O
nly one ignorant of the world could say that what we see before us
now bears no resemblance to the past.”
1
For a reader in a relatively
stable or secure society, the sentiment may not elicit a strong reaction—
perhaps only a sense of ennui. Or some sympathy with what sounds like
dissatisfaction over a relentlessly presentist mode of analysis. Or even, with
a bit of interpretive license, frustration at a lack of novelty. One response
that
it is unlikely to evoke, however, is that of relief.
But the above assertion is the product of a very diff
erent space and
time, appearing in an elite courtier’s—Nakayama no Tadachika (1131–circa
1194)—late-twelfth-century response to years of upheaval:
The Water Mir-
ror
. For a courtier like Tadachika, the stability and security suggested by
continuities with the past were precisely the message. He was writing for
readers who had witnessed decades of violence. Not only would some of
them have been through the H
ō
gen and Heiji Disturbances of 1156 and
1160, but nearly all of them would have experienced the recent civil war,
the Genpei War (1180–85). Those based in the capital likely would have
been able to recall how late in 1179, in a move interpreted as an expression
1. Kaneko e
t
al.,
Mizukagami zen chūshaku
, 28. This is the edition of Nakayama
Tadachika’s
Mizukagami
used throughout this book. There is some uncertainty as to
whether Tadachika was born in 1131 or 1132. He refers to himself as being forty-nine (by
the traditional count) in the diary entry for Jishō 3 (1179).2.23 (Nakayama,
Sankaiki
,
2:230), so I use the 1131 date.
In t r od uc t ion
“