The Tale of Genji

  Page girl

  “Who lives there?” he asked.

  “That, my lord, is where I gather His Reverence ———4 has been secluded these last two years.”

  “It certainly is the place for someone of a retiring nature. What a pity I am so inadequately dressed. He is certain to find out I am here.”

  Genji clearly saw several nice-looking page girls come out to offer holy water, gather flowers, and so on.5

  “Why, there is a woman living there!” his companions exclaimed to one another.

  “Surely His Reverence would not have one with him!”

  “Who can she be?”

  Some went down to peer at the house. They reported having seen some nice-looking little girls, young gentlewomen, and page girls.

  Genji was wondering, as the sun rose toward noon and he continued the rite, how his fever would now behave, when one of his men remarked, “Instead of just worrying, my lord, you should somehow get your mind off the matter”; and so Genji went onto the mountain behind the temple and looked out toward the City.

  Mist veiled the landscape into the distance, and the budding trees everywhere were as though swathed in smoke. “It all looks just like a painting,” he said. “No one living here could wish for more!”

  “But, my lord, this is nothing yet. How much more beautiful your painting would be if only you had before your eyes the mountains and seas of other provinces!” Someone else extolled Mount Fuji and another peak.6 Then they went on to divert him further by describing the lovely seaside villages and rocky shores of the provinces to the west.

  “Among places less far away, I think the coast at Akashi in Harima deserves special mention. Not that any single feature of it is so extraordinary, but the view over the sea there is somehow more peaceful than elsewhere. A former Governor of the province—a gentleman who has now taken up the religious life7 and who is looking very carefully after his daughter—has an impressive establishment there. He ought to have done well in the world, because he is descended from a Minister, but being eccentric he never mixed with society, resigned his post as a Captain of the Palace Guards, and requested his posting as Governor himself.8 He became a bit of a laughingstock in his province even so, and he was too embarrassed to return to the City, so he shaved his head instead. Not that he retired to any sheltered spot in the hills, because he put himself right on the sea, which is rather strange. It is certainly true, though, that while the province offers many places suitable for retirement, a village deep in the mountains would have been miserably lonely for his wife and his young daughter; and besides, I expect he feels more comfortable there himself. When I was down in the province some time ago, I went for a look at his residence. He may never have made a place for himself in the City, but the sheer scale of the tract he has claimed makes it obvious that he has arranged things—he was the Governor, after all—so as to spend the rest of his life in luxury. He does all his devotions to prepare for the life to come,9 and in fact he makes a better monk than he ever did a gentleman.”

  “Yes,” said Genji, “but what about his daughter?”

  “My lord, I gather she has her share both of looks and of character. I hear one Governor after another has respectfully shown interest in her, but her father rejects each one. ‘It is all very well for me to have sunk this low,’ he says, ‘but she is all I have, and I have other things in mind for her.’ ‘If you outlive me,’ he tells her, ‘if my hopes for you fail and the future I want for you is not to be, then you are to drown yourself in the sea.’ That, they say, is the solemn injunction he repeats to her.”

  Genji was indeed amused.

  “She must be a rare treasure then,” someone said, laughing, “if her father means the Dragon King of the Sea to have her as his Queen!”

  “Spare me such high ambition!”

  The young man who had been telling about her, a son of the present Governor, had risen this year to the rank above Chamberlain.10 “You're enterprising enough in love,” one of them said. “You'd like to break her father's solemn injunction yourself, wouldn't you!”

  “Oh, yes, I'm sure he's always lurking around her house!”

  “Get on with you! She must be a country girl, whatever you say. Look at where she grew up, after all, and with no one but her ancient parents to teach her anything!”

  “No, no, her mother seems to be of excellent birth. Thanks to her relations she manages to get pretty young gentlewomen and page girls from the best families in the City, and she is bringing up her daughter in grand style.

  “He would not feel so safe about having her there if the Governor assigned to the province happened to be unscrupulous.”

  “I wonder what it means that his ambitions for her reach all the way to the bottom of the sea,” Genji mused. “It cannot be much fun down there, with all that seaweed.”11 He was keenly intrigued. His marked taste for the unusual ensured that he would remember her story, as his companions clearly noted.

  “Your fever seems not to have flared up today, my lord, even though the sun will soon be setting. You should start back.”

  But the venerable monk demurred. “My lord, you seem also to have come under the influence of a spirit, and I prefer that we quietly continue our rites tonight before you return.”

  All approved. Genji was pleased, too, since he had never spent the night away like this before. “Very well, I shall start at dawn.”

  For want of better to do during what remained of the long day, he melted into the heavy twilight mists toward the brushwood fence that had caught his eye. He then sent the others back and peered through the fence with Lord Koremitsu.

  There she was, straight before him on the west side of the house, engaged in practice before her personal buddha:12 a nun. The blinds were a little way up, and she seemed to be making a flower offering. She was leaning against a pillar, with her scripture text on an armrest13 before her and chanting with obvious difficulty, and she was plainly of no common distinction. Past forty and very thin, with elegantly white skin, she nonetheless still had a roundness to her cheeks, fine eyes, and hair so neatly cut14 that to Genji it seemed much more pleasingly modern in style than if it had been long.

  Two handsome, grown-up women and some page girls were wandering in and out of the room. In among them came running a girl of ten or so, wearing a softly rumpled kerria rose layering15 over a white gown and, unlike the other children, an obvious future beauty. Her hair cascaded like a spread fan behind her as she stood there, her face all red from crying.

  “What is the matter?” The nun glanced up at her. “Have you quarreled with one of the girls?” They looked so alike that Genji took them for mother and daughter.

  “Inuki let my baby sparrow go! And I had him in his cage16 and everything!” declared the indignant little girl.

  “So that silly creature has managed to earn herself another scolding! She is hopeless!” a grown-up said. “And where did he go? He had grown to be such a dear little thing. Oh,” she went on, rising to leave, “I hope the crows do not get him!” She was a fine-looking woman with very nice long hair. Apparently she was in charge of the girl, since the others seemed to call her Nurse Shōnagon.

  “Oh, come, you are such a baby!” the nun protested. “You understand nothing, do you! Here I am, wondering whether I will last out this day or the next, but that means nothing to you, does it! All you do is chase sparrows. Oh, dear, and I keep telling you it is a sin!17 Come here!”

  The little girl sat down. She had a very dear face, and the faint arc of her eyebrows, the forehead from which she had childishly swept back her hair, and the hairline itself were extremely pretty. She is one I would like to see when she grows up! Genji thought, fascinated. Indeed, he wept when he realized that it was her close resemblance to the lady who claimed all his heart that made it impossible for him to take his eyes off her.

  “You hate even to have it combed,” the nun said, stroking the girl's hair, “but what beautiful hair it is! Your childishness really wor
ries me, you know. Not everyone is like this at your age, I assure you. Your late mother was ten when she lost her father, and she perfectly understood what had happened. How would you manage if I were suddenly to leave you?” She wept so bitterly that the watching Genji felt a wave of sorrow, too. Child though she was, the little girl observed the nun gravely, then looked down and hung her head. Her hair spilled forward as she did so, glinting with the loveliest sheen.

  “When no one can say where it is the little plant will grow up at last,

  the dewdrop soon to leave her does not see how she can go,”

  the nun said. With tears and a cry of sympathy, a woman replied,

  “Alas, does the dew really mean to melt away before she can know

  where her tender little plant will at last grow to be tall?”18

  His Reverence appeared from elsewhere in the house. “This side seems to be open for anyone to look in. Today is not the day for you to be sitting so near the veranda. I have just learned that Captain Genji is now with the holy man higher up the mountain, seeking a cure for a recurrent fever. He came so quietly that I knew nothing about it, and despite being here I have not even been to call on him yet.”

  “How dreadful! Here we all are in disarray, and someone may actually have seen us!” Down came the blinds.

  “This is a chance, if you like, to see the Shining Genji whose praises all the world is singing. His looks are enough to make even a renunciate monk forget his cares and feel young again. Well, I shall go and greet him.” Genji heard him and returned to where he was staying.

  What an enchanting girl he had found! Those companions of his, so keen on women and always exploring, might indeed come across their rare finds, but he had found a treasure just on a chance outing! He was delighted. What a dear child! Who could she be? He now longed for the pleasure of having her with him day and night, to make up for the absence of the lady he loved.

  He was lying down when a disciple of His Reverence came inquiring for Koremitsu. The place was so small that he heard everything.

  The disciple said on behalf of his master, “I have just learned that his lordship is favoring us with a visit, and despite the suddenness of the news I should be waiting upon his pleasure, but, you see, it pains me that his lordship, who knows I am on retreat at the temple here, should have chosen nonetheless to keep his arrival a secret. I should really have offered him a poor mat in my own lodging. It is all quite upsetting.”

  Genji replied,19 “A little before the middle of this month I began to suffer from a recurrent fever, and the severity of its repeated attacks prompted me to accept advice to come here in all haste. I have kept my visit quiet, however, because it seemed to me that it would be a shame if the intervention of so saintly a man were to fail, and that consideration for him enjoined special caution on someone like my-self. I shall gladly accept, if that is your wish.”

  To Genji's embarrassment His Reverence quickly appeared. Monk though he was, his birth entitled him to society's highest esteem, and Genji's present casual dress made its wearer uncomfortable.

  His Reverence first told Genji about his life on retreat and then pressed his invitation. “It is only a common brushwood hut,20 my lord, but I would gladly show you its pleasantly cool stream.” Genji blushed to think of the extravagant terms in which his host had described him to those of the household who had not yet seen him themselves, but interest in the little girl who had so caught his fancy encouraged him to go.

  The place, which really was very well done, boasted the usual plants and trees. Cressets were lit along the brook, and there were lights in the lanterns,21 too, because at this time of the month there was no moon. The room on the south side22 had been nicely prepared for him. A delicious fragrance of rare incense filled the air, and Genji's own scent as he passed by was so unlike any other that those in the house must have been overawed.

  His Reverence talked of mutability and of the life to come while Genji pondered the fearfulness of his own transgression,23 the way in which this sinful preoccupation had driven all else from his mind, the likelihood that it would torment him all his days, and, worse still, the agonies that awaited him in the hereafter. How he wished that he himself might live as did his host! But the figure he had seen by daylight still called out to him.

  “May I ask Your Reverence what lady lives here? I had a dream on which I wished to consult you, you see, and I have only just remembered it.”

  His host smiled. “How unexpectedly your dream has entered our conversation, my lord! I am afraid that my answer will disappoint you. You probably do not know about the late Inspector Grand Counselor, because it is a long time now since he died. His widow is my sister, you see. She renounced the world after he was gone, and when recently her health began to fail, she sought refuge with me, since I myself no longer visit the City. She has secluded herself here.”

  “I had heard that the Grand Counselor's daughter was still living, though,” Genji ventured. “Of course I mean nothing frivolous; my inquiry is quite serious.”

  “Yes, he had a daughter. It must be ten years and more since she died. The late Grand Counselor brought her up very carefully in the hope of offering her to His Majesty, but he passed away before he could do so, leaving the present nun to look after her as well as she could, all alone. Meanwhile, someone24 allowed His Highness of the Bureau of War25 to take up with her in secret. However, His Highness's wife is a very great lady, and the resulting unpleasantness made her so continually miserable that in the end she died. Oh, yes, I have seen with my own eyes how someone can sicken from sheer disappointment and sorrow.”

  Ah, Genji thought, then the girl is her daughter. I suppose it is being His Highness's, too, that makes her look so much like her.26 He was now more eager than ever to have her for his own. She was of distinguished parentage, she was delightful, and she showed no distressing tendency to talk back. How he would love to have her with him and bring her up as he pleased!

  “All this is sad news,” he said, still keen to be certain who she was. “Did the daughter leave no child to preserve her memory?”

  “Yes, she did, not long before she died—another girl. I am afraid she is a great worry to her grandmother, who seems extremely anxious about her as her own life draws to a close.”

  So I was right! Genji said to himself.

  “Please forgive me for being so forward, but would you be good enough to advise the child's grandmother to entrust her granddaughter's future to me? I have certain ideas of my own, and although there are of course ladies upon whom I call, they seem not to suit me as well as they might, since I live alone. You may attribute the most common intentions to me and therefore feel that she is hardly yet of a suit-able age, but if so, you do me an injustice.”

  “My lord, your proposal should be very welcome, but she is still so young and innocent that I do not see how you could propose even in jest to favor her that way. At any rate, I myself can make no decision, since it is not for me to rear a girl into adulthood. I shall give you an answer after discussing the matter with her grandmother.” He spoke curtly, and his young guest found the formality of his manner so forbidding that he was at a loss to reply. “It is time for me to busy myself in the hall where Amida dwells,” His Reverence continued. “I have not yet done the evening service.27 I shall be at your disposal once more when it is over.” He went up to the hall.

  Genji felt quite unwell, and besides, it was now raining a little, a cold mountain wind had set in to blow, and the pool beneath the waterfall had risen until the roar was louder than before. The eerie swelling and dying of somnolent voices chanting the scriptures could hardly fail in such a setting to move the most casual visitor. No wonder Genji, who had so much to ponder, could not sleep.

  His Reverence had mentioned the evening service, but the night was in fact well advanced. Obviously the nun and her gentlewomen in the chamber28 were not asleep yet, because despite their efforts to be quiet he could hear the click of rosary beads against an armr
est, as well as a rustling of silks most pleasing to his ears. Since they were so close, he opened a gap in the line of screens that bounded his room and rapped his fan on his palm. Though surprised, they seemed to see no point in pretending not to have heard him, for he caught the sound of a gentlewoman slipping toward him. “How odd!” she murmured, flustered, after retreating a little. “I must be hearing things!”

  “I have heard it said that even in darkness the Lord Buddha is an unerring guide,” Genji began, overwhelming her with the youthful grace of his voice.

  “A guide to what? I do not understand.”

  “So sudden an approach on my part naturally perplexes you, but I hope that you will convey this message for me:

  Ever since that time I first spied the tender leaves of the little plant,

  the traveler's sleeves I wear are endlessly wet with dew.”

  “But, my lord, no one here could possibly make anything of such a message, as you must surely know. To whom, then, do you wish me…?”

  “Please grant me reasons of my own for expressing myself this way.”

  The gentlewoman went back to speak to her mistress, the nun, who was both puzzled and shocked. Oh, dear, she thought, he certainly is modern in his ways! He must have got it into his head that our girl is old enough for this sort of thing! But how did he manage to hear what we were saying about the “little plant”? In her confusion she failed to answer him for so long that she feared she was being uncivil.

  “O never compare dews that gather for a night on your own pillow

  to those that in these mountains wet many a mossy robe!29