An Analysis of the Diary of Murasaki Shikibu

an analysis of

THE DIARY OF MURASAKI SHIKIBU

The excerpt from the Diary of Murasaki Shikibu constructs a small space of Heian era court life in a vibrant and energetic fashion revealing, directly and indirectly, hints of social norms, interactions, and ceremony via the perspective of a court lady. The events that she describes have an almost carnival feel to them, punctuated by descriptions of ornate attire, brilliant color, captivating scenery, and carefully written poetry.

One of the first poems that appears in the except, in fact, provides interesting insight into one of the levels of the dynamic between court ladies. Here, Lady Murasaki receives a sheaf of “chrysanthemum-scented material” (The Diary 49) which she is told “Her Excellency sent it especially for you ‘to wipe away old age once and for all’ (The Diary 49). Of her reaction, Lady Murasaki writes that she “was in half a mind to send it back with the poem: Brushing my sleeve / With chrysanthemum dew / To gain a little youth, / I restore it to the owner / To work it’s wonders” (The Diary 49). To western readers, the barb hidden among the aesthetic phrasing might seem dulled or even missed; however the poem is a counterattack to the insult implied by the “gift” of the chrysanthemum material. Although Lady Murasaki decides against sending the poem, this exchange reveals the underlying hostilities between opposing noblewomen and, just as importantly, the subtle and backwards fashion in which such antagonism must be carried out.

This kind of indirect expression of antagonist appears in several other places in Murasaki Shikibu’s diary as well. Following the cloistering of the women, Lady Murasaki describes the appearance of one court lady by saying, “Lady Kochujo came face to face with First Secretary of the Left Yorisada. They were both quite put out, something that later became a source of amusement. Always so elegant and very particular about the way she dressed, she had made herself up very carefully that morning, but now her eyes were swollen with weeping and the tears had made her powder run in patches; she was a dreadful sight and hardly seemed the same person” (The Diary 55). Casually, this description and remark might seem innocuous enough, however Murasaki follows it up by writing “I hate to think of the picture I presented. What a relief that no one could actually recall how anyone else had looked on that occasion!” This remark seems to have an almost tongue-in-cheek feel, considering the fact that Murasaki herself seems to recall quite well how her companions look, enough to describe the “dreadful” appearance of the unfortunate Lady Kochujo, suggesting that the description was meant to embarrass the lady by rousing or recounting memory of her state of disarray. She again draws specific attention to the faults of another court lady in the same fashion later in the text, stating that “Lady Shosho’s embroidery, decorated with silver foil, was not quite up to the same standard as the others and everyone found fault with it. By Lady Shosho I mean the younger sister of Sukemitsu, Governor of Shinano, a lady of long standing in His Excellency’s employ” (The Diary 67). It is noteworthy that she takes particular care to specify exactly who the woman she is remarking about it, once against suggestion her intentions are to embarrass or shame the lady.

It’s easy for a western reader of the diary to equate such instances and passages with the ideas of scheming and vicious courtiers that are prominent in the conceptions of the privileged and/or aristocratic. These insights imply a certain natural duplicity that seemed to be an accepted (if possibly, unacknowledged) social norm of the court. For example, in reference to the gifts that were sent to those “who had come in response to more recent demands” (The Diary 57), Lady Murasaki writes that “In the woman’s apartments servants were bringing in enormous bundles and parcels of clothes. Everyone’s jacket had been embroidered with hem-stitching and inlaid pearl to an absurd degree, but the women pretended not to notice” (The Diary 57).

Lady Murasaki’s diary also provides the reader with a perception of court fashions and style of dress, her critique of the attire of various ladies reading almost like modern magazine column. She praises the attire of several women, for example, “They were all wearing gauze mantles, with trains and jackets of taffeta, and had their hair done up with hairpins