Traditional Japanese Literature Page 31

  We left there early the next morning and stopped at a ferry landing called Matsusato on the upper reaches of a river on the border of Shimousa and Musashi called Broad River; the whole night through, our goods were ferried across by boat. My nurse, whose husband had died, was about to give birth here at this border, so we were to leave her behind and go on up to the capital. Since I loved her so much, I wanted to visit her, so my elder brother carried me on horseback to her side. It could be said that our whole party was staying in temporary huts with only curtains hung up to try to keep the wind out, but this shelter for my nurse, since she had no husband accompanying her, was so ineptly constructed and rude. It had only one layer of reed screens that had been woven together; the moonlight poured in. She was covered with a scarlet robe and was lying there in some discomfort bathed in moonlight. This seemed not right for such a person; she was so white and fair; moved by the rarity of the moment, she stroked my hair and cried. Although I found it painful to abandon her, I could not help feeling pressed to return; my regrets were hard to bear. I was so sad when I recalled her face that not even feeling anything for the beauty of the moon, I lay down, in a gloomy frame of mind.

  The next morning, the carts were lashed to boats and ferried across and then pulled up onto the other bank; those who had sent us off to this point all turned back. We who were going up to the capital halted until those returning were no longer in sight; those going, those staying behind, all were in tears. Even my young heart felt this very poignantly.

  So now we were in Musashi Province.211 There was nothing especially charming to be seen. There were no black beaches or white sand; it seemed very muddy, and although there was a moor on which I had heard the lavender-rooted gromwell212 grew, there were only tall rushes and reeds growing so thickly and so high that one could not even see the tops of the bows of those mounted on horses. Parting our way through the midst of this, we went along and came to a temple called Takeshiba. In the distance there were the remains of the foundation of a commandary called Hahasou. When I asked “What kind of place is this?” someone told this story:

  “Long ago there was an estate called Takeshiba here. A man from this area was sent to be a fire keeper for the fire huts of the palace. Once when he was sweeping the imperial garden, he murmured to himself this complaint, ‘Why, oh why, have I met such a cruel fate? “On the seven, on the three, saké vats of my home country, lie the straight handles of the gourd ladles. South blows the wind, they drift to the north; north blows the wind, they drift to the south; west blows the wind, they drift to the east; east blows the wind they drift to the west.”213 None of which I see, stuck here just like this.’ At that moment, the emperor’s daughter (a much treasured person) was standing by herself at the edge of the bamboo blinds; leaning against a pillar, she gazed out and was much moved by the serving man’s solitary complaint. What kind of gourd ladles were they? How did they drift one way and another? Since she became so curious about this, she raised up the bamboo blind and summoned him, ‘You over there, come here.’ Full of trepidation, when he came over beside the balustrade, she ordered him, ‘What you just said, repeat it one more time for me.’ And so he repeated the words about the saké vats one more time. At this point, she ordered him, ‘Take me there and show me these things. I have a reason for asking you.’ Although he felt terribly afraid (but was this not something fated to happen?), he carried her on his back and took her down to his home country. Now, thinking that surely they would be followed, that night he set the princess down at the foot of the Seta Bridge214 and destroyed just one section of it. Leaping back over it, he hoisted the princess on his back and seven days and seven nights later, they arrived in the province of Musashi.

  “The emperor and empress were distraught when they realized the princess had disappeared. When they searched for her, someone said, ‘There is a man servant, a fire keeper from the province of Musashi, he flew away with a very fragrant bundle around his neck.’ When they inquired after this man servant, he was gone. Surely he must have gone back to his home province, they thought. When envoys from the court chased after him, finding the Seta Bridge broken, they could not continue. Three months later, when they arrived in Musashi and looked up this man servant, the princess summoned the imperial envoy into her presence and made the following pronouncement: ‘I, for it seems to have been meant to be, became very curious about this man’s home, and when I said, “Take me there,” he brought me here. I find it very pleasant here. If this man is punished for having committed a crime, then what about me? For me to have sought out this country must be a fate determined in a former existence. Quickly return to the court and report what has happened.’ There was nothing he could say, so the envoy went back up to the capital and reported, ‘It is such and so,’ to the emperor. It was useless to say anything; even if this man had committed a crime, it was not as though now they could remove the princess and bring her back to the capital. So they put the Takeshiba man in charge of the province of Musashi for as long as he should live and exempted the province from public taxes and corvee duties, in effect making the princess the patron of the province. When the official proclamation came down, the man’s house was renovated into a palace. Now this house where the princess lived, was turned into a temple after she passed away, and that is why it is called Takeshiba Temple. All the children born to the princess were given the surname Musashi, just like that. From that time forward, it is said that the imperial palace fires were attended by women.”

  There was nothing in particular to note as we passed through rushes and reeds, over moors and hills. Between the provinces of Musashi and Sagami, there is a river called Asuda (this is the river called Sumida in the Ariwara Middle Captain Collection,215 where as he crossed it he composed the poem, “Come hither, I would ask you …”).216 When we crossed over it by boat, we were in Sagami Province.

  The mountains of a place called Nishitomi all stood in a line just like scenes that are often depicted in screen paintings. On one side was the sea, and the lay of the beach as well as the waves rolling in was terribly beautiful. At a place called the Chinese Plains, the sand was amazingly white, and it took two or three days to pass by. Someone said, “In summer, Japanese pinks bloom all over, it looks like lengths of brocade in deep and pale colors. Since it is the end of autumn, we can’t see them,” yet still here and there were specks of color where they bloomed charmingly. “How about that, on the Chinese Plains, Japanese pinks are blooming all around”; people found this amusing.217

  In the Ashigara Mountains, we passed through frighteningly dark forests for four or five days. The deeper we penetrated the foothills, we could not even see the complexion of the sky clearly, and the trees were indescribably thick; how frightening it was. On a dark night with no moon, when anyone would lose their way in the darkness, out of nowhere appeared three female entertainers. One was about fifty, one about twenty, and the other about fourteen or fifteen. In front of our lodging, they set up a large umbrella and sat down. And when the men servants brought torches so that we could see, someone said, “This is the granddaughter of the famous Kohata of the old days.” The woman’s hair was very long with lovely sidelocks hanging down; her skin was white and clean. “She seems hardly suited for this sort of life, why, she would not be out of place as a maid servant for the nobility,” people said, much impressed. The women’s voices were incomparable as they sang wonderful songs that seemed to ring clear in the sky. Everyone was very moved and had the women move closer, so excited we were. When they overheard someone say, “There couldn’t be entertainers as fine as these in the West Country,” they sang in a splendid way, “When you compare us to those of Naniwa….”218 Their appearance was unsullied, and when they sang, their voices were incomparable. When they rose to go back into the mountains that were so frightening, everyone regretted their going and broke into tears. Young as I was, I regretted even the fact that we would also be leaving this temporary lodging.

  At first light of dawn, we cro
ssed the Ashigara Mountains. There is no way to describe how even more frightening it was in the middle of the mountains. Why, the clouds—we tread upon them under our feet. Right in the middle of the mountains in a small space under the trees, there were just three stalks of the aoi plant.219 When someone said, “Here isolated from the world, it manages to grow,” people found it very poignant. The river of that mountain flows in three courses.

  Finally we crossed over those mountains and stopped at a mountain border station. From here on, we were in the province of Suruga. Beside the Yokohashi border station, there was a place called Rock Basin. In the middle of an amazingly large square rock, there was an opening from which flowed water that was extremely cold and clear.

  Mount Fuji is in this province. It is the mountain we could see to the west of the province I grew up in. The appearance of that mountain is like nothing else in the world. Were I to try and describe this unusual appearance—its flanks are as though painted a deep indigo blue, and since eternal snow covers its summit, it is as though someone is wearing a white short robe over an indigo gown. From the slightly flat summit of the mountain, smoke rises. At dusk, one can even see flames shooting up.

  They finally arrive in the capital on the second day of the Twelfth Month and take up residence in what is now the eastern ward of the city.

  It was a large wild place, not inferior in wildness to the mountains we had passed through; there were huge frightening trees like those in the deep mountains; it was a place one could scarcely believe was in the capital. We were not settled yet and extremely busy with one thing or another, but it occurred to me, “If not now, then when?” so I pestered my mother,220 “Please find me some tales to read, please!” She sent off a letter to a relative of ours known as Lady Emon no Myōbu who served at the Third Avenue Palace.221 She was delighted with our news and sent us some tales “that her highness has deigned to pass down to me.” These were particularly splendid scrolls packed in the lid of an inkstone box. I was beside myself with joy, day or night, the first thing I applied myself to was reading these tales. I wanted to read more and more. In this city, where we were not really settled yet, where might there be a person who could seek out more tales for me?

  Now, as for my stepmother, she was a person who had left court service to go down to the provinces, but things had not worked out as she wished and she seemed to feel resentment about her situation, so she went elsewhere, taking along her child of about five years and some staff.222 She said, “There will never come a time when I will forget the kindness of your heart.” Pointing to a big plum tree close to the eaves, she said, “I will come and visit when this tree blossoms again,” and leaving these words behind, she went away. In my heart, I kept missing her and feeling sad, stifling my sobs, I wept, and the new year came round again.223 “Whenever will you bloom so that she will come for a visit? I wonder if she really will.” Such were my thoughts as I kept my eye on the tree and waited. Even when all the blossoms had opened, there was not a word from her. Suffering with longing, I broke off a blossoming branch and sent it to her,

  tanomeshi o

  Must I wait longer

  nao ya matsubeki

  for that which was promised, see—

  shimogareshi

  spring has not forgotten

  ume o mo haru wa

  even this plum tree

  wasurezarikeri

  that was withered by frost.

  Since I had sent this poem, she wrote back and shared many touching thoughts,

  nao tanome

  Still wait, steadfast.

  ume no tachi e wa

  As for the plum’s young branch tips,

  chigiri okanu

  with no pledge placed,

  omoi no hoka no

  I hear someone quite

  hito mo tounari

  unexpected will ask after you.224

  That spring, when the world was in an uproar because of an epidemic, the nurse whom I had seen so poignantly in the moonlight at Matsusato Crossing died on the first day of the Third Month. I grieved for her helplessly; I even lost all interest in reading tales. All day long, I spent crying and when I glanced out, the evening sun was shining brilliantly on the cherry blossoms as they all fluttered down in confusion,

  chiru hana mo

  Scattering blossoms,

  mata komu haru wa

  when spring comes round again,

  mimu ya semu

  I may see them, but,

  yagate wakareshi

  oh, how I long for this one

  hito zo kanashiki

  from whom I am parted forever.

  There was more news. The daughter of the major counselor225 had died. Since I heard about how her husband, his lordship the middle captain,226 grieved for her just at the same time as my own bereavement, I was deeply saddened by the news. When we had come back to the capital, someone had given me some calligraphy in this young lady’s own hand, saying, “Take this as a model for your own practice.” She had written poems like “As night deepens, if I could not stay awake …”227 and

  Toribeyama

  If the smoke rises from

  tani ni keburi no

  the valley of Toribeyama,

  moe-tataba

  I would have you

  hakanaku mieshi

  realize that it is me

  ware to shiranamu.

  who looked so fragile in life.228

  Seeing this written in such a charming and skillful way, my tears flowed all the more.

  My mother worried about the depression I had sunk into and thought to brighten my spirits by finding some more tales for me to read, and indeed as a matter of course, this did lighten my spirits. After I had read the part of The Tale of Genji about the lavender affinity,229 I wanted even more to see what would happen next, but there was no one I could approach to obtain the rest of the tale, and everyone else in our household was as yet so new to the capital, they were unable to find it for me. Feeling so terribly impatient and eager to read more, I prayed in my heart, “Please grant that I may get to read The Tale of Genji from the first chapter the whole way through.” Even when I went along with my parents into religious retreat at Uzumasa,230 this was the only object of my prayers, and when we left the temple, I thought for certain I would get to see this tale, but it did not appear and I regretted this sorely. Then my parents had me go and meet an aunt who had come up from the countryside. “My, what a beautiful girl you have grown into,” she said among other things and seemed to take a great liking to me. When I was about to return home, she said, “What shall I give you for a present? Certainly it should not be anything practical. I would like to give you something you really want.” Then I received the fifty-odd chapters of The Tale of Genji in a large box,231 as well as the tales Ariwara Middle Captain,232 Tōgimi, Serikawa, Shirara, Asōzu,233 and others in a bag; carrying them home, the joy I felt was incredible.

  With my heart pounding with excitement, I was able to read The Tale of Genji (this tale that had confused me and made me so impatient when I had read only a piece of it) right from chapter one. I did not have anything to do with the rest of the household; I just lay down inside my curtains, and the feeling I had as I unrolled scroll after scroll234 was such that I would not have cared even if I had had a chance to become empress. I read all day long and as long as I could stay awake at night with the lamp pulled close to me. I found it quite amazing that passages I knew by heart would come floating unbidden into my head (since I did nothing but read, I suppose it was only natural). Then in a dream, I saw a pure-looking monk wearing a surplice of yellow cloth who said to me, “Quickly, memorize the fifth chapter of the Lotus Sutra.” But I told no one, nor did I feel particularly inclined to memorize the Lotus Sutra. I was just infatuated with tales. I was rather ugly in those days, you know, but I was sure that when I grew up I would be extremely beautiful and my hair, too, would be splendidly long; I would just be like the Shining Genji’s Yūgao or the Uji Captain’s Ukifune
—now it seems to me that my thoughts were frightfully frivolous.

  Around the first of the Fifth Month, gazing at the scattered and ever so white petals of the nearby orange blossom tree, I composed this:

  toki narazu

  Gazing at this,

  furu yuki ka to zo

  I might think that snow had fallen

  nagamemashi

  out of season,

  hanatachibana no

  if it were not for the fragrance

  kaorazariseba

  of this orange blossom tree.

  Since our place was as thick with trees as the dark woods on the flanks of the Ashigara Mountains, the crimson leaves of the Tenth Month were even more beautiful than those of the hills on all sides. When they were just like lengths of brocade spread over the forest, some visitors came who said, “There was a place on the way here that was simply beautiful with crimson leaves!” On the spot, it came to me,

  izuko ni mo

  It is not likely

  otaraji mono o

  inferior to anywhere else

  waga yado no

  this lodging of ours,

  yo o akihatsuru

  yet you only speak of autumn scenery

  keshiki bakari wa

  that wearies us of the world.235

  I thought about tales all day long, and even at night as long as I could stay awake, this was all I had on my mind. Then, I had a dream in which a person said, “For the sake of Her Highness of the First Rank,236 I constructed a small stream in the Hexagonal Hall.”237 When I asked, “Why is this so?” the response was, “Worship Amaterasu, Great Heaven Shining God.”238 Such was my dream, but I did not tell anyone and let it go without a thought; what a hopeless case I was.