The Tale of Genji

  He must of course have been fond of some whom he had flattered in passing and admitted to his intimacy, but no, not one of them truly had his heart. Actually, a great many women no less distinguished than the sisters, women whom fortune had abandoned to misery, had been found and called into service at Sanjō but he was resolved that when the time came for him to turn his back on the world, she would remain the sole passionate tie that detained him. “Come now, this will not do! I simply do not understand myself!” he would murmur as he lay sleepless into dawn. Among the lovely many-colored flowers along the misty fence, his eye lighted especially on the fragile morning glories that, they say, “bloom at daybreak”14 to suggest that nothing lasts; and he must have felt for them, because after lying comfortless into the new day, with his shutters raised, he watched them unfold alone while the light came on.

  He summoned one of his men. “I wish to visit the residence to the north,”15 he said. “Have a simple carriage brought forward.”

  “My lord, His Highness went to the palace yesterday. They brought his carriage back yesterday evening.”

  “Never mind. I shall call on the lady in his wing; they say that she is not well. I must go to the palace today, so have the carriage ready before the sun is high.”

  He dressed, and on his way out he stepped down among the flowers. He did nothing to convey languor or allure, but at a glance one saw in him such grace and dignity that the most self-conscious gallant could not hope to imitate him. The picture he made was delightful, and the morning glory he drew to him shed copious dew.

  “Shall I prize these hues, gone sooner than the morning, when before my eyes

  the dew gleaming on the leaf outlasts the fragile flower?

  How soon it will be gone!” he murmured, picking it to take with him. He did not give the maidenflowers a glance.

  The loveliest mist swathed the sky as dawn brightened into day. The women must be indulging in sleeping late! he thought; I can hardly go about clearing my throat or rapping on shutters and doors. Ah, I am here too early, much too early!

  He called one of his men and had him peer in through the open middle gate. “The shutters seem to be up, my lord. I just glimpsed a gentlewoman,” the man reported.

  He alighted and went in, veiled by morning mists and looking so charming that the women took him for His Highness returning from a secret assignation, until they caught as always the delicious scent of his dewy robes. “He is such a wonder!” the young women exclaimed gratuitously to one other. “What a shame he is so serious!”

  Undismayed, and with pleasantly rustling skirts, they very nicely put out a cushion for him. “It is an honor to be seated here,” he said, “but I cannot very well call more often, considering how painful it is still to be kept so far away on the other side of your blinds.”

  “What would you prefer, then, my lord?” the women asked.

  “A quiet room like the one to the north:16 that is the proper sort of place for an old friend like me. It all depends on you, though; I do not mean to complain further.” He was leaning against the lintel.

  “You might perhaps go to him, my lady,” they continued to urge her.

  Never having been known to behave with masculine impetuousness, he had seemed so quiet lately that she felt less reluctant than before to converse with him directly and did so willingly enough. “May I inquire what is the matter?” he asked. She gave him no distinct answer, but he was moved and saddened by her unusually subdued manner, and he enlarged to her as a brother might on how to make her peace with the world as she found it.

  Her voice had not struck him before as especially like her sister's, but now he was startled to find them almost the same, and if decency had not forbidden it, he would have lifted her blinds to talk to her face-to-face, for he longed to see how she looked now that she was unwell. All this only served to remind him that there can hardly be anyone in the world who does not suffer the sorrows of the heart. “I do not seek to distinguish myself or to impress others,” he said, “but I had thought that one could manage in life without any great burden of anxiety or care. Unfortunately, however, through no fault but my own I suffer at once from the grief of loss and the pain of bitter regret. In that respect my sin is no doubt graver than that of the man who values rank and office above all and who suffers perfectly understandably from that sort of disappointment.” He put the flower he had picked on his fan and sat gazing at it. The red it was turning17 actually struck him as even prettier, and he gently slid it through to her under the blind.

  “This should all the while have looked to me just the same as the silver dew

  that promised me long ago a morning glory flower.”18

  The gesture was casual, but it was pleasant that he had brought the flower without spilling its dew, and since the flower would clearly wither before the dew was gone, she replied,

  “Frail, yes, the flower that withered so soon and died ere the dew was gone,

  yet still less so than the dew that now lingers on behind.19

  What other refuge does it have?” she said, very low and in a faltering voice, as though too shy to wish to be heard; and to his sorrow he thought again how alike they were.

  “One feels a little more sadly pensive under an autumn sky,” he remarked. “The other day I sought distraction by going down to Uji, and I found the fence and garden20 in a pitiful state—there was so much that was hard to bear! The sight was overwhelming for those who looked in at Rokujō after His Grace's death, or at the Saga temple where he withdrew those last two or three years. Every one of them came back moved to tears by the look of the plants and trees. No one close to him, high or low, was ever shallow of feeling, but even so, everyone who had gathered around him in the several quarters of the estate seemed to have drifted away to live removed from the world. The lowest of the gentlewomen were of course inconsolable, and for the most part the poor things scattered into the mountains and forests, hardly knowing what they were doing, until in the end they became mere country women.21 Rokujō became a waste overgrown by the grasses of forgetting,22 but then the present Minister of the Right moved in, the Prince and Princess23 began to reside there, too, and the place came again to resemble what it had once been. There seemed to me to be no words for the grief one felt at the time, but I see now that the years do bring consolation and that it is true, there is an end to mourning. I say that, of course, but perhaps I was too young then to feel his loss as deeply as I might have done otherwise. Certainly, I do not think I will ever recover from this more recent one, and while both are the sorrows one expects of this life in which nothing lasts, I am afraid that for me, alas, this one entails the graver sin.”24 His weeping figure conveyed profound emotion.

  No woman seeing him like this could have failed to be moved in turn, even one far less attached than this lady was to her sister, and so, naturally, the lady herself, already sadly troubled and more than ever disposed to miss her sister most painfully, found herself too moved to answer at all. Instead she lost her composure, and each felt the other's emotion all too keenly.

  “‘Happier than this troubled world’25—so someone once said, but for all those years I could not make the comparison. Now, though, I should be happy to have that peace again, because in fact it suits me so little to be here that I envy Ben. How I long after all to hear the temple bell nearby, after the twentieth of this month!26 It has even occurred to me to ask you to take me there in secret.”

  “Alas, there is nothing you can do to save the place from ruin. The mountain path is very rough, even for a man who can go as he pleases, and I myself take it far less often than I would like. I have given the Adept all the instructions he needs for His Late Highness's memorial service. Please consider devoting the place to holy works. What I find there when I go unfortunately upsets me very much, and I have thought of dedicating it to canceling my own sins. I wonder what you think. I will do nothing, you know, that you yourself do not intend. You need only let me know your wishes. I simply ask
that you take me into your confidence on everything.” He continued addressing her in this way about quite serious matters. Apparently, he also meant to dedicate scripture texts and sacred images on his own. When she gave him to understand that she now wished to steal off there on retreat, he replied, “No, no, that is impossible. You must always be accepting and patient.”

  The sun rose high, and her women gathered around her. He was preparing to go, since too long a stay might leave the impression that there was something going on, when he said, “It is not my custom to be left outside the blinds anywhere, and I feel quite uncomfortable when I am. That is up to you, however. I shall be back.” Then he went away. He knew that His Highness would wonder why he had come in his absence, and that was enough of a concern that he summoned the Right City Commissioner, His Highness's Master of the Household. “I came when I heard that His Highness withdrew from the palace yesterday evening,” he said. “I am sorry to have missed him. Perhaps I should look for him there.”

  “He will be leaving there today, my lord.”

  “Very well, I shall return this evening.”

  It was still true: each time he caught her voice and the sounds of her presence, he wondered with keener regret why he had been foolish enough not to do as her sister had wished, and the matter weighed very heavily on his mind, for as he asked himself time and again, Why must I make myself suffer this way?

  He had begun to fast27 the moment she died, and day and night he gave himself so wholly to his devotions that Her Highness his mother, as girlish, naive, and careless as ever, came to worry a great deal and to fear for him. “I have little enough time left,”28 she said; “please look after yourself while I am still with you! I can hardly object to your wishing to leave the world, considering what I am, but I am afraid that I would then feel I had no reason to go on living, and the pain of that might only deepen my sins.” Troubled and sorry, he did what he could to forget and to affect in her presence a carefree nonchalance.

  His Excellency of the Right did up the northeast quarter at Rokujō,29 made everything there perfect, and then awaited His Highness anxiously until the moon of the sixteenth night rose into the sky. He was concerned about the way things might go, since His Highness was not that eager. The man he sent to inquire brought back the report, “His Highness withdrew from the palace this evening, my lord, and I gather that he is now at Nijō.” It was galling to reflect that this was no doubt because he kept his lady love there, and he knew that he would be a laughingstock if the whole evening went by without a groom. He therefore sent off his son the Secretary Captain30 with a message:

  “While this house of mine welcomes even the bright moon aloft in the sky,

  the evening is passing by, and I see nothing of you!”31

  The poor thing, I cannot let her see that this is the night! His Highness had said to himself when he set off for the palace, and he had sent her a note; but her answer, whatever it said, had made him feel sufficiently guilty to steal home again. She was too dear, and he could not bear to leave her. He was tenderly renewing all his promises instead, and the two were gazing at the moon. Resolved as she was, even after days of despair, to betray nothing, she remained aloof and pretended not to hear.32 The mildness of her manner touched him very much.

  Nonetheless, he felt for the other side, too, when he learned that the Captain had arrived. While preparing to leave he said, “I am going now, but only for a little while. Please do not watch the moon alone. One's thoughts wander so painfully.” Still feeling guilty, he set off to the main house by a hidden way. Nothing in particular passed through her mind as she watched him go, save the feeling that her pillow would float away,33 and she understood all too well how treacherous another's heart can be.

  Ever since my sister and I were small, she reflected, our only refuge was a gentleman who seemed to have so little taste for the world that we lived year after year in that mountain village; but although it was always dull and lonely there, I never had reason as now really to detest the world. Then came those terrible losses, one after the other, and it seemed while I was mourning them that I could not possibly survive them for long, because the blow was too great and those two had meant so much to me. Now that I have survived them after all, though, I doubt that I shall enjoy this honored state much longer, even if he is so good to me when we are together that I had begun to feel less apprehensive. This new misery is beyond all words, and I do not think I can bear any more. I might at least have expected to see him more often than I do those who are now gone forever, but tonight he has abandoned me with such cruelty that nothing, past or future, any longer makes sense, and I see nowhere to turn for comfort from this desolation. Ah, it is too unkind! But perhaps if I live long enough… Groping for consolation, she suffered on into the night while a brilliant moon climbed the sky as it did over the Mountain of the Abandoned Crone.34 The wind in the pines sighed very gently, compared to the roar of the gales off the Uji hills, and this house she had to live in was very quiet and nice, but she would have preferred tonight the noise of the great oaks.

  “No such autumn wind at my home in the mountains, sheltered under pines,

  blew as bitterly as this or so pierced one to the bone.”

  Perhaps she had forgotten what had happened there.

  “Oh, do come in, my lady!” the old women urged her. “It is not right for you to watch the moon! What is to become of you, when you will not look at the smallest bit of fruit? Oh, dear, and such fearful memories come to mind! What are we to do?”

  “Yes, but look what His Highness is doing!” others sighed. “Still, he cannot mean simply to discard her. It is all very well, but a first love never really dies.”

  She did not wish to hear their talk and longed only for them to be silent. I shall watch and wait, she thought; for perhaps she did not want anyone to speak for her, so that she might nurse her anger alone.

  “And look what a good, kind gentleman the Counselor is!” the talk went on among the women who had known her before. “How strange destiny can be!”

  His Highness felt extremely sorry, but he was too high-spirited not to be eager to make a good impression, and his exquisitely perfumed figure beggared description. The house where they received him was very pretty indeed. She herself was neither slight nor frail but instead, in his opinion, nicely grown out. What could she be like, though? Would she turn out to be tiresomely assertive, with no gentleness in her, only pride? That would be a disaster! But she must not have been like that after all, because he felt not the slightest inclination to dismiss her. Perhaps it was just that he had got there so late, but even if it was autumn, the night was over all too soon.35

  He did not go straight to the wing when he got home. Instead he slept a little and then wrote his letter when he got up.

  “He looks quite pleased,” the women attending him remarked to each other.

  “I feel so sorry for my lady in the wing. She really cannot help being overshadowed, however admirably fair-minded he may be.” They were upset, since all of them waited intimately on her, and some even voiced bitter words. It was a sad blow to each.

  He had hoped to read the reply to his note in his own rooms, but it pained him to think that his absence that night must have troubled her more than at other such times, and he hurried to her. He looked splendid as he came in, his face fresh from sleep. She was embarrassed to be caught lying down and sat up a little, her face prettily flushed and, to his mind, this morning lovelier than ever. Abruptly his eyes clouded with tears, and he gazed at her until she turned bashfully away and lay facedown, displaying a beauty rare indeed in the line of her forehead and the sweep of her hair.

  Perhaps to break the silence when the awkwardness of the moment suggested nothing more tender to say, he took up an earnest subject. “Why is it that you always seem so unwell?” he asked. “You said that it was because of the heat, so I looked forward to cooler weather, but I am very sorry to see that you are not better yet. It is odd—nothing I have ha
d done for you seems to have worked. Still, I suppose I should have the prayers continued. What I need is a priest with real power. I should have had His Reverence ——— come and attend you at night.”

  She did not care for his glibness on this sort of topic either, but she knew it would have been unlike her not to answer at all. “I have always been a little different,” she said. “I have been like this before, but it goes away quite well by itself.”

  “How lighthearted you are!” he said, smiling. It seemed to him that no one else could ever have so seductive a sweetness, but he was also still eager to go back where he had just been, since he seems to have been quite keen on her as well. But as long as she was before him, she seemed to him exactly the same, which must be why he made her countless promises even for the next life. However, she reflected as she listened to his protestations that yes, it was true, her time would be soon36 and that he was so certain to cause her more grief that those vows for the next life were probably the ones he would keep. The thought taught her that she had not learned her lesson,37 since even now she was inclined to trust him, and that may have been too much for her, for despite no doubt valiant efforts, today at last she wept. She had been disguising her feelings all this time, lest she betray them to him, but by now she had too many cares to hide them any longer—or so at least it seemed, since once the tears started, she could not easily stop them, and she turned sharply away from him in shame and misery.