Category: History

Kurumazaki Shrine

During our recent trip to Japan, we visited the city of Kyoto. I talked about this here, but I also wanted to share another site in Kyoto that relates to one of the poets of the Hyakunin Isshu : Kuramazaki Shrine. You can find their official website here, but there is no English and the site is a bit hard to navigate. The shrine itself has a very interesting layout:

The photo above is the main promenade leading to the inner sanctum (toward the back). Apparently, it’s tradition in Japanese culture to walk along the edge of the walkway, not right in the middle, so bear that in mind when visiting a shrine like this.

This Shinto shrine is notable for its many visits by celebrities who leave autographed red plaques.

Shinto shrines often serve particular need in society: love, business success, health, etc. In the case of Kurumazaki Shrine, the focus is on show-business, acting, theater, etc.

Why does this matter?

It turns out that Sei Shonagon, author of the Pillow Book and poem 62 (よを) in the Hyakunin Isshu is enshrined here. Not only that, but you can purchase a special omamori charm with her image on it. I learned about this place on social media after seeing the actress First Summer Uika, who played Sei Shonagon in the historical drama, visit the shrine.

Because this site contains many sub-shrines and side passages, it took a bit of effort to find Sei Shonagon’s shrine. It is halfway down the promenade, on the left, and looks like so:

I paid my respects to this esteemed author, and the family and I continued to explore. I found First Summer Uika’s plaque near the inner sanctum:

Incidentally, my wife is a fan of the JPop group Snow Man, and you can see one of their markers just to the left. We both got something out of this trip. 😛

As I alluded to earlier, the shrine complex is deceptively long, with many nooks and hidden shrines and side paths. The site map gives some sense of this. For reference, the Sei Shonagon shrine is number 20 on the map, and you can see there are many other sites here too. I didn’t photograph every shrine here, and most are probably obscure to readers (and obscure to myself). The common theme was both fortune, and also show business. They were some pretty neat shrines though, such as this one showing various theater masks:

At last we came to the gift shop, and I got a Sei Shonagon charm (omamori):

Later, when I got back home and realized that the charm was intended for ladies,1 I was rather embarrassed, yet I didn’t want it to go to waste, so I gave it to my daughter whose preparing for college this year. It seemed fitting, and I am happy to report that she got a good score in her SAT exam the following month, so perhaps the charm worked?

Anyhow, Kurumazaki Shrine is not something tourists usually visit because it’s a little removed from the nearby touristy area of Arashiyama, and like many Shinto shrines, it’s very Japan-centric, but it’s a cool slice-of-life of Japanese popular culture, both past and present.

As for me, I was happy to pay my respects to such a wonderful poet and author directly, someone’s whose creativity and work indirectly helped make this blog what it is today.

P.S. Later that day, I stumbled upon the place where the Hyakunin Isshu was compiled, so I managed to visit two sites in one day. Not too shabby.

1 It’s clearly written on the signs, I just failed to pay attention. I was maybe a bit star-struck perhaps. 😅

Ancient Japanese Dad Joke: Manyoshu Poem Number 27

The poem from the Manyoshu feels like an ancient Japanese dad-joke. Read it out loud and you’ll see what I mean:

ManyoganaModern JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
淑人乃よき人のYoki hito noMen of old
良跡吉見而よしとよく見てYoshito yoku mitecame to Yoshino
好常言師よしと言ひしYoshito ii shiand declared it a good place,
芳野吉見与吉野よく見よYoshino yoku miyoSo, good sons, go
良人四来三よき人よく見Yoki hito yoku miand take in the view!

The author of the poem is Emperor Tenmu whom we saw here and here. He is the younger brother of Emperor Tenji of Hyakunin Isshu fame (poem 1, あきの), and husband/uncle to Empress Jito (poem 2, はるす).

Yo, yo, yo, this poem has lots of “yo” words.

The poem was, evidentially, a suggestion by Emperor Tenmu to his sons to visit the beautiful village of Yoshino, near the old capital of Nara, famed for its otherworldly beauty in Spring. The featured image shows Yoshino and its famous cherry trees.

It was also an attempt to foster good relations between Tenmu and his sons through a combination of humor and providing some fatherly advice. Given how complicated family relations were at the time (see links above), and since Tenmu had defeated his own nephew in combat to assume the throne, he had reason to worry.

Sadly, it didn’t work.

After Tenmu’s passing, one son, Prince Ōtsu (ōtsu no miko, 大津皇子), started a rebellion and was later given the death penalty at the age of 24. Wikipedia implies that the rebellion may be a false charge though brought by Empress Jito so that her own son could ascend the throne. My book on the Manyoshu delves into this at length and comes to the same conclusion.

Still, you can’t blame Emperor Tenmu for trying to heal family divisions, yo.

Final Parting

I’ve written before about Empress Teishi, the ill-fated first wife of Emperor Ichijō, and patron of Sei Shonagon who wrote poem 62 of the Hyakunin Isshu (よを). Her family lost a power-struggle to a rival faction of the Fujiwara clan, and under pressure Ichijō took a second wife from the winning faction: Empress Shoshi. Teishi was sidelined, and although she did give birth to an heir, she soon died from illness and presumably humiliation and stress.

While watching the historical drama about Lady Murasaki, it showed Teishi’s untimely death, and revealed that she had left a final deathbed poem to her beloved husband. The poem really exists and is actually recorded in an imperial anthology, the lesser-known Goshūishū (後拾遺), number 536:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
夜もすがらYo mo suguraIf you should remember
契りしことをChigirishi koto wothat vow we made
忘れずはWasurezu wain the deep of night,
恋ひむ涙のKoimu namida nothen I long to see
色ぞゆかしきIro zo yukashikithe color of your tears…

In the drama, Emperor Ichijo and Teishi are portrayed as being sincerely in love, yet ultimately they are a victim of politics and forced apart more and more over time. The vow alluded to here was portrayed in the drama as a promise by Emperor Ichijo to always love Teishi no matter what.

Rokuharamitsu-ji Temple in Kyoto, where Teishi was laid to rest. Photo by 663highland, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Later, Teishi was buried (not cremated in typical Buddhist fashion) at a temple called Roku-haramitsu-ji, near an area of Kyoto called Toribeno no Misasagi (鳥戸野陵). Legend says that on the night of her funeral it snowed. Emperor Ichijo, who was unable to attend, was said to have stayed up all night mourning for her at the palace. Later he composed a poem for her, preserved in the Eiga Monogatari, which is as follows:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation
野辺までにNobe made niMy heart yearns
心ばかりはKokoro bakari wafor you all the way
通へえどもKayoe domoin Toribeno,
わが行幸みゆきともWaga miyuki tomoand yet I worry if
知らずやあるらんShirazuya aruranyou are aware of my coming.

Later, Sei Shonagon who retired from the Court, was said to have taken up residence near Toribeno no Misasagi, particularly near a temple named Sennyu-ji. You can see some photos of these places in the video posted here. It was looking back in her later years that Sei Shonagon wrote the Pillow Book as a subtle memorial to her beloved patron, looking back fondly on happier days together.

Sources used:

Places mentioned:

Lady Murasaki and Marital Strife

Lady Murasaki, one of the most famous women of Heian-period Japan, and the first novelist in Japan, wrote many wonderful romantic scenes through the Tales of Genji, yet her real life marriage was anything but.

The latest episode historical drama on NHK about the life and times of Lady Murasaki (poem 57, め) covers her marriage to her second-cousin Fujiwara no Nobutaka (藤原宣孝, ? – 1001), who was around 20 years her senior. Yes, this was not that unusual for the time, but still gross.

Sadly, the marriage quickly turned sour. Nobutaka slept around a lot, and had other hidden wives and children. Lady Murasaki did not take this lying down and the two of them fought frequently. Nobutaka for his part, enjoyed bragging about his trophy wife.

In the poems preserved in Lady Murasaki’s own private collection is this poem addressed to her husband:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation1
言ひ絶えばIi taebaIf you saw you’re going to
さこそは絶えめSa koso wa taemestop writing me, then fine!
なにかそのNanika sonoYou can’t even
みはわらの池をMiwara no ike wostand by the bank
つつみしもせむんTsutsumi shimo senof Miwara pond properly.
1 Apologies for any mistakes, or for the roughness of this translation

The backstory of this poem is that Nobutaka had taken one of Lady’s Murasaki’s private letters addressed to him, and shown off that letter to friends (apparently bragging about how smart his young bride was). She was justifiably angry and told him to knock it off. Nobutaka was angry with her and threatened to stop writing. Her reply above, was a clever way of saying “fine, don’t bother writing me”. The allusion to Miwara pond was a pair of puns:

  • Miwana pond (mihara) is also a pun for anger.
  • The word tsutsumi is also pun for a bank (as in riverbank), and self-restraint.

Contrary to Lady Murasaki’s reply, Nobutaka was so impressed by the reply that he ended up bragging about it to his friends anyway. 🤦🏼‍♂️

Another letter is as follows:

JapaneseRomanizationRough Translation2
忘るるはWasururu waForgetting others is
うき世のつねとUki yo no tsune toa part of this ephemeral world,
思ふにもOmou ni moEven so,
身をやるかたのMi wo yarukata nobeing forgotten myself,
なきぞわびぬるNaki zo wabinuruI cannot help but cry.
2 Apologies for any mistakes, or for the roughness of this translation

The married nobility of the Heian Period frequently lived in separate estates, and the husband would visit his wife as needed, but not the other way around. It seems by this point, Lady Murasaki was forgotten by her philandering husband, and lamented her unhappy marriage. One can’t help but recall the Gossamer Years generations earlier.

It is sad that such a talented woman was relegated to an unhappy marriage with a faithless, not to mention narcissistic husband, especially in a society where women had little recourse. I also wonder how much this motivated her to write her novel, The Tales of Genji, as a coping mechanism.

P.S. Sources used in this post include:

P.P.S. For folks who are visiting Kyoto, there are many excellent locations associated with the life of Lady Murasaki and the Tales of Genji. The featured photo above is the “Genji Garden”, part of the Buddhist temple of Rozan-ji, courtesy of PlusMinus, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons. This blog includes an excellent photo-tour of Rozan-ji.

Love Triange, Part Two: Manyoshu Book One, Poem 21

A while back I wrote about a famous poem in the Manyoshu anthology by Princess Nukata addressed to her ex-husband Prince Oama (later Emperor Tenmu). It seems that the story of this forbidden encounter in a field of grass did not end there, because Prince Oama replied back…

ManyoganaJapaneseRomanizationRough Translation1
紫草能 紫草のMurasaki noHow could I possibly
尓保敝類妹乎にほへる妹をNioeru imo obe bitter to one so lovely
尓苦久有者憎くあらばNiku arabaas gromwell grass,
人嬬故尓人妻ゆゑにHitozuma yue niwhen even as someone’s wife
吾戀目八方我恋ひめやもAre koi me ya moI harbor feelings for you?
1 Apologies for any mistakes in this translation. This poem was particularly difficult for me.
Flowers from a Lithospermum erythrorhizon (murasaki) plant. Photo by titanium22 on Flickr, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Before we discuss the poet and the context, I wanted to briefly explain the plant described: murasaki (紫草). I had some trouble finding information on this plant, but it seems to be the species Lithospermum erythrorhizon which in English has a variety of names: purple gromwell, red stoneroot, red gromwell, etc.

Princess Nukata was Prince Oama’s ex-wife, but had remarried his older brother, Emperor Tenji (poem 1 in the Hyakunin Isshu), while the emperor had compelled Prince Oama to marry his own niece (Tenji’s daughter) Princess Unononosasara to strengthen the family line. Relations in the family were complicated. Later after Emperor Tenji died, Prince Oama went to war against Tenji’s son, and overthrew him to become Emperor Tenmu. Game of Thrones, Japanese ediiton.

Yet what makes this exchange of poems surprising is that both Princess Nukata’s poem, and Prince Oama’s were recited not in secret, but at a big public banquet in front of Emperor Tenji.

So, what’s going on here? Are they professing their love in defiance of the Emperor?

Well … no. My book on the Manyoshu strongly suggests that given the circumstances these poems were likely recited in jest. Maybe they did still have lingering feelings for one another, but the poems were not meant to reflect real life; they were meant to paint a beautiful, but surreal scene. The imagery is fantastic, and a testament to their poetic skills, but the scene described likely did not happen. This is not unusual with the poetry we’ve seen thus far on the blog: many poems paint idealistic scenes that might be based on real life, but didn’t necessarily happen.

Then again…. what if they recited their poems in jest in order to hide true feelings after all?

One can’t help but wonder…. 🤔

Feeling Young, Kokinshu Poem 52

While re-reading the Pillow Book lately, one of the people in Sei Shonagon’s anecdotes recites a poem from an Imperial anthology: the Kokin Wakashu (Kokinshu for short).1 When I looked up the poem, it really struck me when I read it. Since I have an English translation of the Kokin Wakashu, and since many of the poems from the Hyakunin Isshu were originally published in the Kokin Wakashu, I figured it would be fun to post other poems from the same anthology.

This poem, poem number 52 of the Kokin Wakashu, reads as follows:

JapaneseRomanizationTranslation
年ふればToshi furebaAs the years stream by
よはわひいはわ老いぬYowai wa oinumy own life passes from me
しかはあれどShika wa aredostill I am renewed
花をおし見ればHana oshi mirebawhen I but see the blossoms
物思もなしMono omoi mo nashimy heart’s sorrows disappear
Translation by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius

The headline of this poem reads “seeing cherry blossoms in a vase before the Somedono Consort [Empress]“.2

The author of the poem, Fujiwara no Yoshifusa (藤原良房, 804 – 872), was the first member of the Fujiwara clan to assume the post of Regent to the emperor. This was at a time when the Fujiwara were a rising star in the Imperial court, had married into the Imperial family, and Yoshifusa was the grandfather of the young Emperor Seiwa. So, he had much to celebrate. However, even the powerful grow old and die, and Yoshifusa was no exception.

What I really like about this poem is that in spite of his own fears of growing old, he still can enjoy life here and now and feel young again.

I am at the age where I can definitely start to feel my age, and the years ahead of me are likely fewer than the years behind me, and yet I am rarely bothered by it. I often find moments of joy in life, playing with my kids, enjoying nerdy fandom, and savoring poetry like this, so I know how Yoshifusa feels.

1 Nowadays, people quote movies, TV shows and such. I can quote more gags from The Simpsons than I care to admit. Back then, people quoted poetry from earlier generations.

2 Many poems in the Kokin Wakashu included a headline to explain the scene of the poem, or provide some background. These were not carried over when the poems were collected in the Hyakunin Isshu since they were already well-known poems, or possibly just for the sake of brevity.

The Pillow Book

Since I spent so much time gushing over First Summer Uika and her portrayal of Sei Shonagon in the Japanese drama Hikaru Kimi É (“Addressed To You, My Radiant One”), this seemed like a good time to talk about the Pillow Book, or Makura no Sōshi (枕草子).

Despite the name “Pillow Book”, the book has no erotic content. Instead, it is a collection of witty musings about life in the Heian Period aristocracy, early 11th century. The image is of a person lying on their pillow, composing thoughts in a diary.

The author, Sei Shonagan (poem 62), was one of the pre-eminent writers of her generation, in a field of many excellent talented women.

I had read the book many years ago, and I felt it was a bit dry at times since it has no narrative. But back then, I also had a much more limited understanding of Heian Period culture, and many of the things mentioned in the Pillow Book are also alluded to in the Hyakunin Isshu, as well as the Diary of Lady Murasaki. So, even if the format is different, all three collections draw from the same “cultural well”.

I thought I had lost my copy of the Pillow Book (the Penguin Classics version, translated by Dr Meredith McKinney) a long time ago, but was amazed to discover that it was just buried behind other books. So, I dusted off the book and have been reading through it again.

Sei Shonagon is a keen observer of life in the Heian Period, and makes lists for all kinds of obscure things:

[23] Occasions that induce half-heartedness — The religious services on days of Buddhist fasting. Preparations for something still far in the future. Long periods of seclusion at a temple.

trans. by Dr Meredith McKinney

or:

[65] Poetic anthologies — The Manyōshū. The Kokinshū.

[66] Topics of poetry — The capital. The kudzu vine. The water burr. Horses. Hail.

trans. by Dr Meredith McKinney

Or she adds things to lists that were probably drawn from personal experience:

[132] Occasions when time drags by — An abstinence that you must observe away from home. A game of sugoroku when you can’t manage to get your pieces off the board. The house of someone who’s failed to get a promotion in the Appointments List. And of course the worst of all is simply a day of heavy rain.

trans. by Dr Meredith McKinney

It’s also clear that Sei Shonagon had a pretty haughty attitude, especially when compared to Lady Murasaki’s (poem 57) withdrawn, melancholy tone or Lady Izumi’s (poem 56) whimsical passion. As they say in modern Japanese: seikaku ga deru (性格が出る, “people’s personalities come out”). In one anecdote, section 94, she grumbles about encountering “worthless peasants”. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the only one among the nobility at the time who held such views, but it is nonetheless painful to read.

One thing I do particularly enjoy about the Pillow Book though are the anecdotes. While many of the entries are just lists and her opinions, she often reminisces about funny, sad or strange occurrences she witnessed during her 10-year tenure serving the ill-fated Empress Teishi. Some of these anecdotes and observations are quite long, while others are brief. Some happened long ago, and Sei Shonagon’s memory is a bit fuzzy, others are more recent.

For example in one anecdote, number 79, she talks about how her relationship with one Officer of the Left Gate Watch named Norimitsu had soured after an incident where he covered for her. She had gone somewhere and only Norimitsu knew her whereabouts, but the Captain Consultant demanded to know where she had gone and Norimitsu tried to keep his mouth shut. Later when Norimitsu complained, she sent a piece of dried seaweed in reply, and Norimitsu got annoyed. She criticized his lack of sense, and he was frustrated at her for putting him in such a difficult position. Later she muses that they grew more and more distant after that incident until “later, Norimitsu was promoted to Deputy Governor of Tōtōmi Province, and the relationship ended in hostility.”

Sei Shonagon discusses many people of the Court, including other ladies in waiting, but does not mention Lady Murasaki and other famous women of the Hyakunin Isshu. Such women served under the second empress, Shoshi, and thus came a bit later anyway. By the time Emperor Ichijo married a second time, Teishi’s status had greatly declined and her retinue (including Sei Shonagon) were on their way out the door. Teishi herself soon died in childbirth.

The Pillow Book is a really nice “slice of life” look at the court culture of the time: sometimes amusing, sometimes exquisite, and sometimes depressing. Her wit really shows through the ages and even today kids in Japan (and people outside Japan) still read her book.

P.S. Featured photo is a drawing of Sei Shonagon from a 13th-century illustrated copy of the Pillow Book. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Teika’s Handwriting!

In other recent, exciting news, I found this article on the Asahi Shimbun newspaper: the discovery of some of Fujiwara no Teika’s personal notes. This is called the kenchū mikkan (顕注密勘).

Long before Fujiwara no Teika (poem 97) compiled the Hyakunin Isshu, he served as a minister under Emperor Gotoba (poem 99). Among his duties, Teika was commissioned in 1201 to compile a new Imperial poetry anthology, which later became the Shin Kokin Wakashu (新古今和歌集).

Here you can see some of his notes and thought process as he’s compiling the poems together. It’s a fascinating discovery.

You can click here to see more detailed photos of his notes. They are read from right to left, vertically not horizontally.

You can also see another example of his handwriting here, courtesy of Wikipedia, from diary:

Teika himself had a pretty rocky career and after his liege lord was exiled, Teika spent the rest of his days living as a Buddhist monk. Nonetheless, his legacy lives on.

Names in the Hyakunin Isshu

Hello readers,

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, and gotten to know some of the authors of the Hyakunin Isshu, then you may have noticed some patterns with the names of the authors. The authors are rarely listed by their birth name, and instead are listed under a sobriquet, or just their official title in the Imperial Court.

Why was this done?

My book, the Hyakunin Isshu Daijiten, explains that this was because in this period of Japanese history, names were thought to be tied to one’s life. People at this time, both the Nara (8th c.) and increasingly in the Heian (9th – 12th c) periods, were often worried about curses, evil spirits, and such, and went to elaborate lengths to avoid spiritual calamities (see background for poem 24 for example). So, to avoid risk of one’s name (and thus one’s life) being subject to evil magic, people often hesitated to share their personal names with others.

It’s unclear how commoners in the Nara/Heian Period named themselves; there is just not enough information, but for the nobility who all belong to the hierarchical Imperial Court, certain naming conventions developed.

Men

Men with important titles, or positions in the court often used their titles as their sobriquet. Lower-ranking men in the Hyakunin Isshu did not have this privilege.

  • Titles for members of the Imperial Family – Emperor Tenji, (poem 1), Retired Emperor Go-toba (poem 99), and Prince Motoyoshi (poem 20).
  • Positions in the Imperial Court – Sanjō Minister of the Right (poem 25), Major Counselor Fujiwara no Kintō (poem 55), and Master of the Grand Empress’s Palace (poem 83)
  • Clerical names – Dharma Master Jakuren (poem 87) and Former Major Archbishop Gyōson (poem 66)
  • Poetic names – Sarumaru Dayū (poem 5)

Women

Due to the Confucian, paternalistic culture of the Japan in antiquity, women were not given titles wihtin the Imperial Court (though they did earn rank just as men did), and seldom used their real name. Instead, they used a different naming convention.

  • Male relatives or spouses – Lady Ise (poem 19), whose husband served as governor of Ise Province, Lady Izumi (poem 56) whose tenure as governor of Izumi Province, “The Mother of Michitsuna, Major Captain of the Right” (poem 53), Taiyu of the Household of Princess Ryōshi (poem 90), and Ukon (poem 38) named after her father’s position as Captain of the Guards.
  • Poetic sobriquets – Lady Murasaki (poem 57) named after a character from her own novel the Tales of Genji, Akazome Emon (poem 58).

Because women were more often kept out of sight than men in the Imperial Court, biographical information about women authors of the Hyakunin Isshu is often much thinner than the men (except lower-ranking men). This makes learning about women like Lady Murasaki or Lady Izumi difficult.

In any case, the idea that names are tied to one’s lifespan is a fascinating cultural belief, and it’s likely you would find this in other pre-modern cultures as well.

Interview with Karuta Peru Club: History of the Hyakunin Isshu

Hello readers,

Recently I mentioned an upcoming interview with the Karuta Peru Club via Steph, a fellow karuta player.

I am happy to report that we finished our interview and it is available on YouTube!

Also available on Spotify in podcast form:

In this episode, Steph and I mostly discuss the history of the blog, but then talk about some of my favorite historical figures in the Hyakunin Isshu, such as Sugawara no Michigan’s (poem 24) and Lady Izumi (poem 56), among other things. It was a fun conversation and Steph was a terrific host.

I do sometimes use the word “um” a lot, especially when I am a bit nervous (this was my first interview), but I hope viewers and listeners learn something new, and enjoy the conversation too!

In the next episode, we plan to focus more on our experiences playing kyōgi Karuta (competitive karuta). Stay tuned!

Big thanks to Steph for making all this happen. 🎉

P.S. books cited in the interview (non-Amazon links below):