rather a long time, but Murasaki was more on his mind. He must go
comfort her. She pleased him more, she seemed prettier and cleverer and
more amiable, each time he saw her. He was congratulating himself that
his hopes of shaping her into his ideal might not prove entirely unrealistic.
Yet he had misgivings--very unsettling ones, it must be said--lest by
training her himself he put her too much at ease with men. He told her the
latest court gossip and they had a music lesson. So he was going out again
--she was sorry, as always, to see him go, but she no longer clung to him
as she once had.
<N 5>
At Sanjo~ it was the usual thing: his wife kept him waiting. In his
boredom he thought of this and that. pulling a koto to him, he casually
plucked out a tune. "No nights of soft sleep," he sang, to his own accom-
paniment.
<P 155>
The minister came for a talk about the recent pleasurable events.
"I am very old, and I have served through four illustrious reigns, but
never have I known an occasion that has added so many years to my life.
Such clever, witty poems, such fine music and dancing--you are on good
terms with the great performers who so abound in our day, and you
arrange things with such marvelous skill. Even we aged ones felt like
cutting a caper or two."
"The marvelous skill of which you speak, sir, amounts to nothing at
all, only a word here and there. It is a matter of knowing where to ask.
'Garden of Willows and Flowers' was much the best thing, I thought, a
performance to go down as a model for all the ages. And what a memorable
day it would have been, what an honor for our age, if in the advancing
spring of your life you had followed your impulse and danced for us."
Soon To~ no Chu~jo~ and his brothers, leaning casually against the
veranda railings, were in fine concert on their favorite instruments.
<N 6>
The lady of that dawn encounter, remembering the evanescent dream,
was sunk in sad thoughts. Her father's plans to give her to the crown prince
in the Fourth Month were a source of great distress. As for Genji, he was
not without devices for searching her out, but he did not know which of
Kokiden's sisters she was, and he did not wish to become involved with
that unfriendly family.
Late in the Fourth Month the princes and high courtiers gathered at
the mansion of the Minister of the Right, Kokiden's father, for an archery
meet. It was as followed immediately by a wisteria banquet. Though the
cherry blossoms had for the most part fallen, two trees, perhaps having
learned that mountain cherries do well to bloom 1ate, were at their belated
best. The minister's mansion had been rebuilt and beautifully refurnished
for the initiation ceremonies of the princesses his granddaughters. It was
in the ornate style its owner preferred, everything in the latest fashion.
Seeing Genji in the palace one day, the minister had invited him to
the festivities. Genji would have preferred to stay away, but the affair
seemed certain to languish without him. The minister sent one of his sons,
a guards officer, with a message:
"If these blossoms of mine were of the common sort,
Would I press you so to come and look upon them?"
Genji showed the poem to his father.
"He seems very pleased with his flowers," laughed the emperor. "But
you must go immediately. He has, after all, sent a special invitation. It is
use that the princesses your sisters are being reared. You are
scarcely a stranger."
Genji dressed with great care. It was almost dark when he finally
presented himself. He wore a robe of a thin white Chinese damask with
<P 156>
a red lining and under it a very long train of magenta. Altogether the
dashing young prince, he added something new to the assembly that so
cordially received him, for the other guests were more formally clad. He
quite overwhelmed the blossoms, in a sense spoiling the party, and played
beautifully on several instruments. Late in the evening he got up, pretend-
ing to be drunk. The first and third princesses were living in the main hall.
He went to the east veranda and leaned against a door. The shutters were
raised and women were gathered at the southwest corner, where the wis-
teria was in bloom. Their sleeves were pushed somewhat ostentatiously
out from under blinds, as at a New Year's poetry assembly. All rather
overdone, he thought, and he could not help thinking too of Fujitsubo's
reticence.
"I was not feeling well in the first place, and they plied me with drink.
I know I shouldn't, but might I ask you to hide me?" He raised the blind
at the corner door.
"please, dear sir, this will not do. It is for us beggars to ask such favors
of you fine gentlemen." Though of no overwhelming dignity, the women
were most certainly not common.
Incense hung heavily in the air and the rustling of silk was bright and
<P 157>
lively. Because the princesses seemed to prefer modern things, the scene
may perhaps have been wanting in mysterious shadows.
The time and place were hardly appropriate for a flirtation, and yet
his interest was aroused. Which would be the lady of the misty moon?
"A most awful thing has happened," he said playfully. "Someone has
stolen my fan." He sat leaning against a pillar.
"What curious things that Korean does do." The lady who thus deftly
returned his allusion did not seem to know about the exchange of fans.
Catching a sigh from another lady, he leaned forward and took her
hand.
"I wander lost on Arrow Mount and ask:
May I not see the moon I saw so briefly?
"Or must I continue to wander?"
It seemed that she could not remain silent:
"Only the flighty, the less than serious ones,
Are left in the skies when the longbow moon is gone."
It was the same voice. He was delighted. And yet--
<W Murasaki Shikibu>{Translated by Edward G.Seidensticker}
<T The Tale of Genji>
<K 2>
<C 9>{Heartvine}
<N 1>
<P 158>
With the new reign Genji's career languished, and since he must be the
more discreet about his romantic adventures as he rose in rank, he had less
to amuse him. Everywhere there were complaints about his aloofness.
As if to punish him, there was one lady who continued to cause him
pain with her own aloofness. Fujitsubo saw more of the old emperor, now
abdicated, than ever. She was always at his side, almost as if she were a
common housewife. Annoyed at this state of affairs, Kokiden did not
follow the old emperor when he left the main palace. Fujitsubo was happy
and secure. The concerts in the old emperor's palace attracted the attention
of the whole court, and altogether life was happier for the two of them
than while he had reigned. Only one thing was lacking: he greatly missed
the crown prince, Fujitsubo's son, and worried that he had no strong
backers. Genji, he said, must be the boy's adviser and guardian. Genji was
both pleased and embarrassed.
<N 2>
And there was the matter of the lady at Rokujo~. With the change of
reigns, her daughter, who was also the daughter of the late crown prince,
had been appointed high priestess of the Ise Shrine. No longer trusting
Genji's affections, the Rokujo~ lady had been thinking that, making the
girl's youth her excuse, she too would go to Ise.
The old emperor heard of her plans. "The crown prince was so very
fond of her," he said to Genji, in open displeasure. "It is sad that you
should have made light of her, as if she were any ordinary woman. I think
<P 159>
of the high priestess as one of my own children, and you should be good
to her mother, for my sake and for the sake of the dead prince. It does you
no good to abandon yourself to these affairs quite as the impulse takes
you.
It was perfectly true, thought Genji. He waited in silence.
"You should treat any woman with tact and courtesy, and be sure that
you cause her no embarrassment. You should never have a woman angry
with you."
What would his father think if he were to learn of Genji's worst
indiscretion? The thought made Genji shudder. He bowed and withdrew.
The matter his father had thus reproved him for did no good for either
of them, the woman or Genji himself. It was a scandal, and very sad for
her. She continued to be very much on his mind, and yet he had no thought
of making her his wife. She had grown cool toward him, worried about the
difference in their ages. He made it seem that it was because of her wishes
that he stayed away. Now that the old emperor knew of the affair the
whole court knew of it. In spite of everything, the lady went on grieving
that he had not loved her better.
<N 3>
There was another lady, his cousin Princess Asagao. Determined that
she would not share the plight of the Rokujo~ lady, she refused even the
briefest answer to his notes. Still, and he thought her most civil for it, she
was careful to avoid giving open offense.
At Sanjo~, his wife and her family were even unhappier about his
infidelities, but, perhaps because he did not lie to them, they for the most
part kept their displeasure to themselves. His wife was with child and in
considerable distress mentally and physically. For Genji it was a strange
and moving time. Everyone was delighted and at the same time filled with
apprehension, and all manner of retreats and abstinences were prescribed
for the lady. Genji had little time to himself. While he had no particular
wish to avoid the Rokujo~ lady and the others, he rarely visited them.
<N 4>
At about this time the high priestess of Kamo resigned. She was
replaced by the old emperor's third daughter, whose mother was Kokiden.
The new priestess was a favorite of both her brother, the new emperor, and
her mother, and it seemed a great pity that she should be shut off from
court life; but no other princess was qualified for the position. The installa-
tion ceremonies, in the austere Shinto tradition, were of great dignity and
solemnity. Many novel details were added to the Kamo festival in the
Fourth Month, so that it was certain to be the finest of the season. Though
the number of high courtiers attending the princess at the lustration was
limited by precedent, great care was taken to choose handsome men of
good repute. Similar care was given to their uniforms and to the uniform
trappings of their horses. Genji was among the attendants, by special
command of the new emperor. Courtiers and ladies had readied their
<P 160>
carriages far in advance, and Ichijo~ was a frightening crush, without space
for another vehicle. The stands along the way had been appointed most
elaborately. The sleeves that showed beneath the curtains fulfilled in their
brightness and variety all the festive promise.
Genji's wife seldom went forth on sightseeing expeditions and her
pregnancy was another reason for staying at home.
But her young women protested. "Really, my lady, it won't be much
fun sneaking off by ourselves. Why, even complete strangers--why, all the
country folk have come in to see our lord! They've brought their wives and
families from the farthest provinces. It will be too much if you make us
stay away."
Her mother, Princess Omiya, agreed. "You seem to be feeling well
enough, my dear, and they will be very disappointed if you don't take
them."
<N 5>
And so carriages were hastily and unostentatiously decked out, and
the sun was already high when they set forth. The waysides were by now
too crowded to admit the elegant Sanjo~ procession. Coming upon several
fine carriages not attended by grooms and footmen, the Sanjo~ men com-
menced clearing a space. Two palm-frond carriages remained, not new
ones, obviously belonging to someone who did not wish to attract atten-
tion. The curtains and the sleeves and aprons to be glimpsed beneath them,
some in the gay colors little girls wear, were in very good taste.
The men in attendance sought to defend their places against the Sanjo~
invaders. "We aren't the sort of people you push around."
There had been too much drink in both parties, and the drunken ones
were not responsive to the efforts of their more mature and collected
seniors to restrain them.
The palm-frond carriages were from the Rokujo~ house of the high
priestess of Ise. The Rokujo~ lady had come quietly to see the procession,
hoping that it might make her briefly forget her unhappiness. The men
from Sanjo~ had recognized her, but preferred to make it seem otherwise.
"They can't tell us who to push and not to push," said the more
intemperate ones to their fellows. "They have General Genji to make them
feel important."
Among the newcomers were some of Genji's men. They recognized
and felt a little sorry for the Rokujo~ lady, but, not wishing to become
involved, they looked the other way. presently all the Sanjo~ carriages were
in place. The Rokujo~ lady, behind the lesser ones, could see almost noth-
ing. Quite aside from her natural distress at the insult, she was filled with
the bitterest chagrin that, having refrained from display, she had been
recognized. The stools for her carriage shafts had been broken and the
shafts propped on the hubs of perfectly strange carriages, a most undig-
nified sight. It was no good asking herself why she had come. She thought
of going home without seeing the procession, but there was no room for
her to pass; and then came word that the procession was approaching, and
she must, after all, see the man who had caused her such unhappiness.
<P 161>
How weak is the heart of a woman! perhaps because this was not "the
bamboo by the river Hinokuma," he passed without stopping his horse
