Sei Shōnagon clearly enjoyed romantic adventures during her time in Empress Teishi’s court, and she doesn’t hesitate to disclose these in The Pillow Book. The book isn’t a chronological diary of Sei’s daily life, so it’s not possible to draw many conclusions about her love life overall. Nevertheless, the reader is able to get a general glimpse of relationships between men and women in Empress Teishi’s court. On one hand, there’s a playful element of concealment between men and women, since official business largely kept male and female courtiers apart, and women were generally hidden behind thin screens and blinds, even in the presence of male visitors. On the other hand, Sei isn’t naïve about the ways that women could be vulnerable to male deception and exploitation, especially since they simply didn’t enjoy the same freedom and power as their male counterparts in court. Overall, Sei’s portrayal of the relationships between men and women is a mix of lighthearted and cynical, suggesting that the interplay of official duty and romance can be mutually enjoyable, but that it also carries risks—which generally falls more heavily on women.
In the court, especially given the official separation and carefully supervised distance between men and women, romance appears to have a lighthearted, even recreational aspect. The lives of courtly men are a source of entertainment in the lives of Empress Teishi’s ladies-in-waiting: “The nightly roll call of the senior courtiers is a very fine thing. […] We ladies place ourselves at the eastern edge of Her Majesty’s quarters and strain our ears to listen for the hammering footsteps of the men as they come tumbling out, and a lady will feel that familiar, sudden clutch of the heart as she hears the name of someone particularly dear to her. […] It’s fun the way we all discuss the men’s voices, and pass judgement on how attractive or otherwise each one sounds.” Sei’s description shows that relationships between men and women are heavily mediated by court protocol—sometimes, overheard names and voices are the closest contact between the sexes.
At the same time, Sei’s observations suggest that she enjoys frequent nighttime visits from men—enough to make some humorous observations about common annoyances they bring with them. Such annoyances include a “man you’ve had to conceal in some unsatisfactory hiding place, who then begins to snore. Or, a man comes on a secret visit wearing a particularly tall lacquered cap, and of course as he scuttles in hastily he manages to knock it against something with a loud bump.” Such anecdotes suggest that while overnight visits from lovers are officially taboo, others discovering such visits seems to be a source of humor and doesn’t appear to carry heavy consequences for either party involved.
Secret trysts, in fact, are an opportunity for just the kind of delightful aesthetic experience that Sei lovingly describes throughout The Pillow Book: “Summer provides the most delightful setting for a secret assignation. The nights are so very short that dawn breaks before you’ve slept. Everything has been left open all night, and there’s a lovely cool feel to the expansive view. […] As [the lovers] sit there murmuring endearments, they’re startled into a sudden panicky sensation of exposure by the loud caw of a passing crow—a delightful moment.” Relationships between male and female courtiers carry a pleasant element of risk that enhances rather than detracts from the fun.
Even though Sei generally treats romance as a lighthearted subject, she’s also a rather cynical observer of relationships at court. Sei suggests that one must be discerning about one’s romantic companions. She writes, “I must say I’m ashamed for any woman who’s taken in by some man who is privately thinking, ‘How depressing! She’s not at all what I hoped she’d be. She’s full of irritating faults’, but when he’s with her will fawn and flatter and convince her to trust him. […] And then there’s the man who doesn’t keep his criticisms to himself, but will speak his mind about one woman’s faults to another woman[.]” Sei perceives that deception and flattery abound in romantic relationships, and that woman must be on their guard. Sei herself takes a cynical view of the men she meets, musing, “if ever I do come across a man who seems to feel for me at all, I immediately assume he’s actually quite shallow-hearted, so I have no need to expose myself to potential embarrassment. […] And then there’s the man who takes advantage of a lady at court who has no one to protect her interests, wins her over, and when she falls pregnant, repudiates the affair completely.” Sei’s more pessimistic observations suggest that she has witnessed—and perhaps even experienced—plenty of soured romances during her time at court. Though there’s plenty of opportunity for enjoyment, then, relationships between courtiers clearly also carry the risk of public shame and exposure. Sei suggests that while mixing duty and romance can be exhilarating and enjoyable, it’s also emotionally and professionally risky—with the burden of those undesirable consequences implicitly falling more heavily on the unprotected woman.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Romance and Official Duty ThemeTracker
Romance and Official Duty Quotes in The Pillow Book
There are also those times when you send someone a poem you’re rather pleased with, and fail to receive one in reply. Of course there’s no more to be done about it if it’s to a man you care for. Even so, you do lose respect for someone who doesn’t produce any response to your tasteful seasonal references. It also dampens the spirit when you’re leading a heady life in the swim of things and you receive some boring little old-fashioned poem that reeks of the longueurs of the writer, whose time hangs heavy on her hands.
The nightly roll call of the senior courtiers is a very fine thing. […] We ladies place ourselves at the eastern edge of Her Majesty’s quarters and strain our ears to listen for the hammering footsteps of the men as they come tumbling out, and a lady will feel that familiar, sudden clutch of the heart as she hears the name of someone particularly dear to her. But imagine what thoughts go through her head when it’s the name of a man who no longer bothers even to let her know he exists. It’s fun the way we all discuss the men’s voices, and pass judgement on how attractive or otherwise each one sounds.
There was nothing in [the letter] to justify my nervousness. He had written the line from Bo Juyi, ‘You are there in the flowering capital, beneath the Council Chamber’s brocade curtains’, and added, ‘How should it end, tell me?’
‘What on earth shall I do?’ I wondered. ‘If Her Majesty were here I’d most certainly show this to her. It would look bad to parade the fact that I know the next line by writing it in my poor Chinese characters.’ […]
[S]o I seized a piece of dead charcoal from the brazier and simply wrote at the end of his letter, in Japanese script,
Who will come visiting this grass-thatched hut?
The messenger duly carried it off, but there was no response.
[A messenger] made his way over discreetly to where the ladies were seated and apparently asked in a whisper why nothing was forthcoming. I was sitting four people away from Kohyoe, so even if I’d been able to come up with some response it would have been difficult to say it, and besides, how could you offer some merely average poem in reply to one by Sanekata, who was so famous for his poetic skills? Still, I thought, it’s no good being bashful and hesitant when it comes to poetic composition. Where does that ever get you? Though your poem might not be so very wonderful, the important thing is that it must be something you come out with on the spur of the moment.
I must say I’m ashamed for any woman who’s taken in by some man who is privately thinking, ‘How depressing! She’s not at all what I hoped she’d be. She’s full of irritating faults’, but when he’s with her will fawn and flatter and convince her to trust him. […] I must say, if ever I do come across a man who seems to feel for me at all, I immediately assume he’s actually quite shallow-hearted, so I have no need to expose myself to potential embarrassment.
I really do find it astonishing the way a man will fail to be in the slightest bit affected by the moving nature of a woman’s deep unhappiness, when he considers abandoning her. […] And then there’s the man who takes advantage of a lady at court who has no one to protect her interests, wins her over, and when she falls pregnant, repudiates the affair completely.
When I went out to meet him, he said admiringly, ‘I would have expected the person who received that to respond with some half-baked poem, but your reply was brilliant. A woman who fancies herself as a poet generally leaps at the chance to compose, but I much prefer someone who doesn’t behave like that. For the likes of me, a person who loves to reply with a poem comes across as actually having a much poorer sensibility than someone who doesn’t.’
[…] It’s very unseemly of me to boast like this, I know, but on the other hand I do think it’s an entertaining story.
One young man, who married into the household of a man at the height of his fame and fortune, was never very diligent in calling on his new wife, and ceased coming altogether after a mere month. He was roundly condemned on every front […] Then in the New Year he was made a Chamberlain. […] In the sixth month of that year, everyone gathered to attend the Lotus Discourses that a certain person was dedicating, and there was this son-in-law the Chamberlain, dazzlingly attired in damask skirted trousers, black hanpi jacket and so forth, seated so close to the carriage of his neglected wife that his jacket cord might well have snagged on the tailpiece of her carriage. All the people in the other carriages who knew the details of the situation were thinking, ‘Poor thing, how must she be feeling to see him there?’ […] It does seem that men don’t have much sympathy for others, or understanding of how they’re feeling.
