all their years together. Their marriage had been a remarkably peaceful
one, and they had been nearer than most husbands and wives. And now
this predicament, which he could so easily have avoided. He gave up trying
to prevail upon the princess and spent the night with his sighs.
To flee from this ridiculous situation would only be to make it worse.
He spent the day quietly at Ichijo~.
What brazen impudence, the princess was thinking. She wished she
<P 708>
had never seen him. And he for his part, half angry and half apologetic,
was thinking what a very silly child she was.
The closet was bare save for a perfume chest and a cupboard. They
had been pushed aside and simple curtains put up to make a semblance
of a boudoir. The morning light somehow came seeping in. He pulled away
the quilts and smoothed her tangled hair, and so had his first good look
at her. She was very pretty, delicate and ladylike. He himself was handsom-
er in casual dress than in full court regalia. She remembered how even in
her better days with Kashiwagi he had lost no opportunity to make her
feel inferior. And here she was, wan and emaciated, exposed to the gaze
of this extraordinarily handsome man. He would glance at her a single
time, surely, and cast her away. She tried to sort out her thoughts and make
some sense of them. She feared she was guilty of all the misdeeds with
which the world seemed to be charging her, and her timing could not have
been worse.
She returned to her sitting room and, having seen to her toilet, ordered
breakfast. The somber mourning fixtures being ill-omened and inappropri-
ate for such an occasion, there were screens along the east side and cloves-
dyed curtains of saffron at the main par1or. The tiered stands of
unlacquered wood, plain but tasteful, had with the other furnishings been
provided by the governor of Yamato. The women in attendance at break-
fast were in yellows and reds and greens and purples, neither dull nor
ostentatious, and there were lavender trains and yellow-greens to break
the neutral tones of mourning. The princess's housekeeping arrangements
had been rather loose and disorganized since Kashiwagi's death, and only
the governor of Yamato had sought to discipline the few stewards and
chamberlains she had left. Stewards who had been off about their own
business came running back at news of this eminent guest. They all seemed
very busy.
Yu~giri wished to make it appear that he had established residence at
Ichijo~, and Kumoinokari, though she tried to tell herself that it could not
be so, concluded that all was over between them. She had heard that when
honest, serious men change they change completely. It did seem to be true,
she sighed, going over her stock of nuptial lore. Wanting to avoid further
insults and armed with a convenient taboo, she went home to her father's
house. Her sister, one of the Reizei emperor's ladies, happened to be there
too. With such interesting company she was not in her usual hurry to be
back at Sanjo~.
Yu~giri heard the news. It was as he had feared. She was a flighty and
somewhat choleric lady, perhaps having inherited these traits from her
father, never as calm a man as one might have wished. No doubt each of
<P 709>
them was now busy strengthening the other's view that he had behaved
outrageously and would be doing them a great favor if he were to disap-
pear.
He hurried back to Sanjo~. She had taken her daughters with her and
left behind all her sons but the youngest. It was a touching reunion. The
boys clambered all over him in their delight to see him, though some were
also calling for their mother.
He sent messages and emissaries, but there was no reply. He was
angry now--such blind obstinacy as he had allied himself to! Waiting for
darkness, he went to see what thoughts her father might have in the
matter.
Their lady was in the main hall, said the women. The children were
with their nurse.
He sent over a stern message. "We are a little old, I should think, for
this sort of thing. There you are by yourself, having left a trail of children
behind you, here and at Sanjo~. I have found much in your nature that does
not ideally suit me, but I have been fated to stay with you. And now--
these swarms of children convince me that the time for desertion has
passed. Your behavior seems ridiculously dramatic and overdone."
<P 710>
"'And now.' Yes, "she sent back," you have'now' quite lost patience,
and so I suppose that matters are'now' beyond repair. And what then are
we to do? It will give me some comfort if you find it possible to stay with
these little ragamuffins."
"Thank you--such a sweet answer. And whose is the more sorrow-
fully injured name? I wonder." He did not insist that she come to him,
and spent the night alone.
Lying down among the children, he surveyed the confusion he had
managed to create in both houses. The Second Princess must be utterly
bewildered. What man in his right mind could think these affairs interest-
ing or amusing? He had had enough of them.
At dawn he sent over another indignant message. "Everything people
see and hear must strike them as infantile. If you wish this to be the end,
well, let us have a try at it and see how it suits us. Though I am sure that
the children at Sanjo~ are very touching as they ask where we may be, I am
sure too that you had your reasons for bringing some with you and leaving
others behind. I do not find it possible to play favorites myself. I shall go
on doing everything I can for all of them."
Always quick with her judgments, she saw in the message a threat to
take the girls away and hide them from her.
"Come with me," he said to one of them, a very pretty little thing.
"It will not be easy for me to visit you here, and I must think of your
brothers too. I want you all to be together. You must not listen to what
your mother says about me. She doesn't understand me very well."
To~ no Chu~jo~ had heard of these events and was much disturbed. "You
should not have been so hasty," he said to his daughter. "There is probably
an explanation, and this is the sort of thing that gives a woman a bad name.
But what is done is done. You have made your position quite clear and
there is no need for you to rush home again now that you are here. His
position should soon be clearer."
He sent one of his sons with a note for the Second Princess.
"A bond from another life yet holds us together?
Fond thoughts I have, disquieting reports.
"Nor, I should imagine, will you have forgotten us."
The young man came marching in. The princess's women received
him at the south veranda but could think of nothing to say. The princess
was even more uncomfortable. He was one of To~ no Chu~jo~'s handsomer
sons, and they were all very handsome, and he carried himself well. As he
looked calmly about him, he seemed to be remembering the past.
"I feel as if I belonged here," he said. It had the sound of an innuendo.
"You must not treat me like a stranger."
The princess sent back that he had found her in a very unsettled state
and that she could not, she feared, give his father a proper answer.
"This is no way for a grown woman to behave," said one of the
<P 711>
women who crowded about her. "And it will seem very rude if one of us
tries to answer in your place."
How she wished that her mother were here, to protect her and explain
away everything, even details of which she might not approve. Tears fell
to mix with the ink.
She finally managed to set down a verse, though it had a fragmentary
and unfinished look about it.
"Disquieting reports, resentful thoughts--
Of one who does not matter in the least?"
She folded it into an envelope.
"You may expect to see a great deal more of me," said the young man
to the women. "I would feel much more comfortable inside the house. Yes,
the ties are strong, and I shall come often. I shall tell myself that because
of my services over the years I have been given the freedom of the house."
It was all most suggestive.
Yu~giri could think of nothing to do. The princess's hostility quite
baffled him.
Still with her father, Kumoinokari was more and more unhappy.
Rumors reached Koremitsu's daughter, who thought of the haughty
disdain with which Kumoinokari had treated her in other years.
Kumoinokari had found her equal this time! Koremitsu's daughter had
written occasionally and now got off a note.
"The gloom I would know were I among those who matter
I see from afar. I weep in sympathy."
A bit impertinent, thought Kumoinokari. But she was lonely and
bored, and here, if not of the most satisfying kind, was sympathy. She sent
off an answer.
"Many unhappy marriages I have seen,
And never felt them as I feel my own."
It seemed honest and unaffected. The other lady had been the sole and
secret object of Yu~giri's attentions in the days when Kumoinokari was
refusing him. Though he had turned away from her after his marriage, she
had borne several of his children. Kumoinokari was the mother of his first,
third, fifth, and sixth sons and second, fourth, and fifth daughters; the
other lady, of his first, third, and sixth daughters and second and fourth
sons. They were all fine children, healthy and pretty, but Koremitsu's
grandchildren were perhaps the brightest and prettiest. The lady of the
orange blossoms had been given the third daughter and second son to rear,
and they had the whole of her attention. Genji had become very much
attached to them.
Yu~giri's affairs, one is told, were very complicated indeed.
<W Murasaki Shikibu>{Translated by Edward G.Seidensticker}
<T The Tale of Genji>
<K 4>
<C 40>{The Rites}
<N 1>
<P 712>
Murasaki had been in uncertain health since her great illness. Although
there were no striking symptoms and there had been no recurrence of the
crisis that had had her near death, she was progressively weaker. Genji
could not face the thought of surviving her by even a day Murasaki,s one
regret was that she must cause him pain and so be unfaithful to their vows.
For the rest, she had no demands to make upon this world and few ties
with it. She was ready to go, and wanted only to prepare herself for the
next world. Her deepest wish, of which she sometimes spoke, had long
been to give herself over entirely to prayers and meditations. But even now
Genji refused to hear of it.
Yet he had for some time had similar wishes. Perhaps the time had
come and they should take their vows together. He would permit himself
no backward glances, however, once the decision was made. They had
promised, and neither of them doubted, that they would one day have
their places side by side upon the same lotus, but they must live apart, he
was determined, a peak between them even if they were on the same
mountain, once they had taken their vows. They would not see each other
again. The sight of her now, ravaged with illness, made him fear that the
final separation would be too much for him. The clear waters of their
mountain retreat would be muddied. Years went by, and he had been left
far behind by people who, their conversion far from thorough, had taken
holy orders heedlessly and impulsively.
<P 713>
It would have been ill mannered of Murasaki to insist on having her
way, and she would be running against her own deeper wishes if she
opposed his; and so resentment at his unyielding ways was tempered by
a feeling that she might be at fault herself.
<N 2>
For some years now she had had scriveners at work on the thousand
copies of the Lotus Sutra that were to be her final offering to the Blessed
One. They had their studios at Nijo~, which she still thought of as home.
Now the work was finished, and she made haste to get ready for the
dedication. The robes of the seven priests were magnificent, as were all the
other details. Not wanting to seem insistent, she had not asked Genji's
help, and he had stayed discreetly in the background. No other lady,
people said, could have arranged anything so fine. Genji marveled that she
should be so conversant with holy ritual, and saw once again that nothing
which she set her mind to was beyond her. His own part in the arrange-
ments had been of the most general and perfunctory sort. Yu~giri gave a
great deal of time and thought to the music and dancing. The emperor, the
empresses, the crown prince, and the ladies at Rokujo~ limited themselves
to formal oblations, and even these threatened to overflow the Nijo~ man-
sion. There were others as well, all through the court, who wanted some
small part in the ceremonies, which in the end were so grand that people
wondered when she might have commenced laying her plans. They sug-
gested a holy resolve going back through all the ages of the god of
Furu. The lady of the orange blossoms and the lady of Akashi were
among those who assembled at Nijo~. Murasaki's place was in a walled
room to the west of the main hall, sequestered but for doors at the south
and east opening upon the ceremonies. The other ladies were in the north-
ern rooms, separated from the altar by screens.
It was the tenth day of the Third Month. The cherries were in bloom
and the skies were pleasantly clear. One felt that Amita~bha's paradise
could not be far away, and for even the less than devout it was as if a
burden of sin were being lifted. At the grand climax the voices of the
brushwood bearers and of all the priests rose to describe in solemn tones
the labors of the Blessed One, and then there was silence, more eloquent
