Traditional Japanese Literature

by Haruo Shirane

  One finds that a hair has got caught in the stone on which one is rubbing one’s inkstick, or again that gravel is lodged in the inkstick, making a nasty, grating sound.

  Someone has suddenly fallen ill, and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcising too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!

  A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knows everything.

  An elderly person warms the palms of his hands over a brazier and stretches out the wrinkles. No young man would dream of behaving in such a fashion; old people can really be quite shameless. I have seen some dreary old creatures actually resting their feet on the brazier and rubbing them against the edge while they speak. These are the kinds of people who, when visiting someone’s house, first use their fans to wipe away the dust from the mat and, when they finally sit on it, cannot stay still but are forever spreading out the front of their hunting costume144 or even tucking it up under their knees. One might suppose that such behavior was restricted to people of humble station, but I have observed it in quite well-bred people, including a senior secretary of the fifth rank in the Ministry of Ceremonial and a former governor of Suruga.

  I hate the sight of men in their cups who shout, poke their fingers in their mouths, stroke their beards, and pass on the wine to their neighbors with great cries of “Have some more! Drink up!” They tremble, shake their heads, twist their faces, and gesticulate like children who are singing, “We’re off to see the governor.” I have seen really well-bred people behave like this and I find it most distasteful.

  To envy others and to complain about one’s own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone in the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning—oh, how hateful!

  One is just about to be told some interesting piece of news when a baby starts crying.

  A flight of crows circle about with loud caws.

  An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.

  One has been foolish enough to invite a man to spend the night in an unsuitable place—and then he starts snoring.

  A gentleman has visited one secretly. Although he is wearing a tall, lacquered hat,145 he nevertheless wants no one to see him. He is so flurried, in fact, that upon leaving he bangs into something with his hat. Most hateful! It is annoying too when he lifts up the Iyo blind146 that hangs at the entrance of the room, then lets it fall with a great rattle. If it is a head blind, things are still worse, for, being more solid, it makes a terrible noise when it is dropped. There is no excuse for such carelessness. Even a head blind does not make any noise if one lifts it up gently on entering and leaving the room; the same applies to sliding doors. If one’s movements are rough, even a paper door will bend and resonate when opened; but if one lifts the door a little while pushing it, there need be no sound.

  One has gone to bed and is about to doze off when a mosquito appears, announcing himself in a reedy voice. One can actually feel the wind made by his wings, and slight though it is, one finds it hateful in the extreme.

  A carriage passes with a nasty, creaking noise. Annoying to think that the passengers may not even be aware of this! If I am traveling in someone’s carriage and I hear it creaking, I dislike not only the noise but also the owner of the carriage.

  One is in the middle of a story when someone butts in and tries to show that he is the only clever person in the room. Such a person is hateful, and so, indeed, is anyone, child or adult, who tries to push himself forward.

  One is telling a story about old times when someone breaks in with a little detail that he happens to know, implying that one’s own version is inaccurate—disgusting behavior!

  Very hateful is a mouse that scurries all over the place.

  Some children have called at one’s house. One makes a great fuss of them and gives them toys to play with. The children become accustomed to this treatment and start to come regularly, forcing their way into one’s inner rooms and scattering one’s furnishings and possessions. Hateful!

  A certain gentleman whom one does not want to see visits one at home or in the palace, and one pretends to be asleep. But a maid comes to tell one and shakes one awake, with a look on her face that says, “What a sleepyhead!” Very hateful.

  A newcomer pushes ahead of the other members in a group; with a knowing look, this person starts laying down the law and forcing advice on everyone—most hateful.

  A man with whom one is having an affair keeps singing the praises of some woman he used to know. Even if it is a thing of the past, this can be very annoying. How much more so if he is still seeing the woman! (Yet sometimes I find that it is not as unpleasant as all that.)

  A person who recites a spell himself after sneezing.147 In fact I detest anyone who sneezes, except the master of the house.

  Fleas, too, are very hateful. When they dance about under someone’s clothes, they really seem to be lifting them up.

  The sound of dogs when they bark for a long time in chorus is ominous and hateful.

  I cannot stand people who leave without closing the panel behind them.

  How I detest the husbands of nursemaids! It is not so bad if the child in the maid’s charge is a girl, because then the man will keep his distance. But, if it is a boy, he will behave as though he were the father. Never letting the boy out of his sight, he insists on managing everything. He regards the other attendants in the house as less than human, and if anyone tries to scold the child, he slanders him to the master. Despite this disgraceful behavior, no one dare accuse the husband; so he strides about the house with a proud, self-important look, giving all the orders.

  I hate people whose letters show that they lack respect for worldly civilities, whether by discourtesy in the phrasing or extreme politeness to someone who does not deserve it. This sort of thing is, of course, most odious if the letter is for oneself, but it is bad enough even if it is addressed to someone else.

  As a matter of fact, most people are too casual, not only in their letters, but in their direct conversation. Sometimes I am quite disgusted at noting how little decorum people observe when talking to each other. It is particularly unpleasant to hear some foolish man or woman omit the proper marks of respect when addressing a person of quality; and when servants fail to use honorific forms of speech in referring to their masters, it is very bad indeed. No less odious, however, are those masters who, in addressing their servants, use such phrases as “When you were good enough to do such-and-such” or “As you so kindly remarked.” No doubt there are some masters who, in describing their own actions to a servant, say, “I presumed to do so-and-so”!

  Sometimes a person who is utterly devoid of charm will try to create a good impression by using very elegant language, yet he succeeds only in being ridiculous. No doubt he believes this refined language to be just what the occasion demands, but when it goes so far that everyone bursts out laughing, surely something must be wrong.

  It is most improper to address high-ranking courtiers, imperial advisers, and the like simply by using their names without any titles or marks of respect; but such mistakes are fortunately rare.

  If one refers to the maid who is in attendance on some lady-in-waiting as “Madam” or “that lady,” she will be surprised, delighted, and lavish in her praise.

  When speaking to young noblemen and courtiers of high rank, one should always (unless their majesties are present) refer to them by their official posts. Incidentally, I have been very shocked to hear important peopl
e use the word “I” while conversing in their majesties’ presence.148 Such a breach of etiquette is really distressing, and I fail to see why people cannot avoid it.

  A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him but who speaks in an affected tone and poses as being elegant.

  An inkstone with such a hard, smooth surface that the stick glides over it without leaving any deposit of ink.

  Ladies-in-waiting who want to know everything that is going on.

  Sometimes one greatly dislikes a person for no particular reason—and then that person goes and does something hateful.

  A gentleman who travels alone in his carriage to see a procession or some other spectacle. What sort of a man is he? Even though he may not be a person of the greatest quality, surely he should have taken along a few of the many young men who are anxious to see the sights. But no, there he sits by himself (one can see his silhouette through the blinds), with a proud look on his face, keeping all his impressions to himself.

  A lover who is leaving at dawn announces that he has to find his fan and his paper.149 “I know I put them somewhere last night,” he says. Since it is pitch dark, he gropes about the room, bumping into the furniture and muttering, “Strange! Where on earth can they be?” Finally he discovers the objects. He thrusts the paper into the breast of his robe with a great rustling sound; then he snaps open his fan and busily fans away with it. Only now is he ready to take his leave. What charmless behavior! “Hateful” is an understatement.

  Equally disagreeable is the man who, when leaving in the middle of the night, takes care to fasten the cord of his headdress. This is quite unnecessary; he could perfectly well put it gently on his head without tying the cord. And why must he spend time adjusting his cloak or hunting costume? Does he really think someone may see him at this time of night and criticize him for not being impeccably dressed?

  A good lover will behave as elegantly at dawn as at any other time. He drags himself out of bed with a look of dismay on his face. The lady urges him on: “Come, my friend, it’s getting light. You don’t want anyone to find you here.” He gives a deep sigh, as if to say that the night has not been nearly long enough and that it is agony to leave. Once up, he does not instantly pull on his trousers. Instead he comes close to the lady and whispers whatever was left unsaid during the night. Even when he is dressed, he still lingers, vaguely pretending to be fastening his sash.

  Presently he raises the lattice, and the two lovers stand together by the side door while he tells her how he dreads the coming day, which will keep them apart; then he slips away. The lady watches him go, and this moment of parting will remain among her most charming memories.

  Indeed, one’s attachment to a man depends largely on the elegance of his leave-taking. When he jumps out of bed, scurries about the room, tightly fastens his trouser sash, rolls up the sleeves of his court cloak, overrobe, or hunting costume, stuffs his belongings into the breast of his robe, and then briskly secures the outer sash—one really begins to hate him.

  Rare Things (47)

  A son-in-law who is praised by his father-in-law; a young bride who is loved by her mother-in-law.

  A silver tweezer that is good at plucking out the hair.

  A servant who does not speak badly about his master.

  A person who is in no way eccentric or imperfect, who is superior in both mind and body, and who remains flawless all his life.

  People who live together and still manage to behave with reserve toward each other. However much these people may try to hide their weaknesses, they usually fail.

  To avoid getting ink stains on the notebook into which one is copying stories, poems, or the like. If it is a very fine notebook, one takes the greatest care not to make a blot; yet somehow one never seems to succeed.

  When people, whether they be men or women or priests, have promised each other eternal friendship, it is rare for them to stay on good terms until the end.

  A servant who is pleasant to his master.

  One has given some silk to the fuller, and when he sends it back, it is so beautiful that one cries out in admiration.

  Embarrassing Things (63)

  While entertaining a visitor, one hears some servants chatting without any restraint in one of the back rooms. It is embarrassing to know that one’s visitor can overhear. But how to stop them?

  A man whom one loves gets drunk and keeps repeating himself.

  To have spoken about someone not knowing that he could overhear. This is embarrassing even if it is a servant or some other completely insignificant person.

  To hear one’s servants making merry. This is equally annoying if one is on a journey and staying in cramped quarters or at home and hears the servants in a neighboring room.

  Parents, convinced that their ugly child is adorable, pet him and repeat the things he has said, imitating his voice.

  An ignoramus who in the presence of some learned person puts on a knowing air and converses about men of old.

  A man recites his own poems (not especially good ones) and tells one about the praise they have received—most embarrassing.

  Lying awake at night, one says something to one’s companion, who simply goes on sleeping.

  In the presence of a skilled musician, someone plays a zither just for his own pleasure and without tuning it.

  A son-in-law who has long since stopped visiting his wife runs into his father-in-law in a public place.

  Things That Give a Hot Feeling (78)

  The hunting costume of the head of a guards escort.

  A patchwork surplice.

  The captain in attendance at the imperial games.

  An extremely fat person with a lot of hair.

  A zither bag.

  A holy teacher performing a rite of incantation at noon in the Sixth or Seventh Month. Or at the same time of the year a coppersmith working in his foundry.

  Things That Have Lost Their Power (80)

  A large boat that is high and dry in a creek at ebb tide.

  A woman who has taken off her false locks to comb the short hair that remains.

  A large tree that has been blown down in a gale and lies on its side with its roots in the air.

  The retreating figure of a sumo wrestler who has been defeated in a match.150

  A man of no importance reprimanding an attendant.

  An old man who removes his hat, uncovering his scanty topknot.

  A woman, who is angry with her husband about some trifling matter, leaves home and goes somewhere to hide. She is certain that he will rush about looking for her; but he does nothing of the kind and shows the most infuriating indifference. Since she cannot stay away forever, she swallows her pride and returns.

  Awkward Things (81)

  One has gone to a house and asked to see someone; but the wrong person appears, thinking that it is he who is wanted; this is especially awkward if one has brought a present.

  One has allowed oneself to speak badly about someone without really intending to do so; a young child who has overheard it all goes and repeats what one has said in front of the person in question.

  Someone sobs out a pathetic story. One is deeply moved; but it so happens that not a single tear comes to one’s eyes—most awkward. Although one makes one’s face look as if one is going to cry, it is no use: not a single tear will come. Yet there are times when, having heard something happy, one feels the tears streaming out.

  Adorable Things (99)

  The face of a child drawn on a melon.151

  A baby sparrow that comes hopping up when one imitates the squeak of a mouse; or again, when one has tied it with a thread round its leg and its parents bring insects or worms and pop them in its mouth—delightful!

  A baby of two or so is crawling rapidly along the ground. With his sharp eyes he catches sight of a tiny object and, picking it up with his pretty little fingers, takes it to show to a grown-up person.

  A child, whose hair has been cut like a nun’s,152 is examining something
; the hair falls over his eyes, but instead of brushing it away he holds his head to the side. The pretty white cords of his trouser skirt are tied round his shoulders, and this too is most adorable.

  A young palace page, who is still quite small, walks by in ceremonial costume.

  One picks up a pretty baby and holds him for a while in one’s arms; while one is fondling him, he clings to one’s neck and then falls asleep.

  The objects used during the Display of Dolls.

  One picks up a tiny lotus leaf that is floating on a pond and examines it. Not only lotus leaves, but little hollyhock flowers, and indeed all small things, are most adorable.

  An extremely plump baby, who is about a year old and has lovely white skin, comes crawling toward one, dressed in a long gauze robe of violet with the sleeves tucked up.

  A little boy of about eight who reads aloud from a book in his childish voice.

  Pretty, white chicks who are still not fully fledged and look as if their clothes are too short for them; cheeping loudly, they follow one on their long legs or walk close to the mother hen.

  Duck eggs.

  An urn containing the relics of some holy person.

  Wild pinks.

  Pleasing Things (148)

  Finding a large number of tales that one has not read before. Or acquiring the second volume of a tale whose first volume one has enjoyed. But often it is a disappointment.

  Someone has torn up a letter and thrown it away. Picking up the pieces, one finds that many of them can be fitted together.

  One has had an upsetting dream and wonders what it can mean. In great anxiety one consults a dream interpreter, who informs one that it has no special significance.