The tale of Genji
lady of our choice possesses certain tangible qualities which we
admire; and if in other ways she falls short of our ideal, we must be
patient and call to mind those qualities which first induced us to
begin our courting.
But even here we must beware; for there are some who in the
selfishness of youth and flawless beauty are determined that not a
dust-flick shall fall upon them. In their letters they choose the most
harmless topics, but yet contrive to colour the very texture of the
written signs with a tenderness that vaguely disquiets us. But such a
one, when we have at last secured a meeting, will speak so low that
she can scarcely be heard, and the few faint sentences that she
murmurs beneath her breath serve only to make her more mysterious than
before. All this may seem to be the pretty shrinking of girlish
modesty; but we may later find that what held her back was the very
violence of her passions.
Or again, where all seems plain sailing, the perfect companion will
turn out to be too impressionable and will upon the most inappropriate
occasions display her affections in so ludicrous a way that we begin
to wish ourselves rid of her.
Then there is the zealous house-wife, who regardless of her appearance
twists her hair behind her ears and devotes herself entirely to the
details of our domestic welfare. The husband, in his comings and
goings about the world, is certain to see and hear many things which
he cannot discuss with strangers, but would gladly talk over with an
intimate who could listen with sympathy and understanding, someone who
could laugh with him or weep if need be. It often happens too that
some political event will greatly perturb or amuse him, and he sits
apart longing to tell someone about it. He suddenly laughs at some
secret recollection or sighs audibly. But the wife only says lightly
‘What is the matter?’ and shows no interest.
This is apt to be very trying.
Uma no Kami considered several other cases. But he reached no definite
conclusion and sighing deeply he continued: ‘We will then, as I have
suggested, let birth and beauty go by the board. Let her be the
simplest and most guileless of creatures so long as she is honest and
of a peaceable disposition, that in the end we may not lack a place of
trust. And if some other virtue chances to be hers we shall treasure
it as a godsend. But if we discover in her some small defect, it shall
not be too closely scrutinized. And we may be sure that if she is
strong in the virtues of tolerance and amiability her outward
appearance will not be beyond measure harsh.
‘There are those who carry forbearance too far, and affecting not to
notice wrongs which cry out for redress seem to be paragons of misused
fidelity. But suddenly a time comes when such a one can restrain
herself no longer, and leaving behind her a poem couched in pitiful
language and calculated to rouse the most painful sentiments of
remorse, she flies to some remote village in the mountains or some
desolate seashore, and for a long while all trace of her is lost.
‘When I was a boy the ladies-in-waiting used to tell me sad tales of
this kind. I never doubted that the sentiments expressed in them were
real, and I wept profusely. But now I am beginning to suspect that
such sorrows are for the most part affectation. She has left behind
her (this lady whom we are imagining) a husband who is probably still
fond of her; she is making herself very unhappy, and by disappearing
in this way is causing him unspeakable anxiety, perhaps only for the
ridiculous purpose of putting his affection to the test. Then comes
along some admiring friend crying “What a heart! What depth of
feeling!” She becomes more lugubrious than ever, and finally enters a
nunnery. When she decided on this step she was perfectly sincere and
had not the slightest intention of ever returning to the world. Then
some female friend hears of it and “Poor thing” she cries; “in what an
agony of mind must she have been to do this!” and visits her in her
cell. When the husband, who has never ceased to mourn for her, hears
what she has become, he bursts into tears, and some servant or old
nurse, seeing this, bustles off to the nunnery with tales of the
husband’s despair, and “Oh Madam, what a shame, what a shame!” Then
the nun, forgetting where and what she is, raises her hand to her head
to straighten her hair, and finds that it has been shorn away. In
helpless misery she sinks to the floor, and do what she will, the
tears begin to flow. Now all is lost; for since she cannot at every
moment be praying for strength, there creeps into her mind the sinful
thought that she did ill to become a nun and so often does she commit
this sin that even Buddha must think her wickeder now than she was
before she took her vows; and she feels certain that these terrible
thoughts are leading her soul to the blackest Hell. But if the _karma_
of their past lives should chance to be strongly weighted against a
parting, she will be found and captured before she has taken her final
vows. In such a case their life will be beyond endurance unless she be
fully determined, come good or ill, this time to close her eyes to all
that goes amiss.
‘Again there are others who must needs be forever mounting guard over
their own and their husband’s affections. Such a one, if she sees in
him not a fault indeed but even the slightest inclination to stray,
makes a foolish scene, declaring with indignation that she will have
no more to do with him.
‘But even if a man’s fancy should chance indeed to have gone somewhat
astray, yet his earlier affection may still be strong and in the end
will return to its old haunts. Now by her tantrums she has made a rift
that cannot be joined. Whereas she who when some small wrong calls for
silent rebuke, shows by a glance that she is not unaware; but when
some large offence demands admonishment knows how to hint without
severity, will end by standing in her master’s affections better than
ever she stood before. For often the sight of our own forbearance will
give our neighbour strength to rule his mutinous affections.
‘But she whose tolerance and forgiveness know no bounds, though this
may seem to proceed from the beauty and amiability of her disposition,
is in fact displaying the shallowness of her feeling: “The unmoored
boat must needs drift with the stream.” Are you not of this mind?’
Tō no Chūjō nodded. ‘Some’ he said ‘have imagined that by arousing a
baseless suspicion in the mind of the beloved we can revive a waning
devotion. But this experiment is very dangerous. Those who recommend
it are confident that so long as resentment is groundless one need
only suffer it in silence and all will soon be well. I have observed
however that this is by no means the case.
‘But when all is said and done, there can be no greater virtue in
woman than this: that she should with gentleness and forbearance meet
every wrong whatsoever that falls to her share.’ He thought as he said
this of his own sister, Princess Aoi; but was disappointed and piqued
to discover that Genji, whose comments he awaited, was fast asleep.
Uma no Kami was an expert in such discussions and now stood preening
his feathers. Tō no Chūjō was disposed to hear what more he had to say
and was now at pains to humour and encourage him.
‘It is with women’ said Uma no Kami ‘as it is with the works of
craftsmen. The wood-carver can fashion whatever he will. Yet his
products are but toys of the moment, to be glanced at in jest, not
fashioned according to any precept or law. When times change, the
carver too will change his style and make new trifles to hit the fancy
of the passing day. But there is another kind of artist, who sets more
soberly about his work, striving to give real beauty to the things
which men actually use and to give to them the shapes which tradition
has ordained. This maker of real things must not for a moment be
confused with the carver of idle toys.
‘In the Painters’ Workshop too there are many excellent artists chosen
for their proficiency in ink-drawing; and indeed they are all so
clever it is hard to set one above the other. But all of them are at
work on subjects intended to impress and surprise. One paints the
Mountain of Hōrai; another a raging sea-monster riding a storm;
another, ferocious animals from the Land beyond the sea, or faces of
imaginary demons. Letting their fancy run wildly riot they have no
thought of beauty, but only of how best they may astonish the
beholder’s eye. And though nothing in their pictures is real, all is
probable. But ordinary hills and rivers, just as they are, houses such
as you may see anywhere, with all their real beauty and harmony of
form—quietly to draw such scenes as this, or to show what lies behind
some intimate hedge that is folded away far from the world, and thick
trees upon some unheroic hill, and all this with befitting care for
composition, proportion, and the like,—such works demand the highest
master’s utmost skill and must needs draw the common craftsman into a
thousand blunders. So too in handwriting, we see some who aimlessly
prolong their cursive strokes this way or that, and hope their
flourishes will be mistaken for genius. But true penmanship preserves
in every letter its balance and form, and though at first some letters
may seem but half-formed, yet when we compare them with the copy-books
we find that there is nothing at all amiss.
‘So it is in these trifling matters. And how much the more in judging
of the human heart should we distrust all fashionable airs and graces,
all tricks and smartness, learnt only to please the outward gaze! This
I first understood some while ago, and if you will have patience with
me I will tell you the story.’
So saying, he came and sat a little closer to them, and Genji woke up.
Tō no Chūjō, in wrapt attention, was sitting with his cheek propped
upon his hand. Uma no Kami’s whole speech that night was indeed very
much like a chaplain’s sermon about the ways of the world, and was
rather absurd. But upon such occasions as this we are easily led on
into discussing our own ideas and most private secrets without the
least reserve.
‘It happened when I was young, and in an even more humble position
than I am to-day’ Uma no Kami continued. ‘I was in love with a girl
who (like the drudging, faithful wife of whom I spoke a little
while ago) was not a full-sail beauty; and I in my youthful vanity
thought she was all very well for the moment, but would never do for
the wife of so fine a fellow as I. She made an excellent companion in
times when I was at a loose end; but she was of a disposition so
violently jealous, that I could have put up with a little less
devotion if only she had been somewhat less fiercely ardent and
exacting.
‘Thus I kept thinking, vexed by her unrelenting suspicions. But then I
would remember her ceaseless devotion to the interests of one who was
after all a person of no account, and full of remorse I made sure that
with a little patience on my part she would one day learn to school
her jealousy.
‘It was her habit to minister to my smallest wants even before I was
myself aware of them; whatever she felt was lacking in her she strove
to acquire, and where she knew that in some quality of mind she still
fell behind my desires, she was at pains never to show her deficiency
in such a way as might vex me. Thus in one way or another she was
always busy in forwarding my affairs, and she hoped that if all down
to the last dew drop (as they say) were conducted as I should wish,
this would be set down to her credit and help to balance the defects
in her person which meek and obliging as she might be could not (she
fondly imagined) fail to offend me; and at this time she even hid