1.
雪の色を奪ひて咲ける梅の花今盛りなり見む人もがも
Stealing the color of the snow
The plum blossoms, now in full bloom
Oh, for people to see them! —Otomo-no-tabito (born 665)
I have mentioned in these pages God’s gift to calligraphy Wang Xizhi and the legend of Orchid Pavilion. This happened in spring, on the third day of the third month, in 352 —when the illustrious Master Wang invited forty-two literary figures of the day (who were also his friends and drinking buddies) to gather along a gently flowing stream to play the ultimate literati drinking game. Small cups made out of lotus leaves and filled with wine were floated downstream. The scholars, sitting spread out along the banks of the stream, were to compose poems on a set theme. If the floating cup of wine reached a scholar before he was able to complete his poem, then his task was to down the cup of wine. By the end of the day, the scholars composed thirty-seven poems, and Wang Xizhi, in a burst of energy, took up his brush and transcribed them all in his famed running script style of calligraphy, adding the famous preface for good measure. Inspired by the moment (not to mention the wine), Wang was unable to reproduce his mastery the following day when he sat down to try and re-write his work-- for he had discovered that it was already perfection.
It was the stuff of legend in China (and this was also the subject of my science fiction story, “The Orchid,” in the Michigan Quarterly Review. To say I am obsessed with Orchid Pavilion would only be putting it mildly. In my story, a future Mi Fu in space spends his days imagining he was there on earth when the gathering took place along that wandering stream
Well, he wasn’t the only one. In the year 730, a minister is slowly losing political power and ends up the governor general in remote Daizufu, where the ruling was done in Kyushu. Not one to be undone, the governor general Otomo no Tabito holds a drinking party of his own. Calling thirty-one guests from as faraway as Satsuma and Tsushima to gather in his garden, they sit under the blossoming plum trees writing poems about the beauty of this world of this time of year, in this most fair month 令月, which is a time of clear air and gentle breezes 氣淑風和— newly green willow trees and the elegant plum blossoms. The poems —along with the preface he (or one of the poets) penned— are collected in book five of the Manyoshu.
It is from this preface that the new era name in Japan— reiwa— is derived.
令 rei means virtuous and good, or fine
和 wa means harmony or harmonious (it is also the first character in my son’s name, kazu)
They are doing this drinking plenty of rice wine, with springs of willows adorning their hats. Such Chinese poetry inspired drinking parties must have been held often among the elite during the Nara period, if not earlier. For along with poetry, plum trees 梅 —called ume in Japanese— were another ancient import from the continent and in the time of Otomo-no-tabito, a favored flower.
In the press, when the new era name was announced, much mention was made about it being the first time an era name was taken directly from Japanese poetry, which up till now the kanji were usually picked from famous Chinese poems. But that said, the poem in question was such a great homage and tribute to Chinese poetry and the arts.
2.
Here is one more plum poem that I like even more than the one at top,
This one is by the man-who-became a god, Sugawara Michizane. An 9th century man-of-letters in the service of the emperor, he was also a renown poet, famous for his poems about plum blossoms. As usually happens with political favorites, Sugawara lost favor with the court and was exiled to Dazaifu (same place as Otomo-no-tabito but a hundred years later!) Located on the island of Kyushu, for him, it was like being sent away to Siberia. After his death, plague and fire swept the capital and many believed it to be the angry spirit of Michizane. There was little to be done but restore his titles posthumously and build a Shinto shrine in his honor, turning him into the god of education.
Even today, students hoping to pass their exams flock to a Tenjin Shrine to pray for the assistance of the god of scholars. And because of Michizane’s fondness for plums, plums are always planted in Tenjin shrines. Plums, then, over time also came to be associated in Japan with education and scholarship. Known as 好文木 (education loving trees), in China, too, their orchid-like fragrance is associated with education. It is said in China that the plum sends out its fragrance in times when scholarship too is blossoming, and the fragrance of plum blossoms is also thought to “cultivate a sublime spirit.”
Probably one of the most famous Japanese poems about plum blossoms, Michizane wrote of the plums in his garden in exile in Kyushu:
**
When the East wind blows
Send me your fragrance
Beautiful plum blossoms
Though your Lord may be absent
Do not forget it is Spring
東風吹かばにほいおこせよ梅の花、主なしとて春な忘れそ
Over the centuries, it has been debated, was he encouraging his wife to remember the beauty of spring in his absence of exile, or was he encouraging the plum blossoms in his garden not to forget to blossom while he was away…
Notes:
The image at top shows a modern translation of the original 8th century poem. Here is what it looks written in the Manyogana script. (I have no idea how to read it or even if this is correct. I found it online.
由吉能伊呂遠 有婆比弖佐家流 有米能波奈 伊麻左加利奈利 弥牟必登母我聞
由吉能伊呂遠 有<婆>比弖佐家流 有米能波奈 伊麻<左>加利奈利 弥牟必登母我聞
It’s a big book, but I am so happy my friend Steven recommended Cranston’s Waka Anthology 感謝!I am not very knowledgeable about the Manyoshu, but I read that the poet’s son was the truly great poet, who was one of the compliers of the collection.
In Cranston’s introduction (above), he mentions the Chinese convention of “elegant confusion,” in this case confusing the pale color of the plum blossoms for the whiteness of snow—for a better example, see this poem by Wang Anshi (plus more book recommendations!)
And here is an online article about the era name
On the drama this week, Sei Shonagon made her first appearance. When I was in school, I learned that the two poets—Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shonagon—were rivals serving different empresses. Because of the wonderful lists and opinions in her book, the Pillow Book, Sei Shonagon has sometimes been called the world’s first blogger. Or a 10th century “influencer.” Also, if Murasaki Shikibu is a Cherry blossom, then Sei Shonagon is plum.
Sei Shonagon's Elegant Things
A white coat worn over a violet waistcoat.
Duck eggs.
Shaved ice mixed with liana syrup and put in a new silver bowl.
A rosary of rock crystal.
Wisteria blossoms. Plum blossoms covered with snow.
A pretty child eating strawberries.
I can’t find any information about the woman who is behind the かしまし歴史チャンネル youtube channel but she is so knowledgeable! Here she is on Sei Shonagon. Also, I liked this interview with the actress who played Sei Shonagon. We can think about how different the Heian elite were in time (a thousand years ago) and place (culture)—but human beings (human becomings) ave not much changed.
As someone whose Chinese writing currently is best described as "cakar ayam" (chicken scratches in Malay), I am always in awe of those whose calligraphy is works of art, especially the Chinese and Japanese poets and writers of old. Really enjoyed this essay - a lovely ramble with morning coffe.
What a coincidence! I'm also writing about plum blossoms, inspired by the weather here in Tokyo two weeks ago--it actually snowed while they were blooming! Around the same time, I learned about 飛梅 as a seasonal name in tea & of course had to research that backstory too, about Sugawara no Michizane being exiled to Kyushu. Had some beautiful moments of discovery & wonder. I'm glad I still have so much to learn about Japanese history & poetic symbolism.