The tale of Genji
and splendour; while to the customary ritual of the Kamo Festival he
added so many touches that it became a spectacle of unparalleled
magnificence. All this was due to his partiality for the Virgin Elect.
On the day of her purification the Virgin is attended by a fixed
number of noblemen and princes. For this retinue the Emperor was at
pains to choose the best built and handsomest of the young men at
Court; he settled what coloured gowns they were to wear, what pattern
was to be on their breeches, and even on what saddles they should
ride. By a special decree he ordered that Prince Genji should join
this retinue, and so great was everyone’s desire to get a good view of
the procession that long beforehand people were getting ready
special carriages with which to line the route. The scene along the
highroad of the First Ward was one of indescribable excitement. Dense
crowds surged along the narrow space allotted to them, while the
stands which with a wealth of ingenious fancy had been constructed all
along the route of the procession, with gay cloaks and shawls hung
over the balustrades, were in themselves a spectacle of astonishing
beauty.
It had never been Aoi’s practice to be present at such occasions as
this and in her present state of health she would not have dreamt of
doing so had not her gentlewomen pressed round her saying ‘Come Madam!
It will be no fun for us to go by ourselves and be hidden away in some
corner. It is to see Prince Genji that all these people have come
to-day. Why, all sorts of queer wild men from the mountains are here,
and people have brought their wives and children from provinces ever
so far away. If all these people who are nothing to do with him have
taken the trouble to come so far, it will be too bad if you, his own
lady, are not there!’ Overhearing this Aoi’s mother joined in. ‘You
are feeling much better just now,’ she said; ‘I think you ought to
make the effort. It will be so disappointing for your gentlewomen....’
At the last minute Aoi changed her mind and announced that she was
going. It was now so late that there was no time to put on gala
clothes. The whole of the enclosure allotted for this purpose was
already lined with coaches which were packed so close that it was
quite impossible to find space for the large and numerous carriages of
Aoi and her train. A number of grand ladies began to make room for
her, backing their coaches away from a suitable space in the reserved
enclosure. Conspicuous among the rest were two basket-work carriages
of a rather old-fashioned pattern but with curtains such as are used
by persons of quality, very discreetly decked with draperies that
barely showed beneath the curtains, yet these draperies (whether
sleeve-favour, skirt or scarf) all of the handsomest colours. They
seemed to belong to some exalted personage who did not wish to be
recognized. When it was their turn to move, the coachmen in charge of
them would not lift a finger. ‘It is not for such as we to make way’
they said stiffly and did not stir. Among the attendants on both sides
there was a number of young grooms who were already the worse for
liquor. They were longing for a scuffle and it was impossible to keep
them in hand. The staid and elderly outriders tried to call them back,
but they took no notice.
The two carriages belonged to Princess Rokujō who had come secretly to
the festival hoping for a while to find distraction from her troubles.
Despite the steps which she had taken to conceal her identity, it was
at once suspected by some of Aoi’s gentlemen and they cried to the
grooms that this was not an equipage which could be dealt with so
high-handedly or it would be said that their lady was abusing her
position as wife of the Lord Commander. But at this moment a number of
Genji’s servants mingled in the fray. They knew Rokujō’s men by sight,
but after a moment’s embarrassment they decided not to give assistance
to the enemy by betraying his identity.
Thus reinforced Aoi’s side won the day and at length her coach and
those of all her ladies were drawn up along the front row, while
Rokujō’s was pushed back among a miscellaneous collection of carts and
gigs where she could see nothing at all. She was vexed beyond measure
not only at missing what she had come to see but also that despite all
her precautions she had been recognized and (as she was convinced)
deliberately insulted. Her shaft-rest and other parts of her coach as
well were damaged and she was obliged to prop it up against some
common person’s carriage wheels. Why, she vainly asked herself, had
she come among these hateful crowds? She would go home at once. What
sense was there in waiting for the procession to come? But when she
tried to go, she found that it was impossible to force a way through
the dense crowds. She was still struggling to escape when the cry went
up that the procession was in sight. Her resolution weakened. She
would wait till Genji had passed by. He did not see her. How should
he, for the crowds flashed by him like the hurrying images that a
stream catches and breaks. She realized this, yet her disappointment
was none the less.
The carriages that lined the route, decked and garlanded for this
great day, were crammed to overflowing with excited ladies who though
there was no room for them would not consent to be left behind.
Peeping out under the blinds of their coaches they smiled at the great
personages who were passing quite regardless of whether their
greetings were acknowledged. But every now and then a smile would be
rewarded by a quick glance or the backward turn of a head. Aoi’s party
was large and conspicuous. He wheeled round as he passed and saluted
its members attentively. Rider after rider again as the procession
went by would pause in front of Aoi’s coach and salute her with the
deepest respect. The humiliation of witnessing all this from an
obscure corner was more than Rokujō could bear, and murmuring the
lines ‘Though I saw him but as a shadow that falls on hurrying waters
yet knew I that at last my hour of utmost misery was come’ she burst
into tears. It was hideous that her servants should see her in this
state. Yet even while she struggled with her tears she could not find
it in her heart to regret that she had seen him in all his glory.
The riders in the procession were indeed all magnificently
apparelled, each according to his own rank; in particular the young
noblemen chosen by the Emperor cut so brilliant a figure that only the
lustre of Genji’s beauty could have eclipsed their splendour. The
Commander of this Bodyguard is not generally allotted a Palace-Officer
as his special attendant, but as the occasion was of such importance
the Imperial Treasurer[6] rode at Genji’s side. It seemed to those who
saw so many public honours showered upon him that no flower of fortune
could resist the favouring gale which blew towards his side. There
were among the crowd women of quite good birth who had dressed in
walking-skirts and come a long way on foot. There were nuns and other
female recluses who, though in order to see anything of the procession
they were obliged to endure being constantly pushed off their feet,
and though they commonly regarded all such spectacles with contempt
and aversion, were to-day declaring that they would not have missed it
for anything. There were old men grinning through toothless gums,
strange-looking girls with their hair poked away under ragged hoods
and stolid peasant boys standing with hands raised as though in
prayer, whose uncouth faces were suddenly transfigured with wonder and
joy as the procession burst into sight. Even the daughters of remote
provincial magistrates and governors who had no acquaintances whatever
in the City had expended as much coquetry upon the decoration of their
persons and coaches as if they were about to submit themselves to a
lover’s inspection, and their equipages made a bright and varied show.
If even these strangers were in such a taking, it may be imagined with
what excitement, scattered here and there among the crowd, those with
whom Genji was in secret communication watched the procession go by
and with how many hidden sighs their bosoms heaved.
Prince Momozono[7] had a seat in one of the stands. He was amazed to
see his nephew grown up into such a prodigiously handsome young man
and was alarmed lest soon the gods should cast an envious eye upon
him. Princess Asagao could not but be touched by the rare persistency
with which year after year Genji had pressed his suit. Even had he
been positively ugly she would have found it hard to resist such
importunity; so small wonder if seeing him ride by in all his
splendour she marvelled that she had held out so long. But she was
determined to know him much better before she committed herself. The
young waiting-women who were with her were careful to belaud him in
extravagant terms. To the festival itself[8] Aoi did not go. The
affray between her servants and those of Rokujō was soon reported to
Genji. It vexed him beyond measure that such a thing should have
occurred. That the exquisitely well-bred Aoi should have been in any
way responsible for this outburst of insolent ruffianism he did not
for a moment believe; it must be the work of rough under-servants who,
though they had no actual instructions, had imbibed the notion that
all was not well between the two houses and imagined that they would
get credit for espousing their mistress’s cause. He knew well enough
the unusual vanity and susceptibility of the affronted lady.
Distressed to think of the pain which this incident must have caused
her he hastened to her house. But her daughter, the Virgin Elect of
Ise, was still in the house, and she made this a plea for turning him
away after the exchange of a few formal words. He had the greatest
possible sympathy for her; but he was feeling rather tired of coping
with injured susceptibilities.
He could not face the idea of going straight back to the Great Hall.
It was the day of the Kamo festival and going to his own palace he
ordered Koremitsu to get his coach ready. ‘Look at her!’ he cried
smiling fondly at Murasaki when she appeared in all her finery
surrounded by the little children whom he had given her for playmates,
‘She must needs bring her dames to wait upon her!’ and stroking her
lovely hair which to-day Shōnagon had dressed with more than usual
care. ‘It is getting rather long’ he said; ‘to-day would not be a
bad[9] time to have it cut’ and sending for his astrologer he bade him
consult his books. ‘The maids-of-honour first!’ he cried, nodding at
the pretty troupe of babes, and their dainty tresses were trimmed so
as to hang neatly over their diapered holiday gowns. ‘I am going to
cut yours myself’ he said to Murasaki. ‘What a lot of it there is! I
wonder how much longer it would have grown.’ Really it was quite hard
work. ‘People with very long hair ought to wear it cut rather short
over the temples’ he said at last; ‘but I have not the heart to crop
you any closer’ and he laid the knife down. Shōnagon’s gratification
knew no bounds when she heard him reciting the prayer with which the
ceremony of hair-cutting should conclude. There is a sea-weed called
_miru_ which is used in the dressing of ladies’ hair and playing upon
this word (which also means ‘to see’) he recited a poem in which he
said that the miru-weed which had been used in the washing of her hair
was a token that he would forever fondly watch it grow. She answered
that like the sea-tides which visit the _miru_ in its cleft he came
but went away, and often her tresses unwatched by him would like the
hidden sea-weed grow. This she wrote very prettily on a slip of paper
and though the verse had no merit in it but the charm of a childish