Love in classical Japan served two means. One of duty and procreation and one of passion and impulse. The one of passion and impulse were considered unavoidable (and sometimes taboo, but even a taboo love was still love) and I think what our modern Western sentiments would regard as “true love”. However, this true love (and even love of duty) almost always ends tragically. Love as represented in waka poetry and The Tale of Genji is unavoidable, impulsive, and if real and passionate, almost always ends tragically. Or, love is something which is simply a duty. Both representations of love can be seen in The Tale of Genji and the idea of a passionate, but ultimately tragic love affair serves as the arc for waka poetry.
Starting with waka poetry, I think waka 33 represents the initial impulse of love (i.e. attraction or lust). “In the month of June/ When the little cuckoo cries,/ Sweet flag everywhere:/ Oh, my sweet tangle of my love/ That knows no weave or pattern!” The poet here is lamenting the fact that they cannot control who they love, adding to entire idea that love in classical Japan was viewed as instant and uncontrollable. From a historical context, they may have been because women were hidden away behind screens and men didn’t necessarily see a woman until they were dating, so catching glimpses of someone and being attracted to them, was enough to qualify for these waka poems. This kind of society breeded men who could fall in love at just the glimpse of a woman (while I recognize this could easily be reversed, and probably sometimes was, men were traditionally the ones to initiate contact with a woman).
Waka poetry isn’t just about love at first sight or the passionate thralls of being in love, waka poetry can also long for a lover or lament loneliness. From Waka 49, “…Can she ever know/ This yearning unless someone goes/ To tell of my disordered heart?” The poet’s loneliness here is capture through their longing for the woman. Disordered heart also hints at a forbidden love, taboo attraction, or rejection. Finally, Waka poetry also touches on the tragic end of a love affair. Waka 88 goes, “Has she gone away/ To a realm too distant/ For my thought to reach? Wandering on the path of dreams/ I meet no one at all.” This poet seems to be mourning the death of their lover implying that they have “gone away to a realm too distant”. This tragic end seems a common theme in classical Japanese love literature.
The Tale of Genji builds off waka poetry and contains unforgettable love affairs that are passionate, but ultimately end tragically. The best example is that of Genji’s parents, the Emperor and the consort, Lady Kiritsubo. The Emperor and Lady Kiritsubo had a passionate love and she was known to be one of the Emperor’s favorite consorts, however, she was of low status, making their love somewhat forbidden and taboo. Due to this, Lady Kiritsubo is incessantly harassed and bullied by the other consorts, notably Lady Kokiden, the Emperor’s main consort (and essentially the empress). The king mourns her significantly and even begins a relationship with Fujitsubo simply because she looks like Kiritsubo.
However, in The Tale of Genji we also see love as something political and as a duty. With Genji’s father, the Emperor, he has many consorts, but his relationship with Kokiden is one of political relevance. Her son is the first to succeed to the throne upon the Emperor’s abdication and even when the Emperor is in love with Kiritsubo and publicly regards her as his favorite, his relationship with Kokiden and her status as the main consort is never challenged. We can also see this kind of love between Genji and his first wife, Aoi. Genji was neglectful of Aoi and pursued multiple other women while they were married (one of which later possesses Aoi and kills her). Just before her death, however, Aoi bears a son, effectively giving Genji and heir and serving the purpose the marriage was designed to. Genji and Aoi never had much affection for one another and Genji often showed favor to the other women he had affairs with over Aoi, such as when Aoi’s and Rokujo’s men get into a fight, despite Aoi being distraught and upset by the occurrence, Genji defends and supports Rokujo. These two loves—despite being passionless and purely for duty—still end tragically. The Emperor eventually dies leaving Kokiden behind (although with her son as the Emperor she has considerable political power) and Aoi dies after being possessed by Rokujo’s spirit. Even after Aoi’s death, Genji—unlike his father when Lady Kiritsubo died—does not mourn much on a personal level and marries Murasaki as soon as the societal mourning period is over.
Genji’s love for Murasaki, however, represents this impulsive love seen in the waka poetry. As soon as Genji catches a glimpse of Murasaki, he is absolutely consumed with lust for her. This type of love is portrayed as unavoidable. While even characters within The Tale of Genji say that Murasaki is too young, Genji’s love sees no bounds. Murasaki also connects to Kiritsubo because she is Fujitsubo’s niece and looks a lot like her aunt (and therefore looks like Genji’s own mother). Therefore, this connection is paralleling the Emperor’s love with Kiritsubo, which was passionate and boundless, with Genji and Murasaki’s love.
While love is portrayed with a tragic bent in classical Japan the consensus among the literature is that just because it ends tragically, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love. Waka 108 reads, “When summer insects/ Waste their bodies in the flame,/ It is through an urge/ Not other than my own desire/ For burning in the fire of love”. The poem states that while you inevitably will be burned by love, that there is still an urge to participate. Even if one knows a love is doomed, the loving is worth getting burned. Genji loves many women without thought towards the consequences and while he does he does eventually face some consequences for his actions, he doesn’t regret his actions (with the exception of fathering a child with Fujitsubo). Love isn’t something that can be helped in classical Japanese literature, so one might as well give in to love.
Alisan Keesee 