In Spring It Is the Dawn

In spring it is the dawn that is most beautiful. As the light creeps over the hills, their outlines are dyed a faint red and wisps of purplish cloud trail over them.

In summer the nights. Not only when the moon shines, but on dark nights too, as the fireflies flit to and fro, and even when it rains, how beautiful it is!

In autumn the evenings, when the glittering sun sinks close to the edge of the hills and the crows fly back to their nests in threes and fours and twos; more charming still is a file of wild geese, like specks in the distant sky. When the sun has set, one’s heart is moved by the sound of the wind and the hum of the insects.

In winter the early mornings. It is beautiful indeed when snow has fallen during the night, but splendid too when the ground is white with frost; or even when there is no snow or frost, but it is simply very cold and the attendants hurry from room to room stirring up the fires and bringing charcoal, how well this fits the season’s mood! But as noon approaches and the cold wears off, no one bothers to keep the braziers alight, and soon nothing remains but piles of white ashes....

Different Ways of Speaking

A priest’s language.

The speech of men and of women.

The common people always tend to add extra syllables to their words.. . .

The Sliding Screen in the Back of the Hall

The sliding screen in the back of the hall in the north-east corner of Seiryō is decorated with paintings of the stormy sea and of the terrifying creatures with long arms and long legs that live there. When the doors of the Empress’s room were open, we could always see this screen. One day we were sitting in the room, laughing at the paintings and remarking how unpleasant they were. By the balustrade of the veranda stood a large celadon vase, full of magnificent cherry branches; some of them were as much as five foot long, and their blossoms overflowed to the very foot of the railing. Towards noon the Major Counsellor, Fujiwara no Korechika, arrived. He was dressed in a cherry-coloured Court cloak, sufficiently worn to have lost its stiffness, a white under-robe, and loose trousers of dark purple; from beneath the cloak shone the pattern of another robe of dark red damask. Since His Majesty was present, Korechika knelt on the narrow wooden platform before the door and reported to him on official matters.

A group of ladies-in-waiting was seated behind the bamboo blinds. Their cherry-coloured Chinese jackets hung loosely over their shoulders with the collars pulled back; they wore robes of wistaria, golden yellow, and other colours, many of which showed beneath the blind covering the half-shutter. Presently the noise of the attendants’ feet told us that dinner was about to be served in the Daytime Chamber, and we heard cries of “Make way. Make way.”

The bright, serene day delighted me. When the Chamberlains had brought all the dishes into the Chamber, they came to announce that dinner was ready, and His Majesty left by the middle door. After accompanying the Emperor, Korechika returned to his previous place on the veranda beside the cherry blossoms. The Empress pushed aside her curtain of state and came forward as far as the threshold. We were overwhelmed by the whole delightful scene. It was then that Korechika slowly intoned the words of the old poem,

The days and the months flow by

But Mount Mimoro lasts forever.

Deeply impressed, I wished that all this might indeed continue for a thousand years.

As soon as the ladies serving in the Daytime Chamber had called for the gentlemen-in-waiting to remove Page 22 →the trays, His Majesty returned to the Empress's room. Then he told me to rub some ink on the inkstone. Dazzled, I felt that I should never be able to take my eyes off his radiant countenance. Next he folded a piece of white paper. "I should like each of you,” he said, "to copy down on this paper the first ancient poem that comes into your head.”

"How am I going to manage this?” I asked Korechika, who was still out on the veranda.

"Write your poem quickly,” he said, "and show it to His Majesty. We men must not interfere in this.” Ordering an attendant to take the Emperor’s inkstone to each of the women in the room, he told us to make haste. "Write down any poem you happen to remember,” he said. "The Naniwazu or whatever else you can think of.”

For some reason I was overcome with timidity; I flushed and had no idea what to do. Some of the other women managed to put down poems about the spring, the blossoms, and such suitable subjects; then they handed me the paper and said, "Now it’s your turn.” Picking up the brush, I wrote the poem that goes,

The years have passed

And age has come my way.

Yet I need only look at this fair flower

For all my cares to melt away.

I altered the third line, however, to read, "Yet I need only look upon my lord.”

When he had finished reading, the Emperor said, "I asked you to write these poems because I wanted to find out how quick you really were.

“A few years ago,” he continued, “Emperor Enyū ordered all his courtiers to write poems in a notebook. Some excused themselves on the grounds that their handwriting was poor; but the Emperor insisted, saying that he did not care in the slightest about their handwriting or even whether their poems were suitable for the season. So they all had to swallow their embarrassment and produce something for the occasion. Among them was His Excellency, our present Chancellor, who was then Middle Captain of the Third Rank. He wrote down the old poem,

Like the sea that beats

Upon the shores of Izumo

As the tide sweeps in,

Deeper it grows and deeper—

The love I bear for you.

But he changed the last line to read, ‘The love I bear my lord!’ and the Emperor was full of praise.”

When I heard His Majesty tell this story, I was so overcome that I felt myself perspiring. It occurred to me that no younger woman would have been able to use my poem and I felt very lucky. This sort of test can be a terrible ordeal: it often happens that people who usually write fluently are so overawed that they actually make mistakes in their characters.

Next the Empress placed a notebook of Kokin Shū poems before her and started reading out the first three lines of each one, asking us to supply the remainder. Among them were several famous poems that we had in our minds day and night; yet for some strange reason we were often unable to fill in the missing lines. Lady Saishō, for example, could manage only ten, which hardly qualified her as knowing her Kokin Shū. Some of the other women, even less successful, could remember only about half-a-dozen poems. They would have done better to tell the Empress quite simply that they had forgotten the lines; instead they came out with great lamentations like “Oh dear, how could we have done so badly in answering the questions that Your Majesty was pleased to put to us?”—all of which I found rather absurd.

When no one could complete a particular poem, the Empress continued reading to the end. This produced further wails from the women: "Oh, we all knew that one! How could we be so stupid?”

"Those of you,” said the Empress, "who had taken the trouble to copy out the Kokin Shū several times would have been able to complete every single poem I have read. In the reign of Emperor Murakami there was a woman at Court known as the Imperial Lady of Senyō Palace. She was the daughter of the Minister of the Left who lived in the Smaller Palace of the First Ward, and of course you have all heard of her. When she was still a young girl, her father gave her this advice: ‘First you must study penmanship. Next you must learn to play the seven-string zither better than anyone else. And also you must memorize all the poems in the twenty volumes of the Kokin Shū."

"Emperor Murakami,” continued Her Majesty, "had heard this story and remembered it years later when the girl had grown up and become an Imperial Concubine. Once, on a day of abstinence, he came into her room, hiding a notebook of Kokin Shū poems in the folds of his robe. He surprised her by seating himself behind a curtain of state; then, opening the book, he asked, ‘Tell me the verse written by such-and-such a poet, in such-and-such a year and on such-and-such an occasion.’ The lady understood what was afoot and that it was all in fun, yet the possibility of making a mistake or forgetting one of the poems must have worried her greatly. Before beginning the test, the Emperor had summoned a couple of ladies-in-waiting who were particularly adept in poetry and told them to Page 23 →mark each incorrect reply by a go stone. What a splendid scene it must have been! You know, I really envy anyone who attended that Emperor even as a lady-in-waiting.

“Well,” Her Majesty went on, “he then began questioning her. She answered without any hesitation, just giving a few words or phrases to show that she knew each poem. And never once did she make a mistake. After a time the Emperor began to resent the lady's flawless memory and decided to stop as soon as he detected any error or vagueness in her replies. Yet, after he had gone through ten books of the Kokin Shū, he had still not caught her out. At this stage he declared that it would be useless to continue. Marking where he had left off, he went to bed. What a triumph for the lady!

“He slept for some time. On waking, he decided that he must have a final verdict and that if he waited until the following day to examine her on the other ten volumes, she might use the time to refresh her memory. So he would have to settle the matter that very night. Ordering his attendants to bring up the bedroom lamp, he resumed his questions. By the time he had finished all twenty volumes, the night was well advanced; and still the lady had not made a mistake.

“During all this time His Excellency, the lady's father, was in a state of great agitation. As soon as he was informed that the Emperor was testing his daughter, he sent his attendants to various temples to arrange for special recitations of the Scriptures. Then he turned in the direction of the Imperial Palace and spent a long time in prayer. Such enthusiasm for poetry is really rather moving.”

The Emperor, who had been listening to the whole story, was much impressed. “How can he possibly have read so many poems?” he remarked when Her Majesty had finished. "I doubt whether I could get through three or four volumes. But of course things have changed. In the old days even people of humble station had a taste for the arts and were interested in elegant pastimes. Such a story would hardly be possible nowadays, would it?”

The ladies in attendance on Her Majesty and the Emperor's own ladies-in-waiting who had been admitted into Her Majesty's presence began chatting eagerly, and as I listened I felt that my cares had really “melted away.”

When I Make Myself Imagine

When I make myself imagine what it is like to be one of those women who live at home, faithfully serving their husbands—women who have not a single exciting prospect in life yet who believe that they are perfectly happy—I am filled with scorn. Often they are of quite good birth, yet have had no opportunity to find out what the world is like. I wish they could live for a while in our society, even if it should mean taking service as Attendants, so that they might come to know the delights it has to offer.

I cannot bear men who believe that women serving in the Palace are bound to be frivolous and wicked. Yet I suppose their prejudice is understandable. After all, women at court do not spend their time hiding modestly behind fans and screens, but walk about, looking openly at people they chance to meet. Yes, they see everyone face to face, not only ladies-in-waiting like themselves, but even Their Imperial Majesties (whose august names I hardly dare mention), High Court Nobles, senior courtiers, and other gentlemen of high rank. In the presence of such exalted personages the women in the Palace are all equally brazen, whether they be the maids of ladies-in-waiting, or the relations of Court ladies who have come to visit them, or housekeepers, or latrine-cleaners, or women who are of no more value than a roof-tile or a pebble. Small wonder that the young men regard them as immodest! Yet are the gentlemen themselves any less so? They are not exactly bashful when it comes to looking at the great people in the Palace. No, everyone at Court is much the same in this respect.

Women who have served in the Palace, but who later get married and live at home, are called Madam and receive the most respectful treatment. To be sure, people often consider that these women, who have displayed their faces to all and sundry during their years at Court, are lacking in feminine grace. How proud they must be, nevertheless, when they are styled Assistant Attendants, or summoned to the Palace for occasional duty, or ordered to serve as Imperial envoys during the Kamo Festival! Even those who stay at home lose nothing by having served at Court. In fact they make very good wives. For example, if they are married to a provincial governor and their daughter is chosen to take part in the Gosechi dances, they do not have to disgrace themselves by acting like provincials and asking other people about procedure. They themselves are well versed in the formalities, which is just as it should be....

Things That People Despise

The north side of a house.

Someone with an excessive reputation for goodness.

An old man who has lived to be too old.

A frivolous woman.

A mud wall that has started to crumble.

Hateful Things

One is in a hurry to leave, but one’s visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time”; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one’s best behaviour, the situation is hateful indeed.

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 exorcizing 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 knew 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 kind of people who in 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 costume or even tucking it up under their knees. One might suppose that such behaviour 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. Though he is wearing a tall, lacquered hat, 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 lyo blind 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 travelling 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 behaviour!

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 Page 25 →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 upon 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. 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 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 nurse-maids! 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 behaviour, 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 by extreme politeness to someone who does not deserve it. This sort of thing is, of course, particularly odious should the letter be addressed to oneself.

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 only succeeds 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 people use the word “I” while conversing in Their Majesties’ presence. 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 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....

Rare Things

A son-in-law who is praised by his adoptive father; 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 towards each other. However much these Page 26 →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....

Gloomy-Looking Things

A shabby carnage jogging along on a summer afternoon behind a wretched pair of oxen.

A carriage with the rain-mats spread out on a dry day; or a carriage without them when it is raining.

An old beggar on a very cold day or on a very hot one.

A woman of the lower classes, poorly dressed and with a child on her back.

A little, shingle-roofed cottage, dark, dirty and rain-spattered.

In a heavy downpour an outrider passes on a small horse; his head-dress has been squashed by the rain and his bedraggled robes are stuck together. What a gloomy sight! But in the summer I do not mind if it rains....

Things without Merit

An ugly person with a bad character.

Rice starch that has become mixed with water.... I know that this is a very vulgar item and everyone will dislike my mentioning it. But that should not stop me. In fact I must feel free to include anything, even tongs used for the parting-fires. After all, these objects do exist in our world and people all know about them. I admit they do not belong to a list that others will see. But I never thought that these notes would be read by anyone else, and so I included everything that came into my head, however strange or unpleasant....

When His Excellency, the Chancellor, Had Departed

When His Excellency, the Chancellor, had departed from among us, there was much stir and movement in the world. Her Majesty, who no longer came to the Imperial Palace, lived in the Smaller Palace of the Second Ward. Though I had done nothing to deserve it, things became very difficult for me and I spent a long time at home. One day, when I was particularly concerned about Her Majesty and felt I could not allow our separation to continue, the Captain of the Left Guards Division came to see me. "I called on Her Majesty today," he said, "and found it very moving. Her ladies were dressed as elegantly as ever, with their robes, skirts, and Chinese jackets perfectly matching the season. The blind was open at the side and, when I looked in, I saw a group of about eight ladies, elegantly seated next to each other. They wore Chinese jackets of tawny yellow, light violet skirts, and robes of purple and dark red. Noticing that the grass in the garden outside the palace had been allowed to grow very high and thick, I told them they should have it cut. "We’ve left it like this on purpose so that we might admire the dew when it settles on the blades? The voice was Lady Saishō’s and I found her reply delightful.

"Several of the ladies spoke about you and said it was a shame you were staying at home. "Now that Her Majesty is living in a place like this.' they told me, "she feels that Shōnagon should come back into waiting regardless of what business she may have at home. Why won’t she return when Her Majesty wants her so much?’ I definitely had the impression that they wanted me to pass this on to you. So please go. There’s a charm about the place that will stir you deeply. The peonies in front of the terrace have a delightful Chinese air.”

"No,” I replied. "Since they dislike me so much, I’ve come to dislike them.”

"You must try to be generous,” he said with a smile.

Shortly afterwards I visited the Empress. I had no way of telling what she thought about it all; but I did hear some of her ladies-in-waiting whisper, "She is on close terms with people who are attached to the Minister of the Left.” I was coming from my room when I saw them all standing there muttering to each other. Noticing me, they became silent and each of them went about her own business. I was not used to being treated like this and found it most galling. Thereafter Her Majesty summoned me on several occasions, but I paid no attention, and a long time passed without my visiting her. No doubt the ladies-in-waiting made out that I belonged to the enemy camp and told all sorts of lies about me.

One day, when there had been an unaccustomed silence from the Empress and I was sitting at home sunk in gloomy thoughts, a housekeeper brought me a letter. "Her Majesty ordered that this should be sent to you secretly by Lady Sakyō,” she told me. Yet there could be no reason for such secrecy when I was living at home. Examining the letter, I gathered that it was a personal message from Her Majesty and my heart was Page 27 →pounding as I opened it. There was nothing written on the paper. It had been used to wrap up a single petal of mountain rose, on which I read the words, “He who does not speak his love.” I was overjoyed; what a relief after the long, anxious days of silence! My eyes filled with “the things that one knows first of all.” “The ladies-in-waiting are all wondering why you have stayed away so long,” said the housekeeper, who had been watching me. “They consider it very strange, especially since you know how much Her Majesty is always thinking of you. Why don't you go?” Then she added, "I have a short errand near by. I’ll be back for your answer presently.”

But as I prepared to write my answer, I realized that I had completely forgotten the next line of the poem. “Amazing!” I muttered. “How can one possibly forget an old poem like that? I know it perfectly well and yet it just won’t come.” Hearing this a small page-boy who happened to be in the room said, “‘Yet feels its waters seething underneath’—those are the words, Madam.” Of course! How on earth could they have slipped my mind? To think that I should have to be taught by a mere child!

Shortly after sending my reply, I visited the Empress. Not knowing how she would receive me, I felt unusually nervous and remained half hidden behind a curtain of state. “Are you a newcomer?” asked Her Majesty with a laugh. “I am afraid it was not much of a poem,” she went on, “but I felt it was the sort of thing I should write. When I do not see you, Shōnagon, I am wretched all the time.”

Her Majesty had not changed. When I told her about the page-boy who had reminded me of the missing words, she was most amused. “That’s just the sort of thing that can happen,” she said, laughing, “especially with old poems that one considers too familiar to take seriously.”

Then she told me the following story: “Some people were organizing a game of riddles when one of them, a clever man and a good player, said that he would like to set the first riddle presented by the team of the left, to which he belonged. His teammates cheerfully agreed, feeling confident that he would produce something good.

“When all the people in the team of the left had made up their riddles, they began to select the ones that would actually be used. ‘Please tell us what yours is going to be?’ they said to the man. ‘No,’ he replied. You must simply trust me. After speaking as I did, I am hardly likely to come out with something that will disappoint you.’ His team-mates assumed that he must be right; but, when the day of the game drew near, they again asked him to let them know his riddle. ‘What if you should have produced something very strange?’ they said. ‘Well,’ he said angrily, ‘I don’t know. If you are so uncertain about my riddle, you had better not depend on me at all.’ When the day arrived, his partners were very worried about what he would do.

“The participants, men and women of quality including several senior courtiers, were divided into two teams and seated in rows. The time came to present the first set of riddles, and our man was chosen to lead off for the team of the left. He looked as if he had prepared his entry with great care, and all the players gazed at him anxiously, wondering what they would hear. Your riddle! Your riddle’ they said impatiently.

“Finally he came out with ‘A bow drawn in the sky,’ which delighted the members of the opposing team. His partners were dumbfounded and disgusted with him. Surely, they thought, he must be working for the other side and trying to make his own team lose.

“Meanwhile his opponent on the team of the right was laughing at him. ‘Dear me!’ he said, beginning to pout. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea.’ And, instead of answering the riddle, he began making jokes.

“‘I’ve won!’ cried the man who had posed the riddle. ‘A point for our side!’ A token was duly given to the team of the left.

“‘Disgraceful!’ said the members of the other team. ‘Everyone knows the answer to that riddle. They certainly shouldn’t get a point.’

“‘But he said he did not know,’ replied the man. ‘How can you claim he hasn’t lost?’ In this and in each of the subsequent contests he argued so effectively that his side won.

“Later the player who had failed to answer the first riddle was being taken to task by his team-mates. ‘We admit,’ they said, ‘that people can forget the answers to the most obvious questions and have to concede defeat. But what possible reason could you have to say you didn’t know?’ And they made him pay a forfeit.”

When the Empress had finished her story, all the ladies burst out laughing. “The people on the team of the right had good reason to be annoyed with their man,” said one of them. “I can see why they were disappointed. And how furious the other team must have been to hear their candidate lead off with such a silly riddle!”

“Indeed,” I thought, “how could anyone possibly forget something so simple and commonplace?” ...

Words That Look Commonplace but That Become Impressive When Written in Chinese Characters

Strawberries.

A dew-plant.

A prickly water-lily.

A walnut.

A Doctor of Literature.

A Provisional Senior Steward in the Office of the Empress’s Household.

Red myrtle.

Knotweed is a particularly striking example, since it is written with the characters for "tiger’s stick.” From the look on a tiger’s face one would imagine that he could do without a stick.

Words Written in Chinese Characters for Which There Must Be a Reason though One Cannot Really Understand It

Baked salt.

Short under-jackets.

Curtains.

Lacquered clogs.

Starch.

A bucket boat....

When I First Went into Waiting

When I first went into waiting at Her Majesty’s Court, so many different things embarrassed me that I could not even reckon them up and I was always on the verge of tears. As a result I tried to avoid appearing before the Empress except at night, and even then I stayed hidden behind a three-foot curtain of state.

On one occasion Her Majesty brought out some pictures and showed them to me, but I was so ill at ease that I could hardly stretch out my hand to take them. She pointed to one picture after another, explaining what each represented. Since the lamp had been put on a high stand, one could view the pictures even better than in the daytime, and every hair of the woman in one of them was clearly visible. I managed to control my embarrassment and had a proper look. It was a very cold time of the year and when Her Majesty gave me the paintings I could hardly see her hands; but, from what I made out, they were of a light pink hue that I found extraordinarily attractive. I gazed at the Empress with amazement. Simple as I was and unaccustomed to such wonderful sights, I did not understand how a being like this could possibly exist in our world.

At dawn I was about to hurry back to my room when Her Majesty said, "Even the God of Kazuraki would stay a little longer.” So I sat down again, but I leant forward sideways in such a way that Her Majesty could not see me directly, and kept the lattice shut. One of the ladies who came into the room noticed this and said that it should be opened. A servant heard her and started towards it, but her Majesty said, "Wait. Leave the lattice as it is.” The two women went out, laughing to each other.

Her Majesty then asked me various questions and finally said, "I am sure you want to return to your room. So off you go! But be sure to come again this evening— and early too.”

As soon as I had crept out of Her Majesty’s presence and was back in my room, I threw open all the lattices and looked out at the magnificent snow.

During the day I received several notes from Her Majesty telling me to come while it was still light. "The sky is clouded with snow,” she wrote, "and no one will be able to see you clearly.”

Noticing my hesitation, the lady in charge of my room urged me, saying, "I don’t know how you can stay shut up like this all day long. Her Majesty has granted you the extraordinary good fortune of being admitted into her presence, and she must certainly have her reasons. To be unresponsive to another person’s kindness is a most hateful way to behave.” This was enough to make me hurry back to the Empress; but I was overcome with embarrassment, and it was not easy for me.

On my way I was delighted to see the snow beautifully piled on top of the fire huts. When I entered Her Majesty’s room, I noticed that the usual square brazier was full to the brim with burning charcoal and that no one was sitting next to it. The Empress herself was seated in front of a round brazier made of Shen wood and decorated with pear-skin lacquer. She was surrounded by a group of high-ranking ladies who were in constant attendance upon her. In the next part of the room a tightly packed row of ladies-in-waiting sat in front of a long, rectangular brazier, with their Chinese jackets worn in such a way that they trailed on the floor. Observing how experienced they were in their duties and how easily they carried them out, I could not help feeling envious. There was not a trace of awkwardness in any of their movements as they got up to deliver notes to Her Majesty from the outside and sat down again by the brazier, talking and laughing to each other. When would I ever be able to manage like that, I wondered nervously. Still further in the back of the room sat a small group of ladies who were looking at pictures together.

After a while I heard the voices of outrunners loudly ordering people to make way. "His Excellency, the Chancellor, is coming,” said one of the ladies, and they all cleared away their scattered belongings. I retired to the back of the room; but despite my modesty, I was curious to see the great man in person and I peeped through a crack at the bottom of the curtain of state where I was sitting. It turned out that it was not Michitaka, but his son, Korechika, the Major Counsellor. The purple of his Court cloak and trousers Page 29 →looked magnificent against the white snow. “I should not have come,” he said, standing next to one of the pillars, “because both yesterday and today are days of abstinence. But it has been snowing so hard that I felt bound to call and find out whether all was well with you."

“How did you manage?” said Her Majesty. “I thought that all the paths were buried.”

“Well,” replied Korechika, "it occurred to me that I might move your heart.”

Could anything surpass this conversation between the Empress and her brother? This was the sort of exchange that is so eloquently described in romances; and the Empress herself, arrayed in a white dress, a robe of white Chinese damask, and two more layers of scarlet damask over which her hair hung down loosely at the back, had a beauty that I had seen in paintings but never in real life: it was all like a dream.

Korechika joked with the ladies-in-waiting, and they replied without the slightest embarrassment, freely arguing with him and contradicting his remarks when they disagreed. I was absolutely dazzled by it all and found myself blushing without any particular reason. Korechika ate a few fruits and told one of the servants to offer some to the Empress. He must have asked who was behind the curtain of state and one of the ladies must have told him that it was I; for he stood up and walked to the back of the room. At first I thought he was leaving, but instead he came and sat very close to me; he began to talk about various things he had heard about me before I came into waiting and asked whether they were true. I had been embarrassed enough when I had been looking at him from a distance with the curtain of state between us; now that we were actually facing each other I felt extremely stupid and could hardly believe that this was really happening to me.

In the past, when I had gone to watch Imperial Processions and the like, Korechika had sometimes glanced in the direction of my carriage; but I had always pulled the inner blinds close together, and hidden my face behind a fan for fear that he might see my silhouette through the blinds. I wondered how I could ever have chosen to embark on a career for which I was so ill-suited by nature. What on earth should I say to him? I was bathed in sweat and altogether in a terrible state. To make matters worse, Korechika now seized the fan behind which I had prudently hidden myself, and I realized that my hair must be scattered all over my forehead in a terrible mess; no doubt everything about my appearance bespoke the embarrassment I felt at that moment.

I had hoped Korechika would leave quickly, but he showed no sign of doing so; instead he sat there, toying with my fan and asking who had done the paintings on it. I kept my head lowered and pressed the sleeve of my Chinese jacket to my face—so tightly indeed, that bits of powder must have stuck to it, making my complexion all mottled.

The Empress, who no doubt realized how desperately I wanted Korechika to leave, turned to him and said, “Look at this notebook. Whose writing do you suppose it is?” I was relieved to think that now he would finally go; but instead he asked her to have the book brought to him so that he could examine it. “Really,” she said. “You can perfectly well come here yourself and have a look.” “No I can’t,” he replied. “Shōnagon has got hold of me and won’t let go.” It was a very fashionable sort of joke but hardly suited to my rank or age, and I felt terribly ill at ease. Her Majesty held up the book, in which something had been written in a cursive script, and looked at it. “Well indeed,” said Korechika, “whose can it be? Let’s show it to Shōnagon. I am sure she can recognize the handwriting of anyone in the world.” The aim of all these absurd remarks, of course, was to draw me out.

As if a single gentleman were not enough to embarrass me, another one now arrived, preceded by outrunners who cleared the way for him. This gentleman too was wearing a Court cloak, and he looked even more splendid than Korechika. He sat down and started telling some amusing stories, which delighted the ladies-in-waiting. “Oh yes,” they said, laughing, “we saw Lord So-and-so when he was .” As I heard them mention the names of one senior courtier after another, I felt they must be talking about spirits or heavenly beings who had descended to earth. Yet, after some time had passed and I had grown accustomed to Court service, I realized that there had been nothing very impressive about their conversation. No doubt these same ladies, who talked so casually to Lord Korechika, had been just as embarrassed as I when they first came into waiting, but had little by little become used to Court society until their shyness had naturally disappeared.

The Empress spoke to me for a while and then asked, “Are you really fond of me?” “But Your Majesty,” I replied, “how could I possibly not be fond of you?” Just then someone sneezed loudly in the Table Room. “Oh dear!” said the Empress. “So you’re telling a lie. Well, so be it.” And she retired into the back of the room.

To think that Her Majesty believed I was lying! If I had said that I was fairly fond of her, that would have been untrue. The real liar, I thought, was the sneezer’s nose. Who could have done such a terrible thing? I dislike sneezes at the best of times, and whenever I feel like sneezing myself I deliberately smother it. All the Page 30 →more hateful was it that someone should have sneezed at this moment. But I was still far too inexperienced to say anything that might have repaired the damage; and, since the day was dawning, I retired to my room. As soon as I arrived, a servant brought me an elegant-looking letter, written on fine, smooth paper of light green. "This is what Her Majesty feels,” I read.

How, if there were no God Tadasu in the sky,

And none to judge what is the truth and what a lie,

How should I know which words were falsely said?

My emotions were a jumble of delight and dismay, and once again I wished I could find out who had sneezed on the previous night. "Please give Her Majesty the following reply,” I said, "and help me to make up for the harm that has been done.

'A simple sneeze might give the lie

To one whose love is small,

But sad indeed that she who truly loves,

Should suffer from so slight a thing!

The curse of God Shiki is of course very terrible.’”

Even after I had sent my reply I still felt most unhappy and wondered why someone should have had to sneeze at such an inopportune moment....

Scriptures

I need hardly mention the Lotus Sutra. The Sutra of the Thousand Hands. The Ten Vows of Fugen. The Sutra of the Request. The Incantation of the Holy and Victorious. The Great Spell of Amida. The Incantation of the Thousand Hands.

Writings in Chinese

The collected works of Po Chü-i. The Anthology.

Requests for promotion written by Doctors of Literature.

Buddhas

Grieved by what she perceives in people’s hearts, the Bounteous One sits with her cheek resting on her hand. Seeing her, one is overcome with sorrow and with shame.

The Goddess of the Thousand Hands and all the other Six Kannons.

The Great Immovable One.

Yakushiji Buddha.

Gautama Buddha.

Miroku.

Fugen.

Jizö.

Monju.

Tales

Tales like Sumiyoshi and The Hollow Tree. The Change of Palaces. The Lady who Awaited the Moon. The Captain of Katano. The Captain of Umetsubo. The Eyes of Men. The Yielding of the Land. The Buried Trees. The Pine Branch that Inspired Faith.

In the Tale of Komano I enjoy the passage in which the hero leaves after presenting an old bat-fan....

Things Worth Seeing

The Chancellor’s pilgrimage to Kamo.

The Special Festival at Kamo. On one cold, overcast day the snow began to come down in scattered flakes, falling on the blue and white robes of the people in the procession and on the flowers that they wore in their head-dress. I found the sight immensely delightful. The sheaths of the dancers’ swords shone magnificently, and the cords of their jackets, which hung over the sheaths, were so bright that they might have been polished. Beneath the printed material of their trouser-skirts I could see the brilliant, glossy silk of their under-robes, and for a moment I wondered whether they were made of ice. I was relishing the beauty of the procession when the envoys appeared. They were certainly a most undistinguished lot, having been chosen from among provincial governors and the like, common-looking men not worth one’s attention. Yet so long as their faces were hidden by the sprays of wistaria in their head-dress, it was not too unpleasant to see them go by. While we were still watching the dancers, the musicians appeared, wearing willow-coloured robes and yellow roses in their head-dress. They were insignificant men of low rank, but it was delightful to hear them chanting,

The princess pines that grow outside

All-powerful Kamo Shrine.

and beating the measure loudly with their fans.

What can compare with an Imperial Progress? When the Emperor passes in his palanquin, he is as impressive as a God and I forget that my work in the Palace constantly brings me into his presence. Not only His Majesty himself, but even people like Ladies of the Escort who usually are of no importance, overawe me when I see them in an Imperial Progress. I particularly enjoy watching the Assistant Directors of the Bureau of Imperial Attendants as they walk past Page 31 →holding the cords of the Imperial palanquin, and also the Captains of the Inner Palace Guards, who serve as its escorts.

The Return Procession of the High Priestess from Kamo is a magnificent sight. I recall one year when everything was especially beautiful. On the day of the Festival itself we had stopped our carriage on that splendidly wide road, the First Avenue, and had sat there for a long time, hiding our faces behind our fans and waiting for the procession to arrive. A hot sun shone through the carriage blinds, dazzling us and making us perspire in a most unsightly fashion. On the following day we set out very early to see the High Priestess's procession. Though the sun had risen, the sky was overcast. As we reached the gates of Urin and Chisoku Temples, we noticed a number of carriages decorated with branches of faded hollyhock and maple. We could hear a loud chorus of hototogisu. This was the bird whose song so fascinated me that I would lie awake at night waiting for it. I was just thinking how delightful it was that I could now hear great numbers of these birds without making the slightest effort when an uguisu joined in with his rather croaky voice. He sounded as if he were trying to imitate the beautiful song of the hototogisu, and I found this unpleasant though at the same time rather amusing.

While we sat in our carriage waiting impatiently for the procession, we saw a group of men in red coming from the Upper Shrine. "What's happening? Is the procession on its way?” we asked them; but they replied that they had no idea and continued down the road, carrying the High Priestess's empty palanquins. It impressed me deeply that the High Priestess herself had travelled in one of these palanquins; but I was rather disturbed at the thought that low fellows like these could have come close to her sacred presence.

Though we had been told that there might be a long wait, the High Priestess and her retinue soon arrived from the Upper Shrine. First we could see the fans come into sight, then the yellow-green robes of the gentlemen from the Emperor’s Private Office. It was a splendid sight. The men wore their under-robes in such a way that the white material stood out against the yellowish-green of their outer robes, and I was reminded so much of white u no hana blossoms in a green hedge that I almost expected to find a hototogisu lurking there.

On the previous day I had noticed several of these young noblemen crowded together in a carriage. They had taken down the blinds, and I could see that they were messily dressed in hunting costumes and violet cloaks; altogether they had made a very bizarre impression. Today these same young men were beautifully attired in full Court costume and ready to take part in the High Priestess's banquet, to which they had been invited as extra guests. They looked extremely demure as one by one they passed, each in his own carriage; and the young Palace pages who followed were also very attractive.

After the Procession had gone, things got out of hand. Everyone wanted to be the first to leave and there was a great crush of carriages, which I found rather frightening. I stuck my fan out of the window to summon my attendants. "Don’t be in such a hurry,” I scolded them. "Go slowly.” Since they paid not the slightest attention and continued to push ahead, I became very flustered and ordered them to pull up the carriage in a place where the road was a little wider. The men were very impatient and it annoyed them to have to stop.

I enjoyed watching the carriages as they hurried along the road, each one trying to forge ahead of another. I allowed them all to get a good start before letting my men continue. It was a delightful road, rather like the paths that lead up to mountain villages. The thick hedges on both sides looked rough and shaggy; they were covered with u no hana, but the flowers had not yet come into bloom. I told my men to break off some of the branches and stuck them here and there in the carriage; they looked very pretty, all the more so since the decorations of maple and hollyhock had unfortunately begun to fade.

When I had glanced down the road from the distance, it had seemed impossible that all the carriages would get through, but now as we gradually advanced I was pleased to see it was not as crowded as I had thought. I noticed that the carriage of one man—I have no idea who he can have been—was following close behind mine, and I decided that this was much more pleasant than being alone on the road. When we came to a fork where our paths separated, he leaned out and recited the line, "That scatter on the peak,” which I found delightful....

Things That Should Be Large

Priests. Fruit. Houses. Provision bags. Inksticks for inkstones.

Men’s eyes: when they are too narrow, they look feminine. On the other hand, if they were as large as metal bowls, I should find them rather frightening.

Round braziers. Winter cherries. Pine trees. The petals of yellow roses.

Horses as well as oxen should be large.

Things That Should Be Short

A piece of thread when one wants to sew something in a hurry.

A lamp stand.

The hair of a woman of the lower classes should be neat and short.

The speech of a young girl.

Things That Belong in a House

A kitchen.

A servants’ hall.

A new broom.

Small tables.

Young maids and under-servants.

Sliding screens on stands.

Three-foot curtains of state.

A nicely decorated bag for carrying provisions. Umbrellas.

A blackboard.

Small cupboards with shelves.

Vessels for warming and pouring wine. Medium-sized tables.

Round straw cushions.

A corridor that turns at a right angle.

A brazier decorated with a painting....

Letters Are Commonplace

Letters are commonplace enough, yet what splendid things they are! When someone is in a distant province and one is worried about him, and then a letter suddenly arrives, one feels as though one were seeing him face to face. Again, it is a great comfort to have expressed one’s feelings in a letter even though one knows it cannot yet have arrived. If letters did not exist, what dark depressions would come over one! When one has been worrying about something and wants to tell a certain person about it, what a relief it is to put it all down in a letter! Still greater is one’s joy when a reply arrives. At that moment a letter really seems like an elixir of life....

Shrines

Furu, Ikuta, Tatsuta, Hanafuchi, and Mikuri. The sacred shrine of the cryptomeria. It is interesting that this tree should be a sign of virtue.

The deity of Koto no Mama deserves the trust that people put in him. I enjoy knowing that this is the shrine “where every prayer’s been glibly answered by the God.”

The deity of Aridōshi. It was past his shrine that Tsurayuki was riding when his horse was taken ill and he was told that this was due to the anger of the God; he then dedicated a poem to the God whereupon his horse was cured—a delightful incident.

I wonder whether the usual explanation for the name Aridōshi is correct. Long ago there was an Emperor who liked only young people and who ordered that everyone over forty should be put to death. The older people therefore went and hid in remote provinces, leaving the capital to their juniors. Now there was a Captain of the Guards whose parents were both almost seventy. They were absolutely terrified, realizing that, if even people of forty were proscribed, their own position was precarious indeed. The Captain, however, a most devoted son, who could not live without seeing his parents at least once a day, refused to let them go off to some distant hiding-place. Instead he spent night after night secretly digging a hole under his house and, when it was finished, he made it into a room where he installed his parents and went to visit them frequently, informing the Imperial authorities and everyone else that they had disappeared.

(Why should His Majesty have decided on this policy? After all, he had no need to concern himself with people who lived quietly at home and minded their own business.)

Since his son was a Captain, I imagine that the father was a High Court Noble or something of the sort. In any case he was a very clever, knowing old gentleman, and the Captain, despite his youth, was also able and intelligent, so that His Majesty regarded him as the outstanding young man of the day.

At this time the Emperor of China was planning to capture our country by tricking His Majesty, and for this purpose he was constantly sending puzzles to test His Majesty’s ability. On one occasion he sent a round, glossy, beautifully planed log about two feet long and asked, “Which is the base and which is the top?” Since there was absolutely no way of telling, His Majesty was in great distress—so much so that the young Captain felt sorry for him and told his father what had happened. “All you need do,” said the old man, “is to go to a rapid river, hold the log straight up, and throw it sideways into the water. It will then turn round by itself and the end that faces downstream will be the top. Mark the wood accordingly and return it to the Chinese Emperor.” The Captain went to the Palace and, pretending to have thought of a plan by himself, told His Majesty that he would try to solve the puzzle. Accompanied by a group of people he proceeded to a river, threw in the log, and made a mark on the end that faced downstream. The log was then sent back and turned out to be correctly marked.

On another occasion the Chinese Emperor sent a pair of identical snakes, each about two feet in length, Page 33 →and the test was to tell which was male and which female. Since no one had the faintest idea, the Captain again consulted his father, who told him to place the snakes next to each other and to hold a long, straight twig near their tails. “The one that moves its tail," he said, “will be the female.” The son followed this advice and, as predicted, one of the snakes remained still while the other one moved; the Captain marked them accordingly and sent them back to China.

A long time afterwards the Chinese Emperor dispatched to His Majesty a small jewel with seven curves and a passage that ran right through all the curves and was open at both ends. “Please pass a thread through the jewel,” he wrote. “This is something that everyone in our country knows how to do.” Outstanding craftsmen were summoned, but their skill was of no avail; everyone, from the High Court Nobles down, admitted defeat. Once more the Captain went to his father. “You must capture two large ants,” said the old man. “Tie narrow threads round their middles and attach slightly thicker threads to the ends. Then smear some honey opposite one of the openings and place the ants at the opposite end.” The Captain told this to His Majesty and two ants were duly put next to the opening. As soon as they smelt the honey, they started crawling through the passage and rapidly emerged at the other end. The threaded jewel was then returned to China, where it was decided that, after all, the inhabitants of Japan were clever people and there was no point in sending them any more puzzles.

Greatly impressed by the Captain’s achievement, His Majesty asked what he could do for him and what rank he desired. “I want no rank or office at all,” declared the young man. “Grant only that all the old people who have gone and hidden themselves be searched out and told that they may safely return to the capital.” “That is a simple matter,” said the Emperor. The old people were delighted when they heard the news and the Captain was appointed Great Minister. Evidently the Captain’s father became a God; for it is said that the deity of Aridōshi appeared in a dream one night to someone who had come on a pilgrimage and that he recited the following poem:

Who is there who does not know

That the God of Aridōshi was so named

From the passage of the ants through a seven-curved jewel?...

If a Servant Girl

If a servant girl says about someone, “What a delightful gentleman he is!” one immediately looks down on him, whereas if she insulted the person in question it would have the opposite effect. Praise from a servant can also damage a woman’s reputation. Besides, people of that class always manage to express themselves badly when they are trying to say something nice....

It Is Very Annoying

It is very annoying, when one has visited Hase Temple and has retired into one’s enclosure, to be disturbed by a herd of common people who come and sit outside in a row, crowded so close together that the tails of their robes fall over each other in utter disarray. I remember that once I was overcome by a great desire to go on a pilgrimage. Having made my way up the log steps, deafened by the fearful roar of the river, I hurried into my enclosure, longing to gaze upon the sacred countenance of Buddha. To my dismay I found that a throng of commoners had settled themselves directly in front of me, where they were incessantly standing up, prostrating themselves, and squatting down again. They looked like so many basket-worms as they crowded together in their hideous clothes, leaving hardly an inch of space between themselves and me. I really felt like pushing them all over sideways.

Important visitors always have attendants to clear such pests from their enclosures; but it is not so easy for ordinary people like me. If one summons one of the priests who is responsible for looking after the pilgrims, he simply says something like "You there, move back a little, won’t you?” and, as soon as he has left, things are as bad as before.

Things That Are Hard to Say

I find it difficult to transmit a long message accurately from beginning to end; and the reply is no easier.

It is very hard to frame a reply to a message one has received from a person with whom one feels ill at ease.

A father hears that his grown-up son has done something that he would not have expected of him. How hard it is to reprimand him to his face! ...

When the Middle Captain

When the Middle Captain of the Left Guards Division was still Governor of Ise, he visited me one day at my home. There was a straw mat at the edge of the veranda, and I pulled it out for him. This notebook of mine happened to be lying on the mat, but I did not notice it in time. I snatched at the book and made a desperate effort to get it back; but the Captain instantly took it off with him and did not return it until much later. I suppose it was from this time that my book began to be passed about at Court.

It Is Getting So Dark

It is getting so dark that I can scarcely go on writing; and my brush is all worn out. Yet I should like to add a few things before I end.

I wrote these notes at home, when I had a good deal of time to myself and thought no one would notice what I was doing. Everything that I have seen and felt is included. Since much of it might appear malicious and even harmful to other people, I was careful to keep my book hidden. But now it has become public, which is the last thing I expected.

One day Lord Korechika, the Minister of the Centre, brought the Empress a bundle of notebooks. “What shall we do with them?” Her Majesty asked me. “The Emperor has already made arrangements for copying the ‘Records of the Historian.”

“Let me make them into a pillow,” I said.

“Very well,” said Her Majesty. “You may have them.” I now had a vast quantity of paper at my disposal, and I set about filling the notebooks with odd facts, stories from the past, and all sorts of other things, often including the most trivial material. On the whole I concentrated on things and people that I found charming and splendid; my notes are also full of poems and observations on trees and plants, birds, and insects. I was sure that when people saw my book they would say, “It's even worse than I expected. Now one can really tell what she is like.” After all, it is written entirely for my own amusement and I put things down exactly as they came to me. How could my casual jottings possibly bear comparison with the many impressive books that exist in our time? Readers have declared, however, that I can be proud of my work. This has surprised me greatly; yet I suppose it is not so strange that people should like it, for, as will be gathered from these notes of mine, I am the sort of person who approves of what others abhor and detests the things they like.

Whatever people may think of my book, I still regret that it ever came to light.