The Diary of
Murasaki Shikibu
[Murasaki Shikibu Nikki]
The diary of Murasaki Shikibu (978?-1015?) is the chief source of information we have about the author of “The Tale of Genji.” However, it is not merely for its autobiographical data that the work is prized; it is a vivid and delightful portrayal of life at the court when Heian culture was at its height. If this life falls far short of that described by Murasaki in “The Tale of Genji,” it is nevertheless one of great charm, and it is fortunate that Murasaki recorded it in her inimitable style.
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Tenth day of the long-moon month:
When day began to dawn the decorations[1] of the Queen’s chamber were changed and she removed to a white bed. The Prime Minister, his sons, and other noblemen made haste to change the curtains of the screens, the bedcover, and other things. All day long she lay ill at ease. Men cried at the top of their voices to scare away evil spirits. There assembled not only the priests who had been summoned here for these months, but also itinerant monks who were brought from every mountain and temple. Their prayers would reach to the Buddhas of the Three Worlds. All the soothsayers in the world were summoned. Eight million gods seemed to be listening with ears erect for their Shinto prayers. Messengers ran off to order Sutra-reciting at various temples; thus the night was passed. On the east side of the screen [placed around the Queen’s bed] there assembled the ladies of the court. On the west side there were lying the Queen’s substitutes possessed with [or who were enticing] the evil spirits.<ref>Which would otherwise have attacked the Queen. Some of the ladies-in-waiting undertook this duty. Each was lying surrounded by a pair of folding screens. The joints of the screens were curtained and the priests were appointed to cry Sutras there. On the south side there sat in many rows abbots and other dignitaries of the priesthood, who prayed and swore till their voices grew hoarse, as if they were bringing down the living form of Fudō.[2] The space between the north room and the dais [on which was the Queen’s bed] was very narrow, yet when I thought of it afterward I counted more than forty persons who were standing there. They could not move at all, and grew so dizzy that they could remember nothing. The people [i.e. the ladies-in-waiting and the maids of honor] now coming from home could not enter the main apartment at all. There was no place for their flowing robes and long sleeves. Certain older women wept secretly.
Eleventh day: At dawn the north sliding doors were taken away to throw the two rooms together. The Queen was moved toward the veranda. As there was no time to hang misu[3] she was surrounded by kichō. The Reverend Gyōchō and the other priests performed incantations. The Reverend Ingen recited the prayer written by the Lord Prime Minister on the previous day adding some grave vows of his own. His words were infinitely august and hopeful. The Prime Minister joining in the prayer, we felt more assured of a fortunate delivery. Yet there was still lingering anxiety which made us very sad, and many eyes were filled with tears. We said, “Tears are not suitable to this occasion,” but we could not help crying. They said that Her Majesty suffered more because the rooms were too crowded, so the people were ordered to the south and east rooms. After this there remained in the royal apartment only the more important personages. … The Prime Minister’s son, Lieutenant General Saishō, Major General Masamichi of the Fourth Rank, not to speak of Lieutenant General Tsunefusa, of the Left Bodyguard, and Miya no Tayu, who had not known Her Majesty familiarly, all looked over her screen for some time. They showed eyes swollen up with weeping [over her sufferings], forgetting the shame of it. On their heads rice[4] was scattered white as snow. Their rumpled clothes must have been unseemly, but we could only think of those things afterward. A part of the Queen’s head was shaved.[5] I was greatly astonished and very sorry to see this, but she was delivered peacefully. The afterbirth was delayed, and all priests crowded to the south balcony, under the eaves of the magnificent main building, while those on the bridge recited Sutras more passionately, often kneeling.
Among the ladies-in-waiting on the east side were seen some of the courtiers.[6] Lady Kochūjō’s eye met that of the Lieutenant General. People afterwards laughed over her astonished expression. She is a very fascinating and elegant person, and is always very careful to adorn her face. This morning she had done so, but her eyes were red, and her rouge was spoiled by tears. She was disfigured, and hardly seemed the same person. The imperfectly made-up face of Lady Saishō was a rare sight, but what about my own? It is lucky for me that people cannot notice such things at such a time. …
For seven nights every ceremony was performed cloudlessly. Before the Queen in white the styles and colors of other people’s dresses appeared in sharp contrast. I felt much dazzled and abashed, and did not present myself in the daytime, so I passed my days in tranquillity and watched persons going up from the eastern side building across the bridge. Those who were permitted to wear the honorable colors[7] put on brocaded karaginu, and also brocaded uchigi.[8] This was the conventionally beautiful dress, not showing individual taste. The elderly ladies who could not wear the honorable colors avoided anything dazzling, but took only exquisite uchigi trimmed with three or five folds, and for karaginu brocade either of one color or of a simple design. For their inner kimonos they used figured stuffs or gauzes. Their fans, though not at first glance brilliant or attractive, had some written phrases or sentiments in good taste, but almost exactly alike, as if they had compared notes beforehand. In point of fact the resemblance came from their similarity of age, and they were individual efforts. Even in those fans were revealed their minds which are in jealous rivalry. The younger ladies wore much-embroidered clothes; even their sleeve openings were embroidered. The pleats of their trains were ornamented with thick silver thread and they put gold foil on the brocaded figures of the silk. Their fans were like a snow-covered mountain in bright moonlight; they sparkled and could not be looked at steadily. They were like hanging mirrors.
On the third night Her Majesty’s major-domo gave an entertainment. He served the Queen himself. The dining table of aloe wood, the silver dishes, and other things I saw hurriedly. Minamoto Chūnagon and Saishō presented the Queen with some baby clothes and diapers, a stand for a clothes chest, and cloth for wrapping up clothes and furniture. They were white in color, and all of the same shape, yet they were carefully chosen, showing the artist mind. The Governor of Ōmi Province was busy with the general management of the banquet. On the western balcony of the East building there sat court nobles in two rows, the north being the more honorable place. On the southern balcony were court officials, the west being the most honorable seat. Outside the doors of the principal building [where the Queen was] white figured-silk screens were put.
On the fifth night the Lord Prime Minister celebrated the birth. The full moon on the fifteenth day was clear and beautiful. Torches were lighted under the trees and tables were put there with rice-balls on them. Even the uncouth humble servants who were walking about chattering seemed to enhance the joyful scene. All minor officials were there burning torches, making it as bright as day. Even the attendants of the nobles, who gathered behind the rocks and under the trees, talked of nothing but the new light which had come into the world, and were smiling and seemed happy as if their own private wishes had been fulfilled. Happier still seemed those in the audience chamber, from the highest nobles even to men of the fifth rank, who, scarcely to be counted among the nobility, met the joyful time going about idly, and bending their bodies obsequiously.
To serve at the Queen’s dinner eight ladies tied their hair with white cords, and in that dress brought in Her Majesty’s dining table. The chief lady-in-waiting for that night was Miya no Naishi. She was brilliantly dressed with great formality, and her hair was made more charming by the white cords which enhanced her beauty. I got a side glance of her when her face was not screened by her fan. She wore a look of extreme purity. …
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The following are portraits of prominent ladies of the court.
Lady Dainagon is very small and refined, white, beautiful, and round, though in demeanor very lofty. Her hair is three inches longer than her height. She uses exquisitely carved hairpins. Her face is lovely, her manners delicate and charming.
Lady Senji is also a little person, and haughty. Her hair is fine and glossy and one foot longer than the ordinary. She puts us to shame, her carriage is so noble. When she walks before us we feel so much in the shade that we are uncomfortable. Her mind and speech make us feel that a really noble person ought to be like her.
—If I go on describing ladies’ manners I shall be called an old gossip, so I must refrain from talking about those around me. I will be silent about the questionable and imperfect.
Lady Koshōshō, all noble and charming. She is like a weeping willow tree at budding time. Her style is very elegant and we all envy her her manners. She is so shy and retiring that she seems to hide her heart even from herself. She is of childlike purity even to a painful degree—should there be a low-minded person who would treat her ill or slander her, her spirit would be overwhelmed and she would die. Such delicacy and helplessness make us anxious about her. …
Among the younger ladies I think Kodayu and Genshikibu are beautiful. The former is a little person quite modern in type. Her pretty hair is abundant at the roots, but gets too thin at the end, which is one foot longer than she is. Her face is full of wit. People will think her very pretty, and indeed there is no feature one would wish to improve. The latter is tall and rather superior. Her features are fine; she is smile-giving and lovable. She is very refined and seems to be a favorite daughter of some person of dignity.
Lady Kohyōe no Jō is also refined. These ladies cannot be looked down upon by court nobles. With every one some fault is to be found, but only those who are ever mindful to conceal it even when alone, can completely succeed. …
A Lady Koma had very long hair, an agreeable lady in those days; now she has become like the bridge of a lute which has been immovably fastened with glue. She has gone home.
So much for their appearance and now for their dispositions. Here few can be selected, though each has some good points and few are entirely bad. It is very difficult to possess such qualities as prudence, wit, charm, right-mindedness, all at once. As to many ladies, the question is whether they excel most in charms of mind or person. It is hard to decide! Wicked, indeed, to write so much of others!
There is Lady Chūjō who waits upon the Princess dedicated to the service of the Kamo Shrine. I had heard of her and secretly managed to see her letters addressed to other persons. They were very beautifully written but with such an exalted opinion of herself; in the whole world she is the person of profoundest knowledge! None to compare with her, it seems she is thinking. On reading them my heart beat faster, I was furiously indignant for every one here [the ladies of her own Queen’s court], although it may be it is wrong to feel so. “Be it in composition or poetry, who can judge save our Princess-Abbess, who will have bright futures but the ladies attending our Princess?” ! ! It may be reasonable, yet I have never seen, compared to ours, any good poems by the lady attendants of that Princess-Abbess. They seem to be living an idle poetic life, but if they were to compete with us, it is not necessarily certain they would be superior, though no one knows them well. On a beautiful moonlight night or morning, at the time of flowers or of cuckoo, courtiers might visit their residence. Other-worldly and sacred it is, and made to the taste of their Princess. There they remain undisturbed, admiring her. On the other hand, with us many things occur. The Queen has to go up to His Majesty’s apartment, the Lord Prime Minister comes, and we have to keep watch at night. But there is nothing of all this in that world all their own where they may indulge in elegance and avoid blunders. If I could live there like an old piece of buried wood thrown in among them, I might succeed in freeing myself from the reproach of shallowness—would that I might indulge in elegance there, relaxing myself! Forward young ladies there can devote themselves to dress, making themselves inferior to none and pleasing to courtiers. On the other hand, in our Queen’s court we rather neglect to adorn ourselves, for our Queen has no rivals now. Moreover, she thinks unfavorably of frivolous women, so those who wish to serve her and remain in favor keep from association with men. Of course everywhere there are lighthearted, unashamed, thoughtless women, and men who visit our court to find them say we are awkward and unversed in social usage. Our ladies of the higher ranks are, indeed, much too reserved and haughty; it is not in this way that they can bring honor to our Queen. It is painful to see them. The attendants of the Princess-Abbess seem to have been alluding to these ladies, but both defects and merits are found in every one, so we may not be inferior to them after all. Even our young ladies nowadays have heard of self-respect. It would be embarrassing if they were too frivolous, but one would not wish them to be heartless either.
Our Queen of perfect mind, enviably lovely, is reserved and never obtrusive, for she believes that few who are forward can avoid blunders. In fact, imperfect wit is worse than reserve. Our Queen when she was very young was much annoyed to hear persons of shallow culture saying vulgar, narrow things with conceit, so she favored ladies who made no mistakes, and childlike persons pleased her very well. This is why our ladies have become so retiring. As Her Majesty grows older, she begins to see the world as it is, the bad and good qualities of the human heart. Reserve or boldness—she knows neither is good. The court nobles rather look down on us—“Nothing interesting here!” they seem to say. The Queen knows this, but she knows we cannot please everybody. If we stumble, hideous things may happen. Yet we must not be faint-hearted and bashful either, so Her Majesty says, but our old habits are not so easily shaken off, and all the young nobles of the present day are, on their side, only indulgent pleasure-seekers. …
Lady Izumi Shikibu[9] corresponds charmingly, but her behavior is improper indeed. She writes with grace and ease and with a flashing wit. There is fragrance even in her smallest words. Her poems are attractive, but they are only improvisations which drop from her mouth spontaneously. Every one of them has some interesting point, and she is acquainted with ancient literature also, but she is not like a true artist who is filled with the genuine spirit of poetry. Yet I think even she cannot presume to pass judgment on the poems of others. …
Lady Sei Shōnagon. A very proud person. She values herself highly, and scatters her Chinese writings all about. Yet should we study her closely, we should find that she is still imperfect. She tries to be exceptional, but naturally persons of that sort give offence. She is piling up trouble for her future. One who is too richly gifted, who indulges too much in emotion, even when she ought to be reserved, and cannot turn aside from anything she is interested in, in spite of herself will lose self-control. How can such a vain and reckless person end her days happily!
Here there is a sudden change from the court to her own home.
Having no excellence within myself, I have passed my days without making any special impression on any one. Especially the fact that I have no man who will look out for my future makes me comfortless. I do not wish to bury myself in dreariness. Is it because of my worldly mind that I feel lonely? On moonlight nights in autumn, when I am hopelessly sad, I often go out on the balcony and gaze dreamily at the moon. It makes me think of days gone by. People say that it is dangerous to look at the moon in solitude, but something impels me, and sitting a little withdrawn I muse there. In the wind-cooled evening I play on the koto, though others may not care to hear it. I fear that my playing betrays the sorrow which becomes more intense, and I become disgusted with myself—so foolish and miserable am I.
My room is ugly, blackened by smoke. I play on a thirteen or six-stringed koto, but I neglect to take away the bridges even in rainy weather, and I lean it up against the wall between the cabinet and the door jamb. On either side of the koto stands a lute [Japanese biwa]. A pair of big bookcases have in them all the books they can hold. In one of them are placed old poems and romances. They are the homes of worms which come frightening us when we turn the pages, so none ever wish to read them. As to the other cabinet, since the person[10] who placed his own books there no hand has touched it. When I am bored to death I take out one or two of them; then my maids gather around me and say; “Your life will not be favored with old age if you do such a thing! Why do you read Chinese? Formerly even the reading of Sutras was not encouraged for women.” They rebuke me in the shade [i.e. behind my back]. I have heard of it and have wished to say, “It is far from certain that he who does no forbidden thing enjoys a long life,” but it would be a lack of reserve to say it to the maids. Our deeds vary with our age and deeds vary with the individual. Some are proud to read books, others look over old cast-away writings because they are bored with having nothing to do. It would not be becoming for such a one to chatter away about religious thoughts, noisily shaking a rosary. I feel this, and before my women keep myself from doing what otherwise I could do easily. But after all, when I was among the ladies of the court I did not say what I wanted to say either, for it is useless to talk with those who do not understand one and troublesome to talk with those who criticize from a feeling of superiority. Especially one-sided persons are troublesome. Few are accomplished in many arts and most cling narrowly to their own opinion.
Pretty and coy, shrinking from sight, unsociable, proud, fond of romance, vain and poetic, looking down upon others with a jealous eye—such is the opinion of those who do not know me, but after seeing me they say, “You are wonderfully gentle to meet with; I cannot identify you with that imagined one.”
I see that I have been slighted, hated, and looked down upon as an old gossip, and I must bear it, for it is my destiny to be solitary. The Queen said once, “You were ever mindful not to show your soul, but I have become more intimate with you than others.” I hope that I may not be looked at obliquely even by those who are ill-natured, affected, and unsociable. As a rule one is easy at the back [i.e. not afraid of gossip] who is modest, gentle, and of tranquil disposition. Even a coquettish and frivolous person is not rebuked if she is good-natured and of a disposition not embarrassing to others. A person who is self-exalted and eccentric with scornful mouth and demeanor can be unmistakably perceived, and one can be on one’s guard; by observing closely one may discover faults of speech and behavior. Those whose words and deeds are not in harmony, or who are always trying to outdo one another, attract notice. One seldom wishes to criticize those who have defects, but are good-natured. One cannot but sympathize with them. Those who habitually do evil with intention deserve to be freely talked about and laughed at even though sometimes they do it without intention. We ought to love even those who hate us, but it is very difficult to do it. Even the Buddha of Profound Mercy does not say that the sins against Buddha, the laws of religion, and priests, are slight. Moreover, in this muddy world it is best to let alone the persons who hate us. If we compare one who tries to excel in hatred saying extraordinary words and watching their effect ill-humoredly face to face, with one who coldly hides her heart with a tranquil manner, we can see which is superior.
There is a lady, Saémon no Naishi, who unreasonably cherished hatred of me. I was not at first aware of it, but later heard of much criticism of me in my absence. Once the King was listening to a reading of my “Genji Monogatari,” and said, “She is gifted, she must have read the Chronicle of Japan.” This lady heard of it, and unreflectingly spread abroad among the courtiers the idea that I am very proud of my learning, giving me the name of “The Japanese Chronicle lady”—it is laughable, indeed! I am reserved even before the maids of my own house; how then should I show my learning in court? When my elder brother Shikibu no Jō was a boy he was taught to read the Chinese classics. I listened, sitting beside him, and learned wonderfully fast, though he was sometimes slow and forgot. Father, who was devoted to study, regretted that I had not been a son, but I heard people saying that it is not beautiful even for a man to be proud of his learning, and after that I did not write so much as the figure one in Chinese. I grew clumsy with my writing brush. For a long time I did not care for the books I had already read. Thus I was ashamed to think how others would hate me on hearing what Lady Saémon said, and I assumed an air of not being able to read the characters written on the royal screen. But the Queen made me read to her the poetical works of Li T’ai Po, and as she wished to learn them I have been teaching her since the summer of two years ago the second and third volumes of that collection very secretly when none were present. Her Majesty and I tried to conceal it, but His Majesty the King and the Lord Prime Minister finding it out, the latter presented to the Queen many poetical books which he had had copied. I think that bitter Saémon does not know it yet. If she did, how she would criticize me! …
- ↑ Hangings, screens, and clothes of attendants were all white at the time of a birth.
- ↑ Fudō: a terrible-looking Guardian King who was thought to have the power to subdue all evil spirits.
- ↑ Misu: bamboo screens. Kichō: curtains.
- ↑ For good luck.
- ↑ So that she might be ordained as a priestess and insured a good reception in the next world, only done when the sick person is in great danger.
- ↑ This was contrary to etiquette and shows the extreme excitement of the moment. Ladies and gentlemen of the court remained in separate rooms on social occasions.
- ↑ Purple and scarlet.
- ↑ A long unconfined flowing robe put on over the dress.
- ↑ See above, pp. 92, 94.
- ↑ Her husband who was a scholar in Chinese literature. He died in 1001. It is now 1008.