keeping it in the family by asking the empress to officiate. The empress is
a lady of very exacting standards, and even though I think of her as one
of the family I would not want the smallest detail to be wrong."
"What better model could a child have than an empress?"
The time had come to review the perfumes.
"It should be on a rainy evening," said Genji. "And you shall judge
them. Who if not you?"
He had censers brought in. A most marvelous display was ranged
before the prince, for the ladies were determined that their manufactures
be presented to the very best advantage.
"I am hardly the one who knows," said the prince.
He went over them very carefully, finding this and that delicate flaw,
<P 514>
for the finest perfumes are sometimes just a shade too insistent or too
bland.
Genji sent for the two perfumes of his own compounding. It being in
the old court tradition to bury perfumes beside the guardsmen's stream,
he had buried them near the stream that flowed between the main hall and
the west wing. He dispatched Koremitsu's son, now a councillor, to dig
them up. Yu~giri brought them in.
"You have assigned me a most difficult task," said the prince. "I fear
that my judgment may be a bit smoky."
The same tradition had in several fashions made its way down to the
several contestants. Each had added ingeniously original touches. The
prince was faced with many interesting and delicate problems.
Despite Asagao's self-deprecatory poem, her "dark" winter incense
was judged the best, somehow gentler and yet deeper than the others. The
prince decided that among the autumn scents, the "chamberlain's per-
fumes," as they are called, Genji's had an intimacy which however did not
insist upon itself. Of Murasaki's three, the plum or spring perfume was
especially bright and original, with a tartness that was rather daring.
"Nothing goes better with a spring breeze than a plum blossom," said
the prince.
Observing the competition from her summer quarter, the lady of the
orange blossoms was characteristically reticent, as inconspicuous as a wisp
of smoke from a censer. She finally submitted a single perfume, a summer
lotus-leaf blend with a pungency that was gentle but firm. In the winter
quarter the Akashi lady had as little confidence that she could hold her
own in such competition. She finally submitted a "hundred pace" sachet
from an adaptation of Minamoto Kintada's formula by the earlier Suzaku
emperor, of very great delicacy and refinement.
The prince announced that each of the perfumes was obviously the
result of careful thought and that each had much to recommend it.
"A harmless sort of conclusion," said Genji.
<N 3>
The moon rose, there was wine, the talk was of old times. The mist-
enshrouded moon was weirdly beautiful, and the breeze following gently
upon the rain brought a soft perfume of plum blossoms. The mixture of
scents inside the hall was magical.
It was the eve of the ceremony. The stewards' offices had brought
musical instruments for a rehearsal. Guests had gathered in large numbers
and flute and koto echoed through all the galleries. Kashiwagi, Ko~bai, and
To~ no Chu~jo~'s other sons stopped by with formal greetings. Genji insisted
that they join the concert. For Prince Hotaru there was a lute, for Genji a
thirteen-stringed koto, for Kashiwagi, who had a quick, lively touch, a
Japanese koto. Yu~giri took up a flute, and the high, clear strains, appropri-
ate to the season, could scarcely have been improved upon. Beating time
<P 515>
with a fan, Ko~bai was in magnificent voice as he sang "A Branch of
Plum." Genji and Prince Hotaru joined him at the climax. It was Ko~bai
who, still a court page, had sung "Takasago" at the rhyme-guessing contest
so many years before. Everyone agreed that though informal it was an
excellent concert.
Prince Hotaru intoned a poem as wine was brought in:
"The voice of the warbler lays a deeper spell
Over one already enchanted by the blossoms.
"For a thousand years, if they do not fall?"
Genji replied:
"Honor us by sharing our blossoms this spring
Until you have taken on their hue and fragrance."
Kashiwagi recited this poem as he poured for Yu~giri:
"Sound your bamboo flute all through the night
And shake the plum branch where the warbler sleeps."
Yu~giri replied:
"I thought we wished to protect them from the winds,
The blossoms you would have me blow upon madly.
"Most unthinking of you, sir." There was laughter.
This was Ko~bai's poem:
"Did not the mists intercede to dim the moonlight
The birds on these branches might burst into joyous blossom."
And indeed music did sound all through the night, and it was dawn
when Prince Hotaru made ready to leave. Genji had a set of informal court
robes and two sealed jars of perfume taken out to his carriage.
"If she catches a scent of blossoms upon these robes,
My lady will charge me with having misbehaved."
"How very sad for you," said Genji, coming out as the carriage was
being readied.
"I should have thought your lady might be pleased
To have you come home all flowers and brocades.
<P 516>
"She can scarcely be witness to such a sight every day."
The prince could not immediately think of an answer.
There were modest but tasteful gifts, ladies' robes and the like, for all
the other guests.
<N 4>
Genji went to the southwest quarter early that evening. A porch at the
west wing, where Akikonomu was in residence, had been fitted out for the
ceremony. The women whose duty it would be to bind up the initiate's
hair were already in attendance. Murasaki thought it a proper occasion to
visit Akikonomu. Each of the two ladies had a large retinue with her. The
ceremonies reached a climax at about midnight with the tying of the
ceremonial train. Though the light was dim, Akikonomu could see that the
girl was very pretty indeed.
"Still a gawky child," said Genji. "I am giving you this glimpse of her
because I know you will always be good to her. It awes me to think of the
precedent we are setting."
"Do I make a difference?" replied Akikonomu, very young and pretty
herself. "None at all, I should have thought."
Such a gathering of beauty, said Genji, was itself cause for jubilation.
The Akashi lady was of course saedthat she would not see her daugh-
ter on this most important of days. Genji debated the possibility of inviting
her but concluded that her presence would make people talk and that the
talk would do his daughter no good.
I shall omit the details. Even a partial account of a most ordinary
ceremony in such a house can be tedious at the hands of an incompetent
<N 5>
The crown prince's initiation took place later in the month. He was
mature for his years and the competition to enter his service should have
been intense. It seemed to the Minister of the Left, however, that Genji's
plans for his daughter made the prospects rather bleak for other ladies.
Colleagues with nubile daughters tended to agree, and kept the daughters
at home.
"How petty of them," said Genji. "Do they want the prince to be
lonely? Don't they know that court life is only interesting when all sorts
of ladies are in elegant competition?"
He postponed his daughter's debut. The Minister of the Left presently
relented and dispatched his third daughter to court. She was called Rei-
keiden.
It was now decided that Genji's daughter would go to court in the
Fourth Month. The crown prince was very impatient. The hall in which
Genji's mother had lived and Genji had had his offices was now assigned
to his daughter. The finest craftsmen in the land were busy redecorating
the rooms, which it might have seemed were splendid enough already.
Genji himself went over the plans and designs.
And there was her library, which Genji hoped would be a model for
<P 517>
later generations. Among the books and scrolls were masterpieces by cal-
ligraphers of an earlier day.
<N 6>
"We live in a degenerate age," said Genji "Almost nothing but the
'ladies' hand' seems really good. In that we do excel. The old styles have
a sameness about them. They seem to have followed the copybooks and
allowed little room for original talent We have been blessed in our own
day with large numbers of fine calligraphers. Back when I was myself a
student of the'ladies' hand' I put together a rather distinguished collection.
he finest specimens in it, quite incomparable, I thought, were some infor-
mal jottings by the mother of the present empress. I thought that I had
never seen anything so fine. I was so completely under their spell that I
behaved in a manner which I fear did damage to her name. Though the
last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, she became very angry with me.
But she was a lady of great understanding, and I somehow feel that she
is watching us from the grave and knows that I am trying to make amends
by being of service to her daughter. As for the empress herself, she writes
a subtle hand, but" --and he lowered his voice-- "it may sometimes seem
a little weak and wanting in substance.
"Fujitsubo's was another remarkable hand, remarkable and yet per-
haps just a little uncertain, and without the richest overtones. Oborozu-
kiyo is too clever, one may think, and somewhat given to mannerism; but
among the ladies still here to please us she has only two rivals, Princess
Asagao and you yourself, my dear."
"The thought of being admitted to such company overwhelms me,"
said Murasaki.
"You are too modest. Your writing manages to be gentle and intimate
without ever losing its assurance. It is always a pleasant surprise when
someone who writes well in the Chinese style moves over to the Japanese
and writes that just as well."
He himself had had a hand in designing the jackets and bindings for
several booklets which still awaited calligraphers. Prince Hotaru must copy
down something in one of them, he said, and another was for a certain
guards commander, and he himself would see to putting something down
in one or two others.
"They are justly proud of their skills, but I doubt that they will leave
me any great distance behind."
Selecting the finest inks and brushes, he sent out invitations to all his
ladies to join in the endeavor. Some at first declined, thinking the challenge
too much for them. Nor were the "young men of taste," as he called them,
to be left out. Yu~giri, Murasaki's oldest brother, and Kashiwagi, among
others, were supplied with fine Korean papers of the most delicate hues.
"Do whatever you feel like doing, reed work or illustrations for
poems or whatever."
<N 7>
The competition was intense. Genji secluded himself as before in the
main hall. The cherry blossoms had fallen and the skies were soft. Letting
<P 518>
his mind run quietly through the anthologies, he tried several styles with
fine results, formal and cursive Chinese and the more radically cursive
Japanese "ladies' hand." He had with him only two or three women whom
he could count on for interesting comments. They ground ink for him and
selected poems from the more admired anthologies. Having raised the
blinds to let the breezes pass, he sat out near the veranda with a booklet
spread before him, and as he took a brush meditatively between his teeth
the women thought that they could gaze at him for ages on end and not
tire. His brush poised over papers of clear, plain reds and whites, he would
collect himself for the effort of writing, and no one of reasonable sen-
sitivity could have failed to admire the picture of serene concentration
which he presented.
"His Highness Prince Hotaru."
Shaking himself from his reverie and changing to informal court dress,
Genji had a place readied for his guest among the books and papers. As
the prince came regally up the stairs the women were delighted anew. The
two brothers carried themselves beautifully as they exchanged formal
greetings.
"My seclusion from the world had begun to be a little trying. It was
thoughtful of you to break in upon the tedium."
<P 519>
The prince had come to deliver his manuscript.<N 8> Genji read through it
immediately. The hand could not have been called strikingly original, but
of its sort it was disciplined and orderly. The prince had chosen poems
from the older anthologies and set each of them down in three short lines.
The style was a good cursive that made spare use of Chinese characters.
"I had not expected anything half so good," said Genji. "You leave me
with no recourse but to break my brushes and throw them all away."
"I do at least give myself high marks for the boldness that permitted
me to enter such a competition."
Genji could not very well hide the manuscript he had been at work
on himself. They went over it together. The cursive Chinese characters on
unusually stiff Chinese paper were very good indeed. As for the passages
in the "ladies' hand," they were superb, gently flowing strokes on the
softest and most delicately tinted of Korean papers. A flow of admiring
tears threatened to join the flow of ink. The prince thought that he could
never tire of such pleasures. On bright, bold papers made by the provi-
