Preface

READERS of the Diaries of Court Ladies of Old Japan, translated by Madame Omori and Professor Doi, will remember that the second of the three diaries is that of a certain Murasaki Shikibu. The little that is known of this lady’s life has been set forth by Miss Amy Lowell in her Introduction to that book. A few dates, most of them very insecure, will be found in Appendix I of this volume. It is, however, certain that Murasaki was born in the last quarter of the tenth century, that she lost her husband in 1001, and that a few years later she became lady-in-waiting to the Empress Akiko. We know that she was chosen for this post on account of her proficiency in Chinese, a subject which the young Empress was anxious to study. Akiko was then about sixteen, so that Murasaki’s position in the house was what, in our parlance, we should call that of ‘governess’ rather than of lady-in-waiting. Akiko, though officially espoused to the Emperor, was still living at home, and her father soon began to pay somewhat embarrassing attentions to the new governess. From the Diary we know that on one occasion at any rate his solicitations were refused. Was the Tale of Genji or any part of it already written when Murasaki came to Court? We only know that in a passage of the Diary which apparently refers to the year 1008 she speaks of her novel having been read out loud to the Emperor. His majesty’s comment (‘This is a learned lady; she must have been reading the Chronicle of Japan’) shows that what was read to him must have been the opening chapter of the tale. For in the whole work there is only one sentence which could possibly remind any one of the Nihongi (‘Chronicle of Japan’), and that is the conclusion of Chapter I. So though we may be certain that the first few books were already written in 1008, it is quite possible that the whole fifty-four were not finished till long afterwards. But from the Sarashina Diary, the first of the three contained in the Court Ladies of Old Japan, we know that the Tale of Genji in its complete form was already a classic in the year 1022. The unknown authoress of this diary spent her childhood in a remote province. Her great pleasure was to read romances; but except at the Capital they were hard to come by. She prays fervently to Buddha to bring her quickly to Kyoto, and let her read ‘dozens and dozens of stories.’ In 1022 she at last arrives at Court and her wildest dreams are fulfilled. Packed in a big box her aunt sends round ‘the fifty-odd chapters of Genji’ and a whole library of shorter fairy-tales and romances. ‘Are there really such people as this in the world? Were Genji my lover, though he should come to me but once in the whole year, how happy I should be! Or were I Lady Ukifune in her mountain home, gazing as the months go by at flowers, red autumn leaves, moonlight and snow; happy, despite loneliness and misfortune, in the thought that at any moment the wonderful letter might come....’

Readers of Diaries of Court Ladies of Old Japan, translated by Madame Omori and Professor Doi, will remember the second diary. It was written by a woman named Murasaki Shikibu. Miss Amy Lowell’s introduction to that book sets out the little known about her life. Appendix I of this volume gives a few dates, most of them very uncertain. But we know that Murasaki was born in the last quarter of the tenth century. She lost her husband in 1001. A few years later, she became lady-in-waiting to the Empress Akiko. Murasaki was chosen for the post because of her skill in Chinese, which the young Empress was eager to study. Akiko was about sixteen at the time. In today’s terms, Murasaki’s position in the household was more like that of a ‘governess’ than a lady-in-waiting. Though officially married to the Emperor, Akiko was still living at home. Her father soon began to pay the new governess attention that was rather embarrassing. From the Diary, we know that she refused his advances on at least one occasion. Had Murasaki already written all or part of the Tale of Genji when she came to Court? All we know comes from a passage in the Diary that apparently refers to 1008. There she says that her novel had been read aloud to the Emperor. His Majesty’s comment shows that he must have heard the opening chapter of the tale. He said, ‘This is a learned lady. She must have been reading the Chronicle of Japan.’ In the whole work, only one sentence could possibly remind anyone of the Nihongi (‘Chronicle of Japan’). That sentence is at the end of Chapter I. So we can be certain that the first few books were already written in 1008. But it is quite possible that all fifty-four were not finished until much later. The Sarashina Diary is the first of the three diaries in the Court Ladies of Old Japan. From it, we know that the complete Tale of Genji was already a classic in 1022. The diary’s unknown author spent her childhood in a remote province. Her great pleasure was reading romances, but they were hard to find outside the Capital. She prayed fervently to Buddha to bring her quickly to Kyoto and let her read ‘dozens and dozens of stories.’ In 1022 she finally arrived at Court, and her wildest dreams came true. Her aunt sent her ‘the fifty-odd chapters of Genji’ packed in a large box. She also sent a whole library of shorter fairy tales and romances. ‘Are there really people like this in the world? If Genji were my lover, how happy I would be, even if he came to me only once a year! Or if I were Lady Ukifune in her mountain home, watching the flowers, red autumn leaves, moonlight and snow as the months passed, I would be happy despite loneliness and misfortune. I would be happy knowing that the wonderful letter might come at any moment....’

Such were the rêveries of one who read the Tale of Genji more than nine hundred years ago. I think that, could they but read it in the original, few readers would feel that in all those centuries the charm of the book had in any way evaporated. The task of translation in such a case is bound to be arduous and discouraging; but I have all the time been spurred by the belief that I am translating by far the greatest novel of the East, and one which, even if compared with the fiction of Europe, takes its place as one of the dozen greatest masterpieces of the world.

Such were the daydreams of someone who read the Tale of Genji more than nine hundred years ago. If they could read it in the original, I think few readers would feel its charm had faded over the centuries. Translating such a book is bound to be difficult and discouraging. But I have always been driven by the belief that I am translating by far the greatest novel of the East. I believe it is one of the dozen greatest masterpieces in the world, even when compared with European fiction.