she wished that she had had such a daughter, someone to be with in just
such circumstances as these! The same thought was for Genji and Yu~giri
the only shadow upon the occasion.
Leaving on the third day, Murasaki met the Akashi lady, who had
come to replace her.
"You see what a fine young lady she has become," said Murasaki,
"and the sight of her makes you very aware, I am sure, of how long I have
had her with me. I hope that we shall be friends."
It was the first note of intimacy between them. Murasaki could see
why Genji had been so strongly drawn to the Akashi lady, and the latter
was thinking how few rivals Murasaki had in elegance and dignity. She
quite deserved her place of eminence. It seemed to the Akashi lady the
most remarkable good fortune that she should be in such company. The
old feelings of inferiority came back as she saw Murasaki leave court in
a royal carriage, as if she were one of the royal consorts.
The girl was like a doll. Gazing upon her as if in a dream, the Akashi
lady wept, and could not agree with the poet that tears of joy resemble
tears of sorrow. It had seemed all these years that she had been meat for
<P 532>
sorrow. Now she wanted to live on for joy. The god of Sumiyoshi had been
good to her.
The girl was very intelligent and the most careful attention had been
given to her education, and the results were here for the world to admire.
The crown prince, in his boyish way, was delighted with her. Certain rivals
made sneering remarks about her mother, but she did not let them bother
her. Alert and discerning, she brought new dignity to the most ordinary
occasion. Her household offered the young gallants new challenges, for not
one of her women was unworthy to be in her service.
Murasaki visited from time to rime. She and the Akashi lady were
now on the best of terms, though no one could have accused the latter of
trying to push herself forward. She was always a model of reserve and
diffidence.
Genji had numbered the girl's presentation at court among the chief
concerns of his declining years, which he feared might not be numerous.
Now her position was secure. Yu~giri, who had seemed to prefer the unset-
tled bachelor's life, was most happily married. The time had come, thought
Genji, to do what he wanted most to do. Though it saddened him to think
of leaving Murasaki, she and Akikonomu were good friends and she was
still the most important person in the Akashi girl's life. As for the lady of
the orange blossoms, her life was not perhaps very exciting, but Yu~giri
could be depended on to take care of her. Everything seemed in order.
Genji would be forty next year. Preparations were already under way
at court and elsewhere to celebrate the event. In the autumn he was
accorded benefices equivalent to those of a retired emperor. His life had
seemed full enough already and he would have preferred to decline the
honor. All the old precedents were followed, and he was so hemmed in
by retainers and formalities that it became almost impossible for him to
go to court. The emperor had his own secret reason for dissatisfaction:
public opinion apparently would not permit him to abdicate in favor of
Genji.
To~ no Chu~jo~ now became chancellor and Yu~giri was promoted to
middle councillor. He so shone with youthful good looks when he went
to thank the emperor that To~ no Chu~jo~ was coming to think Kumoinokari,
away from the cruel competition at court, the most fortunate of his daugh-
ters.
Yu~giri had not forgotten her nurse's scorn for his blue sleeves. One
day he handed the nurse a chrysanthemum delicately tinged by frost.
"Did you suspect by so much as a mist of dew
That the azure bloom would one day be a deep purple?
"I have not forgotten," he added with a bright, winning smile.
She was both pleased and confused.
<P 533>
"What mist of dew could possibly fail to find it,
Though pale its hue, in so eminent a garden?"
She was now behaving, one might almost have said, like his mother-
in-law.
His new circumstances had made the Nijo~ house seem rather cramped.
He moved into his grandmother's Sanjo~ house, which was of course a place
of fond memories. It had been neglected since her death and extensive
repairs were necessary. His grandmother's rooms, redecorated, became his
own personal rooms. The garden badly needed pruning. The shrubbery
was out of control and a "sheaf of grass" did indeed threaten to take over
the garden. He had the weeds cleared from the brook, which gurgled
pleasantly once more.
He was sitting out near the veranda with Kumoinokari one beautiful
evening. Memories of their years apart were always with them, though
she, at least, would have preferred not to remember that all these women
had had their thoughts in the matter. Yu~giri had summoned various
<P 534>
women who had lived in odd corners of the house since Princess Omiya's
death. It was for them a very happy reunion.
Said Yu~giri:
"Clearest of brooks, you guard these rocks, this house.
Where has she gone whose image you once reflected?"
And Kumoinokari:
"We see the image no more. How is it that
These pools among the rocks yet seem so happy?"
Having heard that the garden was in its autumn glory, To~ no Chu~jo~
stopped by on his way from court. New life had come to the sedate old
house, not much changed from his mother's day. A slight flush on his
cheeks, Yu~giri too was thinking of the old princess. Yes, said To~ no Chu~jo~
to himself, they were a well-favored pair, one of them, he might add, more
so than the other. While Kumoinokari was distinguished but not unique,
Yu~giri was without rivals. The old women were having a delightful time,
and the conversation flowed on and on.
To~ no Chu~jo~ looked at the poems that lay scattered about. "I would
like to ask these same questions of your brook," he said, brushing away
a tear, "but I rather doubt that you would welcome my senile meanderings.
"The ancient pine is gone. That need not surprise us--
For see how gnarled and mossy is its seedling."
Saisho~, Yu~giri's old nurse, was not quite ready to forget old griev-
ances. It was with a somewhat satisfied look that she said:
"I now am shaded by two splendid trees
Whose roots were intertwined when they were seedlings."
It was an old woman's poem. Yu~giri was amused, and Kumoinokari
embarrassed.
The emperor paid a state visit to Rokujo~ late in the Tenth Month.
Since the colors were at their best and it promised to be a grand occasion,
the Suzaku emperor accepted the invitation of his brother, the present
emperor, to join him. It was a most extraordinary event, the talk of the
whole court. The preparations, which occupied the full attention of every-
one at Rokujo~, were unprecedented in their complexity and in the atten-
tion to brilliant detail.
Arriving late in the morning, the royal party went first to the eques-
trian grounds, where the inner guards were mustered for mounted review
in the finery usually reserved for the iris festival. There were brocades
spread along the galleries and arched bridges and awnings over the open
places when, in early afternoon, the party moved to the southeast quarter.
The royal cormorants had been turned out with the Rokujo~ cormorants on
the east lake, where there was a handsome take of small fish. Genji hoped
<P 535>
that he was not being a fussy and overzealous host, but he did not want
a single moment of the royal progress to be dull. The autumn leaves were
splendid, especially in Akikonomu's southwest garden. Walls had been
taken down and gates opened, and not so much as an autumn mist was
permitted to obstruct the royal view. Genji showed his guests to seats on
a higher level than his own. The emperor ordered this mark of inferiority
dispensed with, and thought again what a satisfaction it would be to honor
Genji as his father.
The lieutenants of the inner guards advanced from the east and knelt
to the left and right of the stairs before the royal seats, one presenting the
take from the pond and the other a brace of fowl taken by the royal falcons
in the northern hills. To~ no Chu~jo~ received the royal command to prepare
and serve these delicacies. An equally interesting repast had been laid out
for the princes and high courtiers. The court musicians took their places
in late afternoon, by which time the wine was having its effect. The concert
was quiet and unpretentious and there were court pages to dance for the
royal guests. It was as always the excursion to the Suzaku Palace so
many years before that people remembered. One of To~ no
<P 536>
Chu~jo~,s sons, a boy of ten or so, danced "Our Gracious Monarch" most
elegantly. The emperor took off a robe and laid it over his shoulders, and
To~ no Chu~jo~ himself descended into the garden for ritual thanks.
Remembering how they had danced "Waves of the Blue Ocean" on
that other occasion, Genji sent someone down to break off a chrysanthe-
mum, which he presented to his friend with a poem:
"Though time has deepened the hue of the bloom at the hedge,
I do not forget how sleeve brushed sleeve that autumn."
He himself had done better than most, thought To~ no Chu~jo~, but
Genji had no rivals. No doubt it had all been fated. An autumn shower
passed, as if sensing that the moment was right.
"A purple cloud is this chrysanthemum,
A beacon star which shines upon us all.
And grows brighter and brighter."
The evening breeze had scattered leaves of various tints to make the
ground a brocade as rich and delicate as the brocades along the galleries.
The dancers were young boys from the best families, prettily dressed in
coronets and the usual gray-blues and roses, with crimsons and lavenders
showing at their sleeves. They danced very briefly and withdrew under the
autumn trees, and the guests regretted the approach of sunset. The formal
concert, brief and unassuming, was followed by impromptu music in the
halls above, instruments having been brought from the palace collection.
As it grew livelier a koto was brought for each of the emperors and a third
for Genji. The Suzaku emperor was delighted to hear "the Uda monk"
again after so many years and be assured that its tone was as fine as ever.
"This aged peasant has known many autumn showers
And not before seen finer autumn colors."
This suggestion that the day was uniquely glorious must not, thought
the emperor, go unchallenged:
"Think you these the usual autumn colors?
Our garden brocade imitates an earlier one."
He was handsomer as the years went by, and he and Genji might have
been mistaken for twins. And here was Yu~giri beside them--one stopped
in amazement upon seeing the same face yet a third time. Perhaps it was
one's imagination that Yu~giri had not quite the emperor's nobility of
feature. His was in any event the finer glow of youth.
He was unsurpassed on the flute. Among the courtiers who serenaded
the emperors from below the stairs Ko~bai had the finest voice. It was cause
for general rejoicing that the two houses should be so close.
<W Murasaki Shikibu>{Translated by Edward G.Seidensticker}
<T The Tale of Genji>
<K 4>
<C 34>{New Herbs}
<N 1>
<P 537>
The Suzaku emperor had been in bad health since his visit to Rokujo~.
Always a sickly man, he feared that this illness might be his last. Though
it had long been his wish to take holy orders and retire from the world,
he had not wanted to do so while his mother lived.
"My heart seems to be urging me in that direction--and in any event
I fear I am not long for this world." And he set about making the necessary
preparations.
Besides the crown prince he had four children, all girls. The mother
of the Third Princess had herself been born a royal princess, the daughter
of the emperor who had preceded Genji's father. She had been reduced
to commoner status and given the name Genji. Though she had come to
court when the Suzaku emperor was still crown prince and might one day
have been named empress, her candidacy had no powerful backers. Her
mother, of undistinguished lineage, was among the emperor's lesser concu-
bines, and not among the great and brilliant ladies at court. Oborozukiyo
had been brought to court by her powerful sister, Kokiden, the Suzaku
emperor's mother, and had had no rival for his affection; and so the mother
of the Third Princess had had a sad time of it. The Suzaku emperor was
sorry and did what he could for her, but after he left the throne it was
<P 538>
not a great deal. She died an obscure and disappointed lady. The Third
Princess was the Suzaku emperor's favorite among his children.
She was now some thirteen or fourteen. The Suzaku emperor worried
about her more than about any of the others. To whom could she look for
support when he finally withdrew from the world?
He had chosen his retreat, a temple in the western hills, and now it
was ready. He was busy both with preparations for the move and with
plans for the Third Princess's initiation. He gave her his most prized
treasures and made certain that everything she had, even the most trifling
bauble, was of the finest quality. Only when his best things had gone to
her did he turn to the needs of his other daughters.
<N 2>
Knowing of course that his father was ill and learning of these new
intentions, the crown prince paid a visit. His mother was with him. Though
she had not been the Suzaku emperor's favorite among his ladies, she could
