7, 73 8n-39n,
tok u), 7°-71, 8w-82n 7 86n
Shakespeare, William, 24w compilation of, 669, 672, 673, 705-6,
Shakkyoka, See Buddhist poetry 826
Shakyamuni Buddha (also known as evaluation of, 7°6, 707
Shaka), 392, 408n, 513n, 60w, Shin Gosenshii, 71O-II, 719
757, 768, 7 85n, 849n, 995n, 1072 Shin Goshiashu, 742n, 743n
Christian influence and, II 56, II 57 Shin Koltinshu, [New Collection of
Shang dynasty, 963n Poems Ancient and Modern], 91,
Shasekisha. See Sand and Pebbles 239n, 270, 273n, 274n, 277, 3 14,
1244 Index
Shin Kokinshu (cont.): Shingon Buddhism, 15, 238n, 407n,
335n, 4 17, 462, 529, 643-59, 669, 67 1, 678, 750, 751, 785n, 1062
682n-89n, 69In, 69 2n, 694n, Kukai and, 186-87, 189
699, 700, 702-3, 7°6, 707, 712, 713, secrecy in transmission of, 186-87
722, 732, 738n, 954, 966n, 973 Shinkei, 938-39, 941-42, 944-50,
anonymous poems in, 657 963n-64n, 965n, 966n, 982, 1000,
arrangement of poems in, 652, 931 114°
best poets of, 643, 682n in dissemination of renga to prov-
Buddhist poetry in, 776-77, 778, inces, 948-49
1101,1102 literary preferences of, 947-48
celebration upon completion of, renga written by, 949-50
658-59, 688n Sasamegoto by, 944-47, 948
compilation of, 643, 653-57, 658-59, Sogi's commentary on renga by,
668, 674, 686n- 87n, 705, 831, 872 956-57
contents of, 656-59 Sogi's relations with, 950-5 I
Fujiwara Teika's poems in, 659-62, Shinnyo, Prince, 769
667- 68, 69 In, 695n Shinobine Monogatari. See Tale of Shi-
honka-dori in, 644-47, 683n nobine, The
Kohinshi; compared to, 327-28, 657- Shinoda-suma, 1I7In
58, 659, 682n, 688n Shinran, 751, 757, 774, 7 80n, 1107
love poems in, 646 dicta of, compiled in Tan nisho,
Man'yosh« compared to, 657, 658 75 1-54
poetic sequences in, 652 Shinsen Manamoshii, 251
prefaces to, 323, 656, 657, 658, 659, Shinsen Man'yosht; [Newly Compiled
688n Man'yoshu], 221-23, 239n, 279
Saigyo's poems in, 643, 658, 680, arrangement of poems in, 221
681, 695n compilation of, 221-22, 239n
Shinkei's admiration for, 947-48 courtly tone of, 222-23
style of, 643-44, 656, 682n writing system of, 221
title of, 657 Shinsen Tsueuba Shu [New Tsuhuba
uta-awase and, 648-52, 655, 656, Collection], 95 I, 952, 95gn
684n Shinshiki Kon'an [New Views on the
Shin Sarugaku Ki. See New Account of New Rules] (Ichijo Kaneyoshi and
Sarugaeu, A Takayama Sozei), 939
Shin Senzaishii, 742n Shinto, 14-15, 23, 33, 43, 71, 78, 103,
Shin Shokukokinshu, 940 104-5, 136,293,299,327,386,
Shin Shuishu, 742n, 743n 466n, 5° 8, 5 19, 678-79, 777. 988,
Shin Zoku KokinshU [New Collection of r roz
Ancient and Modem Times Contin- ceremonials at shrines of, 1002
ued], 708, 723, 74 2n, 743n coexistence of Buddhism and, 762,
Shmchii Ki [Life of Nobunaga] (Oze 775
Hoan), 1139, r roo, 1161 medieval fusion of Buddhism and,
Shincho-ko Ki (Ota Gyiiichi), 1160-61 97 1-72, 973. 983, 993n, 995n
Index 1245

pilgrimages to holy places of, Shoku Shikashu [Continued Shikashu],

97 1-73 3 19
renga and, 93°-31, 96w Shokun, 1048n
Shlntoleumaru, 1158, 117W, 1172n Shokushi (or Shikishi), Princess, 326,
Shintoshi: [Collection of the Way of the 327, 645, 65 8, 676, 682n, 694n
Gods], 469n, 983, 985-89 Buddhist imagery of by, 776-77
compilation of, 988 Fujiwara Teika's relations with,
date of composition of, 994n-95n 829-30, 848n
example of tales in, 985-87 Shokyu. See Satomura Shokyu
recitation of, 987-89 Shomonlri. See Story of Masahado, The
Shin'voshi; [Collection of New Leaves], Shornu, Emperor, 118, 129-3°, 131-
723- 28 32, 140, 152, 153, 154
compilation of, 723-24 Shora: Mokuroku (Kukai), 819n
evaluations of, 728, 743n Short stories:
Munenaga's poems in, 725-28 Heian, 541-43
preface to, 724-25 Muromachi. See Otogi-zoshi
Shinzei. See Fujiwara no Michinori Shosetsu ("little talk;" novel), 5
Shinzei (disciple of Kiikai), 210n Shoshi (also known as Akiko), 378,
Shioleumi, 1043n 379,382,414,415,481,482,49°,
Shiragi (Silla), 51, 67, 99, 100, 164n 566n, 578
Shirakawa, Emperor, 292, 3°6, 3°7-8, Shosho, Lady, 839
3°9- 10, 3 14, 3 15, 334n, 58~ 586- Shotetsu, 728-35, 744n, 745n, 853,
87, 600n, 630 863n-64n, 9 21, 940, 94 1, 942, 944,
Shiraeatoa Kiko. See Journey to Shiralt- 947, 498
awa influences on, 73°-32
Shirara, 384-85 poetry composed in childhood by,
Shishimai (lion dance), 1001 729-3°
Shitago. See Minamoto no Shitago unnatural syntax of, 734
Shite (chief character of No play), work of criticism by, 732-35
1007, 1029-3°, 1045n-46n yiigen concept of, 733-34, 735
Shobo Geneo [The Eye and Treasury of Zen Buddhism and, 735
the True Law] (Degen), 755-57 Shotetsu Monogatari. See Tales of Sho-
ShobO Genzo Zuimonki [Record of tetsu
Things Heard Concerning the Eye Shotoku, Empress, 181,585-86
and Treasury of the True Lawl Shotoku, Prince, 36, 69-71, 74, 8w,
(Ejo), 757-59 110
Shobutsu, 629 Constitution written by, 7°-71,
Shohaku, 952, 953, 954, 957, 95 8, I 134, 8w-82n
1135 Shoyuki, 409n
Shojo, Prince, 842-43 Shozon, 1046n, 1149-5°, 1053n
Shok u Gosenshu, 693n, 739n, 742n Shiia, 937-39, 946, 963n
Shoeu Nihongi, 66, I 18, 130, 160n, Shudosho [Learning the Way] (Zeami),
17 w 1°3 2
 Index
Shuisho [Selection of Gleanings], 283, Six Immortals of Poetry (rokkasen),
284, 28 5, 33 0n, 335 n 224-36, 248, 272n
Shuishu, or in full Shui Waka Shu see also Ariwara no Narihira; Ono
[Collection of Gleanings], 267, no Komachi
273 n, 283- 92, 307, 3 08, 309, 3 16, Six Poets Group (Waka Rokunin To),
33 0n-33n, 334 n, 335 n, 4 03n, 647, 293-94,295
67°-71,7°1,719 Slang, 13
arrangement of poems in, 284, 285, 331n Soan Ko-uta Shu [Soan's Collection of
Buddhist poems in, 288-91 Ko-uta]' "48
compilation of, 283-84, 330n Soboku. See Tani Soboku
courtly poetry in, 284, 285-87 Socho, 355 n, 930, 95 2, 953, 954, 957-
Kokinshu compared to, 284, 291-92, 58, 967n , "34, "35
33 2n diary of, 958, 982-83
seasonal poems in, 284, 285 Kanginshu and, 1145
Shukaku, Prince, 667 Sogi's relations with, 981-82
Shukei, "39, "40 Sacha's Notebook [Socha Shuki] (Socho),
Shurnyo Shu [Collection of the Wonders 95 8, 9 82-83
of Nature I (Hosokawa Yusai), Soga family, 36, 1028
1137, ,,66n Soga Monogatari. See Tale of the Soga
Shun (legendary rules of China) 212n, Brothers, The
939, 963n Soga no Umako, 36
Shuri'e, 304, 318, 3 23, 325, 65 8 Sogi, 17- 18, 930, 943, 944, 946, 949,
Shunkan, 632, 634-35 950-57, 95 8, 966n, 973> 1134,
Shunkan (No play), 1046n 1165n
Shun'oku Myoha, 1086n background and training of, 95 1-
Shunrai. See Minamoto no Toshiyori 52, 966n, 9 81
Shunzei. See Fujiwara Shunzei diaries of, 953, 974, 97 8-81, 994n
Shunzei Tadanori, 344 most famous renga sequences by,
Shuramono (No plays of second cate- 953-56, 9 66n
gory), 1018-20, 1022, 1050n renga criticism by, 956-57
Shuron [A Theological Dispute], 1°38, Socho's account of death of, 981-
1047n 82
Shuten Doji, 1109, 112In, 1124n Shinkei's relations with, 950-51
Sieffert, Rene,s I 3n travels of, 95 2-53, 974, 97 8-81, 994 n
Silla (Shiragi), 51, 67, 99, 100, 164n unhappiness of, 980-81
Single Chrysanthemum, A IHitomoto- Sogi Dokugin Nanibito Hyahuin (Sogi),
giku], 1097 966n
Six Classics, 1083n Sogi Shucn no Ki (Socho), 981-82
Six Dynastic Histories, 197, "44 Soka (fast songs), 1145, 1167n
Six Dynasties (222-589) Sokan. See Yamazaki Sokan
parallel prose (p'ien wen) in, 185 Sokonshu [Grass Roots Collection I (Sho-
poetry of, 148, 188, 192, 258, 259, tetsu), 729
262, 273n, 354 n, 355n Soku, 261-62
Index 12 47
Sornon ("mutual inquiries;" love Soy«, See T ani Soyo
poems), 92, 93, 95, 101 Sozei. See Takayama Sozei
Sompi Bummyaliu, 878, 909n "Sparrow with a Broken Back, The,"
Sone no Yoshitada, 287-88, 306, 3 I 5 594n
Sonczaki Shinju. See Love Suicides at Spring and Autumn Annals [Ch'un
Sonezaei, The ch'iu I (Confucius), 346, 354n,
Song of the Tailless Ox [0 nalei Ushi no 489
Uta] (Minamoto no Shitago), 346, "Spring Dawning on the River"
348 (Saga), 193
"Song of Unending Sorrow, A" "Spring Sorrow in the Women's
[Chang- hen-ko] (Po Chu-i), Quarters" (Saga), 195
488-89,561 Ssu-ma Ch'ien, 489, 556, 582, 583-84,
Songs, 85, 159, 160n, 17on-7In, 599n
1001-2 Story of[oruri in Twelve Episodes, The
of Azuchi-Momoyama period, [foruri [unidan Soshi], 1112
1145-48, 11 67n - 68n Story of Masakado, The [Shomonki],
folk, 4,120-21,237,25°,1145,1148 574,613,614-15, 638n, 906
imayo ("new-style" songs), 777-78 Story of Tamura, The [Tamura no
in Kojiki, 33, 34, 35, 45, 47-49, 52, SoshiI, I124n
159,1144 Story of Yoeobue, The [Yokobue no
meaning of word uta and, 85, 160n, Soshi], I I 10, 112In, I124n-25n
246, 1144-45 Story Without a Name [Mumyo Zoshi],
in Nihon Shok], 17on-7In 819n,1119n
saibara, 1005, 1044n-45n, 1144, courtly fiction of Kamakura period
1167n and, 789, 790, 79 1, 792, 798, 799,
Sonshi, Princess, 571 804, 805, 818n
Sora, 772, 898-99 in dating of fiction, 544n
Soro (contracted form of verb saburau , The Hamamatsu Middle Counselor
meaning "to serve"), 618, 639n, and, 537
1°°7-8, 1046n If I Could Only Change Them and,
Sorobun (style of prose sections in No 540, 54 I, 54 8n
plays), 1007-8 The Tale of Genji and, 517-18
Sosei, 222-23, 253, 254-55, 263, 27 2n, The Tale of Sagoromo and, 518, 519,
666,690n 521 , 530
Soseki. See Natsume Soseki Wakefulness at Night and, 530-31
Soshi Arai Komachi, 240n Story-matching contests, 54 I -42
Soshiji (passages in which author di- Storytellers:
rectl y addresses reader), 529 professional, 6, 17
Sotan Shu (Sone no Yoshirada), 288 see also Narrators
Soto Buddhism, 751, 756 Strait of Shimonoseki, battle of (1185),
Sotoba Komachi [Komachi at the 1074- 75
Stupa], 1006, 1010-13, 1027, Stress accents, in poetry, 108
1047n-4 8n Su Ch'o, 8In
 Index
Su Tung-p'o, 1075, 1083 Suko, Emperor, 723, 91 m
Suehirogari [The Fan], ro37, 1°38 Sumida-gawa [The Sumida River], 231,
Suemochi. See Ki no Suemochi ro27
Suetsune. See Fujiwara Suetsune Sumitomo Tsuito Ki. See Record of the
Sugawara family, 344, 345 Punitive Expedition against Sumi-
Sugawara no Fumitoki, 344, 353n tomo
Sugawara no Kiyokimi, 191-92, 197, Sumiyoshi, 299
203, 21 In, 2I2n Sumiyoshi Monogatari. See Tale of Su-
Sugawara no Kiyotata, 191-92, 21 t n-: miyoshi, The
I2n Sung dynasty, 715, 78m, ro69
Sugawara no Koreyoshi, 197, 2I3n Sung Shih [History of the Sung Dy-
Sugawara no Michizane, I62n, 197- nasty I, 74
206, 209, 2I2n- I5n, 250, 34 1, 344, Sung vo, 190, 191
385, 587, 655, 943, 979, 1062 Sung-yuan, ro8I
appointed adviser to Emperor Superior Poems of Our Time [Kindai
Daigo, 203 Shuka 1(Fujiwara Teika), 669,
appointed ambassador to China, 203 674, 700
Chinese usage of, 2°5-6, 2I5n Susano-o, 40, 4 1-43, 44-45, 49, 59n ,
compilation of Shinsen Man'voshi; 68,248,775, 1108-9
attributed to, 222, 223, 239n Sutoku, Emperor, 676, 694n, 784n,
family background of, 197 904,909n
Fujiwara Teika's allusions to, 671 Hagen Rebellion and, 318-19, 616,
intensity of emotions conveyed by, 618, 619-20, 638n, 639n
198-99 Saigyo's visit to grave of, 616, 620,
poems on social conditions by, 200- 638n, 679
201, 2I2n Sensaishti and, 320, 321, 322, 323,
schooling of, 197-98, 2I 3n 324- 25
sent into exile, 204-5 Shikashu and, 3 14, 315, 319
sent to province of Sanuki, 200-201, vengeful spirit of, 320, 321, 620
2I3n Suzaku, Emperor, 519, 560, 566n
shrines to, 205, 964n Syllabics, in poetry, I I, 12, 43
in suspension of embassies to China,
139,245 Tabe no Imiki Ichihiko, 684n
Sui Shu [History of the Sui Dynasty], Tabito. See atomo no Tabito
73-74 Tachibana family, 909n
Suiko, Empress, 38, 52, 67, 73, 82n, Tachibana N agatoshi, I 132-33
93 Tachibana no Hiromi, 202
Suishi, 552-53, 558-59 Tachibana no Michisada, 602n
Sujin, Emperor, 46 Tachibana no Moroe, 89, 152 , ISS,
Sukemi. See Fujiwara no Sukemi 16m
Sukemori. See Taira no Sukemori Tachibana no Narisue, 592-94
Sukeroku Yuhari no Edozakura, 9I2n Tachibana no Norimitsu, 302
Suketomo, Lord, 715 Tachibana no Norinaga, 302
Index 1249

Tachibana no Yasumasa, 1098 Taira no Kiyomori, 319, 321, 614, 616,

Tadamasa. See Taira no Tadamasa 620, 624, 625-26, 627, 628, 827,
Tadamichi. See Fujiwara no Tad- 872, 1105
amichi capital moved by, 761
Tadamine. See Mibu no Tadamine as portrayed in The Tale of the
Tadaomi. See Shimada no Tadaomi Heike, 630-31, 632, 633, 634-35,
Tadazane. See Fujiwara no Tadazane 637, 64 w, 1159
Taifu, Lady, 282 Taira no Masakado, 614-15
Taiheiki [Record of Great Peace], 27, Taira no Sadafun (also known as Hei-
564, 846, 853, 868, 874-83, 884, chii), 280-81, 459, 462, 473n, 474n
900,902, 906n, 907n- I W Tales of Heichu and, 459-61
authorship of, 878-79, 909n Taira no Sadamori, 614
characterization of principal figures Taira no Shigemori, 628, 631, 632,
in, 874-75 634, 637, 64 w, 827, 828
Chinese anecdotes in, 880 Taira no Sukemori, 64w, 827-28
date of composition of, 878 Taira no Tadamasa, 616
events recounted in, 875-78 Taira no Tadamori, 319, 640n
historical inaccuracies in, 880-81, Taira no Tadanori, 247
9 Ion Taira no T omomori, 897
literary qualities of, 874, 881-83 Taira no Yoshikaze, 460
A Long Tale and, II03, II23n Tajihi no Mabito, II7-I8
popularity of, 881 Takaakira. See Minamoto no Taka-
ten thousand-link renga sequence akira
described in, 924, 9600 Takafusa. See Fujiwara Takafusa
title of, 874, 907n Takahashi no Mushimaro, 97, 127-28
writing style of, 879 Takakuni, Lord, 586
Taiho-ryo, II8 Takakura, Emperor, 320-21, 564, 653,
Taika Reform (645-646), 67, 86, 103, 660, 6800, 826, 871, 9I5n
I62n, I65n Takamitsu. See Fujiwara no Taka-
Taiki (Fujiwara no Yorinaga), 397, 401 mitsu
Taiko Ki (Oze Hoan), 1161 Tahamitsu Diary, The. See Tale of the
Taira family (Heike or Heishi), 637n, Tonomine Captain, The
826,909n Takamura. See Ono no Takamura
final defeat of, 321-22, 564, 609, Tahamura Monogatari. See Tale of
827-28 Takamura, The
rise to power of, 319-20 Takasabu Ryudatsu, 1148
tale literature (setsuwa) about, 588, Taeasago, 1018
60w Takashina no Nakayuki, 582
see also Minamoto family, warfare Takashina Takakane, 984
between Taira family and Takasue, Daughter of. See Daughter
Taira no Atsumori, I I 10-12 of Takasue
Taira no Kanemori, 299, 316, 979, Takatsukasa Fuyuhira, 718
994n Takauji. See Ashikaga Takauji
1250 Index

Takayama Sozei, 939, 94°-4 2, 944, and origin and use of word sctsuu/a,
946,966n 568, 594n
Takayasu school (No), I042n Tales of Times Now Past, 568, 572-
Takebe Ayatari, 959n 77> 582, 592, 595n, 596n-97n,
Takechi, Prince, Hitomaro's elegy on 639n, 984, 993n, I03°
death of, I02-3, I08-9, 166n translated from Chinese, 582-84
Takechi no Kurohito, 119-23, 129 variety of figures depicted in, 568-
borrowings from, 121-22 69
Kakinomoto no Hitomaro com- written in Chinese, 573, 578-82,
pared to, 122-23 585, 593, 596n
Yam abe no Akahito's name linked Tale of Akitsushima, A IAkitsushima
to, 121-22, 123, 124 Monogataril, 564
Takeda Munetoshi, 483, 500 Tale of Bunsho, The [Bunsho Soshi],
Tabcmuli: ga Ki. See Account of the I I 14-16, II25n-26n
Talremuh] Palace Tale of Flowering Fortunes, A [Eiga
Takctori Monogatari. See Tale of the Monogatari] (Akazome Emon),
Bamboo Cutter, The 89,29 8,299,3 15, 3 29n, 55 1-55,
Tale literature (setsuwa or setsuwa 578, 600n, 902
bungaku), 459, 789, 993n, I056n authorship of, 552
Account of Miracles in Japan, 206-9, as chronicle of Heian court, 552-53
466n, 509n, 568, 570, 57 1, 574, literary passages in, 553-55
579, 595n, 985 purpose of author in, 554
Buddhist tales, 206-9, 568, 570-72, Tale of Fugitive Dreams, A [Vtatane no
573> 574, 577> 579- 80, 759, 765- Soshij, I094-97
66, 782n-85n illustrations of, I094, I096-97,
Collection of Things Heard, 571, 572, I 121n
595n plot summary of, I094-96
Confucianism and, 568, 573, 574, Tale of Gemmu, The IGemmu Monoga-
590-92 tari], I I05, I I07
crude and indecent language in, 569 Tale of Genii, The [Genii Monogatari]
Heian, 568-88, 594n-60w (Murasaki Shikibu), 5-6, 7, 8, 10,
Illustrations of the Three Jewels, 571, 16, 25, 26- 27, 28, 37, 53, 247, 270,
574, 595n 334n , 377, 393, 425, 433, 44 1, 44~
of Kamakura period, 582, 588-94, 47 2n, 477-5 14, 525, 552-53, 561-
60w-3n 62, 5% 6° 9, 636, 790, 835, 837,
Kyogen related to, 1054n 838,928,951,980,99°, 1125n,
later collections of, 585-94 I 134, I 135
Later Tales from Vii, 577, 588-90, account of "art of fiction" in,
594n, 595n, 596n, 60w-2n, 603n 49 1-92
Notes on One Hundred Sessions of as "answer" to The Pillow Book of
Sermons, 571-72 Sei Shonagon, 415, 427n-48n, 481
orally transmitted, 568, 569-70, 587, authorship of, 478-79, 509n
594n-95n beauty of Genji in, 516-17
Index 12::;1

Buddhist or Confucian intent as- and, 1°92, 1094, 1095, 1096, 1098,
cribed to, 489-90, 492, 749, 750 1099. I I I=;. 1117
chapters 42, 43, and 44 of, 503-4 parallel chapters (narabi) in, 482-83
charac~rs in, 48~ 495-507 plot <u m m.irv of 492-94
Chinese literary influence in, 481, poetIc alllhlOrl' to. h4-. 6'11-')2, 660,
4 82, 4 88-89 66 I -62, b~=;n. b"y11. ('lJ III
compared to masterpieces of Euro- political overtones of 4lJ"
pean literature, 533, 547n prestige and influence of. 477-;-".
composition of, 481-84, 509n-lOn, 486, 508, 5 II n, 5 16- 18, 543n
578 The Sarashina Diary and, 383-84,
contemporary appeal of, 507-9 385, 386-87, 3 88
difficult style of, 484-86 sources of, 371, 405 n , 435, 450-51,
English translations of, 484, 485-86, 466, 477, 482, 488-92
5 1On - 13n "Suma" chapter of, 1023
Genii's love affairs in, 493-94, 495- supernatural events in, 487, 498
501, 526, 842 The Tale of the Hollow Tree com-
Genii's surname in, 492, 51 In pared with, 444, 445, 446
historical background of, 487 Tales of Heichu compared to, 460,
Ichijo Kaneyoshi's commentary on, 461
940,943 Tales of lse compared to, 452,
influence of, 901, 904, 915n 453
Kamakura monogatari and, 789, transmission of text of, 5 I zn
791, 792, 798, 803, 805, 806, 808, Dji chapters of, 504-7, 510n
809, 814, 815, 817,824,818n, variant texts of, 479
820n waka in, 445, 459, 47 8, 486, 5 1011-
"Kiritsubo" chapter of, 482, 510n I In, 529, 685n, 733-34, 82In

"Kumogakure" (Disappearance in "Waka-Murasaki" (Young Mura-

the Clouds) chapter of, 478-79 saki) chapter of, 482, 495, 510n
later courtly fiction of Heian period "Yugao" chapter of, 485-86
compared to, 515-18, 521, 522, Tale of Izumi Shihibu, The. See Izumi
523, 52~ 527-28, 529, 530, 534, Shikibu Diary, The
536, 543, 5400 Tale of Matsuhoura, The [Matsuhoum
model for Genji in, 379-80, 487, Monogatarii, 11°3
49° Tale of Monkey Genji, The ISaru Genji
mono no aware (sensitivity to S6shi], 1116-18, 1126n
things) embodied in, 489-90 Tale of Mount Toribe, The [Toribeyama
Murasaki Shikibu's diary and, 378- Monogatari], I 1°4
81, 382-83, 406n Tale of Ochihubo, The IOchlkubo Mon.
No plays and, 486, 499, 508, 5 r tzi, ogatari], 441, 44h-'iI. 4h6, 47In,
1018, 1022-24 491,528,531. =;44!J. 'II=;. 822n
"Niou" chapter of, 820n authorship of, 447. 44"-49
as "novel," 508 characterization ot .\kOgI In,
otogi-zoshi of Muromachi period 448-49
1252 Index
coarseness and scatological humor cold-heartedness of Kaguya-hime
m,449 in, 438-4°
date of composition of, 447 contribution of, to Japanese litera-
plot summary of, 446-48 ture, 441
stepmother's cruelty toward step- date of composition of, 434-35,
daughter in, 449-50 46OO-6Jn, 468n
Tale of Sagoromo, The [Sagoromo Mon- literary appeal of, 437
ogatari], 344, 5 18-30, 53 1, 54 1, original language of, 435, 467n-
544n-4OO, 805, 82In 68n
authorship of, 518-19 plot summary of, 435-36
characterizations in, 527-28 purpose of author in, 436-37, 440-
conceived as single, unified story, 4 1, 46~
5 19, 527-28 Tale of the Disturbance in Heiji [Heiji
effectiveness of, 527-28, 529-3° Monogatari], 623-29, 63~-40n
first book of, 519-29 account of Minamoto no Yoshito-
humor in, 523, 528 mo's mistress in, 628-29
last three books of, 529 characterization in, 627-28
literary style of, 529 composition of, 624, 627
plot summary of, 519-27, 529 dramatic structure of, 627
poems in, 520, 521, 524, 525, 529 events recounted in, 624-27
supernatural intervention in, 518, Tale of the Disturbance in Hogen
520-21, 531-32 [Hogen Monogatari], 616-23, 624,
The Tale of Genji compared to, 5 I 8, 638n-39n, 640n, 7 84n
521, 52~ 523, 52~ 527-28, 52~ characterization in, 618-23
530, 546n composition of, 617
Tale of Shinobine, The IShinobine events recounted in, 616-17
Monogatari], 989-92, 9900 events relating to Sutoku and Mina-
Tale of Sumiyoshi, The [Sumiyoshi moto no Tametomo in, 618-20
Monogatari], 449-50, 518, 814- 17, events relating to Minamoto no
82In-22n Yoshitomo in, 621-23
date of composition of, 814-15, new literary style in, 617-18
82In-22n variant texts and endings of, 619,
Tale of Takamura, The [Takamura 638n,639n
Monogatari], 461-66, 473n-74n Tale of the Hamamatsu Middle Coun-
date of composition of, 462 selor, The. See Hamamatsu Middle
plot summary of, 462-66 Counselor, The
Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, The [Take- Tale of the Heike, The [Heike Monoga-
tori Monogatari], 434-41, 451, 456, tari], 6, 7, 17, 18, 53, 629-37,
466n-7on, 484, 487, 518, 521, 529, 64 on-4 In , 653, 738n, 868, 872,
53 1 , 63 8n, 799 878, 884, 893, 894, 1046n
authorship of, 435, 467n biographies of Azuchi-Momoyama
characterization of Bamboo Cutter period vs., I 159
in, 437-38 Chinese parallels cited in, 584, 636
Index
combination of native and foreign date of composition of, 791
words in, 636-37 influences and borrowings In, 79I,
composition of, 629-30 792,798
death of Atsumori In, 635-36 notes and postscripts to, 797
Kowaka texts derived from, I 154 plot summary of, 792-97
meant to be read aloud, 636-37 Tale or the SI10W Woman, The [Yu-
Meitokuki compared to, 884, 886 kiorma .\fol1ogatari], I 12411
moving incidents in, 634-36 Tale of the Soga Brother, The [Saga
No plays inspired by, 636, 1000, Monogatarz I, 4691l. 887-92. 9 I IIl-
1018, 1019, 1020, 1026, 105In, 1311,988, I I I4
1149-5° act of revenge in, 891
otogi-zoshi related to, I°92, I I 10- I2 anecdotes from Chinese, Japanese.
plot summary of, 631-34 or Buddhist sources in. 888.
portrait of Taira no Kiyomori in, 889-90
63°-3 1 courtesan T ora in, 891-92
prestige and influence of, 637 Kabuki enactments of, 888-89, 891,
recitations of, 636-37, 878, 881, 892, 9 I2n, 9 I3n
906n Kowaka texts derived from, 1154
story of priest Shunkan in, 634-35 plot of, 889-9 I
Taiheie: compared to, 868, 879, reason for popularity of, 893
881- 83 recitations of, 887-88, 9I2n
variant texts of, 630, 640n-4In texts of. 888. 89 I
Yoshitsune compared to, 895 Tale of the Tonomine Captain, The
Tale of the Hollow Tree, The [Utsubo [Tol1omil1e Shosho Monogatarii
Monogatarii, 405n, 44 1-46, 447, (also known as The Taltamitsu
449,450-5I,463,466,47on-7In, Diary [Takamitsu Nikki]), 371-74,
473n, 4 88, 5 17- 18, 529, 547n 40411-5n,5IIn
authorship of, 442, 47on-7In Tale of Unspoken Yearning, A [Iwade
borrowings from, 791, 792, 8I8n Shinobu Monogatarii, 808-14, 817,
date of composition of, 44 I-42, 82In
470n authorship and date of composition
expected audience of, 445 of, 808-9
notations on illustrations in, 446 evaluation of, 809-10, 814
plot summary of, 442-45 plot summary of, 810-14
variant texts of, 442 The Tale of Genji compared to,
waka in, 445, 82In 809
"Tale of the Immortal Beaten with Tales About Old Matters [Kojidan J (Fu-
Poles, The" [Saouchi no HijriJ, jiwara no Akikano), 570, 585-
580 87, 589, 596n, 600n-60In
Tale of the Matsura Palace, The [Ma- Tales and Records of Mutsu [Mutsu
tsuranomiya Monogatari] (Fuji- WakiJ, 574, 61 5, 63 8n
wara Teika), 69In, 791-98, 799, Tales of China [Kara Monogatarii, 582-
806, 818n-I9n 83, 599n
[254 Index
Tales of Heichii [Heichii Monogatarii, compilation of, 572-73, 574, 596n
459- 61, 473n inadequacy of storytelling in, 575-
Tales of lse [lse Monogatarii, 225, n, 589-9 0
228, 229, 231-32, 236, 237, 240n, incorporated into works of fiction
294, 452-57, 458, 459, 460, 463, and drama, 575
466, 47 w-73n, 543, 545n, 574, intended readers of, 597n
638n, 837, 841,922,928,1133, opening and closing formulae for
1134 tales in, 574, 577-78, 588
Ariwara no Narihira's journey to sources for stories in, 574, 5900
Azuma in, 455-56 writing system in, 573, 585, 596n
authorship of, 452 , 472n Tales of Yamato, 294, 3 15, 434, 457-59,
date of composition of, 453, 472n 473n, 543, 1006
fanciful elements in, 456 authorship of, 457
folklore and, 5IIn date of composition of, 457
literary influences on, 456 dissimilarity between two parts of,
medieval scholarship on, 454, 457-5 8
455-5 6 tale literature (setsuwa) in, 568, 574,
order of episodes in, 453 582
poetic allusions to, 647, 683n Tama no Ogushi. See Jeweled Comb,
popularity of, 452, 457 The
Sotoba Komachi and, 1047n-48n Tama River, 973-74
title of, 453-54, 472n Tamamo ni asobu Gon-dainagon (Senji),
Tales of Shotetsu [ShOtetsu Monogatarii 544n
(Shotetsu), 729-3°, 731, 732-35, Tameie. See Fujiwara Tameie
864n Tamekane. See Kyogoku Tamekane
Tales of the Rain and Moon [Vgetsu Tamekanekyo Wakasho [Lord Tame-
Monogatarij (Veda Akinari), 638n, kane's Notes on Poetry]' 713
679 Tameko, 717
Tales of the Tsutsumi Middle Counselor, Tamesuke, 922-23
The. See Riverside Counselors Tametaka, Prince, 375, 554-55
Stories, The Tametoki. See Fujiwara no Tametoki
Tales of the Vji Grand Minister [Vji Tametomo. See Minamoto no Tame-
Dainagon Monogatarii, 572, 588, tomo
593,60w Tameyo. See Nijo Tameyo
Tales of Times Now Past [Konjaku Tamura no Soshi. See Story of Tamura,
Monogatarij, 568, 572-77, 582, The
592, 595n, 596n-9Jn, 639n, 984, Tanabata festival, 86-87, 140, 146, 729,
993n, 1030 744n
arrangement of tales in, 573, 574 poems on, 114, 169n
characterization in, 574-75 Tanabe Sakimaro collection, II 1 - 1 2,

Collection of Old Setsuwa Texts com- 167n

pared to, 577-78 Tang, King, 76
Index 12 55

Tang dynasty, 86, 139,344 Teitoku. See Matsunaga Teitoku

demise of, 203 Teiwa period (1345-135°), 852-53
poetry of, 146, 190, 193, 194, 198, Temmu, Emperor, 36, 38, 65, 66, IOO-
34 2,354n 101, 102, 103, 106, 107, 108, I09,
Tang Lin, 574 166n, 435, 436
Tang Wen Sui [Literary Essence of the Tendai Buddhism, 182,360,391, 402n,
Tang], 344 407n, 4 89, 75 1 , 785n, 1062
Tango Fudok], 569-7 0 , 595n justification for existence of poetry
Tangut, script devised by, 220 in, 775
Tani Soboku, 1140 Lotus Sutra as chief text of, 598n
Tani Soya, 1140, 1141, 1142 practice of contemplating pollution
Tanilei, lo46n, lo53n in, 769-70
Tanizaki [un'ichiro, 6, 24-25, 474n, tale literature (setsuwa) and, 572,
508, 512n 580
Tanka (classical verse form formerly Tenji, Emperor, 77, IOO, IOl, 102, 109,
called waka), 933 122, 164n, 165n, 181, 209n
use of term, 164n Tenjin (Heavenly Deity), shrines to,
see also Waka 2°5
Tannisho [Lamentations over Diver- Tenryii-ji (Kyoto), 1063
gencesl (Yuien-bo), 751-54 TenshO Ki (Omura Yuko), II51, 1152,
Tanroku-bon (illustrated book), I I 19n 1161, 1169n
Tanusi no Harazutsumi, I056n TenshO Kyogenbon, lo55n
Taoism, 38, 78, 90, 142, 143 Tettsuiden. See Biography of Iron
Kukai's Indications and, 183-85 Hammer
Tabito's poems in Man'yoshi; and, "Thinking of Various Poet-Friends"
136, 137-3 8 (Sugawara no Michizane), 202
tale literature (setsuwa) and, 579-80 Thousand Character Classic, 51, 220
Tatsuno Tatsuyuki, II69n Three Poets at Minase [Minase Sangin]
Tauezoshi [A Collection of Rice- (Sagi, Shohaku, and Socha), 953-
Planting Songs], 1148 56, 957, IOOO
Tawara Toda Hidesato, I I 10 Three Poets at Yuyama [Yuyama San-
Tawara Toda Monogatari, 1110 gin I (Sog], Shohaku, and Socha),
Tea ceremony, 758, 999 956,957
Teika. See Fujiwara Teika Three Priests, The [Sannin Hoshij,
Teika (No play), 829 I I05-8

Teiki (imperial chronicles), 35, 36, "Through the Snow to Early Duty at
56n the Office" (Sugawara no Michi-
Teishi (Sadako), Empress, 413-14, zane), 198
4 15,4 19, 420-21, 424, 425, 427n , "To Comfort My Little Son and
429n, 481 Daughter" (Sugawara no Michi-
Teishinko Ki (Fujiwara no Tadahira), zane), 204
39 8,408n To no Tsuneyori, 680, 951, 952
 Index
"To Show to My Disciples on the Tokuko, Empress. See Kenreimon'in
Eighth Day of the Twelfth Tokumitsu Sumio, 805
Month" (Gido Shushin), 1071-72 Tokyo, capital moved to, 182
Toba, Emperor, 396-97, 541, 582, 616, "Tokyu no Fu" r"Fu on Tu-chiu"j
619, 635 (Kaneakira), 345-46
Tobi (or Tohi) troupe, 1045n Tomei, 1099-98
Todai-ji, Great Buddha at, 1001 Tomoe, 633
Togan Koji, 1030 Tomohito, Prince, 1136
Togashi, 1170n Tomonori. See Ki no Tomonori
Togimi, 384-85 Ton'a, 723, 732, 743n, 780n, 860, 864n,
Toin Kinsada, 878, 909n 865n, 926
Toean Kiko. See Journey East of the Toneri, Prince, 66
Barrier, A Tonomine Shosho Monogatari. See Tale
Toki Zemmaro, 712-13, 739n of the Tonomine Captain, The
Tokifumi. See Ki no Tokifumi Toochi, Princess, 103
Tokihira. See Fujiwara no Tokihira Toraaki. See Okura Yaemon Toraaki
Tokitsugu. See Yamashina Tokitsugu Toribeyama Monogatari. See Tale of
Tokitsugu Gyoki (Yamashina Tokit- Mount Toribe, The
sugu), 1164n Torikaebaya Monogatari. See If I Could
Tohitsune Gyoki (Yamashina Tokit- Only Change Them
sun e), 1164n Tosa Diary, The [Tosa Nikki] (Ki no
Tokiwa, 628 Tsurayuki), 8, 219, 268, 289, 342,
Toeorodohoro Hento [Replies to This 35 8, 361-6~ 37 1, 393, 39 8, 404 n ,
and That I (Shinkei), 942 837
Tokugawa family, 609 authorship of, 363
Tokugawa Ieyasu, 612, 614, 1136, 1164n diarist's personas in, 363, 364-65
Tokugawa period (1600-1867), xi-xii, purpose of author in, 364-66
24,89, 157,358,674,771, 866n, 881, waka in, 362-63, 365, 366, 402n
882,897, 907n, 915n, 1118, 1129 Tosa Mitsunobu, I 12 In
fiction of, 1092 Tosabo Shown, 1149
haiku of, 12, 728 Toshiko, 459, 473n
historical works of, 564 Toshiyori. See Minamoto no Toshiyori
isolation in, 21-23, 1164 Toshiyori Zuino (Minamoto no Toshi-
kanshi of, 1083 yori), 596n
Kyogen in, 1036, 1040 Toshiyuki. See Fujiwara no Toshiyuki
National Learning in, 69, 91, 278, Towazugatari. See Confessions of Lady
818n Nijo, The
No in, 1014, 1018, 1149, 1150, 1153 Tovohuni-mode [Pilgrimage to the To-
publishing in, 19-20 yokuni Shrine I, I 152-53
renga of, 933 Toyotomi Hidetsudi, 1131, 1144
songs of, 1148 Toyotomi Hideyoshi, 612, 614, 1129,
waka of, 736 1131,1143,1144, II64n
Index 1257

biography of, 1159, 1161 Tsukimi Zato [The Blind Man Views
ko-uta and, 1148, 1168n the Moon], 1039
Kowaka composed by order of, Tsukiyomi, 40, 69
1153, 1169n Tsukuba, Mount, 979
No plays written by order of, 115°- Tsukuba Mondo [Questions and Answers
53, 116~ on Renga] (Nijo Yoshimoto), 98,
renga composition and, 1136-37 928-29, 930-34, 962n
Toyotomi Tsurumatsu, 1151 Tsukuba Shu [Tsukuba Collection], 900,
To-sumo [Wrestling in China], 1°36-37 934-3 6, 959n, 960n, 963n
Translation into Japanese, oldest sur- Tsukuri monogatari (invented tales),
viving, 583 433-5 1, 466n-7 In
Travel accounts, I, 832-34, 836-87, use of term, 433-34
973-74 see also Invented tales
Travel Diary of a Pilgrimage to China Tsuhushi no Michi no Ki. See Journey
in Search of the Law [Nitto Guho Along the Tsuhushi Road
Junrei Gyoki] (Ermin), 359-61, Tsunemasa, 344
365 Tsunenobu. See Minamoto no Tsune-
Travel poems, 704 nobu
by Ariwara no Narihira, 23°-31 Tsuratogi [The Mirror Polisher], 1056n
in Kokinshu, 252, 253 Tsurayuki. See Ki no Tsurayuki
in Man'yoshu, 119-23 Tsurayuki Shu (Ki no Tsurayuki), 265
by Noin, 302-3, 304 Tsure (companion of chief character
Traveling to "famous places," 231, of No play), 1007, 1028, 1030,
455, 934, 973-74, 976, 977, 979 1046n
Ts'ao P'i (also known as Wen-t'i), Tsurezuregusa. See Essays in Idleness
Emperor of China, 188, 190 Tsurigitsune, 1056n
Ts'ao Tung sect, 756 Tsuru no Soshi, I I 18, I I 26n
Tsa-shih (Chinese term for miscella- Tsutsumi Chunagon Monogatari. See
neous poems), 92 Riverside Counselors Stories, The
Tsin Shu, 82n Tsutsumi no Chiinagon. See Fujiwara
Tsubouchi Shoyo, 1162-63 no Kanesuke
Tsuchihashi Yutaka, 102, 118, 120, Tu Fu, 196, 725-26, 947, 981, 1076,
131-32, 137, 169n, 174n-75n, 1083
176n Twentyjour Examples of Filial Piety,
Tsuchimikado, Emperor, 653, 668, 118
672, 738n, 873 "Two Poems on Living in the Moun-
Tsuen, 1°36 tains" (Ikkyii Sojun), 1080-81
Tsukamoto Kunio, 661 Tzu-hsia (also known as Pu Shang),
Tsukeku (second half-poem of short 27 In
renga), 922-23, 935
Tsuki no Yubue. See Where the Moon Uchigiki Shu. See Collection of Things
Goes Heard
 Index
Uchiko, Princess, 195 Uta-awase (poem competitions), 279,
Uda, Emperor, 201-3, 223, 249, 262, 323, 460, 648-52, 654, 663, 666,
268, 434, 457, 563 668, 670, 683n-85n, 707, 71 I
Ueda Akinari, 638n, 679 Buddhist priests' participation in,
Uesugi Fusasada, 952 778
Uesugi Norizane, 1062, 1083n defeat of Taira and, 320, 321
Ugetsu, 1026 of 892 and 893, 222, 249, 251
Ugetsu Monogatari. See Tales of the elaborate presentations in, 648, 649,
Rain and Moon 683n
Uji Dainagon Monogatari. See Tales of hundred-round, 924
the Uii Grand Minister judging of, 648, 649-52, 684n-85n
"Uji River Collection." See Shin Cho- most famous (1201), 650-51
kusenshu poems on set topics (dai) in, 123,
Uii Shui Monogatari. See Later Tales 254, 262, 263, 286, 306
from Uii rules for, 648
Uji Yataro, 1055n seasonal poems and, 25 I
Ukiyo-e prints, 4 Shikashu and, 315, 316
Umai (variety of bugaku dances), Shin Koliinshu and, 648-52, 655,
1001-2, 1042n 656, 684n
Umehara Takeshi, 117, 168n, 16~, Shinsen Man'yoshu and, 222, 251
170n Shuishu and, 285-86
Uneme Hirafu, 76 Utagaki, or kagai (exchange of
University system, 213n amorous poems), 97-98
Unrin'ln, 1049n Utagatari (talks on poetry), 451, 472n
Unshu Shosoeu. See Letters by Unshu Utamakura (places that inspire
Unspoken Yearning. See Tale of poems), 263, 416, 679, 928, 957
Unspoken Yearning, A travels to, 455, 934, 973-74, 976,
U rabe Kaneyoshi. See Kenko 977> 979
Urakaze, I120n Utamakura ("poem pillow;" handbook
Uraminosuhe, 19 in which essentials of literary
Urashima Taro, 127, 128, 569-70, 587, composition were transmitted),
595n 416, 4 18
Urashima Taro (otogi-zoshi), I II8, Utatane. See Fitful Slumbers
112W Utatane no Soshi. See Tale of Fugitive
Ushin (serious renga), 934 Dreams, A
Uta (poetry or song), 220, 96w Uto [Birds of Sorrow], 1035
use of word, 85, 160n, 246, 1144- 45 Utsubo Monogatari. See Tale of the
see also Songs; Waka Hollow Tree, The
Uta monogatari (poem-tales), 451-66, Utsunomiya Yoritsuna, 738n
47 w-74 n
use of term, 434 Vairochana Buddha (Dainichi), 186,
see also Poem-tales 678, 679, 777, 785n , 983
Index 1259

Vasumitra, 773 epithets before place names in. See

Vendetta stories, 1108, 1112-14 Makurakotoba
see also Tale of the Soga Brothers, exchanged between men and
The women, 231-32, 247, 279. 280-81,
Vietnam, script devised in, 220 933-34
Vimalakirti, 782n extra syllable in (ji-amari), 227, 714-
I5,7 I9- 20,74 In
Wa,72-73 hanka related to, 98-99
Wabi (beauty, especially in nature), in Heian courtly fiction of post)
67 8,695n Genji era, 520, 52 I, 524, 525, 529,
Wagami ni tadoru Himegimi. See Prin- 537, 542, 544 n
cess in Search of Herself, The in historical works, 554, 555, 560,
Waka (classical verse form; now called 89 1
tanka), 2, 3, 5, 9, 10, I I, 13,43, hundred-poem sequences of, 288,
52, 54, 64, 85, 90, 35 2, 445, 4 80, 3° 6-7, 33~, 65 2, 9 24, 93 2
577> 79 1, 934, 939, 944, 947-4 8, imperially sponsored anthologies of,
960n, 981, 1067, 1083 245-340, 593, 643, 7°5-28. See
ambiguity in, 225-29, 234 also Gosenshu; Goshitishit;
aural effects in, 269 Kin'voshu; Kokinsh«; Senzaishu;
of Azuchi-Momoyarna period, Shika.,hit; Shin Chokusenshii; Shin
1129-38,1141,1143,1146 Kokin.<hu; Shin Shokukokinshu;
Buddhist. See Buddhist poetry Shinsen .\fan 'yashu; Shuishi:
caesuras in, I 15, 122 inclusion of. in monogatari, 441
Chinese couplets matched with, in inscribed on screens, 263, 265, 268,
Wakan Roei Shit, 34 1-44, 353n, 580 274 n. 27CJ. 284. 3° 0 , 354 n, 399
on Chinese topics, 262, 274n irrejrular itv as feature of, 858
competitons in. See Uta-awase jisci (valedictorv poems to world),
compiled into sequences, 121 247. I I) 1 - )2
composed by two people, as short of Kamak ur.i and Murornachi
renga, 921-23 per iods. ("Hj. 643-74 8, 794-95,
composed on prescribed topics (dai), 804-5. K2h. K4 0 • 8,+3-44, 921,
123, 254, 262, 263, 286, 306 I I2CJ-3K. 1141. 1143. 1146. See
containing "hidden words" (butsu- also Shm KORIIl.,'hii
mei), 123, 252, 286-87 kanshi \5 .. 222-2)
decline in composition of, 728, 735- k ata-uta as hal t ot. 958n-59n
36, 1129- 31 Ki no Tsur.ivuk i« defense of, 245-
decline in power of Fujiwara family 47. 241')-4"
and, 305-6 Koleinsh u as recu",nItIOn of impor-
development of, 99 tance or. 24~
in diaries, 362-63, 365, 366, 375, kyok a ("\\llcl poerns"}, 1 131
376, 402n, 826, 840, 843-44 limitations ut tor m ancl.H6, 727-
doka (homilies), 1133 21'). 7q-;~

ennui or melancholy in, ISO linked. Sa Ren~,!

1260 Index
Waka (cant.): use of term, 160n
as manifestation of eternal religious uta as word for, 1145
truth, 775 Wen Hsiian as influence on, 224
in Man'yoshu, 89, 97-101, IIO-ll, see also Poetry; specific poets, poems,
114-15, 116-17, 119-23, 124-26, and collections
132-38,140,141,146,147-53, Wakan (linked verse with lines of
ISS-59 both Chinese and Japanese), 935,
matching of kanshi and, 222-23 1134, 1165n
of ninth century, 221-37, 240n-43n Wakan konko (style that mixes Japa-
penmanship exercises in form of, nese and Chinese words), 833
220 Wakan Roei Shu [Collection of Japanese
poem-tales (uta monogatari) and, and Chinese Poems for Singing],
434, 45 1-66, 47 In-74 n 307, 34 1-44, 353n-54n, 428n, 580,
poetic diction in, 10, 12, 248, 254- 645, 93 8, 993n-94n, 1053n
57, 281-82, 665-66, 700, 731-32, Wakefulness at Night [Yoru no Ne-
93 1, 1077 zame], 5 18, 530-36, 543, 5400-
possibilities of poetic expression in, 47n, 790, 798, 817, 996n
27 In authorship of, 530, 536-37, 5400-
prefaces to (kotobagaki), 141, 253, 47n, 54 8n
45 1, 47 In-72n characterizations in, 533-36
principles for arrangement of, 652, date of composition of, 530, 537,
685n 547n, 54 8n
puns in, 252, 260, 263, 286-87, 646, devoted to only one person, 53 I
69 1n-9 2n , 1131, II37-3 8 fear of gossip and rumors in,
reliance on suggestion in, 223, 859 535-3 6
renga contrasted with, 93 I, 936 modernity of, 533, 536
revival of (tenth century), 249 plot summary of, 331-33
revival of (eighteenth century), 1130, surviving portions of text of, 530,
II3 8 547n
rules for composition of, 925 as viewed by ladies of Story Without
schools of, 707, 7°9-10, 711-12, a Name, 53°-31
1129-3°. See also Kyogoku Waki (secondary actor in No play),
school; Nijo school; Reizei 1007, 1028, 1030, 10400
school; Rokujo school Waki kyogen (Kyogen of felicitous
singing of, 16an, 1145 nature), 1037
social position of writers of, 278 Waki no (No plays of first category),
subject matter of, 665, 709, 727-28 1018, 1037, 1042n, lo43n, I 044n ,
in tale literature (setsuwa), 582, 583, 1°5an
584,59 1 Wakiku (second verse of renga), 932
in The Tale of Genji, 445, 459, 478, Waki-zure (role in No play), 1007
4 86, SIan-lin, 529, 685n, 733-34, Waley, Arthur, 27, 418, 484, 485, 486,
82In 508, 5 1On, 5 13n, 542 , 547n, 693n,
tanka as term for, 164n 778
Index

Wang Chao-chun, 343-44 nasty] (Ch'en Shou), 72-73, 8w

Wang Hsuan-ts'e, 782n Wen, King, 76
Wang Mang, 876 Wen Hsiian (known in Japan as Mon-
Wang Tu, 213n zen) (Chao-rning), 66, 92, 135,
Wani-kishi, 51, 73 188, 193, 196, 21On, 212n, 224,
War tales, 21, 609-10, 613- 42, 789, 258, 260, 344, 354n, 1083n, 1134
868-920 Wen-t'i (also known as Tsao Pi), Em-
biographies of Azuchi-Momoyarna peror of China, 188, 190
period vs., 1159 Western Wei dynasty, 8In
Buddhism and, 749-50 Where the Moon Goes [Tsuki no Yukue]
chronicles, 868, 869-87 (Arakida Reijo), 564, 915n
composition of, 617, 624, 627. "White-haired Palace Lady, The" (Po
629- 3 0 Chu-i), 917n-18n
emergence of genre, 617 "Willows Beyond the Fields" (Fuji-
Heian precursors of, 613-15 wara Teika), 671
historical romances, 886, 887-906 Women:
increase in number of words bor- Chinese not taught to, 232, 345, 363
rowed from Chinese in, 617-18 growth of literacy among, 20
literary importance of, 618 poetry written in persona of, 195,
philosophical background of, 878, 255, 273n
879- 80 "Women Ladling Brine on the Beach"
recitations of, 617, 629-30, 636-37, (Banri Shukyu), 1077
868, 878, 881, 883-84, 887-88, Women writers, 8, 26, 28
893, 906n, 9 13n - 14n absent from Honcho Monzui, 344-45
references to Chinese heroes in, 584 diarists, 358, 359, 366-71, 375-97,
written in kambun, 613, 615, 638n, 401-2, 53 1, 826-2~ 834-3~ 838-
868 47,97 1
see also specific war tales essayists, 4 I 2-32
Warambegusa (Okura Yaemon To- in Gosenshu, 282
raaki), 1055n in Goshuish«, 293, 295-302, 308
Warriors, Heian, poetry by, 247 of kanshi, 195
Wasuregusa [Day Lilies] (Sogi), 952 in Kokinshu, 268
Watanabe Tsuna, 1124n in Man'voshu , 92, 99-102, 134,
Watarai Ieyuki, 972 15 1-52
Water Mirror, The lMizukagami], 563- in Senzaishu, 324, 326, 327
64, 566n, 9 15n in Shuishu, 288-89
Watson, Burton, 196,346,348, 354n- see also specific women writers
55n, 1065 Woodblocks, 18, 19
Watsuji Tetsuro, 38 Word-play, 299
"Way of Tsukuba," as name for art of in Kokinshu, 259-60, 266, 269, 286
renga, 58n, 921 in No plays, 1016, 1024, 1044n
Wei Hung, 27In in Ono no Komachi's waka, 234,
Wei Shih [The History of the Wei Dy- 235
 Index
Word-play (cont.): Yakamochi. See Oromo no Yakamochi
In renga, 922, 923, 924 Yahumo Misho (Emperor [untok u), 277
in waka of Azuchi-Momoyarna Yakushi (the Healing Buddha), 785n,
period, 1137-38 995 n
see also Puns Yakushi-ji (Nara), 90, 16rn-62n
Wordsworth, William, 926 "Yam Soup," 574-75
World War II, 25-26, 37 Yam abe no Akahito, 121-22, 123-27,
Writing, as profession, 16-21 130, 139, 149, 248, 703
Writing systems: Yamada N agamasa, I 173n
Chinese characters used as phono- Yamamba [Mountain Hag], 1029
grams in, 34, 64, 87-88, 2 I 8, 2 I 9 Yamamoto Kenkichi, 149-50
Chinese characters used as ideo- Yam ana family, 940
grams in, 34, 88 rebellion of, 883-87
Chinese tradition about origin of, Yamana Kojiro, 884-86
188,2Ion Yamana Mitsuyuki, 883
invention of kana and, 189, 218-20, Yamana Sozen, 94 I
221, 238n Yamana Ujikiyo (or Yamana Oshu),
of Kojibi, 33-35, 55n, 56n, 63, 66, 883, 885, 886, 887, 91 rn, 1076
88,218 Yama-nani Hyakuin (Shinkei), 950
of Kokinshu, 219 Yamanoue no Okura, 86, 90, 100, 124,
man'yogana (mixture of Chinese 126, 132, 138-46, 148, 156, 164n,
characters used both as phone- 194,20I,33 0n
grams and ideograms), 218, 219, Chinese prefaces to poems by, 141-
221, 1I67n 42, 149
of Man'voshic, 3, 87-88, 221 elevation of reputation of, 138-39
Sanskrit and, 33-34 in embassy to China, 139-40, 173n-
of Tales of Times Now Past, 573, 74n, 209
5 85, 596n of Korean descent, 139, 173n, 208
see also Kana Gtomo no Yakamochi's borrowings
"Written on the Twenty-sixth Day of from, 149, 175n, 240
the Third Month of 888" (Suga- poems on illness and suffering by,
wara no Michizane), 201 142-46
"Written the Last Night of the Year" poetry about social conditions by,
(Izumi Shikibu), 297 204, 212n
Wu-hsuh Tsu-yun (Mugaku Sogen), Yamashina Tokitsugu, I 130, I 164n
ro64 Yamashina Tokitsune, I 164n
Wu-tsung, Emperor of China, 360 Yamato, 43, 45, 49
capital moved from, roo, 164n
Xavier, Francis, 1163 Yamato language, 486, 636, 637
Yamato people, 41
Ya no Ne, 912n Yamato-bushi (Yamato tunes),
Yagami, Princess, 44 1145-4 6
Index [26,

Yarnato-e (folding screens painted Yom no Nezame. See Wakefulness at

with Japanese-style pictures), Night
waka inscribed on, 263, 265, 268, Yom no Tsuru. See Crane at Night, The
274n Yosami, 116-17, 118
Yarnato-hirne, 48, 50 Yoshiaki. See Ashikaga Yoshiaki
Yamato-takeru, Prince, 46-50, 54, 58n, Yoshida Kaneyoshi. See Kenko
69, 70, I IS Yoshida no Yoroshi, 136
poems attributed to, 49, 50, 58n, Yoshida Togo, 1014
921, 979 Yoshihira. See Akugenta Yoshihira
as prototypical hero, 49 Yoshihiro. See Ouchi Yoshihiro
Yamazaki Sokan, 958, 994n Yoshika. See Miyako no Yoshika
Yanagita Kunio, 36, 437, 594n-95n Yoshimichi. See Hadano Yoshimichi
Yang Kuei-fei, 488-89, 561, 917n-I8n Yoshimine no Yasuyo, 212n
Yang Wei-chen, ro86n Yoshimitsu. See Ashikaga Yoshimitsu
Yang Xianyi, I 172n Yoshimochi. See Ki no Yoshimochi
Yao (legendary ruler of China), 939, Yoshimoto. See Nijo Yoshimoto
963n Yoshimoto Takaaki, 737n
Yao Hsuan, 344 Yoshina, diarists attracted to, 974
Yashima, 1020, roSIn, 1155 Yoshinaka. See Kiso no Yoshinaka
Yasumaro. See Otorno no Yasumaro Yoshino Shizuka, I045n
Yasunaga. See Ishii Yasunaga Yoshinobu. See Onakatomi no Yoshi-
Yasutane. See Yoshishige no Yasutane nobu
Yatsukamizu Omizuno, 63 Yoshino-mode [A Pilgrimage to Yoshino]
Yayotsugi, 915n (No play), 1151-52
"Yearning for My Friend on an Au- Yoshino-mode no Ki. See Record of a
tumn Night" (Sesson Yiibai), Pilgrimage to Yoshino
1066 Yoshisada. See Nitta Yoshisada
Yoernbi (ideal of ethereal beauty), 706 Yoshishige no Yasutane, 346, 347-48,
Yokihi, 1026 355n, 580, 762, 76 3
Yohobuc no Soshi. See Story of Yokobuc, Yoshitada. See Sone no Yoshitada
The Yoshitane. See Minamoto no Yoshi-
Yomei, Emperor, 69 tane
Yomi, 39-40, 4 1, 4 2 Yoshiteru. See Ashikaga Yoshiteru
Yorimasa. See Minamoto no Yorimasa Yoshitomo. See Minamoto no Yoshi-
Yorimasa (No play), 1°36 tomo
Yorimichi. See Fujiwara no Yorimichi Yoshitsune. See Fujiwara Yoshitsune;
Yorinaga. See Fujiwara no Yorinaga Minamoto Yoshitsune
Yoritada. See Fujiwara no Yoritada Yoshitsune [Gikeiki], 893-99, 913n-I5n
Yoritomo. See Minamoto Yoritomo authorship and dating of, 893, 913n
Yoritsuna. See Minamoto no Yoritsuna biographies of Azuchi-Momoyarna
Yorizane. See Minamoto no Yorizane period vs., 1159
Yoroboshi, ro49n disjointedness of, 895-96, 914n-I5n
 Index
Yoshitsune (cont.): Yuzaki troupe, 1045n
events recounted in, 893-95 Yuzuru [Twilight Crane] (Kinoshita
inconsistent characters in, 896 [unji), I I26n
influence of, 897-99
recitations of, 893, 913n-14n Za (group), 934
supernatural events excluded from, Zeami, 6-7, 17, 20, IOOO, 1003, 1004,
897 I006, 1014-17, I028, I043n,
works for theater based on, 897-98 I045n, 1046n, I048n-5on
Yoshitsune's Crossing to the Islands [On- Ashikaga Yoshimitsu's patronage of,
zoshi Shimawatari], I I 12 I015-16
Yosho, biography of, 579-80 attribution of No plays to, I014,
Yoso se, 1079-80 I019, I048n-49n
Yu hsien k'u, 135 critical writings of, 735, IOI4-15,
YI1 Kung, 785n 1017, 1018, 1020, I032-33, 105on,
Yuan Chen, 239n, 342, 456 I05W
Yuan (Mongol) dynasty, I073 father's plays revised by, I007, IOIO,
Yuan-wu K'o-ch'in, 1071 1013, 1021, 1045n, I047n
Yuga Sastra, 598n Kyogen and, I031, I032-33
Yugen (mystery and depth), 705, 733- literary style of, 1016
34, 735, 944-45 shuramono plays written by, I018-
in No, 999-IOOO, I017, 1026, 1029 19, 1020
Yugimori'in, Princess, 718 yugen associated with, 735, I017,
Yugyo Yanagi, 1029, II68n 1026
Yu-hsien ku, 183 Zekkai Chushin, I063, I069, 1073-76,
Yuien-bo, 751-54 I077, I085n, I086n- 87n
Yukinaga, 629, 6400 Chinese poetic tradition and, 1075
Yukinari. See Fujiwara no Yukinari life of, 1073-74, 1075-76
Yukionna Monogatari. See Tale of the Zekku. See Chueh-chu or zekku
Snow Woman, The Zen Buddhism, 75 1, 755-59, 775, 999
Yuko. See Omura Yuko arts influenced by, 735-36
Yiirci. See Ghosts devotion to poverty in, 757-58
Yuriwaka Daijin [The Minister Yuri- Five Mountains poetry and,
waka], II58, II62-63, 117on, I062-9 1
1172n parables and riddles of, 1°71
Yuruoalia SekkYo, 1172n popular among samurai, I062
Yuryaku, Emperor, 51-52, 90, 93-95, Rinzai branch of, 75 I, 756, I069,
162n, 163n 1°75
Yusai. See Hosokawa Yusai scholarship in Chinese studies and,
Yu-wen T'ai, 8w I062
Yuya, 1020, 1026, 1027 Ts'ao Tung sect of, 756
Yuyama Sangin. See Three Poets at Yu- Zenchiku. See Komparu Zenchiku
yama Zoami,lol6
Index

Zodansha, I056n Zotanshu !Coli'ed;:,';.': ( .: :,.i. /):;;1'1'"

Zoga, 372-73 sions), 776
Zoka (miscellaneous poems), 9 2 , 93, Zuihitsu ("following the brush:
95, 101, 162n essays), I, 9
Zoku Kojidan. See Sequel Tale.' .-tboul Buddhist, 759-65
Old Matters, 587-88 sec .il«. £.'.'<1\.' in Idleness;
Zoku Nihon 6jo Gokuraku Ki. See Sequel nn:« Hook rJ( s-, Shonagon,
Account ofJapanese Reborn in Paradise The