The tale of Genji
plain and all would be over.
Genji meanwhile thought about her continually. He was for ever calling
back to memory each incident of that one meeting, and every
recollection filled him with longing and despair. He remembered how
sad she had looked when she spoke to him of herself, and he longed to
make her happier. He thought of visiting her in secret. But the risk
of discovery was too great, and the consequences likely to be more
fatal to her even than to himself.
He had been many days at the Palace, when at last the Earth Star again
barred the road to his home. He set out at once, but on the way
pretended that he had just remembered the unfavourable posture of the
stars. There was nothing to do but seek shelter again in the house on
the Middle River. Ki no Kami was surprised but by no means
ill-pleased, for he attributed Genji’s visit to the amenity of the
little pools and fountains which he had constructed in his garden.
Genji had told the boy in the morning that he intended to visit the
Middle River, and since he had now become the Prince’s constant
companion, he was sent for at once to wait upon him in his room. He
had already given a message to his sister, in which Genji told her of
his plan. She could not but feel flattered at the knowledge that it
was on her account he had contrived this ingenious excuse for coming
to the house. Yet she had, as we have seen, for some reason got it
into her head that at a leisurely meeting she would not please him as
she had done at that first fleeting and dreamlike encounter, and she
dreaded adding a new sorrow to the burden of her thwarted and unhappy
existence. Too proud to let him think that she had posted herself in
waiting for him, she said to her servants (while the boy was busy
in Genji’s room) ‘I do not care to be at such close quarters with our
guest, besides I am stiff, and would like to be massaged; I must go
where there is more room,’ and so saying she made them carry her
things to the maid Chūjō’s bedroom in the cross-wing.
Genji had purposely sent his attendants early to bed, and now that all
was quiet, he hastened to send her a message. But the boy could not
find her. At last when he had looked in every corner of the house, he
tried the cross-wing, and succeeded in tracking her down to Chūjō’s
room. It was too bad of her to hide like this, and half in tears he
gasped out ‘Oh how can you be so horrid? What will he think of you?’
‘You have no business to run after me like this’ she answered angrily,
‘It is very wicked for children to carry such messages. But’ she
added, ‘you may tell him I am not well, that my ladies are with me,
and I am going to be massaged....’ So she dismissed him; but in her
heart of hearts she was thinking that if such an adventure had
happened to her while she was still a person of consequence, before
her father died and left her to shift for herself in the world, she
would have known how to enjoy it. But now she must force herself to
look askance at all his kindness. How tiresome he must think her! And
she fretted so much at not being free to fall in love with him, that
in the end she was more in love than ever. But then she remembered
suddenly that her lot had long ago been cast. She was a wife. There
was no sense in thinking of such things, and she made up her mind once
and for all never again to let foolish ideas enter her head.
Genji lay on his bed, anxiously waiting to see with what success so
young a messenger would execute his delicate mission. When at last the
answer came, astonished at this sudden exhibition of coldness, he
exclaimed in deep mortification ‘This is a disgrace, a hideous
disgrace,’ and he looked very rueful indeed. For a while he said no
more, but lay sighing deeply, in great distress. At last he recited
the poem ‘I knew not the nature of the strange tree[20] that stands on
Sono plain, and when I sought the comfort of its shade, I did but lose
my road,’ and sent it to her. She was still awake, and answered with
the poem ‘Too like am I in these my outcast years to the dim tree that
dwindles from the traveller’s approaching gaze.’ The boy was terribly
sorry for Genji and did not feel sleepy at all, but he was afraid
people would think his continual excursions very strange. By this
time, however, everyone else in the house was sound asleep. Genji
alone lay plunged in the blackest melancholy. But even while
he was raging at the inhuman stubbornness of her new-found and
incomprehensible resolve, he found that he could not but admire her
the more for this invincible tenacity. At last he grew tired of lying
awake; there was no more to be done. A moment later he had changed his
mind again, and suddenly whispered to the boy ‘Take me to where she is
hiding!’ ‘It is too difficult’ he said, ‘she is locked in and there
are so many people there. I am afraid to go with you.’ ‘So be it’ said
Genji, ‘but you at least must not abandon me’ and he laid the boy
beside him on his bed. He was well content to find himself lying by
this handsome young Prince’s side, and Genji, we must record, found
the boy no bad substitute for his ungracious sister.
[1] The hero of a lost popular romance. It is also referred to by
Murasaki’s contemporary Sei Shōnagon in Chapter 145 of her _Makura no
Sōshi_.
[2] His father-in-law’s house, where his wife Princess Aoi still
continued to live.
[3] Japanese houses were arranged somewhat differently from ours and
for many of the terms which constantly recur in this book (_kichō_,
_sudare_, _sunoko_, etc.) no exact English equivalents can be found.
In such cases I have tried to use expressions which without being too
awkward or unfamiliar will give an adequate general idea of what is
meant.
[4] Provincial officials. Murasaki herself came of this class.
[5] The tenth month.
[6] From the _saibara_ ballad, _The Well of Asuka_: ‘Sweet is the
shade, the lapping waters cool, and good the pasture for our weary
steeds. By the Well of Asuka, here let us stay.’
[7] The ‘Japanese zithern’; also called _wagon_. A species of _koto_.
[8] As opposed to the formal and traditional music imported from
China.
[9] See _Encyclopedia de la Musique_, p. 247. Under the name Nan-lü
this mode was frequently used in the Chinese love-dramas of the
fourteenth century. It was considered very wild and moving.
[10] Goddess of Beauty.
[11] A poem by Po Chü-i pointing out the advantages of marrying a
poor wife.
[12] There is a reference to an old poem which says: ‘I know that
to-night my lover will come to me. The spider’s antics prove it
clearly’ Omens were drawn from the behaviour of spiders. There is also
a pun on _hiru_ ‘day’ and _hiru_ ‘garlic,’ so that an ordinary person
would require a few moments’ reflection before understanding the poem.
[13] The irises used for the Tango festival (5th day of 5th month) had
to have nine flowers growing on a root.
[14] The ‘Lord of the Centre,’ i.e. the planet Saturn.
[15] I.e. people with whom one can be quite at ease. It was usual to
unharness one’s bulls at the gate.
[16] Ki no Kami’s step-mother.
[17] We learn later that Genji courted this lady in vain from his
seventeenth year onward. Though she has never been mentioned before,
Murasaki speaks of her as though the reader already knew all about
her. This device is also employed by Marcel Proust.
[18] Chūjō means ‘Captain,’ which was Genji’s rank at the time.
[19] _Kokinshū_ 811, an anonymous love-poem.
[20] The _hahakigi_ or ‘broom-tree’ when seen in the distance appears
to offer ample shade; but when approached turns out to be a skimpy bush.
CHAPTER III
UTSUSEMI
Genji was still sleepless. ‘No one has ever disliked me before’ he
whispered to the boy. ‘It is more than I can bear. I am sick of myself
and of the world, and do not want to go on living any more.’ This
sounded so tragic that the boy began to weep. The smallness and
delicacy of his build, even the way in which his hair was cropped,
gave him an astonishing resemblance to his sister, thought Genji, who
found his sympathy very endearing. At times he had half thought of
creeping away from the boy’s side and searching on his own account for
the lady’s hiding-place; but soon abandoned a project which would only
have involved him in the most appalling scandal. So he lay, waiting
for the dawn. At last, while it was still dark, so full of his own
thoughts that he quite forgot to make his usual parting speech to his
young page, he left the house. The boy’s feelings were very much hurt,
and all that day he felt lonely and injured. The lady, when no answer
came from Genji, thought that he had changed his mind, and though she
would have been very angry if he had persisted in his suit, she was
not quite prepared to lose him with so little ado.
But this was a good opportunity once and for all to lock up her heart
against him. She thought that she had done so successfully, but found
to her surprise that he still occupied an uncommonly large share of
her thoughts. Genji, though he felt it would have been much better
to put the whole business out of his head, knew that he had not the
strength of mind to do so and at last, unable to bear his wretchedness
any longer he said to the boy ‘I am feeling very unhappy. I keep on
trying to think of other things, but my thoughts will not obey me. I
can struggle no longer. You must watch for a suitable occasion, and
then contrive some way of bringing me into the presence of your
sister.’ This worried the boy, but he was inwardly flattered at the
confidence which Genji placed in him. And an opportunity soon
presented itself.
Ki no Kami had been called away to the provinces, and there were only
women in the house. One evening when dusk had settled upon the quiet
streets the boy brought a carriage to fetch him. He knew that the lad
would do his best, but not feeling quite safe in the hands of so young
an accomplice, he put on a disguise, and then in his impatience, not
waiting even to see the gates closed behind him, he drove off at top
speed. They entered unobserved at a side-gate, and here he bade Genji
descend. The brother knew that as he was only a boy, the watchman and
gardeners would not pay any particular attention to his movements, and
so he was not at all uneasy. Hiding Genji in the porch of the
double-door of the eastern wing, he purposely banged against the
sliding partition which separated this wing from the main part of the
house, and that the maids might have the impression he did not mind
who heard him enter he called out crossly ‘Why is the door shut on a
hot night like this?’ ‘“My lady of the West”[1] has been here since
this morning, and she is playing _go_ with my other lady.’ Longing to
catch sight of her, even though she were with a companion, Genji stole
from his hiding-place, and crept through a gap in the curtains. The
partition door through which the boy had passed was still open,
and he could see through it, right along the corridor into the room on
the other side. The screen which protected the entrance of this room
was partly folded, and the curtains which usually concealed the divan
had, owing to the great heat, been hooked up out of the way, so that
he had an excellent view.
The lady sitting near the lamp, half-leaning against the middle pillar
must, he supposed, be his beloved. He looked closely at her. She
seemed to be wearing an unlined, dark purple dress, with some kind of
scarf thrown over her shoulders. The poise of her head was graceful,
but her extreme smallness had the effect of making her seem somewhat
insignificant. She seemed to be trying all the while to hide her face
from her companion, and there was something furtive about the