Loyalty In Genji

In a culture focused so decidedly on status, it is natural that historical Japanese society would place great importance on relationships between its members. These interpersonal connections helped to define and solidify a person’s position just as much, if not more so, than did their birth. Thus, the attribute of loyalty was highly valued as it was essential to creating an environment of complex alliances within both the Heian court of Genji and later between the samurai of the shogunates in Jōkyūki. In both cases, these social treaties were important forms of protection and power in battle, political and literal. Therefore, loyalty in daily interactions became an almost fetishized virtuosity symptomatic of the larger trend of fidelity in

socio-political relations, an ideal which is reflected in The Tale of Genji and Jōkyūki.
Lady Murasaki Shikibu’s literary epic The Tale of Genji is widely considered the world’s first novel. This sweeping tale of love and heroism provides a unique view into Heian court life. Notably, her work provides a sensitive and nuanced portrait of the women of the court and their rich inner lives. Despite the titular character being male and much of the story being centered on his exploits, the emotional weight of the tale lies in the intersecting stories of the women. In one of the most infamous scenes, Genji and some of his companions discuss their idea of ‘the ideal woman’. While the younger men tend to focus more on physical beauty and ‘accomplishment’ in a manner which finds echoes in Austen’s works centuries later, the older man councils that “one should settle on someone wholly dependable, quiet, and steady” (Shikibu and Tyler, 25). He goes on to emphasize that loyalty is a more valuable trait in a companion than “any wit of accomplishment” (Shikibu and Tyler, 25). While Genji is already married and his exploits are all extramarital affairs, the trait of loyalty is still important to him; Genji appears to genuinely care for all his lovers in his own boyish way.
However, conflict arises when his advances are not reciprocated.

Later in the same chapter, Hahakigi, he attempts to woo Utsusemi but is rebuked as she claims that as a married woman of lower standing, it would be dishonorable. She continues to rebuff him on this pretext and Genji eventually moves on to other men and women. Utsusemi’s motivations are unclear; she seems regretful that she cannot be with Genji, but is incredibly firm in her resolve (Shikibu and Tyler, 47). This brings into question the notion of duty versus loyalty. She may be rejecting him out of a sense of duty to her position and his, wishing to spare them both any dishonor should they be caught. Alternatively, her rejection could stem from loyalty to her husband, a man whom even Genji recognizes as “a man of real substance”, and whose death she appears to mourn as she becomes a nun after his passing (Shikibu and Tyler, 51). The fine semantic line between duty and honor is more relevant to Genji than Jōkyūki, as it is a matter of emotional intent and Genji is more concerned with this theme. While each character in the story may have a slightly different version of what loyalty looks like i.e. loyalty to oneself through pursuit of pleasure versus loyalty to others in instances of abnegation. Both Genji and Utsusemi greatly value the virtue of loyalty and reflect versions of this trait in themselves as well as expecting it in others. However, exercising this virtue is never shown to make any character in the story happier, although it’s arguable that virtually every character in the tale is a tragic one in some sense. Unlike in the western canon, virtue is necessary, but not necessarily

rewarded.
In Jōkyūki, while loyalty is certainly an important theme, specific instances are less notable and more difficult to analyze. The piece is not intended as literature and therefore lacks the character development seen in Murasaki’s work. However, there are a handful of notable examples of filial duty, which in these instances is interchangeable with the idea of filial loyalty. A negative example is shown in Yoritomo’s heir Yoriie; “he made no effort to govern and ignored all advice from his mother and uncle” (Tyler, 202). He is assassinated soon after; presumably divine retribution for breaking the bonds of loyalty between ruler and subject and between family members. As this collection is of tales of medieval war rather than medieval court life, relationships are often much more visceral, marked primarily by each party’s willingness to kill and die for the other. For the military elite of the Kamakura period, oaths of loyalty were sworn in blood and paid in kind.
For example: the deaths of Iga-no-hōgan Mitsusue and his son Juō. For his relation to the troublesome Yoshitoki, the father’s execution is ordered by the Shogun (Tyler, 210). However, due to his loyalty to Yoshitoki and preservation of personal honor, Mitsusue is determined to stand and fight even though he will almost certainly die in the process. He is in fact grievously wounded. Knowing his injury to be fatal, Mitsusue subsequently orders his son to commit suicide. Presumably, this is to avoid the son’s capture and ultimate humiliation, torture, and execution. Warriors of the Kamakura period and later ascribed to the belief that it was better to honorably take one’s own life than suffer the dishonor of being taken prisoner. Thus, Juō attempts to immolate himself in the burning house behind them, but fails repeatedly though not for lack of trying. To the modern western mind, this sort of gesture of loyalty is unimaginable. The closest one could get might be Abraham’s sacrifice of his son Isaac, but that gesture was instigated and ultimately barred by the literal world of God. The notion of suicide as necessary rather than an example of heroic self-sacrifice illustrates the contrast between interpretations of loyalty in medieval Japan compared to the modern world.
Mitsusue then beckons Juō over, relays some meaningless last words to him, and then offers him life. Juō refuses, asking to die by his father’s hand as he has not the strength to take his own life but does not wish to be a disloyal son and bring his father shame by being captured. Tears in his eyes, Misusue stabs his son to death and then tosses both himself and the body into the flames (Tyler, 216-217). This cheery scene demonstrates the view of Jōkyūki contemporaries that loyalty mean serving with one’s life and, if necessary, one’s death. In such a turbulent and often violent period like Kamakura Japan, the macabre normality of horrible death was elevated into something worth doing by the idea that one’s death could be as meaningful, or more so than, their life. Although there appears to be nothing remarkable in the act itself, to do the opposite would be untenable. Thus, death becomes the default position as a final expression of loyalty.
Genji focuses on intimate stories with universal themes of love and betrayal. Loyalty in the context of the story is a matter of personal honor and the basis for important relationships. Life in the ‘aristocratic village’ of the Heian court was based upon a complex web of sociopolitical connections and alliances between individuals and families. Through the lens Genji’s intimate adventures, one is able to establish how Murasaki’s depictions of loyalty in romantic relationships fits into the larger narrative of loyalty in court life. Jōkyūki, written much later and with a vastly different intent, paints the virtue of loyalty in an entirely different light. Loyalty, to the samurai and shoguns of the story, is a matter more professional than personal. While individuals certainly demonstrated loyalty to one another, it was generally founded on duty rather than admiration. The samurai was loyal to the shogun; the men bearing those titles were somewhat inconsequential to the exchange. Loyalty in Jōkyūki is also shown as less equal, with one party demanding respect as opposed to the slightly more egalitarian displays in Genji.
While loyalty certainly contains subtly different connotations in the two works, that is not to say that the concept itself changed drastically between the Heian and Kamakura periods. The reason for this literary discrepancy lies in the nature of the characters themselves rather than the authors and their context. Members of the Heian court had no need to make strategic military alliances, just as samurai in the Kamakura period would not have thought to make treaties based on subtle distinctions in the gradient of aristocratic position. In both The Tale of Genji and Jōkyūki, loyalty is a virtue, which each person must strive to embody in their own lives in a way that is most correct to their situation and standing.