sioner for our own royal court Genji had jotted down poems in a whimsical
cursive style, the bold abandon of which was such as to make the prince
fear that all the other manuscripts must seem at best inoffensive.
The guards commander had also hoped to give an impression of bold-
ness, but a certain muddy irresolution was hidden, or rather an attempt had
been made to hide it, by mere cleverness. The selection of poems, more-
over, left him open to charges of affectation.
Genji was more secretive with the ladies' manuscripts and especially
Princess Asagao's.
The "reed work" was very interesting, each manuscript different from
the others. Yu~giri had managed to suggest the flow of water in generous,
expansive strokes, and his vertical strokes called to mind the famous reeds
of Naniwa. The joining of reeds anaswater was accomplished very deftly.
There were sudden and bold variations, so that, turning a page, the reader
suddenly came upon craggy, rocklike masses.
"Very fine indeed," said the prince, a man of wide and subtle interests.
"He has obviously taken it very seriously and worked very hard."
<N 9>
As the conversation ranged over the varieties of calligraphy and man-
uscripts, Genji brought out several books done in patchwork with old and
new papers. The prince sent his son the chamberlain to bring some scrolls
from his own library, among them a set of four on which the emperor Saga
had copied selections from the Manyo~shu~, and a Kokinshu~ at the hand of the
emperor Daigo, on azure Chinese papers with matching jade rollers, intri-
cate damask covers of a darker blue, and flat Chinese cords in multicolored
checkers. The writing was art of the highest order, infinitely varied but
always gently elegant. Genji had a lamp brought near.
"I could look at them for weeks and always see something new. Who
in our own day can do more than imitate the smallest fragment?"
They were for Genji's daughter, said the prince. "Even if I had
a daughter of my own, I would want to be very sure that she was capable
<P 520>
of appreciating them. As it is, they would rot ignominiously away."
Genji gave the chamberlain a fine Korean flute and specimens of
Chinese patchwork in a beautifully wrought aloeswood box.
He now immersed himself in study of the cursive Japanese styles.
Having made the acquaintance of the more notable calligraphers, he com-
missioned from each a book or scroll for his daughter's library, into which
only the works of the eminent and accomplished were to be admitted. In
the assembled collection there was not an item that could have been called
indifferent, and there were treasures that would have filled gaps in the
great court libraries across the seas. Young people were begging to see the
famous patchwork. There were paintings too. Genji wanted his own Suma
diary to go to his descendants, but decided that his daughter was perhaps
still a little young for it.
To~ no Chu~jo~ caught distant echoes of the excitement and was resent-
ful. His daughter Kumoinokari was being wasted in the full bloom of her
youth. Her gloom and boredom weighed on his own spirits--and Yu~giri
seemed quite unconcerned. To~ no Chu~jo~ knew that he would look ridicu-
lous if he were suddenly to admit defeat. He was beginning to regret that
he had not grandly nodded his acquiescence back in the days when Yu~giri
was such an earnest plaintiff. He kept these thoughts to himself, and he
was too honest with himself to be angry with the boy. Yu~giri was aware
of them, but the people around Kumoinokari had once treated him with
contempt and he was not going to give them the satisfaction of seeming
eager. Yet he showed that he was still interested by not being even slightly
interested in other ladies. These were matters which he could not treat of
even in jest. It may have been that he was seeking a chance to show his
councillor's robes to the nurse who had had such contempt for the humbler
blue.
Genji thought it time he was married. "If you no longer want the
minister's daughter, then Prince Nakatsukasa and the Minister of the
Right have both let it be known that they would welcome a proposal.
Suppose you were to take one of their daughters."
Yu~giri listened respectfully but did not answer.
"I did not pay a great deal of attention to my father's advice and so
I am in no position to lecture to you. But I am old enough now to see what
an unerring guide he would have been if I had chosen to listen.
"People think there is something odd about you because you are not
married, and if in the end it seems to have been your fate to disappoint
us, well, we can only say that you once showed promise. Do please always
be on guard against the possibility that you are throwing yourself away
because your ambitions have proven unreal.
"I grew up at court and had little freedom. I was very cautious,
because the smallest mistake could make me seem reckless and giddy. Even
<P 521>
so, people said that I showed promiscuous tendencies. It would be a mis-
take for you to think that because you are still relatively obscure you can
do as you please The finest of men--it was true long ago and it is still true
today--can disgrace themselves because they do not have wives to keep
them from temptation. A man never recovers from a scandal, nor does the
woman he has let himself become involved with. Even a difficult marriage
can be made to work. A man may be unhappy with his wife, but if he tries
hard he can count on her parents to help him. If she has none, if she is alone
in the world and without resources, then pity for her can make him see
her good points. The man of discrimination makes the best of the possibili-
ties before him."
It was when he had little else to do that he offered such advice.
But for Yu~giri the thought of taking another wife was not admissible.
Kumoinokari was not comfortable with his attentions these days because
she knew how disturbed and uncertain her Father was. She was sorry for
herself too, but tried to hide her gloom. Sometimes, when the longing was
too much for Yu~giri, there would be an impassioned letter. A more ex-
perienced lady, though aware that there was no one except the man him-
self to question about his intentions, might have suspected posing and
posturing. She found only sentiments that accorded with her own.
Her women were talking. "It seems that Prince Nakatsukasa has
reached a tacit understanding with Genji and is pushing ahead with the
arrangements."
To~ no Chu~jo~ was troubled. There were tears in his eyes when, very
gently, he told Kumoinokari what he had heard. "It seems very unkind of
the boy. I suppose that Genji is trying to get back at me. I cannot give my
consent now without looking ridiculous."
Intensely embarrassed, she too was weeping. He thought her charm-
ing as she turned away to hide her tears. He left feeling more uncertain
than ever. Should he make new attempts to learn what they all were
thinking?
Kumoinokari went out to the veranda. Why was it, she asked herself,
that the tide of tears must be forever waxing and joy forever on the wane?
hat would her poor father be thinking?
A letter from Yu~giri came in upon the gloom. She opened it, and could
detect no change in his manner.
"This coldness takes you the usual way of the world
Am I the deviant, that I cannot forget you?"
She did not like this calm refusal to say anything of his new affair.
Yet she answered.
"You cannot forget, and now you have forgotten.
You are the one who goes the way of the world."
That was all. What could she possibly mean? He looked at it from this
angle and that--so one is told--and could make no sense of it.
<W Murasaki Shikibu>{Translated by Edward G.Seidensticker}
<T The Tale of Genji>
<K 3>
<C 33>{Wisteria Leaves}
<N 1>
<P 523>
Yu~giri thought himself odd that he should be so gloomy when everyone
else was so caught up in the excitement. His singleness of purpose had
come to seem obsessive. Now there appeared a possibility that To~ no
Chu~jo~ was prepared to look the other way--and so why did he not slip
through? But no. An air of cool indifference had served him well thus far
and it must be maintained to the end. It cost him a great deal. As for
Kumoinokari, she feared that if the rumors her father had brought were
true, then this indifference was not feigned; and so even as they turned
from each other they went on thinking about each other.
Calm and resolute on the surface, To~ no Chu~jo~ suspected that he was
no longer in control of his daughter's affairs. If on the assumption that the
reports about Prince Nakatsukasa's daughter were true he were to begin
thinking of other arrangements for Kumoinokari, the man to whom he
turned would hardly feel flattered, nor was To~ no Chu~jo~'s own dignity
likely to emerge unimpaired. There would be talk and there might be
incidents. Well, he had made a mistake, and that fact could not be kept
secret. He must surrender and hope to do so with some dignity.
<N 2>
But he must wait for the proper occasion. He could not step forth and
make a great show of welcoming Yu~giri as his own. That would be too
utterly ridiculous. The time would come, however. A surface calm hid
these tensions.
The anniversary of Princess Omiya's death fell on the twentieth of the
<P 524>
Third Month. To~ no Chu~jo~ attended memorial services at the Gokurakuji
Temple, south of the city. All of his sons were with him, a very grand
entourage indeed. As handsome as any of them, Yu~giri was also of the
party. Though he had avoided To~ no Chu~jo~ since the days when the latter
had treated him so badly, he had not let the smallest sign of his resentment
show. To~ no Chu~jo~ was increasingly aware of it all the same.
Genji too commissioned memorial services, and Yu~giri solemnly bus-
ied himself with services of his own.
As they returned from the Gokurakuji in the evening, cherry petals
were drifting through the spring haze. In a reminiscent mood, To~ no Chu~jo~
intoned lines from the anthologies. Yu~giri was no less moved by the beauty
of the evening. It looked like rain, someone said. Yu~giri did not seem to
hear.
To~ no Chu~jo~ (one may imagine that it was with some apprehension)
tugged at his sleeve.
"Why are you angry with me? Might this not be the occasion to
forgive me, whatever I may have done? I think I have a right myself to
complain, that you should have cast me aside in my declining years."
"Grandmother's last instructions," said Yu~giri, very politely, "were
that I look to you for advice and support. But you have not seemed to
welcome my presence."
Suddenly there was a downpour. They hurried home in twos and
threes.
What could have produced this sudden change? The words them-
selves had seemed casual enough, but they came from a man before whom
Yu~giri seldom felt comfortable. He lay awake all night asking what they
could mean.
<N 3>
Perhaps his patience had been rewarded. To~ no Chu~jo~ seemed to be
relenting. He continued to seek a proper occasion, neither too ostentatious
nor too casual, for a reconciliation.
Early in the Fourth Month the wisteria at To~ no Chu~jo~'s veranda came
into profuse bloom, of a subtly richer hue than most wisteria. He arranged
a concert, thinking that it must not go unnoticed. As the colors mounted
richer in the twilight, he sent Kashiwagi with a note.
"It was a pity that we were not permitted a more leisurely talk under
the cherry blossoms. If you are free, I would be most honored to see you.
"Come join me in regrets for the passing of spring
And wisteria now aglow in the evening light."
It was attached to a magnificent spray of the flower.
Restraining his excitement at the letter awaited so long, Yu~giri sent
back a polite answer:
"I grope my way through the gathering shades of evening
With no great hopes of coming upon wisteria."
<P 525>
"I am not sure I have struck the right note," he said to Kashiwagi.
"Would you look it over, please?"
"All that is required of you is that you come with me."
"You are far too grand an escort."
He sent Kashiwagi ahead and went to show Genji the letter.
"I think he must have his reasons," said Genji, who seemed pleased
with himself. "I had thought that he was not showing proper respect
towards his late mother, but this changes things."
"I doubt that it is so very important. Everyone says that his wisteria
is very fine this year. I imagine that he was bored and arranged a concert
in its honor."
"He sent a very special messenger, in any event. You must go."
And so a nervous Yu~giri had his father's blessing.
"It would not do to overdress," Genji continued. "A magenta would
be all right, I suppose, if you were not yet on the council or if you were
between offices. Do please dress very carefully." He sent one of Yu~giri's
men with a fine robe and several singlets from his own wardrobe.
<N 4>
Yu~giri did take great care with his dress. To~ no Chu~jo~ had begun to
grow restless when finally he arrived. Seven or eight of To~ no Chu~jo~'s sons,
led by Kashiwagi, came out to receive him. They were all very handsome,
but Yu~giri was even handsomer, with a calm dignity that rather put them
to shame. To~ no Chu~jo~ showed him to his place. It was clear that the
preparations for receiving him had been thorough.
"Be sure that you get a good look at him," To~ no Chu~jo~ had said to
his wife and her young women as he changed to formal dress. "He is
