Following is the English translation of: HATA Eriko. “Ochikubo no Kimi no "ie" no kakutoku.’” Chūko bungaku 74 (2004): 54–64.
*For citations, please use the original publication.
“Ochikubo no Kimi’s Acquisition of the ‘Families,’" by HATA Eriko.
Translated by Sachi Schmidt-Hori
Translator’s note:
The present article discusses the tenth-century vernacular tale, Ochikubo monogatari (The Tale of Ochikubo, 4 vols.). Because this article is written for those who are familiar with the plot and primary characters of this tale, whenever appropriate, the translator will supplement some information to clarify the author’s arguments. Also, the protagonist’s sobriquet—Ochikubo no Kimi—is a derogatory nickname chosen by her spiteful stepmother. Once she escapes the abusive environment in volume 2, the protagonist is simply known as Onna-gimi (the Lady), Kita no Kata (The Lady of the House), and so on. (As per the convention of premodern Japanese tales, most characters are only known by their nicknames or court titles). The author of this article refers to the protagonist as Onna-gimi after the introduction and the translator will do so accordingly.
Author’s note:
In this article, all the page numbers of the Tale of Ochikubo are based on the SNKBT version. For Man’yōshū, the Tale of the Hollow Tree, the Tale of Genji, and Wamyō ruijūshō, I referred to the following editions respectively: Tsuru Hisashi and Moriyama Takashi, eds. Man’yōshū (Ōfū, 1972: 1977: 1997); Muroki Hideyuki, ed., Utsuho monogatari zen-kaiteiban (Ōfū, 1995); Kyōto Daigaku Bungakubu Kokugo Gakumon Bungaku Kenkyūshitsu, ed. Shohon shūsei wamyōrui yuraishō (Rinkai Shoten, 1968: 1971).
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1. Introduction
The Tale of Ochikubo has been read as a story of a bullied stepchild, and the needlework forced upon the female protagonist, Ochikubo no Kimi, has been regarded as one of the main methods of abuse that her stepmother employs to torment her. However, in the Tale, she continues to create clothing for her loved ones even after she is rescued by her husband, Lord Michiyori, from the residence of her father (hereafter Chūnagon [Middle Counselor]), and scenes of admiration by Michiyori and his mother are repeatedly depicted.
This means that her needlework symbolizes far more than a tool of abuse. Then, how should we interpret this continuous description of sewing performed by the protagonist?
In the pre-existing scholarship, Ochikubo no Kimi’s unparalleled “power/ability” (chikara) represented by the gorgeous garments she produces, has been recognized as a projection of the image of the celestial weaving maiden (known as Tanabatatsume and Orihime) from the ancient Sino-Japanese legend (Note 1). However, scholars have yet to pay due attention to the shifting meaning of the protagonist’s needlework in this tale. Once she escapes the imprisonment in her father’s home, her needlework seems to become a driving force in Ochikubo no Kimi’s life. That is, the act of sewing transforms her status from one of a bullied and marginalized stepchild into one of a respectable member of two families (ie): the ranking family centering on her husband Michiyori and his parents, as well as Chūnagon’s family that used to isolate and degrade Ochikubo no Kimi. With both families firmly backing the heroine, she grows into the status of the refined aristocratic lady that she is.
The main purpose of this paper is to analyze how this tale depicts Ochikubo no Kimi’s needlework after her flight of Chūnagon’s mansion, where she used to be confined in a dungeon-like space and forced to labor as an unpaid seamstress for many years. In so doing, I aim to elucidate the process in which the heroine firmly establishes herself in high society as a member of not just one but two aristocratic families.
2. The Lady’s “Power/Ability”
Before discussing the heroine’s post-confinement life, however, I shall touch on the “power/ability” that the Lady exemplifies through the act of sewing.
It is important to point out that her needlework is not something the stepmother conceived as a means to abuse the girl. Rather, this is something the Lady spontaneously started pursuing at a young age on her own accord. Also, it is not accurate to construe sewing simply as mundane labor for lowly servants; needlework is a paradoxical act that symbolizes both “vulgarity” and “sacrality” in the literary tradition of Japan (Note 2). Let us see the origin of the Lady’s needlework:
When the girl was six or seven, her late mother had her learn the shō, the thirteen-string zither, and she turned out to be an amazing player. Because she was a mostly bright and sensible (satoshi) child, if someone had taught her how to play the kin (the seven-string zither, which was extremely difficult to learn), she would have mastered it easily. Hearing her play the shō [at Chūnagon’s residence], the stepmother ordered the girl to give lessons to her youngest son Saburō, who was around ten. So the girl obliged. Because the young lady felt lonely and aimless, she picked up needlework. She was so masterful that the stepmother made her sew attire for her sons-in-law, saying, “How wonderful. An unattractive girl like yourself should learn practical skills like that.” The amount of clothes she had to make was enormous and she sometimes kept sewing overnight without sleep (Shin Nihon Koten Bungaku Taikei, hereafter SNKBT, pp. 4–5).
In the above quote, the Lady is characterized as satoshi before the narrator mentions the origin of her needlework. Satoshi is an adjective often used to describe the qualities of an extraordinary figure, such as the young Hikaru Genji of the Tale of Genji (vol. 1, p. 38) and Toshikage in The Tale of the Hollow Tree (p. 23). This suggests that the protagonist of this tale, too, was likely endowed with the traits of an exceptional being. Traditionally, being satoshi is associated with the person’s ability to master the kin. Yet, this being an impossibility for a young girl confined in a dungeon, she instead “picked up needlework” to placate her solitude. Unfortunately, impressed by the girl’s outstanding ability, the stepmother exploited her labor to gratify her sons-in-law.
Thus, needlework is inseparable from the heroine’s innate, superior dispositions. Importantly, this tale obfuscates the question of who taught her how to sew, as if she was born with this knowledge. The heroine’s seemingly inherent “power/ability” to sew is clearly tied to the sacred image of the celestial weaving maiden, which distinguishes her needlework from vulgar, unskilled labor.
An illustration of her almost extraordinary ability is the time when the stepmother ordered the Lady to tailor three sets of outfits overnight and she completed the task, contrary to expectations (pp. 66–81). To make matters worse, Chūnagon threatened the Lady that he would no longer regard her as his own, if she failed to meet his wife’s demand (p. 71). The stepmother herself was not certain that the Lady would be able to pull this off, so she sent one of her own attendants to help the Lady out. At last, with some help from Michiyori (the female attendant was gone before the completion of the task), the Lady accomplished this superhuman feat of creating three sets of ceremonial attire in a day.
Meanwhile, after the Lady was rescued from Chūnagon’s home, the marriage between San no Kimi (the stepmother’s third daughter, the Lady’s half-sister) and her husband, Kurōdo no Shōsho, began to fall apart, for San no Kimi had no talent in needlework (pp. 124–142). Because the exquisite robes, jackets, and trousers that his in-laws provided were the only perks of his marriage, once the person behind these clothes was gone, Kurōdo no Shōsho’s interest in this conjugal relationship quickly diminished. This, of course, illustrates the magnitude of the Lady’s “power/ability” that the stepmother and her biological daughters took for granted.
As such, it bears emphasizing that the Lady’s “power/ability” to sew is not merely about her skills and techniques per se. Rather, it pertains to her inherent sacrality, which plays an important role in driving this narrative forward.
3. The Mother-in-Law’s Test
In this tale, there are two occasions where Michiyori’s mother asks the Lady to create garments on her behalf. First is the renewal of Michiyori’s wardrobe in preparation for the new year’s ceremony at court. Let us examine how the Lady’s “power/ability” surfaces through the act of sewing.
The end of the eleventh month arrived. Michiyori’s parents sent the Lady a mound of threads, rolls of silk and tweed, as well as colorful dyes with a message: “Please prepare the junior captain’s [Michiyori] new year attire for us. We are a little too overwhelmed by making the new year outfits for our daughter [the junior imperial consort].” Since this is something she has always excelled at, the Lady immediately set off to do as instructed (pp. 142–143).
At this point, the Lady had not been introduced to Michiyori’s parents in person. Yet his mother had a favorable impression of the Lady through the exchange of letters. Sensing the Lady’s brightness and poise from her thoughtful words and beautiful handwriting, Michiyori’s mother acknowledged the mysterious lady at the Nijō mansion to be a good match for her son and said to him, “She seems like a fine lady; I can tell from her writing. Who are her parents? Just go with her” (p. 126). The fact that Michiyori’s mother handed the responsibility to renew her son’s wardrobe to the unseen lady indicates the mother’s great trust in her to begin with. Yet to see if the Lady could manage this important task was also the mother’s way of testing her capability to properly run her son’s household.
I shall note that the verb phrase “immediately set off to do” (isogase tamau; se is understood as the honorific auxiliary verb here) in the above quote is more frequently interpreted as the Lady’s urging her attendants to start. SNKBT, Nihon koten bungaku zenshū, Shinpen Nihon koten bungaku zenshū, Kadokawa sophia bunko, and Kakimoto Tsutomu all belong to this category, as they interpret the se as the causative auxiliary verb. (Shinchō Nihon koten shūsei suggests still another interpretation: the Lady had her attendants urge others to dye the fabrics). In contrast, with the exception of Nakamura Akika, few posit that the se is the honorific auxiliary verb, although Nihon koten bungaku taikei (NKBT hereafter) does note that the Lady seems to be the one who performed the needlework, based on the description in the text (Note 3). Contextually speaking, it makes sense to interpret the se as causative, since this scene depicts the heroine’s transformation into the mistress of her household who has to lead and oversee a large number of female attendants (p. 124). Nonetheless, we cannot forget that the narrator cares to preface the verb phrase with “moto yori yoku shitamaeru koto nareba” (because [creating outfits] is something she has always excelled at). Further, the mother’s compliment directed to the Lady (p. 144) focuses on the beautiful seams (harime) on the robe, suggesting that she indeed performed the sewing herself:
As such, the year ended. Michiyori was amazed at the colorful and gorgeously tailored outfits for the new year procession. Upon seeing Michiyori walking around in his brand-new robe, his mother exclaimed, “How stunning! She did such an excellent job. Next time when the junior imperial consort has an important event to attend, I shall ask your wife to help. These seams are impeccable, just as I imagined (pp. 143–144).
It is important to note that the mother’s focus was on the seams (harime), something one must closely observe, rather than the eye-catching colors of the robe that the narrator remarks on. NKBZ and SNKBZ both interpret this simply as evidence of the Lady’s skillful needlework (Note 4), while Hokiyama Kageo and Kakimoto Tsutomu allude it to a Man’yōshū poem by Abe no Iratsume (4:514): 吾背子之蓋世流衣之針目不落入伝家良之我情副 (As I pour myself into making a robe for my beloved, it seems that my heart has been stitched into every seam [harime]) (Note 5). Certainly, just like this poem, the Lady must have poured herself into every stitch of Michiyori’s new year robe, while feeling both the pressure to prove herself to her mother-in-law and the bliss to be able to create attire for an important event for her husband. Nonetheless, what is more striking about this scene is the Lady’s extraordinariness seeping through the harime—the intricate pattern consisting of countless small stitches—and how it moved Michiyori’s mother in a manner that renewed her trust in the Lady. The Lady’s sacred “power/ability,” traceable back to the legend of the celestial weaving maiden, signifies her ideal traits that shine through the harime. As mentioned above, Michiyori’s mother was already impressed with the Lady’s poise, based on her calligraphy and the way she presented herself through writing. But Michiyori’s mother also instantly recognized that the Lady was no ordinary woman and expressed her wish that she would create attire for her daughter, the emperor’s junior consort.
Evidently, over at Chūnagon’s mansion, the absence of the Lady generated serious tension in the marriage between San no Kimi and Kurōdo no Shōshō:
Those attires prepared at his in-law’s home, which used to delight him, have been replaced by poorly sewn ugly robes. This greatly irritated Kurōdo no Shōshō; he would throw down the outfits San no Kimi had tailored for him, yelling, “What in the world is going on now? The one who used to make my robes… where did she go?” (p. 144).
Earlier in the story, the reader learned that Kurōdo no Shōshō was “not too keen on San no Kimi even from the beginning” (p. 141) but he was extremely fond of the intricate garments provided by his in-laws. Now that the Lady was gone, the only thing that kept Kurōdo no Shōshō around also vanished, naturally straining his relationship with San no Kimi. To make matters worse, Kurōdo no Shōshō was extremely upset about the groom of his wife’s younger sister, Shi no Kimi. As one of the series of Michiyori’s vengeance against his wife’s stepmother, Shi no Kimi was first made to believe that she was going to marry Michiyori. However, on the wedding night, Michiyori instead sent in the laughingstock at court nicknamed White-Faced Colt as her groom. Kurōdo no Shōshō could not stand being associated with this clown. Meanwhile, Michiyori’s arranged marriage between Kurōdo no Shōshō and his middle sister was also underway (pp. 124–145). As such, his visit to San no Kimi became increasingly rare and one day it completely stopped. The stepmother was devastated by this turn of events. Though she was oblivious to the connection between the turmoil that her family was suddenly plunged into and her missing stepdaughter, she nonetheless blamed the loss of her favorite son-in-law on the Lady’s disappearance. Her fury and despair were so intense that she almost made herself sick. She would brood, “I cannot believe that that Ochikubo dared to run away! How can I cast a curse on her?” (p. 145). As for San no Kimi, not only did the disappearance of her half-sister reveal her incompetence but it drove her husband away.
The juxtaposition of the two young women vividly contrasts their respective circumstances—the rise in status for the formerly abused stepdaughter and the misfortune of the cherished biological daughter. The more apparent San no Kimi’s incompetence as a wife became, the more obvious the Lady’s favorable qualities became, despite the latter’s lack of parental support, which was a significant disadvantage for women in the competitive polygynous system.
The tale makes it clear that it is through the act of sewing that the Lady’s special “power/ability” transpires, as indicated by the words of the stepmother and Kurōdo no Shōshō as well as Michiyori’s mother’s comments on the harime. That is, the multi-step process of creating a piece of garment requires dyeing and cutting the fabric, and so on, but the people’s focus is always on her “power/ability” to sew.
4. The Mother-in-Law’s Trust
Having earned the trust of Michiyori’s mother, the Lady’s position within Michiyori’s household was secured for the time being. Some time passed and the mother-in-law asked for the Lady’s help again—for Kurōdo no Shōshō and Michiyori’s middle sister’s wedding ceremony. Unexpectedly, this turned out to be an important opportunity for the Lady to look back on her life.
Michiyori’s mother wanted to make sure that the bride and groom’s attire for the wedding reception on the third night would be prepared by the Lady. As the Lady hurriedly dyed and cut the fabric, she could not help but reminisce about the last time she made a wedding robe for the very person, Kurōdo no Shōshō, when he married San no Kimi. The Lady was overcome with emotions and composed a poem:
Though the wearer of this robe remains the same,
I have moved on. I left the home—
though I have yet to forget about the place
The Lady then carefully stitched the cloth, again and again, to complete the robe and presented it to her mother-in-law. Seeing this exquisite piece, she was ecstatic. Michiyori, too, marveled at his wife’s exceptional ability. . . (p. 155).
As the Lady dyed, cut, and sewed the fabric to create Kurōdo no Shōshō’s wedding attire for the second time, her hand movements brought back the painful memories from the time she was under her stepmother’s gripping control. As for Michiyori, knowing that the stepmother was so fond of Kurōdo no Shōshō and that the Lady had to suffer for the stepmother’s selfish desire to please her favorite son-in-law, he was determined to punish the evil woman by stealing Kurōdo no Shōshō away from her family (p. 144). This means that sewing was a form of abuse that the stepmother employed.
Nevertheless, this painful recollection of the Lady was also a clear affirmation as to how far she had come. Not a long time ago, the Lady was degraded by her stepmother, far worse than how a lowly servant would be treated. And San no Kimi and Shi no Kimi, too, showed their contempt by referring to their own half-sister as “the seamstress.” Given this, sewing a wedding robe for the same man under entirely different circumstances must have been an opportunity for the Lady to savor her new life. She is now the wife (and the only wife) of the man she loves and that she has earned the trust and admiration of her mother-in-law. This is probably why she was compelled to compose a poem and she took in the poignance and joy that she had never felt before.
As we have seen thus far, the protagonist of this tale was tasked to create ceremonial outfits for Michiyori’s new year procession and the wedding for his middle sister and Kurōdo no Shōshō. Not only did Michiyori’s mother make these requests, but she also expressed her wish to ask the Lady to do this again, when her eldest daughter (the junior imperial consort) is to attend a special event. The formality of these ceremonial occasions signifies the magnitude of the responsibilities that Michiyori’s mother entrusted to the Lady. This, of course, suggests the continuous elevation of her station in Michiyori’s family.
By examining the Lady’s engagement in needlework at the Nijō mansion, we can trace the process in which she gradually became a trusted member of Michiyori’s family as well as the trajectory of her promising future.
5. Becoming a Member of Michiyori’s Family (Ie)
With that being said, it was not enough for the Lady to be welcomed into Michiyori’s family by his mother. In order for her to duly reinstate herself in the world according to her lineage (her late mother was a daughter of a princess), she also needed to redeem her membership—this time as a legitimate child—within Chūnagon’s family.
Translator’s note: Upon the death of her birthmother, the young lady was placed in the custody of her father and stepmother. Chūnagon’s wife kept the existence of her stepdaughter a secret from the world. The girl was destined to rot in the dungeon as an unpaid seamstress of the family. Because of these circumstances, her marriage to Michiyori was conducted privately, unbeknownst to Chūnagon and his wife. Even after the Lady moved into the Nijō mansion, her identity was not revealed to the world lest Chūnagon, who was still senior to Michiyori at court, and his wife would attempt retaliation. After the Lady’s vanishment, Chūnagon and his family assumed she was kidnapped by bandits and killed.
Michiyori was a desirable, up-and-coming courtier. So Udaijin (the Minister of the Right) wished to take him as his son-in-law. He approached Michiyori’s menoto (“wetnurse”), saying, “Your young lord does not have a proper wife yet. That anonymous lady at the Nijō mansion must not be of significant lineage” (p. 160) and asked her to arrange marriage between his daughter and Michiyori. The menoto, too, regarded the Lady as “someone who does not seem to have parents and is solely dependent on my Lord” (p. 160) and carried out this matching behind Michiyori’s back. Though Michiyori angrily and hastily overturned this arrangement, this incident made the Lady realize the precarious position she was in. On another occasion, Chūnagon and his wife attempted to set up a marriage between their fourth daughter (Shi no Kimi) and Michiyori, as well. Although Michiyori appropriated this opportunity to chastise the stepmother by sending the White-Face Colt into Shi no Kimi’s bedchamber in lieu of himself, this was another situation that highlighted the difference in status between the heroine and her half-sister. In order for the Lady to be publicly acknowledged as Michiyori’s proper wife, she had to be recognized as a legitimate daughter of Chūnagon.
Importantly, it is Michiyori’s mother who played a critical role in establishing the Lady’s social position. First, Michiyori’s mother voluntarily expressed her desire to meet the Lady. She then suggested to Michiyori that he bring her to the procession-viewing banquet during the upcoming Kamo Festival (the mother herself sent a personal invitation to the Lady, pp. 160–170). Although Michiyori’s mother always thought highly of the Lady and she already told him to “go with her” (p. 126) upon reading her letter, this invitation was a sign that her mother was ready to formalize the Lady’s membership within her family in public. Her gesture greatly pleased Michiyori (p. 169).
At last, on the first day of the Kamo Festival, the Lady met with Michiyori’s parents for the first time, as large crowds gathered to watch the processions. This was the family’s introduction of their newest member to the world. Behind this fortune, I shall reiterate, lies the Lady’s innate “power/ability” that people discerned in the exquisite garments she was able to produce.
After the processions ended, the Lady was about to bid farewell but Michiyori’s mother invited her and her entourage over to their home. In the scene where they travel together in an ox carriage, the narrator captures the Lady’s newfound position:
- “The carriage pulled over and the princess (daughter of Michiyori’s sister and emperor) and Naka no Kimi (Michiyori’s middle sister) were seated in the front and the daughter-in-law (yome no kimi; the Lady) sat in the back” (p. 172).
- “Taishō (“Major Captain”; Michiyori’s father) threw a fancy banquet for the Lady and her attendants because she was his dear son’s wife (on-yukari)” (p. 172).
In Example 1 above, the narrator describes the Lady as “daughter-in-law” (yome no kimi). Fujii Yoshikazu notes the significance of referring to the heroine as such in the very scene when she visits her in-law’s mansion for the first time (Note 6). Unlike how this term is used in modern Japanese, yome in the tenth century signified not just a woman’s status as wife but her entrance into her husband’s family (the dictionary Wamyō ruijūshō [938] defines yome as “son’s wife”). As this is the only time when this term appears in this tale, it impresses upon the reader of the heroine’s newly recognized social position.
As for Example 2, the narrator attributes the large scale of the banquet Taishō held to his acknowledgement of the Lady as his beloved son’s on-yukari. All the annotators of the various versions agree that yukari here means “spouse.” Aside from this scene, there are two other instances in this tale where yukari is used. In both cases, it signifies close kinship:
- “Around this time, the emperor suddenly fell gravely ill. He abdicated and his heir apparent, the junior imperial consort’s first prince, was enthroned. His second prince was reinstated as the new heir apparent. The junior imperial consort was promoted to the rank of retired empress (kōtaigō). Michiyori became a great counselor, while San no Kimi’s former husband [now Michiyori’s brother-in-law] became a middle counselor, and Michiyori’s younger brother became a middle captain. The entire yukari of Michiyori shared their prominence in court and enjoyed their singular, unrivaled fortune” (pp. 220–221).
- “To whom can we attribute this good luck? Our lady’s (Shi no Kimi) fortune is all because of her yukari with the Lady!” (p. 280).
Example 3 describes a series of promotions that were given to Michiyori and his yukari. Example 4 is a remark made by Shi no Kimi’s attendant, who connects her mistress’s newfound fortune with her yukari to the Lady and her husband Michiyori, because Shi no Kimi was able to find a new, fine husband, after divorcing the White-Faced Colt.
As such, Michiyori’s singular devotion to the Lady was as clear as day. The Lady, too, felt that his love was unwavering. So she proceeded to say, “It has been too long since I left home—I would like to let my father know that I am actually alive and well. Since he is getting old, it is possible that he can suddenly pass in the middle of the night or early in the morning when no one is watching. I am afraid that I may not have a chance to see him again in this world” (p. 172).
This conversation is not simply illustrating the Lady’s love for her father; we shall not overlook the fact that the narrator premises the Lady’s desire upon her growing sense of security as Michiyori’s wife. Her mother-in-law’s affection for the Lady and Michiyori’s profound love gave her the confidence to let Chūnagon know of the truth without the fear of her stepmother’s wrath.
In this tale, the formerly abused and neglected motherless heroine acquires upward social mobility first through establishing herself in her new family, or Michiyori’s yukari. Recall the rumor of Michiyori’s arranged marriage to the daughter of Udaijin, which made the Lady realize her precarious position in the highly competitive polygynous society. Nonetheless, the Lady steadily gained the trust and admiration of Michiyori’s parents and, at last, she was publicly acknowledged as their yome on the day of the Kamo Festival. Only because of this, the Lady could begin to dream about being reunited with her father.
Again, the Lady’s rise in status is inseparable from her “power/ability” of sewing. Granted, as Iwasa Miyoko has stated, it was the wife’s prerogative and responsibility to be in charge of her husband’s wardrobe and one may think there is nothing special about the Lady’s accomplishments. That said, I shall underscore the trajectory of her growing importance in Michiyori’s family and her needlework played a significant role in elevating her stature. To put it differently, without the ability to create outfits and manage her husband’s wardrobe, the wife could fall in status, as exemplified by the case of San no Kimi. Similarly, Shi no Kimi astonished her new husband when she neglected her responsibility to create outfits as a token of appreciation for her attendants who had helped the couple’s relocation to Tsukushi (p. 284–285).
6. Becoming a Member of Chūnagon’s Family
To return to the couple’s conversation in which the Lady expressed her desire to see her father, Michiyori’s response was “not yet.” This is because he planned to pull a few more tricks on the stepmother and he also needed to wait for a few more rounds of promotion in order to outrank Chūnagon before he could safely reveal the truth to the Lady’s father. Some time passed and, upon the completion of Michiyori’s elaborate retaliation scheme, the father and daughter were finally reunited. Subsequently, Michiyori held a series of religious events and ceremonies on behalf of Chūnagon. From the beginning, Michiyori intended to thoroughly avenge the stepmother and Chūnagon for her evilness and for his complicity and then to smother them with kindness. Therefore, Michiyori planned out numerous ways to gratify Chūnagon for the remaining years of his life (pp. 231, 268).
Scholars tend to think that Michiyori’s sponsorship of celebratory events for Chūnagon is merely motivated by his filial piety and desire to undo some of the damage he caused. Nevertheless, there is another important function to consider, as these public events draw a parallel with the Kamo Festival in that they provide opportunities to introduce the Lady to the world and reinstate her position as Chūnagon’s legitimate offspring. In fact, Michiyori’s sponsorship of these auspicious ceremonies in the name of Chūnagon is significantly more effective than the Kamo Festival for this purpose, as the following quotes from the Hōkke hakkō (a series of eight sermons on the Lotus Sutra) illustrate:
The day broke and the sermon began early in the morning. A number of high-ranking courtiers were in attendance, not to mention countless mid-ranking ones. Unable to contain their astonishment, these officials uttered, “How was that old and senile Chūnagon able to attract such a superb son-in-law? How lucky he is!” (p. 223).
Not only did the people marvel at Chūnagon’s fortune with his new son-in-law, but they also justly attributed his luck to having a daughter like the Lady. The courtiers whispered to each other, “Indeed, it is a daughter who truly brings prosperity to the family. We all should pray to gods and buddhas so they would grant us fine girls” (p. 227). These reactions among the attendees of the Hokke hakko reflect the reality of the aristocracy.
As seen in the “Sakaki”, “Miotsukushi,” and “Yomogiu” chapters of the Tale of Genji, the Hokke hakko offered a space where people of all walks of life gathered, interacted, and observed one another.
More than anything else, this Hokke hakkō was the chance for Michiyori to flaunt his wife to her former abuser. To make this happen, rather than holding the event in his own premises, Michiyori offered to renovate Chūnagon’s mansion and hosted the sermons there (pp. 221–222). The Lady’s stepmother and stepsisters had no choice but to sheepishly acknowledge the magnificence of the Lady they used to exploit, bully, and slight.
Thus, the Lady was formally and properly reintegrated into Chūnagon’s family before the eyes of numerous people. This was the final step of redeeming our heroine’s due esteem.
When the Lady’s birthmother died, she lost her home, where she grew up until the age of seven or eight. Under the control of her stepmother, she was never treated as a member of this family. The stepmother also exploited her “power/ability” for the purpose of attracting young men to her daughters and, once married, for keeping the sons-in-law around. Nonetheless, once the Lady escaped the imprisonment with the help of Michiyori, she empowered herself with her own “power/ability” of sewing. She established herself as the ideal wife of Michiyori, who later attained the highest non-royal court position of chancellor. The Lady then regained a membership in Chūnagon’s family—this time, as the most prominent and filial child of his, through sponsoring a series of ceremonious events on his behalf.
7. Conclusion
In this essay, I have examined the act of sewing in the protagonist’s post-imprisonment life. Through this analysis, I have illuminated how the Lady’s volitional engagement in needlework resulted in her acquisition of legitimate memberships in two aristocratic families. Through the associations with Michiyori’s family and that of Chūnagon, the Lady found her place in society.
It is worth noting that the day of the Kamo Festival is the last time the Lady’s performing needlework is mentioned. After this, as the mistress of the house, she managed her ladies-in-waiting to produce and allocate clothing articles (p. 185). Towards the end of the tale, the narrator also mentions the Lady’s gifting magnificent attire to her stepmother and stepsisters (p. 276). These incremental changes in the Lady’s relationship to sewing echoes the gradual transformations of her social status in her life.
Lastly, I shall reiterate that the protagonist of the Tale of Ochikubo was not a helpless heroine who was solely dependent on her husband. She exerted her “power/ability” to blaze a trail into happiness and rightly earned her prominence in society.
Endnotes
Note 1: See Fujii Sadakazu, Koten o yomu hon (Nihon Britannica, Inc., 1980); Furuhashi Nobutaka, “Monogatari bungaku to shinwa: Mamako ijime-tan no hasseiron (in Mitani Eiichi, ed., Taikei monogatari bungakushi 1: Monogatari bungaku towa nanika I, Yuseidō, 1982); Takahashi Tōru, “Ochikubo monogatari” (in Mitani Eiichi, ed., Taikei monogatari bungakushi 3: Monogatari bungaku no keifu I, Yuseidō, 1983).
Note 2: I have detailed the protagonist’s “power/ability” in my essay “Ochikubo no Kimi no hōsei kōi” (Nihon bungaku, February 2003). The mythical “power/ability” associated with sewing and weaving is discernible, not only in the ancient legends of Tanabatatsume and Orihime, but also in the sennin-bari (“protective” amulet-belts sewn by 1000 women; these were given to soldiers during the wartime) tradition.
Note 3: See Shin Nihon koten bungaku taikei (SNKBT hereafter; Fujii Sadakazu, ed.); Nihon koen bungaku zenshū (NKBZ hereafter; Mitani Eiichi, ed.); Shinpen Nihon koten bungaku zenshū (SNKBZ hereafter, Mitani Kuniaki, ed.); Kadokawa sophia bunko (Muroki Hideyuki, ed); Kakimoto Tsutomu, Ochikobo monogatari chūshaku (Kasama Shoin, 1991); Shinchō Nihon koten shūsei (SNKS hereafter, Inagaki Keiji, ed.); Nakamura Akika, Ochikubo monogatari taisei (Seikei Gakuen Shuppanbu, 1901: 1923); Nihon koten bungaku taikei (Matsuo Satoshi, ed.). Nihon koten zensho (NKZ hereafter; Tokoro Hiroshi, ed.) does not note this.
Note 4: See NKBZ and SNKBZ.
Note 5: See Hokiyama Kageo, Ochikubo monogatari shōkai (Kokugaikun Daigaku Shuppanbu, 1909).
Note 6: See SNKBT.
Note 7: See NKZ; SNKS; NKBT; SNKBT; NKBZ, SNKBZ, Nakamura (1901: 1923); Kakimoto (1991).
Note 8: Iwasa Miyoko, “‘Waga sometaru to mo iwaji’: Kagerō nikki fukushoku hyōgenkō” in Uemura Etsuko, ed. Ōchō nikki no shinkenkyū (Kasama Shoin, 1995). In a roundtable discussion (Genji kenkyū no. 9 [2004]), Iwasa remarks on the prestigious aspect of preparing clothes for one’s husband, based on the fact that Lady Akashi, Genji’s lesser wife, has no responsibility of preparing outfits for her husband.