Prince Hyo~bu, consulted together and concluded that rather than languish
at home she might seek consolation at court; and so she was sent off. She
was called Fujitsubo. The resemblance to the dead lady was indeed aston-
ishing. Because she was of such high birth (it may have been that people
were imagining things) she seemed even more graceful and delicate than
the other. No one could despise her for inferior rank, and the emperor need
not feel shy about showing his love for her. The other lady had not
particularly encouraged his attentions and had been the victim of a love
too intense; and now, though it would be wrong to say that he had quite
forgotten her, he found his affections shifting to the new lady, who was
a source of boundless comfort. So it is with the affairs of this world.
Since Genji never left his father's side, it was not easy for this new
lady, the recipient of so many visits, to hide herself from him. The other
ladies were disinclined to think themselves her inferior, and indeed each
of them had her own merits. They were all rather past their prime, how-
ever. Fujitsubo's beauty was of a younger and fresher sort. Though in her
childlike shyness she made an especial effort not to be seen, Genji occa-
sionally caught a glimpse of her face. He could not remember his own
mother and it moved him deeply to learn, from the lady who had first told
the emperor of Fujitsubo, that the resemblance was striking. He wanted
to be near her always.
"Do not be unfriendly," said the emperor to Fujitsubo. "Sometimes
it almost seems to me too that you are his mother. Do not think him
forward, be kind to him. Your eyes, your expression: you are really so
uncommonly like her that you could pass for his mother."
Genji's affection for the new lady grew, and the most ordinary flower
or tinted leaf became the occasion for expressing it. Kokiden was not
pleased. She was not on good terms with Fujitsubo, and all her old resent-
ment at Genji came back. He was handsomer than the crown prince, her
chief treasure in the world, well thought of by the whole court. People
began calling Genji "the shining one." Fujitsubo, ranked beside him in the
emperor's affections, became "the lady of the radiant sun."
It seemed a pity that the boy must one day leave behind his boyish
attire; but when he reached the age of twelve he went through his initia-
tion ceremonies and received the cap of an adult. Determined that the
ceremony should be in no way inferior to the crown prince's, which had
been held some years earlier in the Grand Hall, the emperor himself bus-
tled about adding new details to the established forms. As for the banquet
after the ceremony, he did not wish the custodians of the storehouses and
granaries to treat it as an ordinary public occasion.
The throne faced east on the east porch, and before it were Genji's seat
and that of the minister who was to bestow the official cap. At the ap-
pointed hour in midafternoon Genji appeared. The freshness of his face
and his boyish coiffure were again such as to make the emperor regret that
the change must take place. The ritual cutting of the boy's hair was per-
formed by the secretary of the treasury. As the beautiful locks fell the
emperor was seized with a hopeless longing for his dead lady. Repeatedly
he found himself struggling to keep his composure. The ceremony over,
the boy withdrew to change to adult trousers and descended into the
courtyard for ceremonial thanksgiving. There was not a person in the
assembly who did not feel his eyes misting over. The emperor was stirred
by the deepest of emotions. He had on brief occasions been able to forget
the past, and now it all came back again. Vaguely apprehensive lest the
initiation of so young a boy bring a sudden aging, he was astonished to
see that his son delighted him even more.
The Minister of the Left, who bestowed the official cap, had only one
daughter, his chief joy in life. Her mother, the minister's first wife, was a
princess of the blood. The crown prince had sought the girl's hand, but the
minister thought rather of giving her to Genji. He had heard that the
emperor had similar thoughts. When the emperor suggested that the boy
was without adequate sponsors for his initiation and that the support of
relatives by marriage might be called for, the minister quite agreed.
The company withdrew to outer rooms and Genji took his place below
the princes of the blood. The minister hinted at what was on his mind, but
Genji, still very young, did not quite know what to say. There came a
message through a chamberlain that the minister was expected in the royal
chambers. A lady-in-waiting brought the customary gifts for his services,
a woman's cloak, white and of grand proportions, and a set of robes as well.
As he poured wine for his minister, the emperor recited a poem which was
in fact a deeply felt admonition:
"The boyish locks are now bound up, a man's.
And do we tie a lasting bond for his future?"
This was the minister's reply:
"Fast the knot which the honest heart has tied.
May lavender, the hue of the troth, be as fast."
The minister descended from a long garden bridge to give formal
thanks. He received a horse from the imperial stables and a falcon from
the secretariat. In the courtyard below the emperor, princes and high
courtiers received gifts in keeping with their stations. The moderator,
Genji's guardian, had upon royal command prepared the trays and baskets
now set out in the royal presence. As for Chinese chests of food and gifts,
they overflowed the premises, in even larger numbers than for the crown
prince's initiation. It was the most splendid and dignified of ceremonies.
Genji went home that evening with the Minister of the Left. The
nuptial observances were conducted with great solemnity. The groom
seemed to the minister and his family quite charming in his boyishness.
The bride was older, and somewhat ill at ease with such a young husband.
The minister had the emperor's complete confidence, and his principal
wife, the girl's mother, was the emperor's sister. Both parents were there-
fore of the highest standing. And now they had Genji for a son-in-law.
The Minister of the Right, who as grandfather of the crown prince should
have been without rivals, was somehow eclipsed. The Minister of the Left
had numerous children by several ladies. One of the sons, a very handsome
lad by his principal wife, was already a guards lieutenant. Relations be-
tween the two ministers were not good; but the Minister of the Right
found it difficult to ignore such a talented youth, to whom he offered the
hand of his fourth and favorite daughter. His esteem for his new son-in-
law rivaled the other minister's esteem for Genji. To both houses the new
arrangements seemed ideal.
Constantly at his father's side, Genji spent little time at the Sanjo~
mansion of his bride. Fujitsubo was for him a vision of sublime beauty.
If he could have someone like her--but in fact there was no one really like
her. His bride too was beautiful, and she had had the advantage of every
luxury; but he was not at all sure that they were meant for each other. The
yearning in his young heart for the other lady was agony. Now that he had
come of age, he no longer had his father's permission to go behind her
curtains. On evenings when there was music, he would play the flute to
her koto and so communicate something of his longing, and take some
comfort from her voice, soft through the curtains. Life at court was for him
much preferable to life at Sanjo~. Two or three days at Sanjo~ would be
followed by five or six days at court. For the minister, youth seemed
sufficient excuse for this neglect. He continued to be delighted with his
son-in-law
The minister selected the handsomest and most accomplished of la-
dies to wait upon the young pair and planned the sort of diversions that
were most likely to interest Genji. At the palace the emperor assigned him
the apartments that had been his mother's and took care that her retinue
was not dispersed. Orders were handed down to the offices of repairs and
fittings to remodel the house that had belonged to the lady's family. The
results were magnificent. The plantings and the artificial hills had always
been remarkably tasteful, and the grounds now swarmed with workmen
widening the lake. If only, thought Genji, he could have with him the lady
he yearned for.
The sobriquet "the shining Genji," one hears, was bestowed upon him
by the Korean.
"The shining Genji" : it was almost too grand a name. Yet he did not escape
criticism for numerous little adventures. It seemed indeed that his indiscre-
tions might give him a name for frivolity, and he did what he could to hide
them. But his most secret affairs (such is the malicious work of the gossips)
became common talk. If, on the other hand, he were to go through life
concerned only for his name and avoid all these interesting and amusing
little affairs, then he would be laughed to shame by the likes of the
lieutenant of Katano.
Still a guards captain, Genji spent most of his time at the palace, going
infrequently to the Sanjo~ mansion of his father-in-law. The people there
feared that he might have been stained by the lavender of Kasugano
Though in fact he had an instinctive dislike for the promiscuity he saw all
around him, he had a way of sometimes turning against his own better
inclinations and causing unhappiness.
The summer rains came, the court was in retreat, and an even longer
interval than usual had passed since his last visit to Sanjo~. Though the
minister and his family were much put out, they spared no effort to make
him feel welcome. The minister's sons were more attentive than to the
emperor himself. Genji was on particularly good terms with To~ no Chu~jo~.
They enjoyed music together and more frivolous diversions as well. To~ no
Chu~jo~ was of an amorous nature and not at all comfortable in the apart-
ments which his father-in-law, the Minister of the Right, had at great
expense provided for him. At Sanjo~ with his own family, on the other
hand, he took very good care of his rooms, and when Genji came and went
the two of them were always together. They were a good match for each
other in study and at play. Reserve quite disappeared between them.
It had been raining all day. There were fewer courtiers than usual in
the royal presence. Back in his own palace quarters, also unusually quiet,
Genji pulled a lamp near and sought to while away the time with his
books. He had To~ no Chu~jo~ with him. Numerous pieces of colored paper,
obviously letters, lay on a shelf. To~ no Chu~jo~ made no attempt to hide his
curiosity.
"Well," said Genji, "there are some I might let you see. But there are
some I think it better not to."
"You miss the point. The ones I want to see are precisely the ones you
want to hide. The ordinary ones--I'm not much of a hand at the game, you
know, but even I am up to the ordinary give and take. But the ones from
ladies who think you are not doing right by them, who sit alone through
an evening and wait for you to come--those are the ones I want to see."
It was not likely that really delicate letters would be left scattered on
a shelf, and it may be assumed that the papers treated so carelessly were
the less important ones.
"You do have a variety of them," said To~ no Chu~jo~, reading the corre-
spondence through piece by piece. This will be from her, and this will be
from her, he would say. Sometimes he guessed correctly and sometimes he
was far afield, to Genji's great amusement. Genji was brief with his replies
and let out no secrets.
"It is I who should be asking to see your collection. No doubt it is huge.
When I have seen it I shall be happy to throw my files open to you."
"I fear there is nothing that would interest you." To~ no Chu~jo~ was in
a contemplative mood. "It is with women as it is with everything else: the
flawless ones are very few indeed. This is a sad fact which I have learned
over the years. All manner of women seem presentable enough at first.
Little notes, replies to this and that, they all suggest sensibility and cultiva-
tion. But when you begin sorting out the really superior ones you find that
there are not many who have to be on your list. Each has her little tricks
and she makes the most of them, getting in her slights at rivals, so broad
sometimes that you almost have to blush. Hidden away by loving parents
who build brilliant futures for them, they let word get out of this little
talent and that little accomplishment and you are all in a stir. They are
young and pretty and amiable and carefree, and in their boredom they
begin to pick up a little from their elders, and in the natural course of things
they begin to concentrate on one particular hobby and make something of
it. A woman tells you all about it and hides the weak points and brings
out the strong ones as if they were everything, and you can't very well call
her a liar. So you begin keeping company, and it is always the same. The
fact is not up to the advance notices."
To~ no Chu~jo~ sighed,a sigh clearly based on experience. Some of what
he had said, though not all, accorded with Genji's own experience. "And
have you come upon any," said Genji, smiling, "who would seem to have
nothing at all to recommend them?"
"Who would be fool enough to notice such a woman? And in any
case, I should imagine that women with no merits are as rare as women
with no faults. If a woman is of good family and well taken care of, then
the things she is less than proud of are hidden and she gets by well enough.
When you come to the middle ranks, each woman has her own little
inclinations and there are thousands of ways to separate one from another.
