The Suzaku emperor had been in bad health since his visit to Rokujō. —
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 concubines, 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 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.
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 not, as mother of the crown prince, be ignored. —
They had a long talk about old times. The Suzaku emperor offered good advice on the management of public affairs when presently his son’s time on the throne should begin. —
The crown prince was a sober, mature young man and his mother’s family was powerful. —
So far as his affairs were concerned, the Suzaku emperor could retire with no worries.
“It is your sisters. I fear I must worry about them to the end. —
I have heard, and thought it a great pity, that women are shallow, careless creatures who are not always treated with complete respect. —
Please do not forget your sisters. Be good to them when your day comes. —
Some of them have reliable enough sponsors. But the Third Princess — it is she I worry about. —
She is very young and she has been completely dependent on me. And now I am abandoning her. —
” He brushed away a tear. “What will happen to the poor child?”
He also asked the crown prince’s mother to be good to her. —
He had been rather less fond of her than of the Third Princess’s mother, however, and there had been resentments and jealousies back in the days when his several ladies were competing for his attention. —
Though he surmised that no very deep rancor persisted, he knew that he could not expect her to trouble herself greatly in the Third Princess’s behalf.
Seriously ill as the New Year approached, he no longer ventured from behind his curtains. —
He had had similar attacks before, but they had not been so frequent or stubborn. —
He feared that the end might be near. It was true that he had left the throne, but he continued to be of service to the people he had once favored, and their regrets were genuine. —
Genji made frequent inquiries, and, to the sick man’s very great pleasure, proposed a visit.
Yūgiri came with the news and was invited behind the royal curtains for an intimate talk.
“During his last illness Father gave me all manner of advice and instructions. —
He seemed to worry most about your father and about the present emperor. —
There is a limit, I fear, to what a reigning monarch can do. —
My affection for your father continued to be as it had always been, but a silly little incident provoked me to behavior which I fear he has not been able to forgive. —
But I only suspect this to be the case. He has not through all the long years let slip a single word of bitterness. —
In happier times than these the wisest of men have sometimes let personal grievances affect their impartiality and cloud their judgment until a wish to even scores has lured them from the straight way of justice. —
People have watched him carefully, wondering when his bitterness might lead him similarly astray, but not for a moment has he ever lost control of himself. —
It would seem that he has the warmest feelings towards the crown prince. —
Nothing could please me more than the new bond between them. —
I am not a clever man, and we all know what happens to a father when he starts thinking about his children. —
I have rather withdrawn from the crown prince’s affairs, not wanting to make a fool of myself, and left them to your father.
“I do not think that I went against Father’s wishes in my behavior towards the emperor, whose radiance will shine through the ages and perhaps make future generations overlook my own misrule. —
I am satisfied. When I saw your father last autumn a flood of memories came back. —
It would please me enormously if I might see him again. —
We have innumerable things to talk about. —
” There were tears in his eyes. “Do insist that he come.”
“I fear that I am not as well informed as I might be on what happened long ago, but since I have been old enough to be of some service I have tried this way and that to inform myself in the ways of the world. —
Father and I sometimes have a good talk about important things and about trivialities as well, but I may assure you that I have not once heard him suggest that he was a victim of injustice. —
I have occasionally heard him say that since he retired from immediate service to the emperor and turned to the quiet pursuits he has always enjoyed most, he has become rather self-centered and has not been at all faithful to the wishes of your royal father. —
While Your Majesty was on the throne he was still young and inexperienced, he has said, and there were many more eminent and talented men than he, and so his accomplishments fell far short of his hopes. —
Now that he has withdrawn from public affairs he would like nothing better than a free and open interview with Your Majesty. —
Unfortunately his position makes it difficult for him to move about, and so time has gone by and he has neglected you sadly.”
Not yet twenty, Yūgiri was in the full bloom of youth, a very handsome boy indeed. —
The Suzaku emperor looked at him thoughtfully, wondering whether he might not offer a solution to the problem of the Third Princess.
“They tell me that you are now a member of the chancellor’s family. —
It worried me to see the matter so long in abeyance, and I was enormously relieved at news of your marriage. —
And yet it would be less than candid of me not to acknowledge that I felt certain regrets at the same time.”
What could this mean? Then Yūgiri remembered rumors about the Suzaku emperor’s concern for the Third Princess, and his wish to find a good husband for her before he took holy orders.
But to let it appear that he had guessed with no trouble at all might not be good manners. —
“I am not much of a prize,” he said as he took his leave, “and I fear that I was not very eagerly sought after.”
The women of the house had all gathered for a look at him.
“What a marvelous young man. And see how beautifully he carries himself.”
This sort of thing from the younger ones. The older ones were not so sure. —
“You should have seen his father when he was that age. —
He was so handsome that he left you quite giddy.”
The Suzaku emperor overheard them. “Yes, Genji was unique. But why do you say ‘that age’? —
He has only improved as the years have gone by. —
I often say to myself that the word ‘radiant’ was invented especially for him. —
In grand matters of public policy we all fall silent when he speaks, but he has another side too, a gentle sense of humor that is irresistible. —
There is no one quite like him. I sometimes wonder what he can have been in his other lives. —
He grew up at court and he was our father’s favorite, the joy and treasure of his life. —
Yet he was always a model of quiet restraint. —
When he turned twenty, I seem to remember, he was not yet even a middle councillor. —
The next year he became councillor and general. —
The fact that his son has advanced more rapidly is evidence, I should think, that the family is well thought of. —
Yūgiri’s advice in official matters has always been careful and solid. —
I may be mistaken, but I doubt that he does less well in that respect than his father.”
The Third Princess was a pretty little thing, still very young in her ways and very innocent. —
“How nice,” said the Suzaku emperor, “if we could find a good, dependable man to look after you. —
Someone who would see to your education too. —
There are so many things you need to know.”
He summoned her nurses and her more knowledgeable attendants for a conference about the initiation ceremonies. —
“It would be quite the best thing if someone could be persuaded to do for her what Genji did for Prince Hyōbu’s daughter. —
I can think of no one in active court service. —
His Majesty has the empress, and his other ladies are all so very well favored that I would fear for her in the competition and worry about her lack of adequate support. —
I really should have dropped a hint or two while Yūgiri was still single. —
He is young but extremely gifted, and he would seem to have a brilliant future.”
“But he is such a steady, proper young man. —
Through all those years he thought only of the girl who is now his wife, and nothing could pull him away from her. —
He will doubtless be even more unbudgeable now that they are married. —
I should think that the chances might be better with his father. —
It would seem that Genji still has the old acquisitive instincts and that he is always on the alert for ladies of really good pedigree. —
I am told that he still thinks of the former high priestess of Kamo and sometimes gets off a letter to her.”
“But that is exactly what worries me — his eagerness for the hunt.”
Yet it would seem that the Suzaku emperor’s thoughts were running in much the same direction. —
There might be unpleasantness of some description, since there were all those other ladies; —
but he could do worse than ask that Genji take in the Third Princess much as he might have brought home a daughter.
“I’m sure that everyone with a marriageable daughter has the same thought, that when all is said and done Genji would not be a bad son-in-law. —
Life is short and a man wants to do what he can with it. —
If I had been born a woman I suspect I might have been drawn to him in a not too sisterly fashion. —
I used to think so when we were boys, and I have never been surprised at all when I have seen a lady losing her senses over him.”
It may have been that he was thinking of his own Oborozukiyo.
Among the princess’s nurses was a woman of good family whose elder brother was a moderator of the middle rank. —
He had long been among Genji’s more trusted followers and he had been of good service to the Third Princess as well. —
One day when he was with her his sister told him of the Suzaku emperor’s remarks.
“Perhaps you might find occasion to speak to His Lordship. —
It is a common enough thing for princesses to remain single, but it is good all the same when one of them finds a man who is fond of her and will look after her. —
My poor lady, only her father really cares about her. —
Except for us, of course — and what can we do? —
As a matter of fact, I would feel better if I were the only one concerned. —
There are other women with her, and one of them could easily bring about her ruin. —
It would be an enormous relief if something could be arranged while her father is still with us. —
Even a princess may be fated for unhappy things, and I do worry most inordinately. —
There are jealousies because she is her father’s favorite. —
I only wish it were in my power to protect her.”
“Genji is a more reliable man than you would imagine. —
When he has had an affair, even the most lighthearted sort of adventure, he ends up by taking the lady in and making her one of his own. —
The result is that he has a large collection. —
But no man can distribute his affections indefinitely, and it would seem that there is one lady who dominates them. —
I should imagine, though I cannot be sure, that there are numbers of ladies who feel rather neglected as a result. —
But if it should be the princess’s fate to marry him, I doubt that the one lady need be a dangerous threat to her. —
I must admit all the same that I have misgivings. —
I have heard him say, without making a great point of it, that his life has been too well favored in an otherwise poorly favored day, and that it would be greedy and arrogant of him to want more, but that he himself and others too have thought that in his relations with women he has not been completely successful. —
I think I can see what he means. Not one of his ladies need be ashamed of her family, and not one of them is of really the very best. —
They are all in some measure his inferior. —
I should think that your lady might be exactly what is needed.”
The nurse found occasion to speak of these matters to the Suzaku emperor. —
“My brother says that His Lordship at Rokujō would without question be friendly to a proposal from Your Majesty. —
He would see in it the fulfillment of all his wishes. —
With Your Majesty’s concurrence my brother would be happy to transmit a proposal. —
Yet we have misgivings. His Lordship is very kind to them all, after their various stations, but even a commoner who does not have her royal dignity to worry about finds it unpleasant to be one of many wives. —
I wonder if the strain on my lady might not perhaps be too much. —
I gather that she has other suitors. I hope that Your Majesty will consider all the possibilities very carefully before coming to a decision. —
Ladies tend these days to think first about their own convenience and to be indifferent to the claims of high birth. —
My own lady is really so very innocent and inexperienced, astonishingly so, indeed, and there is a limit to what we others can do for her. —
When we are conscien- tious we do our work under direction, and we find ourselves helpless if it begins to weaken.”
“I have worried a great deal, and think I am aware of all the arguments and considerations. —
It may be the more prudent course for a princess to remain single. —
The claims of birth cannot be relied upon to protect a marriage from bitterness and unhappiness. —
They are certain to come. And on the other hand there are unmarried princesses who suddenly find themselves alone in the world, quite without protection. —
In the old days people were diffident and respectful and would not have dreamed of violating the proprieties, but in our own day the most determined and purposeful lady cannot be sure that she is not going to be insulted. —
Such, in any event, has been the purport of the various discussions I have overheard. —
A lady who was until yesterday guarded by worthy and influential parents today finds herself involved in a scandal with an adventurer of no standing at all and brings dishonor upon her dead parents. —
Such instances are constantly coming to my attention. And so there are arguments on both sides. —
The fact that a lady was born a princess is no guarantee that things will go well for her. —
You cannot imagine how I have worried.
“When a lady has put herself in the hands of those who ought to know best, then she can resign herself to what must be, and if it is not happy then at least she does not have herself to blame. —
Or if she is not that sort of lady, affairs may shape themselves so that in the end she may congratulate herself upon her independence. —
Even then the initial secrecy and the affront to her parents and advisers are not good. —
They do injury to her name from which it is not easy to recover. —
What a silly, heedless girl, People say, even of a commoner. —
Or if a lady’s wishes should have been consulted but she finds herself joined to a man who does not please her, and people are heard to say that it is just as they thought it would be — then her advisers may be taxed with carelessness. —
I have reason to believe that the Third Princess is not at all reliable in these matters, and that you people are reaching out and taking her affairs into your own hands. —
If it were to become known that that is the case, the results could easily be disastrous.”
These troubled meditations, as he prepared to leave the world, did not make things easier for the princess’s women.
“I think I have been rather patient,” continued the Suzaku emperor, “waiting for her to grow up and become just a little more aware of things, but now I begin to fear that my deepest wish may be denied me. —
I can wait no longer.
“It is true that Genji has other ladies, but he is a sober and intelligent man, indeed a tower of strength. —
Let us not worry about the others. She must make a place for herself. —
It would be hard to think of a more dependable man.
“But let us consider the other possibilities.
“There is my brother, Prince Hotaru. He is a thoroughly decent man and certainly no stranger, nor is he someone we may consider we have any right to look down upon. —
But I sometimes think that his preoccupation with deportment rather diminishes his stature and even makes him seem less than completely serious. —
I doubt that we can depend on him in such an important matter.
“I have heard that the Fujiwara councillor would like to manage her affairs. —
I have no doubt that he would be a very loyal servant, and yet — might one not hope for a less ordinary sort of man? —
The precedents all suggest that true eminence is what matters, and that an eagerness to be of service is not quite enough.
“There is Kashiwagi. Oborozukiyo tells me that he suffers from secret longings. —
Perhaps he might someday do, but he is still very young and rather obscure. —
I am told that he has remained single because he wants the very best. —
No one else has been so dedicated to such high ambitions. —
He has studied hard, and I have no doubt that he will one day be among the most useful of public servants. —
But I doubt that he is quite what we want at the moment.”
No one troubled him with the affairs of his other daughters, who worried him much less. —
It was strange how reports of his secret anxiety had so spread that it had become a matter of public concern.
It came to the attention of Tō no Chūjō, who presented his addresses through Oborozukiyo, his sister-in-law. —
“Kashiwagi is still single because he is determined to marry a princess and no one else. —
You might point this fact out to the Suzaku emperor when he is making final plans for his daughters. —
If Kashiwagi were to be noticed I would feel greatly honored myself.”
Oborozukiyo did what she could to advance her nephew’s cause.
Prince Hotaru, having been rejected by Tamakazura, was determined to show her that he could do even better. —
It was not likely that the affairs of the Third Princess had escaped his notice. —
Indeed, he was very restless.
The Fujiwara councillor was very close to the Suzaku emperor, whose chief steward he had been for many years. —
With his master’s retirement from the world his prospects were bleak. —
It would seem that he was trying to call the Suzaku emperor’s attention to his claims as the man most competent to manage the princess’s affairs.
Yūgiri had of course been taken into the royal confidence. —
It excited him, apparently, to think that the Suzaku emperor, having said so much, could not shrug off a proposal from him. —
But Kumoinokari had joined her destinies to his. —
He had been steadfast through all the unfriendly years and could not admit the possibility of making her unhappy now. —
And of course marriage to the chancellor’s daughter limited his options. —
Action on two fronts, so to speak, could be very exacting and very unpleasant. —
Always the most prudent of young men, he kept his own counsel. —
Yet he watched each new development with great interest, and he was not at all sure that he would not be disappointed when a husband was finally chosen for the princess.
The crown prince too was well informed. He offered it as his view that one must be very careful about setting precedents. —
“You must deliberate on every facet of the case. —
However excellent a man may be, a commoner is still a commoner. —
But if Genji is to be your choice, then I think he should be asked to look after her as a father looks after a daughter.”
“I quite agree. I can see that you have thought the matter over carefully.”
Increasingly enthusiastic about Genji’s candidacy, the Suzaku emperor summoned the moderator, brother of the Third Princess’s nurse, and asked that Genji be made aware of his thoughts.
Genji was of course very much aware of them already. “I am sorry to hear it. —
He may fear that he has not much longer to live, but how can he be sure that I will outlive him? —
If we could be sure to die in the order in which we were born, then of course I might expect to be around for a little while yet. —
But I can look after her without marrying her. —
I could hardly be indifferent towards any of his children. —
If he is especially concerned about the Third Princess, then I will want to respect his wishes. —
Though of course nothing in this world is certain.
“I am overwhelmed by these evidences of trust and affection. —
But supposing I were to follow her father’s example and retire to a hermitage myself — would that not be sad for her? —
And she would be a strong bond tying me to a world I wish to leave.
“What of Yūgiri? He is still young and not very important, I know, but he will someday be one of the grand ministers. —
He has all the qualifications. If the Suzaku emperor is so inclined, I am not being frivolous, I most emphatically assure you, when I commend Yūgiri to his attention. —
Perhaps he has held back because he knows that the boy is a monogamous sort and that he already has his wife.”
Genji seemed to be withdrawing his candidacy. —
Knowing that the Suzaku emperor’s decision had not been hasty, the moderator was much distressed. —
He described all the deliberations in great detail.
Genji smiled. “Yes, he is very fond of her, and I can imagine how he must worry. —
But there is one unassailable way to end his worries: make her one of the emperor’s ladies. —
He has numbers of fine ladies already, I know, but they need not be a crucial consideration. —
It is by no means a firm rule that ladies who come to court later are at a disadvantage. —
He has only to look back to the days of our late father. The dowager empress was his first wife. —
She came to court when he was still crown prince and she seemed to have everything her way, and yet there were the years when she was quite overshadowed by Fujitsubo, the very last of his ladies. —
Your princess’s mother was, I believe, Fujitsubo’s sister, only less well endowed, people tell me, than she. —
With such fine looks on both sides of the family it cannot be doubted that your princess is very lovely.”
The Suzaku emperor took the last remark as evidence that Genji was himself not uninterested.
The year drew to an end. The Suzaku emperor made haste to get his affairs in order. —
The plans for the Third Princess’s initiation were so grand that it seemed likely to oust all other such affairs from the history books. —
The west room of the Oak Pavilion was fitted out for the ceremonies. —
Only the most resplendent imported brocades were used for hangings and cushions, and the results would have pleased a Chinese empress.
Suzaku had long before asked Tō no Chūjō to bestow the ceremonial train. —
He was such a busy man that one was reluctant to make demands upon his time, but he had never turned away a request from Suzaku. —
The other two ministers and all the high courtiers were also present, even some who had had previous engagements. —
Indeed the whole court was present, including the whole of the emperor’s private household and that of the crown prince. —
Eight royal princes were among the guests. —
For the emperor and the crown prince and many others too there was sadness mingled with the joy. —
It would be the last such affair arranged by the Suzaku emperor. —
The warehouses and supply rooms were searched for the most splendid of imported gifts. —
A large array of equally splendid gifts came from Rokujō, some in Genji’s own name and some in that of the Suzaku emperor. —
It was Genji who saw that Tō no Chūjō was properly rewarded for his services.
From Akikonomu came robes and combs and the like, all of them selected with the greatest care. —
She got out combs and bodkins from long ago and made sure that the necessary repairs did not obscure their identity. —
On the evening of the ceremony she dispatched them by her assistant chamberlain, who also served in the Suzaku Palace, with instructions that they be delivered directly to the Third Princess. —
With them was a poem:
“I fear these little combs are scarred and worn.
I have used them to summon back an ancient day.”
The Suzaku emperor chanced to be with the princess when the gift was delivered. —
The memories were poignant. Perhaps Akikonomu meant to share some of her own good fortune with the princess. —
It was a beautiful gift in any case. He got off a note of thanks from which he tried to exclude his own feelings:
“I only hope that she may be as you,
All through the myriad years of the boxwood comb.”
It was with a considerable effort of the will that he was present at the ceremonies, for he was in great pain. —
Three days later he took the tonsure. Even an ordinary man leaves grief and regret behind him, and in his case the regret was boundless.
Oborozukiyo refused to leave his side.
“My worries about my daughters may come to an end,” he said, “but how can I stop worrying about you?”
He forced himself to sit up. The grand abbot of Hiei shaved his head and there were three eminent clerics to administer the vows. —
The final renunciation, symbolized by the change to somber religious habit, was very sad indeed. —
Even the priests, who should long ago have left sorrow behind them, were unable to hold back their tears. —
As for the Suzaku emperor’s daughters and ladies and attendants high and low, the halls and galleries echoed with their laments. —
And even now, he sighed, he could not have the peace he longed for. —
The Third Princess was still too much on his mind.
He was of course showered with messages, from the emperor and from the whole court.
Hearing that he was a little better, Genji paid a visit. —
Genji’s allowances were now those of a retired emperor, but he was determined to avoid equivalent ceremony. —
He rode in a plain carriage and kept his retinue to a minimum, and preferred a carriage escort to the more ostentatious mounted guard. —
Delighted at the visit, the Suzaku emperor braved very great discomfort to receive him. —
He shared Genji’s wishes that the visit be informal and had places set out in his private parlor. —
Genji was shocked and saddened at the change in his brother. —
A shadow seemed to sweep over the past and on into the future, and he was in tears.
“Father’s death more than anything made me aware of impermanence and change. —
I resolved that I must leave the world. But I have never had much will power, and I have delayed, and so you see me unable to raise my head before you who have done the great thing first. —
I have known how much easier it should be for me than for you and I have made the resolve over and over again, and somehow regret for the world has always been stronger.”
The Suzaku emperor was also weeping. In an uncertain voice he talked of old and recent happenings. —
“For years I have had a persistent feeling that I would not last the night, and still the years have gone by. —
Fearing that I might die without accomplishing the first of my resolves, I have finally taken the step. —
Now that I have changed to these dark robes I know more than ever how little time I have ahead of me. —
I fear that I shall not go far down the way I have chosen. —
I must be satisfied with the easier route. —
I shall calm my thoughts for a time and invoke the holy name, and that will be all. —
I am not a man of very grand and rare substance, and I cannot think that I was meant for anything different. —
I must reprove myself for the years of lazy indecision.”
He described his plans and hopes and managed to touch upon the matter that worried him most. —
“I am sad for all of my daughters, but most of all for the most inadequately protected of them.”
Genji was sad for his brother, and in spite of everything rather interested in the Third Princess. —
“Yes, the higher a lady’s standing, the sadder it is for her to be without adequate defenses. —
I am very much aware that our crown prince is among our greatest blessings. —
The whole world looks upon him as more than this inferior day of ours has any right to expect, and I know perhaps better than anyone how unlikely he is to refuse Your Majesty’s smallest request. —
There is no cause for concern, none at all. Yet it is as Your Majesty has said: —
there is a limit to what even he can do. —
When his day comes he may be able to manage public affairs quite as he wishes, but there is no assurance that he can arrange things ideally for his own sisters. —
Yes, the safest thing by far would be to find someone whom the Third Princess can depend upon in everything. —
Let the vows be exchanged and the man charged with responsibilities he cannot deny. —
If Your Majesty will insist upon worrying about the whole of the vast, distant future, then a decision must be made and a suitable guardian chosen, promptly but quietly.”
“I quite agree. But it is by no means easy. —
Many princesses have been provided with suitable husbands while their fathers have still occupied the throne. —
The matter is more urgent for my own poor girl, and her affairs are the last which I still think of as my own. —
Promptly and quietly, you say — but they remain beyond my power either to ignore or to dispose of. And as I have worried my health has deteriorated, and days and weeks which will not return have gone by to no purpose.
“It is not easy for me to make the request, and no easier for you, I am sure, to be the object — but might I ask that you take the girl in your very special charge and, quite as you think appropriate, find a husband for her? —
I should have made a proposal to your son while he was still single, and it is a great source of regret that I was anticipated by the chancellor. ”
“He is a serious, dependable lad, but he is still very young and inexperienced. —
It may seem presumptuous of me — but let us suppose that I were myself to take responsibility. —
Her life need not be much different from what it is now, though there is the disquieting consideration that I am no longer young, and the time may come when I can no longer be of service to her.”
And so the contract was made.
In the evening there was a banquet, for Genji’s party and the Suzaku household. —
The priest’s fare was unpretentious but beautifully prepared and served. —
The tableware and the trays of light aloeswood also suggested the priestly vocation and brought tears to the eyes of the guests. —
The melancholy and moving details were innumerable, but I fear that they would clutter my story.
It was late in the night when Genji and his men departed, the men bearing lavish gifts. —
The Fujiwara councillor was among those who saw them off. —
There had been a fall of snow and the Suzaku emperor had caught cold. —
But he was happy. The future of the Third Princess seemed secure.
Genji was worried. Murasaki had heard vague rumors, but she had told herself that it could not be. —
Genji had once been very serious about the high priestess of Ise, it seemed, but in the end he had held himself back. —
She had not worried a great deal, and asked no questions.
How would she take this news? Genji knew that his feelings towards her would not change, or if they did it would be in the direction of greater intensity. —
But only time could. assure her of that fact, and there would be cruel uncertainty in the meantime. —
Nothing had been allowed to come between them in recent years, and the thought of having a secret from her for even a short time made him very unhappy.
He said nothing to her that night.
The next day was dark, with flurries of snow.
“I went yesterday to call on the Suzaku emperor. He is in very poor health indeed. —
” It was in the course of a leisurely conversation that Genji brought the matter up. —
“He said many sad things, but what seems to trouble him most as he goes off to his retreat is the future of the Third Princess. —
” And he described that part of the interview. —
“I was really so extremely sorry for him that I found it impossible to refuse. —
I suppose people will make a great thing of it. —
The thought of taking a bride at my age has seemed so utterly preposterous that I have tried through this and that intermediary to suggest a certain want of ardor. —
But to see him in person and have it directly from him — I simply could not bring myself to refuse. —
Do you think that when the time does finally come for him to go off into the mountains we might have her come here? —
Would that upset you terribly? Please do not let it. —
Trust me, and tell yourself what is the complete truth, that nothing is going to change. —
She has more right to feel insecure than you do. —
But I am sure that we can arrange things happily enough for her too.”
She was always torturing herself over the smallest of his affairs, and he had dreaded telling her of this one.
But her reply was quiet and unassertive. “Yes, it is sad for her. —
The only thing that worries me is the possibility that she might feel less than completely at home. —
I shall be very happy if our being so closely related persuades her that I am no stranger.”
“How silly that this very willingness to accept things should bother me. But it does. —
It makes me start looking for complications, and I am sure I will feel guiltier as the two of you get used to each other. —
You must pay no attention to what people say. Rumors are strange things. —
It is impossible to know where they come from, but there they are, like living creatures bent on poisoning relations between a man and a woman. —
You must listen only to yourself and let matters take their course. —
Do not start imagining things, and do not torture yourself with empty jealousies.”
It was a tempest out of the blue which there was no escaping. —
Murasaki was determined that she would not complain or give any hint of resentment. —
She knew that neither her wishes nor her advice would have made any difference. —
She did not want the world to think that she had been crushed by what had to come. —
There was her sharp-tongued stepmother, so quick to blame and to gloat — she had even held Murasaki responsible for the curious solution to the Tamakazura problem. —
She was certain to gloat over this, and to say that Murasaki deserved exactly what had come to her. —
Though very much in control of herself, Murasaki was prey to these worries. —
The very durability of her relations with Genji was sure to make people laugh harder. —
But she gave no hint of her unhappiness.
The New Year came, and at the Suzaku Palace the Third Princess’s wedding plans kept people busy. —
Her several suitors were deeply disappointed. —
The emperor, who had let it be known that he would welcome her at court, was among them.
It was Genji’s fortieth year, to which the court could not be indifferent and which had long promised to send gladness ringing through the land. —
With his dislike for pomp and ceremony, Genji only hoped that the rejoicing would not be too loud.
The Day of the Rat fell on the twenty-third of the First Month. Tamakazura came with the new herbs that promise long life. —
She came very quietly, not letting anyone know of her intentions. —
Faced with an accomplished fact, Genji could hardly turn her and her gifts away. —
She too disliked ceremony, but the movements of so important a lady were certain to be noticed.
A west room of the main southeast hall was made ready to receive her. —
New curtains were hung and new screens set out, as were forty cushions, more comfortable and less ostentatious, thought Genji, than ceremonial chairs. —
In spite of the informality, the details were magnificent. —
Wardrobes were laid out upon four cupboards inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and there was a fine though modest array of summer and winter robes, incense jars, medicine and comb boxes, inkstones, vanity sets, and other festive paraphernalia. —
The stands for the ritual chaplets were of aloeswood and sandalwood, beautifully carved and fitted in the modern manner, with metal trimmings in several colors. —
Tamakazura’s touch was apparent everywhere. —
She was a lady of refinement and sensibility, and when she exerted herself the results were certain to be memorable — though she agreed with Genji that lavish display was in poor taste.
The party assembled and Genji and Tamakazura exchanged greetings, formal but replete with memories. —
Genji seemed so youthful that one wondered whether he might not have miscalculated his age. —
He looked more like her bridegroom than her foster father. —
She was shy at first, not having seen him in a very long time, but determined not to raise unnecessary barriers. —
She had brought her two sons with her, very pretty boys indeed. —
It rather embarrassed her to have had two sons in such quick succession, but Higekuro, her husband, had said that they must be introduced to Genji, and that there was not likely to be a better occasion. —
They were in identical dress, casual and boyish, and they still wore their hair in the page-boy fashion, parted in the middle.
“I try not to worry about my age,” said Genji, “and to pretend that I am still a boy, and it gives me pause to be presented with the new generation. —
Yūgiri has children, I am told, but he makes a great thing of not letting me see them. —
This day which you were the first to remember does after all bring regrets. —
I had hoped to forget my age for a little while yet.”
Tamakazura was very much the matron, in an entirely pleasant way. —
Her congratulatory poem was most matronly:
“I come to pray that the rock may long endure
And I bring with me the seedling pines from the field.”
Genji went through the ceremony of sampling the new herbs, which were arranged in four aloeswood boxes. He raised his cup.
“Long shall be the life of the seedling pines —
To add to the years of the herbs brought in from the fields?”
There was a large assembly of high officials in the south room. —
Prince Hyōbu had been of two minds about coming. —
He finally decided, at about noon, that to stay away would be to attract attention to his daughter’s misfortunes. —
Yes, of course it was annoying that Higekuro should be making such a show of his close relations with Genji, but his other children, Prince Hyōbu’s grandchildren, were doubly close to Genji, through their mother and through their stepmother, and had been assigned a conspicuous part in the celebrations.
There were forty baskets of fruit and forty boxes of food, presented by as many courtiers, with Yūgiri leading the procession. —
Genji poured wine for his guests and sampled a broth from the new herbs. —
Before him were four aloeswood stands, laid out with the finest tableware in the newest fashion.
Out of respect for the ailing Suzaku emperor, no musicians had been summoned from the palace. —
Tō no Chūjō had brought wind instruments, taking care from far in advance to choose only the best. —
“There is not likely to be another banquet so splendid,” he said.
It was an easy, informal concert. Tō no Chūjō had also brought the Japanese koto that was among his most prized treasures. —
He was one of the finest musicians of the day, and when he put himself out no one was his equal — certainly no one was eager to take up the japanese koto when he had finished. —
At Genji’s insistence Kashiwagi did finally venture a strain, and everyone agreed that he was very little if at all his father’s inferior. —
There was something almost weirdly beautiful about his playing, to make people exclaim in wonder that though of course talent could be inherited no one would have expected so original a style to be handed from father to son. —
There is perhaps nothing so very mysterious about the secret Chinese repertory, for all its variety. The scores may be secret but they are fixed and not hard to read. —
It is rather the Japanese koto, the improvising after the dictates of one’s fancy, all the while deferring to the requirements of other instruments, that fills the listener with wonder. —
His koto tuned very low, Tō no Chūjō managed an astonishingly rich array of overtones. —
Kashiwagi chose a higher, more approachable tuning. —
Not informed in advance that he had such talents, the audience, princes and all, was mute with admiration.
Genji’s brother, Prince Hotaru, chose a seven-stringed Chinese koto, a palace treasure rich in associations, having been handed down from emperor to emperor. —
In his last years Genji’s father had given it to his eldest daughter, who numbered it among her dearest treasures. —
Tō no Chūjō had asked for it especially to honor the occasion. —
Prince Hotaru, who had drunk rather freely and was in tears, glanced tentatively at Genji and pushed the koto towards him. —
All this gaiety seemed to demand novel music, and though both Tamakazura and Genji had wished to avoid ostentation it was in the end a most remarkable concert. —
The singers, gathered at the south stairway, were all in fine voice. —
They presently shifted to a minor key, to announce that the hour was late and the music should be more familiar and intimate. —
“Green Willow” was enough to make the warblers start from their roosts. —
Since the affair was deemed exempt from public sumptuary regulations, the gifts were of astonishing richness and variety, for Tamakazura and for all the other guests. —
She made ready to leave at dawn.
“I live quite apart from the world,” said Genji, “and I find myself losing track of time. —
Your very courteous reminder is also a melancholy one. —
Do stop by occasionally to see how I have aged. —
It is a great pity that an elder statesman cannot move about as he would wish, and so I do not see you often.”
Yes, the associations were both melancholy and happy. —
He thought it a pity that she must leave so soon, nor did she want to go. —
She honored her real father in a formal and perfunctory way, but it was to Genji that she owed the larger debt. —
He had taken her in and made a place for her, and her gratitude increased as the years went by.
The Third Princess came to Rokujō towards the middle of the Second Month. The preparations to receive her were elaborate. —
The west room of the main southeast hall in which Genji had sampled the new herbs became her boudoir. —
Very great attention had been given to appointing her women’s rooms as well, in the galleries and two wings to the west. —
The trousseau was brought from the Suzaku Palace with all the ceremony of a presentation at court, and it goes without saying that similar pomp accompanied the formal move to Rokujō. —
Her retinue was enormous, led by the highest courtiers. —
Among them was a reluctant one, the Fujiwara councillor who had hoped to take charge of her affairs. Genji broke with precedent by himself coming out to receive her. —
Certain limitations were imposed upon a commoner, and she was after all neither going to court nor receiving a prince as a bridegroom; —
and all in all it was a most unusual event.
Through the three days following, the nuptial ceremonies, arranged by the Suzaku and Rokujō households, were of very great dignity and elegance.
It was an unsettling time for Murasaki. No doubt Genji was giving an honest view of the matter when he said that she would not be overwhelmed by the Third Princess. —
Yet for the first time in years she felt genuinely threatened. —
The new lady was young and, it would seem, rather showy in her ways, and of such a rank that Murasaki could not ignore her. —
All very unsettling; but she gave no hint of her feelings, and indeed helped with all the arrangements. —
Genji saw more than ever that there was really no one like her.
The Third Princess was, as her father had said, a mere child. —
She was tiny and immature physically, and she gave a general impression of still greater, indeed quite extraordinary, immaturity. —
He thought of Murasaki when he had first taken her in. She had even then been interesting. —
She had had a character of her own. The Third Princess was like a baby. —
Well, thought Genji, the situation had something to recommend it: —
she was not likely to intrude and make Murasaki unhappy with fits of jealousy. —
Yet he did think he might have hoped for someone a little more interesting. —
For the first three nights he was faithfully in attendance upon her. —
Murasaki was unhappy but said nothing. She gave herself up to her thoughts and to such duties, now performed with unusual care, as scenting his robes. —
He thought her splendid. Why, he asked himself, whatever the pressures and the complications, had he taken another wife? —
He had been weak and he had given an impression of inconstancy, and brought it all upon himself. —
Yūgiri had escaped because the Suzaku emperor had seen what an unshakable pillar of fidelity he was.
Genji was near tears. “Please excuse me just this one more night. I have no alternative. —
If after this I neglect you, then you may be sure that I will be angrier with myself than you can ever be with me. —
We do have to consider her father’s feelings.”
“Do not ask us bystanders,” she said, a faint smile on her lips, “to tell you how to behave.”
He turned away, chin in hand, to hide his confusion.
“I had grown so used to thinking it would not change.
And now, before my very eyes, it changes.”
He took up the paper on which she had jotted down old poems that fitted her mood as well as this poem of her own. —
It was not the most perfect of poems, perhaps, but it was honest and to the point.
“Life must end. It is a transient world.
The one thing lasting is the bond between us.”
He did not want to leave, but she said that he was only making things more difficult for her. —
He was wearing the soft robes which she had so carefully scented. —
She had over the years seen new threats arise only to be turned away, and she had finally come to think that there would be no more. —
Now this had happened, and everyone was talking. —
She knew how susceptible he had been in his earlier years, and now the whole future seemed uncertain. —
It was remarkable that she showed no sign of her disquiet.
Her women were talking as of the direst happenings.
“Who would have expected it? He has always kept himself well supplied with women, but none of them has seemed the sort to raise a challenge. —
So things have been quiet. I doubt that our lady will let them defeat her — but we must be careful. —
The smallest mistake could make things very difficult.”
Murasaki pretended that nothing at all was amiss. —
She talked pleasantly with them until late in the night. —
She feared that silence on the most important subject might make it seem more important than it was.
“I am so glad that she has come to us. We have had a full house, but I sometimes think he has been a little bored with us, poor man. —
None of us is grand enough to be really interesting. —
I somehow hope that we will be the best of friends. —
Perhaps it is because they say that she is still a mere child. —
And here you all are digging a great chasm between us. —
If we were of the same rank, or perhaps if I had some slight reason to think myself a little her superior, then I would feel that I had to be careful. —
But as it is — you may think it impertinent of me to say so — I only want to be friendly.”
Nakatsukasa and Chūjō exchanged glances. —
“Such kindness,” one of them, I do not know which, would seem to have muttered. —
They had once been recipients of Genji’s attentions but they had been with Murasaki for some years now, and they were among her firmer allies.
Inquiries came from the ladies in the other quarters, some of them suggesting that they who had long ago given up their ambitions might be the more fortunate ones. —
Murasaki sighed. They meant to be kind, of course, but they were not making things easier. —
Well, there was no use in tormenting herself over things she could not change, and the inconstancy of the other sex was among them.
Her women would think it odd if she spent the whole night talking with them. —
She withdrew to her boudoir and they helped her into bed. —
She was lonely, and the presence of all these women did little to disguise the fact. —
She thought of the years of his exile. She had feared that they would not meet again, but the agony of waiting for word that he was still alive was in itself a sort of distraction from the sorrow and longing. —
She sought to comfort herself now with the thought that those confused days could so easily have meant the end of everything.
The wind was cold. Not wanting her women to know that she could not sleep, she lay motionless until she ached from the effort. —
Still deep in the cold night, the call of the first cock seemed to emphasize the loneliness and sorrow.
She may not have been in an agony of longing, but she was deeply troubled, and perhaps for that reason she came to Genji in his dreams. —
His heart was racing. Might something have happened to her? —
He lay waiting for the cock as if for permission to leave, and at its first call rushed out as if unaware that it would not yet be daylight for some time. —
Still a child, the princess kept her women close beside her. —
One of them saw him out through a corner door. —
The snow caught the first traces of dawn, though the garden was still dark. —
“In vain the spring night’s darkness,” whispered her nurse, catching the scent he had left behind.
The patches of snow were almost indistinguishable from the white garden sands. —
“There is yet snow by the castle wall,” he whispered to himself as he came to Murasaki’s wing of the house and tapped on a shutter. —
No longer in the habit of accommodating themselves to nocturnal wanderings, the women let him wait for a time.
“How slow you are,” he said, slipping in beside her. —
“I am quite congealed, as much from terror as from cold. —
And I have done nothing to deserve it.”
He thought her rather wonderful. She did nothing at all, and yet, hiding her wet sleeves, she somehow managed to keep him at a distance. —
Not even among ladies of the highest birth was there anyone quite like her. —
He found himself comparing her with the little princess he had just left.
He spent the day beside her, going over their years together, and charging her with evasion and deviousness.
He sent a note saying that he would not be calling on the princess that day. —
“I seem to have caught a chill from the snow and think I would be more comfortable here.”
Her nurse sent back tartly by word of mouth that the note had been passed on to her lady. —
Not a very amiable sort, thought Genji.
He did not want the Suzaku emperor to know of his want of ardor, but he did not seem capable even of maintaining appearances. —
Things could scarcely have been worse. For her part, Murasaki feared that the Suzaku emperor would hold her responsible.
Waking this time in the familiar rooms, he got off another note to the princess. —
He took great trouble with it, though he was not sure that she would notice. —
He chose white paper and attached it to a sprig of plum blossom.
“Not heavy enough to block the way between us,
The flurries of snow this morning yet distress me.”
He told the messenger that the note was to be delivered at the west gallery.
Dressed in white, a sprig of plum in his hand, he sat near the veranda looking at patches of snow like stragglers waiting for their comrades to return. —
A warbler called brightly from the rose plum at the eaves. —
“Still inside my sleeve,” he said, sheltering the blossom in his hand and raising a blind for a better look at the snow. —
He was so youthfully handsome that no one would have taken him for one of the great men of the land and the father of a grown son.
Sure that he could expect no very quick answer from the princess, he went to show Murasaki his sprig of plum. —
“Blossoms should have sweet scents. Think what the cherry blossom would be if it had the scent of the plum — we would have an eye for no other blossom. —
The plum comes into bloom when there is no contest. —
How fine if we could see it in competition with the cherry.”
An answer did presently come. It was on red tissue paper and folded neatly in an envelope. —
He opened it with trepidation, hoping that it would not be too irredeemably childish. —
He did not want to have secrets from Murasaki, and yet he did not want her to see the princess’s hand, at least for a time. —
To display the princess in all her immaturity seemed somehow insulting. —
But it would be worse to make Murasaki yet unhappier. —
She sat leaning against an armrest. He laid the note half open beside her.
“You do not come. I fain would disappear,
A veil of snow upon the rough spring winds.”
It was every bit as bad as he had feared, scarcely even a child’s hand — and of course in point of years she was not a child at all. —
Murasaki glanced at it and glanced away as if she had not seen it. —
He would have offered it up for what it was, evidence of almost complete uselessness, had it been from anyone else.
“So you see that you have nothing to worry about,” he said.
He paid his first daytime call upon the princess. —
He had dressed with unusual care and no doubt his good looks had an unusually powerful effect on women not used to them. —
For the older and more experienced of them, the nurse, for instance, the effect was of something like apprehension. —
He was so splendid that they feared complications. —
Their lady was such a pretty little child of a thing, reduced to almost nothing at all by the brilliance of her surroundings. —
It was as if there were no flesh holding up the great mounds of clothing. —
She did not seem shy before him, and if it could have been said that her openness and freedom from mannerism were for purposes of putting him at his ease, then it could also have been said that they succeeded very well. —
Her father was not generally held to be a virile sort of man, but no one denied his superior taste and refinement, and the mystery was that he had done so little by way of training her. —
And of course Genji, like everyone else, knew that she was his favorite, and that he worried endlessly about her. —
It all seemed rather sad. The other side of the matter was that she did undeniably have a certain girlish charm. —
She listened quietly and answered with whatever came into her mind. He must be good to her. —
In his younger days his disappointment would have approached contempt, but he had become more tolerant. —
They all had their ways, and none was enormously superior to the others. —
There were as many sorts of women as there were women. —
A disinterested observer would probably have told him that he had made a good match for himself. —
Murasaki was the only remarkable one among them all, more remarkable now than ever, he thought, and he had known her very well for a very long time. —
He had no cause for dissatisfaction with his efforts as guardian and mentor. —
A single morning or evening away from her and the sense of deprivation was so intense as to bring a sort of foreboding.
The Suzaku emperor moved into his temple that same month. —
Numbers of emotional letters came to Rokujō, for Genji and of course for the princess. —
He said several times that Genji must not think about him but must follow his own judgment in his treatment of the princess. —
He could not even so hide his disquietude. —
She was so very young and defenseless.
He also wrote to Murasaki. “I fear I have left an unthinking child on your hands. —
Do please be tolerant. I venture to comfort myself with the thought that the close relationship between you will make it difficult for you to reject her.
“Deep into these mountains I would go,
But thoughts of one I leave still pull me back.
“If I express myself foolishly it is because the heart of a father is darkness. —
You must forgive me.”
Genji was with her when it was delivered. —
It showed deep feeling, he said, and must be treated with respect. —
He ordered wine for the messenger.
Murasaki did not know how to reply. A long and elaborate letter somehow did not seem appropriate. —
She finally made do with an impromptu poem:
“If your thoughts are upon the world you leave behind,
You should not make a point of cutting your ties.”
She gave the messenger a set of women’s robes.
So fine was her handwriting that it set the Suzaku emperor to worrying anew. —
He should not have left his artless daughter in a house where the other ladies were so subtle.
There were sad farewells now that the rime had come for his ladies to go their several ways. —
Oborozukiyo moved into Kokiden’s Nijō mansion. —
After the Third Princess she had been most on the Suzaku emperor’s mind. —
She thought of becoming a nun, but he dissuaded her, saying that a great rush to holy orders would be unseemly. —
She devoted more and more of her time to collecting holy images and otherwise preparing for the religious vocation.
The disastrous conclusion to their affair had made it impossible for Genji to forget her. —
He wanted very much to see her again. Their positions were such, however, that they must always be on good behavior, and the memory of the disaster was still vivid. —
He kept his wishes to himself. But he did want very much to know something of her thoughts now that she had cut the old entanglements. —
Though quite aware of the impropriety, he wrote to her from time to time, pretending that his letters, in fact rather warm, were routine inquiries after her health. —
Because they were no longer young, she sometimes answered. —
He could tell that she was much improved, and now he did want very much to see her. —
From time to time he got off a sad petition to her woman Chūnagon.
He summoned Chūnagon’s brother, the former governor of Izumi, and addressed him as if they were young adventurers again. —
“There is something I want very much to speak to your sister’s lady about, Something confidential. —
You must arrange a secret interview. I no longer go off keeping lighthearted rendezvous, and I am sure that she is as careful as I am, and that we need not worry about being detected.”
f But she answered sadly that she could not even consider receiving him. —
As she had gown in her understanding of the world she had come to see rather better that she had been badly treated. —
And what had they to talk about now, save regret that the Suzaku emperor was leaving them? —
Yes, a meeting might be kept secret — but what was she to tell her own conscience?
She had welcomed his advances, however, back in the days when they had presented far greater difficulties. —
Though her solicitude for the Suzaku emperor, now off in his hermitage, was without doubt genuine, she could hardly say that she and Genji had been nothing to each other. —
She might now make a great thing of her chastity, but the telltale flock of birds, as the poet said, would not come back. —
He summoned his courage and hoped that he might rely for shelter on the grove of Shinoda.
“The Hitachi lady in the east lodge at Nijō has not been well,” he said to Murasaki. —
“I have been too busy to look in on her, and I have been feeling guilty. —
It would not do to raise a great stir in the middle of the day. —
I think a quiet evening visit is what is called for, something no one even need know about.”
She thought him improbably nervous about visiting a lady who had never meant a great deal to him. —
But a certain reserve had grown up between them and she let his explanation pass.
As for the Third Princess, he made do with an exchange of notes. —
He spent the whole day scenting his robes. —
It was well after dark when he set off with four or five close retainers. —
His carriage was a plain one covered with woven palm fronds, putting one in mind of his youthful exploits. —
The governor of Izumi had been sent ahead to announce his approach.
Oborozukiyo’s women informed her in whispers, and she was aghast. —
“What can the governor have told him?”
“You must receive him politely, my lady, and send him on his way. You have no alternative.”
Reluctantly, she had him shown in.
After inquiring about her health, he asked that intermediaries be dispensed with. —
“I will not object if you keep curtains between us, and I assure you that I am no longer the unthinking boy you once knew.”
She sighed and came forward. So, in spite of everything, she was not completely unapproachable — and they had known each other well enough that a certain excitement communicated itself through the barred door behind which she sat at the southeast corner of the west wing.
“Remember, please, that you have been in my thoughts for a sum of years which I can reckon up very easily. —
Do not be so girlish.”
It was very late. The call of a waterfowl and the answering call of its mate were like reminders of the old affair. —
The house, once so crowded and noisy, was almost deserted. —
He could not be accused of wishing to imitate Heichū as he brushed away a tear. —
He spoke with a calm self-possession of which he would not earlier have been capable, and yet he rattled irritably at the door.
“So many years, and we meet at Meeting Barrier.
A barrier it remains, but not to my tears.”
“Though tears may flow as the spring at Meeting Hill,
The road between us was long ago blocked off.”
She knew that she was not being very friendly. —
Memories came back and she asked herself who had been chiefly responsible for their misfortunes. —
It was not wrong of him to want to see her. —
She had become more aware of her own inadequacies as she had come to know more of the world. —
In public life and in private the occasions for guilt and regret had been numberless and had turned her more and more strongly in upon herself. —
Now the old affair seemed suddenly very near, and she was not capable of treating him coldly. —
She seemed as young and engaging as ever, and her very great reticence gave her a cha