Emperor Go-Ichijō’s illness got progressively worse with each day, and from the 15th of the 4th month, he began to lose consciousness almost every day. Retired Empress Shōshi and Empress Ishi spent their days in tears. Since they had served him intimately, His Majesty’s wet-nurses were also at one with the empresses in tears.[1] Finally, during the evening of the 17th of the 4th Month, the emperor passed away.
In grief, the empresses both could not move away from the emperor’s side. With great difficulty, their brothers (Yorimichi, Norimichi, and others) told them that they could not stay like this, and proceeded to carry them, wrapped around in robes, down to their chambers. If only they could have quietly remained with the body for a little longer, Their Majesties thought miserably, having been denied their wish. Their wails penetrated through the walls and were heartbreaking. No one specifically told the princess of the first rank of her father’s death, but she seemed to know from the turmoil in the world. The young girl’s weeping was most affecting.
Before one knew, there was a promotions ceremony for the crown prince’s staff. The head, fifth-rank, and sixth-rank chamberlains were appointed. The transfer of the lion and the Korean dog, the diary cabinet, the sword, and a thousand other changes from the last reign seemed as though they were all happening in a dream.[2]
The wet nurses, Iyo governor Noritō, Sanetsuna, Norifusa, and Yoshimichi took care of the emperor’s corpse.[3] Their feelings as they served His Majesty can be readily imagined. The ceaseless lamentations of Kanefusa, the assistant to the empress’s household, were somewhat overblown, but affecting.[4] In the past, there were some difficulties of things not going the way they should when the emperor passed away while still reigning. However, there was nothing thorny about this change of reign. The regent remained the same, and why would the new Emperor Go-Suzaku behave in an inconsiderate manner? Still, the retired empress and Empress Ishi were essentially akin to the dead in their state of shock.
On the evening of the 21st, the former emperor’s body was transferred to the eastern wing of the Kyōgokudono.[5] There, recitation of the Buddha’s name was to occur, so at dawn, Empress Ishi and the princess of the first rank embarked for Takatsukasadono, where Lady Rinshi lived.
Since it would have been quite awkward to have a funeral for a reigning emperor, it was decided that His Majesty would be considered to have abdicated.[6] The lord was occupied with matters pertaining to the new emperor, so the palace minister and others accompanied the empress and the princess as they left the palace. When she, in her state of shock, saw the clear, dawn moon, Idewa no Ben uttered:
To leave without assurance of returning,
had you ever imagined—oh, the moon at dawn?[7]
めぐりあはん頼みなくて出づべしと思ひかけきや在明の月
Retired Empress Shōshi also made her way to the Kyōgokudono. Both the retired empress and the empress appeared as though they were not even living, weighed down by their sorrow. Lady Rinshi was waiting for them, and tried to console them with various words, but like the poem about the Obasuteyama, there was no way to ease their grief.[8] Their sorrow was not something that could be completely expressed in words. From the regent, the palace minister, and other lords, to those below, there was not a single person who was not in tears, longing for His Majesty’s presence. Yorimichi and the others were lost in memories, which now seemed like dreams, of when the former emperor, their father’s first ray of light, was born in this very mansion. They also reflected on his wonderful spirit, and his youth, which filled them with sad regret. As for the retired empress, feelings of longing, grief, and anguish swept over her as she wandered, absorbed in her memories, beginning with those of giving birth to the emperor and her father’s delight, to those until the present, all of which cannot ever be wholly recorded.
The empress had not been able to drink even a drop of a medicinal draught for several days, so her attendants worried and fretted over her, wondering what might happen again. As the day for the funeral approached,[9] Her Majesty said, “Even though I am grieving now, I am at least able to manage like this, while he is still here. When I hear that now is the final parting, I will surely know greater misery.” Senji no Kimi replied:
In the near future, even the empty shell of the body will,
without a trace, doubtless disappear.
いつかまた空しき骸のからだにものこりなくともならんとすらん
Idewa no Ben:
I will not know, until I see our lord turn into smoke—
despite not counting among the human, am I still living?
知らぬかな君が煙を見るまでに数ならぬ身もあらんものとは
Also:
Now—that evening when we hear of the final turning into smoke,
our grief will surely then be boundless.
今はとて煙とならん夕べこそ悲しきことのかぎりなからめ
When the attendant Izumo heard the sounds of the construction of the earthen-floored mourning chambers in which Princess Shōshi and others were to stay, she composed:
Soon three, then four, I had thought:
the building of an unexpected hall.[10]
いつしかも三つば四つばと思ひしを思ひもかけぬ殿造りかな
The response:[11]
In this unstable world like the Asukagawa, river of unknown tomorrows,
wouldn’t such bejeweled halls turn into “spirit-making” huts?[12]
なかなかに定めなき世は飛鳥河たまつくりなる宿とならじや
When the retired empress had held services at her hall in Hōjōji,[13] she had sent a branch of willow attached with artificial flowers to the emperor. Since the branch had been real, His Majesty had it planted in a pot at the Seiryōden. Upon hearing that shoots were growing out of the branch after his passing, Miya no Senji[14] recited:
At this joint, when we mourn, its buds spin forth anew:
the willow’s threads are poignant indeed.
うきふしと思ひながらも生ひ出でむ柳の糸もあはれなるかな
Izumo:
To think that the green willow of spring has sprung its shoots as a memento—
this thread of thought will long continue to sadden.[15]
形見にと思ひよるより青柳の芽のいとなくや悲しかるらん
Thus did they exchange such words in between their bursts of tears, as they mourned the former emperor.
Middle Counselor Akimoto’s grief for the former emperor must have been greater than most, for he became a monk.[16] How poignant, it was said throughout society. Having received a message from the retired empress, he wrote to her:
Renouncing the vulgar world and leaving its home, that heart
still yearns for the past.
世を捨てて宿を出でにし心にもなほ恋しきは昔なりけり
Jijū no Naishi:
Even for a moment, if what one yearns offers comfort,
can one turn one’s back to this world again?[17]
時の間も恋しきことの慰まば世はふたたびも背かれなまし
She must have composed the poem as the retired empress’s surrogate. On occasions when the retired empress had received letters from Emperor Go-Suzaku, she also had found herself at a loss for an answer, everything in front of her eyes turning completely dark.
On the night of the funeral for Emperor Go-Ichijō,[18] Idewa no Ben composed:
To utter his name—I could not in awe of this lord,
even now I pay my respects upwards above the clouds.
かけまくも思ひそめてし君なれば今も雲居を仰ぎてぞ見る
To Kanefusa, the assistant to the empress’s household, came a poem by Sagami, who attended to Novice Princess of the First Rank Shūshi.
With time the sorrow should ease,
but why does the rain of tears continue to fall?
ほどふれば慰む方もあるべきを絶えぬ涙の雨はいかにぞ
The night that the Kamo priestess left the Saiin was very affecting.[19] Some person uttered:
Not in the slightest did we think on this day last year—
that our stay at Kazurakiyama would end.[20]
かけてだに思はざりけん去年の今日葛城山に跡絶えんとは
Shijō Middle Counselor Sadayori:
In face of the sadness of this present world, up in the vast skies,
the clouds, too, did not restrain their tears.[21]
世の中のあはれなるには大空の雲も涙を惜しまざりけり
So he apparently said.
The wet-nurse of the former emperor, Naishi no Suke,[22] seemed to have left the palace for a brief errand, only to become a nun. Her child, an assistant in the bureau of the wardrobe, also became a nun.
Just another rainfall, people may think,
not knowing it is a rain of longing tears.[23]
おほかたのよその雨とや思ふらん恋ふる涙の降ると知らずや
In my urge not to be left behind, I turned my back upon the world,
though it was no use, as long as I remain living here.
おくれじと思ふ心に背けどもこの世にとまるほどぞかひなき
She could not help feeling so, in her bewildered state of grief.
Shōshō no Naishi:
To live in this world until this day, I did not seek,
but alas, I have been left behind even on the road of renunciation.
今までも世にありへむと思はぬを背く道にも後れぬるかな
Retired Empress Shōshi was having monks’ garments prepared, thinking of offering them to those in reclusion for the period of mourning. She had an attendant of the former retired emperor sew the garb. The attendant recited:
This morning when I looked at the robe, tears of lament through the night
had washed away the right sleeve.[24]
けさ見れば嘆き明かせる涙には右の袂ぞあらはれにける
On the night they changed into mourning, Hyōe no Naishi, an attendant of the retired empress, uttered:
Wearing this mourning robe as a keepsake, I find it wet with tears,
impossible to wring out, its sleeves so drenched.[25]
形見とて着れば涙の藤衣しぼりもあへず袖のみぞひづ
The day after the funeral, since it rained heavily:
As the rising smoke becomes indistinguishable from the clouds,
my unbearable grief, the sound of rain.[26]
のぼりにし煙は雲にまがひつつしのびもあへぬ雨の音かな
The following was by another attendant of the retired empress:
While we were grieving, the parting to faraway has come:
no way to stop it—how sad indeed.
恋ふるまにいや遠ざかる別れにはとどめん方もなきぞ悲しき
On a bright, moonlit night, Gosechi no Kimi:
With the clear, bright moon clouded by my tears,
those nights seen of old—how could I still feel the same?
さやかなる月も涙に雲りつつ昔見し夜の心地やはする
Hyōe no Naishi:
With Our Majesty no longer there above the clouds,
the moon, too, must be clouded by its tears.
雲の上に見しよの君がなければや月も涙に曇るなるらん
The long rains of the 5th month did not let up at all, and time passed without one knowing what was going on, just as one failed to notice the sweet flag stuck in our eaves.[27]
Though the Forty-Ninth Day services went by quickly, the feelings of Her Majesty and Her Eminence had no chance to brighten, and they spent their days without cheer. Since the Kamo priestess had resigned, she was living with the empress. She had turned eight this year. Her hair went down to about the back of her knees, and it was pitiful to see her in black. The princess of the first rank had turned eleven. Her hair was only slightly shorter than her height. Since the retired empress expressed a wish to see them, they went to Tsuchimikado to see her toward the end of the 8th month. The princesses had on layers of black robes over which they wore black outer jackets.
Especially for this occasion, the empress got up to see her daughters off for their visit. Their wet-nurses had assisted them in their attire, to the effect that looked particularly charming when they lined up together. These days, the empress’s visage had become gaunt, and her skin was so pale as to put snow to shame in its whiteness. Though not voluminous, her hair was more beautiful than the black of her mourning clothes, over which it collected lustrously. Her wane figure was strikingly beautiful, but it was heart-wrenching to see. She had screens set up slightly folded into the blinds of the hall. Seeing Her Majesty there in this unusual arrangement, her attendants felt pity for her, for indeed, that she would think, “Yes, go on, look at me in this wretched state,” was terribly sad.
That year was dreadfully hot, so her attendants nearby were all wearing just one single-layered robe. Here and there, wet-nurses and three other attendants had presented themselves for service. Mimasaka no Sanmi also came to serve in her new, affecting state as a nun. Similarly, the empress also had her mind set on taking the tonsure. How the emperor had planned all sorts of things for their two daughters, she reflected sadly. He had treasured the princess of the first rank, but the second princess, too, had come to become very attached to her father, only to be separated when she became the Kamo priestess. When she thought of how His Majesty had thus not been able to see the second princess again before his death, despite wishing to do so terribly, her heart ached with regret. Filled only with sad thoughts, she also reflected that she, too, would probably not be able to see these two princesses suitably settled. Pulled even deeper into gloom by her musings, her distaste for the vulgar world grew stronger. “You should stay with the retired empress,” she told the first princess, but she fretted about the former Kamo priestess.
The retired empress was waiting for the two princesses and welcomed them when they arrived. It was a moment that provoked a gush of tears. “How many there are, those tears,” this was true indeed.[28] For both the empress and the retired empress, this situation was hardly rare—they appeared as though Chinese ships had splashed waves upon on their sleeves.[29] It was difficult to judge one princess better than the other, for the Kamo priestess was also splendidly beautiful, her lovely hair long for her age. Her wearing of black mourning was painfully pitiful. Accompanying the first princess were Chūgū no Senji, Shōshō no Myōbu, Saemon no Naishi, and Koma no Naishi. As for the Kamo priestess, Chūnagon no Naishi no Suke, Jijū no Myōbu, and Idewa no Ben accompanied her. Her Majesty and Her Eminence were moved to hear that some of the retired emperor’s attendants were there among them, now serving the princesses. After merely three or four days, the former Kamo priestess returned to the Takatsukasadono.
From the summer of that year, the measles appeared, and many people suffered. When the disease spread on an earlier occasion, Empress Ishi was spared, but this time, since she was afflicted by this illness, she became a nun on the 3rd of the 9th Month. Though everyone thought it reasonable and had seen it coming, when they saw her in her new state, her wish becoming a reality, Lady Rinshi and the empress’s attendants were all filled with sorrow. With her impressive hair being shorn at the edges, she looked like an entirely different person, a sight which pained the heart.
Then on the 6th of the 9th month, Empress Ishi passed away. It was distressing beyond words. To see the princesses in their childish confusion, longing for their mother, was heartrending. Indescribable was how her distraught attendants cried with abandon. No matter how much she grieved for the former emperor, one could rarely follow one’s desire like this. Thus her death so soon after her taking the tonsure, as though to pursue her husband, was shocking indeed. The princess of the first rank should stay with the retired empress, she had instructed the regent. The princesses’ visit to Her Eminence was so recent, one recalled. At that time, she had, unusually, gotten up to see them off. In tears, day and night, she had not been paying any attention to her appearance, but her hair remained beautiful with not a single strand out of order. She had still possessed a dignified, striking figure.
There were many memories, which her female attendants traded with one another, lost in the agony of their grief. “Idewa no Ben will surely die from sorrow,” people said in pity as they watched her mourn. The attendants who took care of the offerings of food were Myōbu no Kimi, Saemon no Naishi, Jijū no Naishi and Idewa no Ben. Slightly pulling up the blinds of the hall, they placed the tray beside the empress’s body. These ladies were of higher status than those who had normally waited upon Her Majesty’s meals while she was alive. Since the master of her household, Tadanobu, had passed away, the provisional master, Yoshinobu, filled that role.[30] The lord did not withdraw himself in mourning, for he was occupied in supervising the lustration services before the Great Thanksgiving Service.[31] So it was only after some days had passed, when things had gotten calmer, that he felt the full sadness of the empress’s death. It was indeed true as they say, “Today when I am remembering, what can be done?”[32]
The retired empress also was feeling terrible anguish. “My longevity embarrasses me.[33] The empress seems to have been able to do as she wished.[34] Yet have I wished to stay in this world for even a day, after being left behind by so many of my loved ones?” she said. Emperor Go-Suzaku’s first prince, Chikahito, was now residing at the Kayanoin accompanied by his wet-nurses. The second prince, Takahito, whose mother was Princess Teishi of the first rank, was about three.[35] The first princess, Ryōshi 良子, was the Ise priestess, and it was said that the second princess, Kenshi 娟子, was going to become the Kamo priestess.[36]
So even the season conspired to envelop Takatsukasadono[37] in melancholy, for it was the end of autumn, when the winds blew harshly against the skin, reminding one of the poem, “even at the sight of the living.”[38] The grasses and flowers of the garden had finally all withered, the hum of crickets had gradually diminished, and a flock of crying geese flying across the broad sky alerted one to the waning season. Did Ise feel this way when she said, “fast falling into ruin,” when her lady, the Shichijō empress, passed away?[39] The way that the provisional assistant to the empress’s household, Kanefusa, stayed in his room, quietly reading a sutra with a blank, dazed expression was indeed pathetic. Idewa no Ben sent him a poem:
It is now before my eyes, the roughed up sea of Ise—
someone else’s shore, so I had thought.[40]
目の前にかく荒れ果つる伊勢の海をよその渚と思ひけるかな
Kanefusa responded:
Where that female diver of old lived: that sea of Ise,
that shore cannot be as sad as ours.[41]
古の海人の住みけん伊勢の海もかかる渚はあらじとぞ思ふ
Seeing the now extinguished fire huts of the palace guards, Higo no Myōbu recited:
The fire huts that have for long burned for our lady’s watch
now only burn painfully inside my chest.
君がため年経て見えし火焚屋の今はわが身の胸を焼くかな
Idewa no Ben:
Magnificently did they seem to adorn the palace, those fire huts,
but today their fire has instead burned our hearts.
いつくしき飾りと見えし火焚屋も今日は心を焦がすなりけり
Shōben no Myōbu of the Saiin:[42]
What shall I do—the fire the guards have kept burning has been extinguished, but this body of mine will long smolder.
いかにせん衛士の焚く火も消え果てて長き思ひに燃えぬべき身を
And,
Even the autumn leaves, at the mercy of fall’s bitter winds,
have not yet scattered, but we will doubtless be scattered.[43]
木枯の風にまかする紅葉だにまだ散らぬにや人は散りなん
On the 21st of the 10th month, the Princesses Shōshi and Keishi moved to the Jōtōmon’in. Empress Ishi’s attendants remained at Takatsukasadono, though, so Senji no Kimi, who had accompanied the princesses, exclaimed, “Let us visit Takatsukasadono one more time before they leave.” Idewa no Ben replied to this proposal:
In the old palace where our lady no longer resides flows a river of tears, through which there are no shallows to cross.
君まさぬ古き宮には涙河渡るばかりの瀬こそなからめ
In response:
As the rain of tears continues to fall through these many days,
the palace on the plains would indeed turn into an ocean.
かくばかり涙の雨の日を経ればげに宮城野も海となるらん
When the attendants were leaving the Takatsukasadono for the final time, it was raining. Tameyoshi, the assistant to the empress’s household, recited:
Rain of tears falls from the clouds rising like fog—
the sky, too, must be grieving without respite.
泣く涙雨雲霧りて降りにけり隙なく空も思ふなるべし
In response:
My sadness only increases: how the heavens, too,
longs for my lady, I see in this rainy vista.[44]
悲しさぞいとど数添ふ天地も君を恋ふると見ゆるけしきに
“From the Princess of the First Rank Shōshi,” it was said for a letter, on which Senji no Kimi had written, “Here is a special request from the princess”:
While the autumn leaves will scatter as they please,
remember the tree and the child at its base.[45]
紅葉葉の心ごころに散りぬともこのもとはなほ思ひ出でなん
In response:
Without that bond to the child at the base of the tree of autumn leaves,
how much sadder would it be to scatter apart?[46]
紅葉葉のこのもとをだに頼まずは散るにもいとど悲しからまし
Hearing that the princesses might soon depart for Tsuchimikado, Saiin no Shōben no Myōbu wrote:
What saddens me in addition to this sadness is
the parting that takes place amidst the other partings.
悲しきに添へてもものの悲しきは別れのうちの別れなりけり
Idewa no Ben:
Would I have experienced this road of so many partings
had I not been left behind by my lady?
あまたさへ別れの道を知らましや君におくれぬわが身なりせば
Seeing the figures of the lion and the Korean dog, which used to stand so boldly before the empress’s dais, put aside to an unfrequented side of a room, Idewa no Ben was moved to compose:
Before my eyes, I saw the ephemerality of the world
in the sad way the lion was disposed, the outcome of death.[47]
見るままに夢幻の世の中はししの果てこそ悲しかりけれ
Senji no Kimi:
Even though it need not protect our lady after her passing,
ought the lion have met this outcome of death?
さもこそは君がまもりのうせぬともかくやはししの果てもあるべき
There were many such poems through the time of the Gosechi and the Special Kamo Festival, but I have skipped them.
The world was hectic with the Lustration and the Great Thanksgiving Services.[48] The deceased empress’s female attendants, who were back at their respective homes, went to pay their respects at the Kitano Shrine, to try lessen their sorrow. For those serving the princesses, they remained at the empress’s quarters. Sadness filled their hears, and they continued to long for the past when Her Majesty was with them. Serving the princesses, they also saw how young they still were, and their tears had no chance to dry.
The acting consort[49] was Princess Genshi 嫄子, the daughter of former Minister of the Ceremonial Prince Atsuyasu. (She had been adopted by the Lord Yorimichi’s wife.) The Lustration Services were truly magnificent. The previous emperor had ruled for twenty-one years,[50] so the spectators marveled at the rare event, which had not been seen in quite a while. The acting consort rode in a string-decorated carriage along with the lord’s wife. Aside from this carriage, there were ten others, decorated with string, gold, or palm leaves, in which forty female attendants and eight girls rode in the usual manner. They had on robes of various colors, layered in twos, with a grape-colored, long robe on top, for a total of twelve or thirteen layers. The way the servants had ornamental pins in their hair was completely different than usual and quite interesting. Inside the imperial palanquin was seated the emperor, dignified, brilliant, and truly splendid. Yet the retired empress, Jōtōmon’in, was still even more wonderful, and one was reminded of the magnificence of the time when she had ridden in the same palanquin as Emperor Go-Ichijō for the Lustration Services upon his ascension.[51]
The pompoms on top of the banner poles[52] had a fearsome look, made as was customary from thick strips of paper rolled together. People in the procession carried these banners with impressive grace. Seeing them on horseback, the spectators raised their voices in excitement and delight—an interesting scene this was. Ten of the emperor’s attendants accompanied His Majesty on horseback, but one felt sorry for the woman who was exposed in a most distressing manner.[53] This time the lord also rode in a carriage, accompanying the acting consort’s carriage from behind.[54] The first prince was quite adorable in his court attire. Since he was still a small child, his wet-nurses seated him on the back of a carriage, from where he charmingly observed the ceremony.
Watching the mounds decorated with figures of the moon and sun[55] for the Great Thanksgiving Service was delightful, as was watching even lowly people, stylishly dressed in blue-patterned tunics with dangling red cords,[56] walking hurriedly and almost tripping on the long, uneven roads. Those with rank did not walk, and continued to be assisted long after the others. It was amusing to see how the fat Ōmi governor, Sanetsune, had to be pushed along as he tried to walk. (Of course, this was not a common thing.) This year’s Gosechi dancers all received an elevation to fifth rank. “The acting consort will surely enter the palace,” so did one hear. Palace Minister Norimichi and Master of the Crown Prince’s Household Yorimune had been thinking that this was their chance to introduce their daughters to the palace, but facing Yorimichi’s adopted daughter, they deferred their plans.
The year was drawing to an end. On New Year’s eve, the Provisional Major Counselor Nagaie visited Princess of the First Rank Shōshi. At this time, Senji no Kimi uttered:
Bitter indeed was this year of much regret, for even its passing pains me
in further parting me from my lady.
うきもののさすがに惜しき今年かな遥けさまさる君が別れに
The major counselor, in response:
My sorrow increases greatly with this parting
today from the year in which I parted from my lady.
悲しさはいとどぞまさる別れにし年にも今日は別ると思へば
Again by Nagaie, as he was idly practicing his hand:
What saddens me to hear that spring has come is
the change of this year to “last year.”[57]
春立つと聞くにもものの悲しきは今年の去年になればなりけり
In response, Idewa no Ben:
With the new year what does not change is
my longing for my lady—this is my memento of her.
あたらしき年に添へても変らねば恋ふる心ぞ形見なりける
Senji no Kimi was the wet-nurse to Princess Shōshi, and she was also the niece of Takahime, the lord’s wife.
The title “Kiruwa wabishi to nageku nyōbō,” is a variation on a poem of a grieving attendant of the deceased emperor. The poem is later featured in this chapter.
[1] The emperor’s wet-nurses are referred to as “those of the third rank.” As seen in Book 31, they were indeed mostly of the third rank, as in Daini no Sanmi and Mimasaka no Sanmi.
[2] The lion and the dog were statues placed before the throne on either side as markers of the emperor’s authority and to ward off evil influences. (They can often be found by shrine entrances as well.) The diary cabinet contained the diaries of emperors Daigo and Murakami and was to be by the emperor’s side for ready consultation. The sword was one of the three imperial regalia.
[3] The men were all sons or relatives of various wet-nurses of the deceased emperor. Noritō was the son of Daini no Sanmi. Sanetsuna’s father, Sanenari, was the son of Tachibana no Sanmi. Norifusa was the son of Fujiwara no Bishi. Yoshimichi was adopted by Kiyomichi, whose wife was Gō no Sanmi.
[4] Kanefusa’s mother might be Minamoto no Renshi 廉子, who served at the emperor’s bathing ceremony upon his birth. Kanefusa thus may have been treated like a child of a wet-nurse.
[5] The Kyōgokudono was another name for the Tsuchimikado.
[6] A funeral for a reigning emperor was more elaborate and required more formalities.
[7] Idewa no Ben addresses the moon to express the feelings of her mistresses as they leave the palace, in which they will never see Emperor Go-Ichijō. Another interpretation may take the moon to represent the emperor, who has left the palace with no hope of returning.
[8] The narrator refers to an anonymous Kokinshū poem (878): “Gazing at the moon / shining in Sarashina / on Obasute, / Hill of the Abandoned Aunt, / I searched in vain for heart’s ease” (Trans. McCullough, Kokin Wakashū, 192).
[9] The funeral was held on the 19th of the 5th Month (Sakeiki).
[10] Izumo was evidently expecting the construction of many halls upon Princess Shōshi’s marriage.
[11] Presumably by Idewa no Ben.
[12] The allusion to Asukagawa comes from poem 933 in the Kokinshū: “In this world of ours / what it is there of constancy? / Yesterday’s deep pool / in the River of Tomorrow [Asukagawa] / today becomes a rapid” (Trans. McCullough, 205). “Tamatsukuri yado” literally means a “spirit-making hut,” presumably a tamaya, but tama can also mean “jewel,” which relates to Izumo’s poem about the impressive halls she was expecting. The poet at once suggests that this impermanent, human world will always see death, but the pun on “spirit-making” suggests not only mortality, but the hope that the dead could be revived.
[13] It is not clear from the text what exactly Shōshi undertook at her northeast hall, dedicated in 1030. See Book 32.
[14] She is the same person as Senji no Kimi of the previous section.
[15] The diction of this poem is unified through words related to “thread”: yanagi (willow), yoru (to twine), ito (very or thread).
[16] Sakeiki dates Akimoto’s taking of the tonsure to the 21st of the 4th Month, Chōgen 9 (1036). Nihon kiryaku gives the 22nd as the date. As for his motivation, Imakagami and Zoku honchō ōjōden also point to his sorrow over Emperor Go-Ichijō’s death.
[17] In Imakagami, this exchange comes after Shōshi’s second taking of religious vows in 1039.
[18] According to Sakeiki, the funeral took place on the eastern edge of Kaguraoka on the 19th of the 5th Month.
[19] Princess Keishi resigned on the 17th of the 4th Month, Chōgen 9 (1036). The following poem was probably composed by an attendant, or her wet-nurse.
[20] Kazurakiyama is the site of a story, as told in Nihon ryōiki and Sanbōe kotoba, about En no Gyōja and Hitokoto Nushi no Kami, who had left before completing a bridge, demanded by the holy ascetic. In the Heian period, the story was a popular allusion for cases of tardiness, waiting, or as in this instance, leaving in the middle of something.
[21] According to Sakeiki, it was raining on the day Keishi left the Saiin.
[22] According to the preface to the second poem below as it is found in Gyokuyōshū, Naishi no Suke was Fujiwara no Hōshi 豊子, a daughter of Michitsuna, and also referred to as Mimasaka no Sanmi.
[23] Presumably this poem is by Naishi no Suke, like the second, the authorship of which is verified by its inclusion in Gyokuyōshū.
[24] Kesa is homophonous with “this morning” and a “monk’s robe.” Also, the kesa is worn draped over the left shoulder, hence the sleeve on the right had been washed away.
[25] The title of this chapter seems to be derived from this poem, although the “wabishi” part would then be an extrapolation.
[26] Presumably this poem is also by Hyōe no Naishi. The sound of rain evokes her falling tears.
[27] The narrator is ostensibly referring to the custom of sticking leaves of the sweet flag into the eaves for warding off evil influences on the 5th of the 5th month, the Tango no sekku. However, ayame can also mean “discretion” or “reason.”
[28] Though expressing a rather generic sentiment, the phrase, “Ikani ōkaru,” is quotation from a poem by Ise, “How many there are, those tears, for whom only the sadness ever increases” 悲しさぞまさりにまさる人の身にいかに多かる涙なるらん (Kokinrokujō and Ise shū).
[29] “Morokoshi no fune” alludes to a poem found in Ise monogatari and Shinkokinshū, “Unexpectedly the bay’s waves splash upon my sleeves, just as the Chinese ships came closer” 思ほえず袖に湊のさはぐかなもろこし舟のよりしばかりに.
[30] As related in the previous chapter, Tadanobu had died on the 23rd of the 3rd Month, Chōgen 8 (1035). Yoshinobu become the daibu on the 14th of the 10th Month that same year (Kugyō bunin).
[31] According to Fusō ryakki, the lustration services occurred on the 29th of the 10th Month, Chōgen 9 (1036).
[32] The referent is unclear, but it seems to be some allusion pointing to the difficulty for consolation when one has the chance to remember.
[33] Shōshi was born in 988, so she is close to fifty at this time.
[34] As the narrator comments, it was understood that Ishi, in longing for her dead husband, followed him to the netherworld.
[35] Prince Takahito was born in Chōgen 7 (1034), an event which is not documented in Eiga. His mother was Princess Teishi 禎子, the daughter of Emperor Sanjō and Kenshi. He would later reign as Emperor Go-Sanjō, credited with restraining the power of the Fujiwara, partly by virtue of his mother’s imperial status.
[36] In Book 31, the narrator mentions that the crown prince had two daughters by Princess Teishi. Princess Ryōshi was born in 1029, and Princess Kenshi in 1032. According to Nihon kiryaku, the divination naming these two to these posts occurred on the 28th day of the 11th Month, Chōgen 9 (1036). It is interesting to note that, in this instance, there is none of the dismay that greets Princess Keishi’s appointment as the Saiin in 1031 (Book 31). This neutral tone may stem from the fact that both princess were borne of the same mother.
[37] As the reader may recall, Empress Ishi had moved to Takatsukasadono upon the death of the emperor, and she died there.
[38] A quotation from a poem by Mibu no Tadamine, upon the death of Ki no Tomonori: “Why of all the seasons / did he take his leave of us / in these autumn days / when loneliness chills our hearts / even at the sight of the living?” (Trans. McCullough, Kokin wakashū, 183).
[39] The Shichijō Empress, Onshi, was the consort of Emperor Uda, and she died in 907. Ise’s poem, preserved in the Kokin wakashū, reads, “Within the palace / fast falling into ruin / its grounds no less wild / than storm waves on distant seas – / even we fishers / of Ise, long accustomed / to calling it home, / feel as when a boat is lost / desolate with grief, / not knowing which way to turn. / Our tears of misery, / red-hued, fall like year-end rain; / and when we all part, / scattering like autumn leaves, / we shall find ourselves / with no tree to shelter us…” (Trans. McCullough, Kokin wakashū, 226).
[40] The poem alludes to Ise’s Kokinshū poem, mentioned just previously by the narrator. Until the death of her mistress, she had only understood Ise’s words as describing someone else’s emotional turbulence.
[41] The female diver of old refers to Ise, who had represented herself through the imagery of the sea.
[42] She may be the daughter of Fujiwara no Yasutada. She served Emperor Go-Suzaku’s daughter, Princess Yūshi. The daughter of Yasutada’s poems appear in Goshūishū and uta awase of the Eikyū and Tengi eras (c. 1050).
[43] The poet speaks as one of the empress’s attendants. With their mistress gone, they will each go their separate ways.
[44] The poem is presumably by Idewa no Ben.
[45] As in Shōben no Myōbu’s poem above, this one, too, represents the attendants of the late empress as the autumn leaves, about to scatter on their separate ways. “The base of the tree” alludes not only to the place from which they part, that is Empress Ishi’s court, but also Princess Shōshi, since “ko” also can mean “child.”
[46] Again, the poem is presumably by Idewa no Ben.
[47] Presumably by Idewa no Ben, the poem plays with shishi, which is both “lion” and “death.”
[48] According to Norikuniki and Nihon kiryaku, the Lustration Service occurred on the 29th of the 10th Month, and the Daijōsai on the 17th of the 11th Month.
[49] The nyōgodai acted as the consort in the Lustration Services originally in cases when the emperor was not yet married. Later, this role became standardized so that even when the emperor had consorts, it was called the nyōgodai, and filled by one of his junior consorts, as was the case on this occasion (see FF 139 n. 22).
[50] Emperor Go-Ichijō had ruled from 1016 to 1036.
[51] Emperor Go-Ichijō ascended the throne in 1016. The scene is described in Book 12 (EM 2:85).
[52] The daikashira (literally, “big heads”) were big balls of linen (“paper”) or horse hair that trailed down like hair from a person’s head. They sat atop the banner staffs carried in the procession.
[53] According to Norikuniki, a moving cart startled one of the horses, which began to dash off, throwing off the attendant (10th Month, 29th day, Chōgen 9 [1036]).
[54] According to Gōdanshō, this was the first time the regent rode in carriage, whereas before, he had accompanied the acting consort on foot (Eiga monogatari zenchūshaku, 6:390).
[55] These mounds (yama) designated the places where the provincial officials stood. The officials were from the two districts (the east – yuki 悠紀, and the west – suki 主基) supplying the new rice for the services. Posts with figures of moons and suns decorated the mounds.
[56] The narrator here refers to aozuri 青摺 (“blue printing”) which was the method for dying white tunics with patterns of plants and birds. Two red cords dangled from the right shoulder. Aozuri no koromo is synonymous with omigoromo, which refers to their narrow cut (see FF 291–92, n. 142).
[57] Nagaie is again lamenting the passing of the year in which he parted from Ishi.