Emperor Uda
March 11, 889 CE
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NOTE |
Japan’s Emperor Uda (r. 887-897 CE) was only 20 when he ascended the Chrysanthemum Throne and reigned but ten years before abdicating. While his life is remembered for the court intrigue surrounding his reign, he also became famous across the internet for a diary entry he made as a 22-year-old in which he celebrated the glories of his pet cat, which he received from the previous emperor, who had gotten it as a gift. Although Uda’s diary makes reference to other cats, so they must have been present in Japan previously, Uda’s account is the oldest surviving discussion of a cat in Japanese literature—and a surprising love-letter to a furry friend. Uda kept his diary in Chinese, the language of the elite at that time. As I do not read Mandarin, the translation below was aided by translation software and corrected against modern published editions.
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DIARY OF EMPEROR UDA
The 6th day of the second month, in the first year of the Kanpyō era (March 11, 889).
In a moment of leisure, I set down these observations regarding my cat: It is a black cat, presented to the late Emperor by Minamoto no Kiyoshi, the Junior Assistant Governor of Dazaifu, upon the completion of his term of office and his return to the capital.
I cherish it for the uniqueness of its coat; whereas all other cats possess a light, dusky hue, this one alone is a deep, profound black, like ink itself. In its physical form, it bears a striking resemblance to the legendary hound Han Lu.
It measures one shaku and five sun in length (about 18 inches), and stands approximately six sun high (about 6 inches). When curled up, it appears as compact as a grain of black millet; yet when fully stretched out, it extends as long as a drawn bow. Its eyes gleam and sparkle with a dazzling intensity, like a myriad of flickering needle-points; its ears stand erect and sharp, motionless as spoons resting upright.
When it lies down to rest, it curls into a perfect circle, its paws and tail completely tucked from sight, resembling a dark jewel resting within a cave. When it walks, it moves in utter silence, making not a sound, like a black dragon gliding across the clouds.
By nature, it is fond of Daoist exercises, movements that harmonize with the Five-Animal Exercises. It frequently lowers its head and tail to the ground, arching its spine high to a height of some two shaku (two feet). Is it not, perhaps, this very practice that accounts for the glossy luster of its coat? Furthermore, it is a skilled hunter of nocturnal mice, far swifter in the chase than any other cat.
The late Emperor cherished and played with it for several days before graciously bestowing it upon me. I have nurtured and cared for it for five years now, feeding it a bowl of milk-porridge every morning. My affection for it stems not merely from its physical prowess or agility, but truly because it was a gift from the late Emperor. Though it be but a humble creature, I harbor a deep and special sentiment toward it, born of the care I have lavished upon it.
I once spoke to it, saying: “You are imbued with the vital energies of Yin and Yang and endowed with a complete bodily form. Do you, in your heart of hearts, truly recognize and understand me?” The cat thereupon sighed, lifted its head, and gazed upward into my face, appearing as though its heart were overflowing with emotion, yet choked with feeling, unable to utter a single word.
In a moment of leisure, I set down these observations regarding my cat: It is a black cat, presented to the late Emperor by Minamoto no Kiyoshi, the Junior Assistant Governor of Dazaifu, upon the completion of his term of office and his return to the capital.
I cherish it for the uniqueness of its coat; whereas all other cats possess a light, dusky hue, this one alone is a deep, profound black, like ink itself. In its physical form, it bears a striking resemblance to the legendary hound Han Lu.
It measures one shaku and five sun in length (about 18 inches), and stands approximately six sun high (about 6 inches). When curled up, it appears as compact as a grain of black millet; yet when fully stretched out, it extends as long as a drawn bow. Its eyes gleam and sparkle with a dazzling intensity, like a myriad of flickering needle-points; its ears stand erect and sharp, motionless as spoons resting upright.
When it lies down to rest, it curls into a perfect circle, its paws and tail completely tucked from sight, resembling a dark jewel resting within a cave. When it walks, it moves in utter silence, making not a sound, like a black dragon gliding across the clouds.
By nature, it is fond of Daoist exercises, movements that harmonize with the Five-Animal Exercises. It frequently lowers its head and tail to the ground, arching its spine high to a height of some two shaku (two feet). Is it not, perhaps, this very practice that accounts for the glossy luster of its coat? Furthermore, it is a skilled hunter of nocturnal mice, far swifter in the chase than any other cat.
The late Emperor cherished and played with it for several days before graciously bestowing it upon me. I have nurtured and cared for it for five years now, feeding it a bowl of milk-porridge every morning. My affection for it stems not merely from its physical prowess or agility, but truly because it was a gift from the late Emperor. Though it be but a humble creature, I harbor a deep and special sentiment toward it, born of the care I have lavished upon it.
I once spoke to it, saying: “You are imbued with the vital energies of Yin and Yang and endowed with a complete bodily form. Do you, in your heart of hearts, truly recognize and understand me?” The cat thereupon sighed, lifted its head, and gazed upward into my face, appearing as though its heart were overflowing with emotion, yet choked with feeling, unable to utter a single word.
