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The Tale of Genji, Page 71

Murasaki Shikibu

  Genji deplored the strangely rootless life that his son was leading. “If you have given up your ambition in that direction,” he said, “the Minister of the Right and Prince Nakatsukasa both seem to be interested in you, and I hope that you will decide one way or the other.” However, his son only maintained an attitude of silent deference. “I did not much feel like obeying His Late Eminence's lessons on this sort of subject either, so I hesitate to put you through the same thing,” Genji went on. “Still, experience suggests that what he said is as true now as ever. As long as you remain unattached, people will suspect you of doing so for a particular reason, and they will be sadly disappointed if you merely allow your destiny to lead you to settle for someone tediously dull. To aim too high is to court failure, because all things have their proper measure, but that is no reason to give yourself too much license. From my earliest youth I grew up in the palace, where I could never do as I pleased and where I lived in fear that any slip might make me a reprobate, and even so the world condemned me for my profligacy. Do not allow yourself to do as you please while your rank is low and you have little importance. The heart goes its own way sometimes, and you can easily come to grief over a woman when you have no one to make you wish to control yourself, as the examples even of past sages show. If you overreach yourself and hold someone up to scandal, you yourself will bear the burden of her hatred, which will then continue to bind you to this life. Once you have married the wrong woman, it may be extremely difficult to endure her in violation of your feelings, but you must still cultivate a willingness to reconsider and to yield to the wishes of her parents or, even if she unfortunately has none, to try always to keep in mind whatever about her may be most attractive. Confidence that all will be well in the end is what matters most, both for your sake and for hers.” He passed the time giving out this sort of advice whenever he happened to be at leisure.

  The young man needed no prompting to recoil on his young lady's behalf, just as Genji's sermons enjoined him to do, from the most casual preoccupation with anyone else. She, meanwhile, was ashamed to see her father more than usually troubled, and she sorrowfully blamed her own misfortune for it; but on the surface she lived out all her dreary days with unruffled calm.

  He wrote her touchingly impassioned letters whenever his feelings demanded release. She might wonder “whom else to believe,”36 but it takes someone more experienced seriously to doubt a lover's heart, and many passages affected her deeply. People were saying that Prince Nakatsukasa had been sounding out His Grace and that the two of them had decided to proceed, which to her father must have been yet another blow. “That is what I hear,” he told her privately with tears in his eyes. “How cruel he is! I suppose he is getting back at me for being stubborn when he approached me about it. What a fool I would look if I were just to give in!” Desperately ashamed, she found herself weeping as well and turned away in embarrassment, looking infinitely dear as she did so. What am I to do? he kept wondering. Shall I step forward even now to see how he feels? These and other questions ran through his mind.

  She lingered there near the veranda even after he had gone, abstracted and disconsolate. How strange it is, the way my tears came all by themselves! What can he have thought of me? As she sat there pondering these things, a letter came from him, and yes, she read it. It was long and earnest. He had written,

  “Cruel ways like yours are no more than one expects in this world of ours,

  but for not forgetting you am I then so very strange?”

  She could not get over the coldness with which he had failed even to hint at what she had just learned, but she replied despite her anger,

  “That this should be all, and that you should now forget one whom you could not:

  surely that is what it means to give in to worldly ways!”

  This so puzzled him that he could not put it down. He just sat staring at it, shaking his head.

  33

  FUJI NO URABA

  New Wisteria Leaves

  Fuji no uraba (“new wisteria leaves”) appears in an old poem quoted by Tō no Chūjō when in this chapter he approves Yūgiri's marriage to his daughter Kumoi no Kari.

  RELATIONSHIP TO EARLIER CHAPTERS

  “New Wisteria Leaves” follows “The Plum Tree Branch” in chronological sequence.

  PERSONS

  His Grace, the Chancellor, then Honorary Retired Emperor, Genji, age 39

  The Consultant Captain, then Counselor, Genji's son, 18 (Yūgiri)

  His Excellency, the Palace Minister, then Chancellor (Tō no Chūjō)

  The Secretary Captain, Tō no Chūjō's eldest son, 23 or 24 (Kashiwagi)

  The Controller Lieutenant, 22 or 23 (Kōbai)

  The young lady, Tō no Chūjō's daughter, 20 (Kumoi no Kari)

  The mistress of Genji's east wing, 31 (Murasaki)

  The Fujiwara Dame of Staff, Koremitsu's daughter

  The young lady, Genji's daughter, Consort of the Heir Apparent, 11 (Akashi no Himegimi)

  Her mother, Akashi, 30 (Akashi no Kimi)

  Taifu, Kumoi no Kari's nurse

  Saishō, Yūgiri's nurse

  His Majesty, the Emperor, 21 (Reizei)

  His Eminence, Retired Emperor Suzaku, 42

  A mid all these preparations1 the Consultant Captain still felt melancholy and abstracted; in fact, even he was surprised by the depth of his attachment. If my heart is that set on her,2 then I hear the barrier guard has relented enough to show himself disposed to sleep,3 he reflected, but I might as well see the thing through more creditably than that. Still, his restraint cost him much turmoil and pain. Meanwhile his young lady gathered from what her father had told her, if it was true, that she must no longer mean anything to him, and so each turned surprisingly away from the other; which only showed how much they were in love. Despite his past obduracy, His Excellency hardly knew what to do next, since he would have to start looking all over again if Prince Nakatsukasa decided to proceed. I pity any new prospect I might find, he thought, and as for myself, I have no doubt people would be laughing and joking at my expense. There is no point in trying to hide that furtive misbehavior of theirs4—it, too, must be common knowledge by now. I suppose I shall have to put the best face I can on it and yield after all.

  He hesitated to approach Genji abruptly on the subject, since beneath their superficial cordiality they were still at odds with each other, and he would look foolish if he raised it too formally. He wondered when he would ever find the right moment to drop him a word about it.

  On the twentieth of the third month he made a pilgrimage to Gokurakuji,5 for it was the anniversary of the death of Her Highness his mother. All his sons accompanied him in fine array, and with them came a great number of senior nobles who by no means eclipsed the Consultant Captain, whose looks were just now reaching their manly glory and whose figure was the sum of every grace. Ever since becoming so angry with His Excellency he had felt nervous in his presence, and his consequently judicious manner and quiet dignity of bearing now caught His Excellency's particular attention. Genji, too, had commissioned scripture readings. The Consultant Captain came forward to take all the arrangements in hand, and he displayed affecting devotion.

  That evening, when everyone was leaving, cherry petals lay thick on the ground and mist veiled all things while His Excellency gracefully hummed old poems and dreamed of the past. The Consultant Captain, too, more and more caught up in the evening's melancholy mood, remained pensive and absorbed despite the voices crying, “It looks like rain!”

  His Excellency imagined him lost in thoughts of her and tugged at his sleeve. “Why are you so angry with me? Surely you can forgive me if you will only think what today's services mean for us both. I do not have many years left, you know, and I must tell you that your rejection has hurt me.”

  The young gentleman assumed a deferential attitude. “Although Her Late Highness kindly gave me reason to hope, you yourself seemed not to concur, and you will therefore understand that I have not wished to presume.” Everyone rushed home as quickly as he could amid a flurry of wind and rain. The subject was of such abiding interest that the Consultant Captain spent the night turning over and over in his mind what His Excellency might have meant by his unusual overture.

  His Excellency now found his resistance gone, thanks perhaps to the Captain's constancy over the long years, and he gave thought to some slight occasion on which lightly, yet still properly, to further the matter. Meanwhile, the fourth month came, bringing his residence so magnificent a profusion of wisteria blossoms that he could not let their glory pass, and he arranged music for the occasion. Toward evening the blossoms were more beautiful than ever, and he had his own son, the Secretary Captain, take the young man a note: “Our talk that day under the blossoms left me eager for more. Please come, if you are not otherwise engaged.” The note included a poem:

  “In the dim twilight, wisteria round my home glows in vivid hues:

  will you then not come to see this, the last bounty of spring?”6

  He had tied it to an especially lovely branch.

  The Captain had expected this, and with beating heart he composed a polite reply:

  “My faltering hand yet might hesitate to pluck such wisteria,

  when amid twilight shadows my gesture might go astray.”

  “My courage fails me, I am afraid. Please make whatever changes it needs.”

  “I shall accompany you,” His Excellency's envoy declared.

  “That is more of an escort than I require!” After sending him back,7 the Captain told his father what had happened and showed him His Excellency's note.

  “He certainly has something particular in mind. If he really has come forward this far, he must have forgiven you your past unfilial conduct.”8 Genji spoke with a maddening look of triumph.

  “It cannot be that serious. I gather that his wisteria is blooming more beautifully than usual, and with things so quiet now, I suppose he just wants some music.”

  “You got quite a messenger, though. You must go immediately.” He gave his approval, and the Captain remained apprehensive about what might be in store for him.

  “That dress cloak you have on is too dark, and to my eye it lacks dignity. Violet suits someone merely qualified for Consultant, or a young man with no rank worth mentioning. Here, let me dress you properly.”9 Genji sent him off with a bearer carrying a marvelous dress cloak of his own, together with a full set of exquisitely beautiful gowns.

  Back in his own room the Consultant Captain prepared his appearance with extreme care, allowed twilight to pass, and then arrived just when his host would be wondering anxiously whether he was coming at all. Seven or eight of His Excellency's sons, the Secretary Captain among them, turned out to welcome him. All were fine-looking young gentlemen, but he still surpassed them, since quite apart from his distinctive looks he had a noble grace that put everyone to shame.

  His Excellency took care to receive him in a room done up for the occasion, but before going forth to greet him, formal cap and all, he spoke to his wife and her young gentlewomen. “Have a look at him!” he said. “He is turning into a remarkably handsome man, and he has a composed, quiet dignity as well. Considering how clearly he rises above his peers, I should say he outdoes even his father. His Grace has the most extraordinarily engaging charm, and merely to look at him is to smile and forget the world's cares, but in the service of the realm he is a little soft and inclined to please himself, which I suppose is natural enough. This young gentleman, though, has greater learning than his father, and everyone seems to credit him with admirably manly steadiness and soundness.”

  They devoted a moment to suitable pleasantries and then went on to admire the blossoms. “All the flowers of spring are a wonder when they bloom, but they are gone so cruelly soon that one reproaches them for it; these are the only ones that linger on into summer, and that is why I am so especially fond of them. Even their color, you know, speaks of loving ties.” His Excellency's smiles conveyed a welcoming warmth.

  The blossoms remained indistinct even after the moon had risen, but they had their music and wine in a spirit of praise. His Excellency soon began pretending to be tipsy and boisterously pressed drink on his guest, who had ideas of his own and insistently declined. “You may well be the most gifted official in all the realm, too good, in fact, for this degenerate age, but I reproach you for having abandoned an old man. Surely even the Classics mention respect for one's elders. I take it that you are familiar with that fellow's teaching10 as well. I tell you, it makes me angry to think of all the suffering you have caused me!” Drunken tears or not, he did very well at telling the young man a thing or two.

  “Oh, no, my lord!” the Captain protested politely. “I would gladly give everything for the sake of those in whom the past lives on for me, and I do not know how you could imagine such a thing! It must be my foolish heart's own dullness that has made it seem that way.”

  This was the moment for His Excellency to launch into singing “new wisteria leaves,”11 at which the Secretary Captain picked a particularly long, dark cluster of blossoms and laid it beside the guest's cup. The young gentleman struggled for a reply, and meanwhile His Excellency said,

  “I shall then complain to the wisteria blossoms' comely purple hue,

  though I am not pleased at all that they have outreached the pine.”12

  Cup in hand, the Consultant Captain acknowledged him with a slight and thoroughly graceful bow.

  “Ah, how many times have I had to suffer through all too dewy springs,

  to come at last on this day when flowers burst into bloom?”

  he replied and passed the cup to the Secretary Captain.

  “The wisteria that in tender bloom recalls a fair maiden's sleeves

  no doubt looks lovelier still to a ravished watcher's eyes.”

  The cup went on round, but the poems tottered drunkenly, and no one managed to do better.

  The lake spread its tranquil mirror beneath the pale evening moon of the seventh night. Yes, the leaves aloft in the trees were slender and new, but the pine, although not tall, reclined suggestively, and there hung from it such blossoms as the world seldom sees. The Controller Lieutenant, as always, sang “Fence of Rushes” in his lovely voice.13

  “What an odd song to choose!” His Excellency teased, and he joined in to sing “… this ancient, noble house” in his own fine voice.14 Their evening was pleasantly relaxed, and all constraint between them vanished.

  It was growing late at last when the Consultant Captain turned to the Secretary Captain with a great show of being ill.15 “I really am not feeling at all well, and by now I doubt that I should try to get home. May I beg a room for the night?”

  “Find him somewhere to sleep!” His Excellency cried. “This old man is too drunk to do it himself. Please excuse me!” He staggered from the room.

  “Well, a traveler's night beneath the blossoms, I see,” the Secretary Captain remarked. “Oh, dear. That makes things a little difficult for your guide!”

  “You think the flower a wanton, wedded to the pine?” the Consultant retorted. “You might have chosen another expression!”16

  Although personally put out, the Secretary Captain had desired this match himself, since the Consultant's quality left nothing to be desired, and he showed him the way willingly.

  The young man thought that he was dreaming, and he must have felt extremely proud of himself as well. His young lady was very bashful, but her new, more womanly beauty pleased him better than ever. “I might well have gone down in song and story,”17 he complained, “but my constancy seems to have persuaded His Excellency after all. Your blindness to my feelings is extraordinary, though! And did you notice what that ‘Fence of Rushes' the Lieutenant sang is about? The nerve of him! I wanted to give him back ‘At Kawaguchi'!”18

  She took this badly.

  “Yes, Kawaguchi, it is you who made our shame familiar to all,

  and what did you do it for, letting all our secrets through?19

  You are horrid!” she cried, like a little girl.

  “Please at least refrain from blaming Kawaguchi for his carelessness

  when Kukida Barrier is where the whole thing came out!”20

  he replied with a little smile. “After all those years of waiting I feel absolutely awful, and I hardly know what I am doing.” Pleading drunkenness and certainly acting ill, he ignored the coming of dawn.21 When her gentlewomen failed to rouse him, His Excellency remarked with some irritation that he must be very pleased with himself to be lying asleep so long. He left before full day, however, and his still-sleepy face as he left was well worth seeing.

  His letter reached her as before with the usual precautions, but a reply today was really more than she could manage. She found it exceedingly trying when His Excellency turned up and read it, and her evil-tongued old gentlewomen poked each other in glee. The letter said, “The airs you still put on taught me my place more clearly than ever, but while that hurt may yet be the end of me,