CHAPTER IV

THE SPRAY OF PLUM-BLOSSOM

Although it was early days to begin thinking about the little Akashi Princess’s Initiation, Genji seemed bent upon celebrating it immediately. The Heir Apparent’s Putting on of the Trousers was to take place in the second month, and it was perhaps Genji’s wish that the girl should go to the Palace as soon as the little prince set up a separate establishment. Towards the end of the first month, a moment when there is very little going on at home or abroad, Genji held an inspection of the perfumes and incenses that were to be used, at the Initiation. He first looked through the scents that had recently been forwarded to the Capital by the Governor of Tsukushi. He soon came to the conclusion that these modern importations fell far behind what used to reach this country in former times, and opening his storehouses at the Nijō-in he brought out all the old Chinese perfumes he could find and had them carried to his New Palace. ‘With perfumes,’ he said, ‘it is just as it is with embroideries and woven brocades. The old ones are far better workmanship than anything that is turned out to-day.’ So saying, he began to look out for likely pieces of embroidery and gold brocade; for many would be wanted to fringe the box-covers, carpets and cushions used in the ceremony of Presentation at the Palace. Luckily he came upon some particularly fine pieces presented to his father, the late Emperor, by the Korean soothsayers who had come to Court in the earlier part of his reign.[48] These so far excelled what was now imported that he determined to make use only of ancient pieces, and distributed among his friends[49] the stuffs sent in for the occasion by the Governor of Tsukushi. But with the perfumes to be used at the Initiation such a method was impossible, for the stock of ancient perfumes would soon have run out. In distributing a supply of perfumes to the various members of his household, he therefore ordered that new and old should be mixed. Then there were the presents to be got ready, for no one who came to the Initiation could be allowed to go away without some small gift; and in addition to these there were the particular rewards granted to the princes and noblemen who took the leading part in the affair. Both at the New Palace and at the Nijō-in there was such a bustle as seldom before, accompanied, in every quarter of each establishment, by a continual jingling of pestle and mortar[50] Meanwhile Genji, who by some means or other had contrived to get hold of two secret recipes very jealously guarded by the Emperor Nimmyō,[51] and thought never to have been transmitted to any of his descendants, was locked away in his own rooms, completely absorbed in certain mysterious experiments. Murasaki, not to be outdone, succeeded in discovering a recipe that had belonged to Prince Motoyasu, the son of Nimmyō, and ensconcing herself in a secret closet behind the double-doors of the Great Bedroom, refused to give any information as to what was afoot, though, as Genji remarked, he would soon know how she was getting on by the scent that emanated from her hiding-place. Indeed they both threw themselves into the thing with such abandon that it was hard to believe they were to play the part of dignified elders at the coming ceremony. Both he and she were obliged to seek the assistance of a few chosen attendants; for even when the perfumes were made there was still a great deal of work to be done. Such exquisite scents could not be crammed into any stray vessel that lay handy. Hours were spent in selecting jars of appropriate shape, incense-burners incised with an exactly suitable flower-pattern, boxes that would not disgrace the marvels they were to contain. And to add to their difficulties, there must be a touch of novelty, a suggestion of surprise, about every article. Meanwhile similar scenes were in progress throughout the New Palace and the Nijō-in, each competitor straining every nerve to produce a blend which should attract the notice of her fastidious patron.

On the tenth day of the second month there was a little rain, not more than was needed to bring to perfection the smell and colour of the red plum-blossom in front of Genji’s palace. Prince Sochi had heard of the existing preparations which were afoot, and being on intimate terms with the household, ventured to call, though he knew that every one must be very busy. After talking of one thing and another, he went out with Genji to look at the flowers; suddenly a messenger arrived, bearing a letter tied to a spray of half-scattered plum-blossom. He announced that he came from Princess Asagao, the former Vestal Virgin. Sochi had heard of Genji’s admiration for this lady: ‘What does she say?’ he asked. ‘I hope you are beginning to make a little progress.’ Genji smiled. ‘It is a business letter,’ he said. ‘She has heard that we are all making perfumes, and as she has had a good deal of experience in that line, she gives me a few hints.’ So saying, he quickly hid the letter. But there was evidently some truth in his account, for the messenger had also brought a cedar-wood box containing two glass bowls, each filled with large balls of incense. One was of blue glass, and on this there was a five-pointed pine-leaf pattern; the other was of white glass, carved with a plum-blossom spray. Even the cord with which the box was tied had evidently been chosen with the greatest care, and was delightfully soft to the touch. ‘What an elegant affair!’ exclaimed Prince Sochi, staring hard at the box. He was able as he did so to decipher the poem which was attached to it: ‘Though, like the plum-branch that I send, these perfumes have small fragrance of their own, yet worn by you they will not lack for regal scent....’ The entertainment of the messenger was entrusted to Yūgiri, who plied him with drink, and as payment for his trouble gave him a close-fitting Chinese lady’s gown, red plum-blossom colour without, yellow within. For his reply Genji chose paper of the same colour as the blossom she had sent, and attached the letter to a spray from the aforementioned trees in front of his own window. ‘I can imagine what sort of thing he is writing,’ thought Sochi as he watched Genji compose the answer. ‘But I really wonder that, after all the confidences we have exchanged, he should think it necessary to be so secretive,’ and he wondered whether there were not some additional mystery beyond what he could possibly surmise. ‘I can see you think you have scented a mystery,’ said Genji. ‘You are quite wrong; there is no corner of my heart which I am not willing you should explore.’ Genji’s poem ran: ‘Only too profoundly does the scent of your blossoms stir me, though lest the world should see my weakness I have hidden their fragrance deep within the folds of my dress.’

‘You will think,’ he said, turning to Prince Sochi, ‘that we are making a great deal too much fuss over the coming celebration. For my