part I doubt whether he will find much comfort in such visits....’ So

one of them was saying to her friends. And soon there were many affecting scenes of farewell between them, for it had been decided that for the present they were all of them to go back to their homes.

Meanwhile Genji was with his father in the Palace. ‘You are very thin in the face,’ said the ex-Emperor as soon as he saw him. ‘I am afraid you have overtaxed your strength by too much prayer and fasting,’ and in a state of the deepest concern he at once began pressing all kinds of viands and cordials upon him, showing with regard to his health and indeed his affairs in general a solicitude by which Genji could not help feeling touched.

Late that night he at last arrived at the Nijō-in. Here he found everything garnished and swept; his men-servants and maids were waiting for him at the door. All the gentlewomen of the household at once presented themselves in his apartments. They seemed to have vied with one another which should look the gayest and smartest, and their finery contrasted pleasantly with the sombre and dispiriting attire of the unfortunate ladies whom he had left behind him at the Great Hall.

Having changed out of his court dress, he went at once to the western wing. Not only was Murasaki’s winter costume most daintily designed, but her pretty waiting-maids and little companions were so handsomely equipped as to reflect the greatest credit on Shōnagon’s management; and he saw with satisfaction that such matters might with perfect safety be left in her hands. Murasaki herself was indeed exquisitely dressed. ‘How tall you have grown since last I saw you!’ he said and pulled up her little curtain-of-honour. He had been away so long that she felt shy with him and turned her head aside. But he would not for the world have had her look otherwise than she looked at that moment, for as she sat in profile with the lamplight falling upon her face he realized with delight that she was becoming the very image of her whom from the beginning he had loved best. Coming closer to her side he whispered to her: ‘Some time or other I want to tell you about all that has been happening to me since I went away. But it has all been very terrible and I am too tired to speak of it now, so I am going away to rest for a little while in my own room. From to-morrow onwards you will have me to yourself all day long; in fact, I expect you will soon grow quite tired of me.’

‘So far, so good’ thought Shōnagon when she heard this speech. But she was still very far from easy in her mind. She knew that there were several ladies of very great influence with whom Genji was on terms of friendship and she feared that when it came to choosing a second wife, he would be far more likely to take one of these than to remember her own little mistress; and she was not at all satisfied.

When Genji had retired to the eastern wing, he sent for a certain Lady Chūjō to rub his limbs and then went to bed. Next morning he wrote to the nurses of Aoi’s child and received from them in reply a touching account of its beauty and progress; but the letter served only to awaken in him useless memories and regrets. Towards the end of the day he felt very restless and the time hung heavily on his hands, but he was in no mood to resume his secret rovings and such an idea did not even occur to him. In Murasaki none of his hopes had been disappointed; she had indeed grown up into as handsome a girl as you could wish to see, nor was she any longer at an age when it was impossible for him to become her lover. He constantly hinted at this, but she did not seem to understand what he meant.

He still had plenty of time on his hands, and the whole of it was now spent in her society. All day long they played together at draughts or word-picking, and even in the course of these trivial pursuits she showed a quickness of mind and beauty of disposition which continually delighted him; but she had been brought up in such rigid seclusion from the world that it never once occurred to her to exploit her charms in any more adult way.

Soon the situation became unendurable, and though he knew that she would be very much upset he determined somehow or another to get his own way.

There came a morning when the gentleman was already up and about, but the young lady was still lying a-bed. Her attendants had no means of knowing that anything out of the ordinary had happened, for it had always been Genji’s habit to go in and out of her room just as he chose. They naturally assumed that she was not feeling well and were glancing at her with sympathy when Genji arrived carrying a writing-box which he slipped behind the bed curtains. He at once retired, and the ladies also left the room. Seeing that she was alone Murasaki slowly raised her head. There by her pillow was the writing-box and tied to it with ribbon, a slender note. Listlessly she detached the note and unfolding it read the hastily scribbled poem: ‘Too long have we deferred this new emprise, who night by night till now have lain but with a shift between.’

That _this_ was what Genji had so long been wanting came to her as a complete surprise and she could not think why he should regard the unpleasant thing that had happened last night as in some way the beginning of a new and more intimate friendship between them. Later in the morning he came again. ‘Is something the matter with you?’ he asked. ‘I shall be very dull to-day if you cannot play draughts with me.’ But when he came close to her she only buried herself more deeply than ever under the bedclothes. He waited till the room was empty and then bending over her he said ‘Why are you treating me in this surly way? I little expected to find you in so bad a humour this morning. The others will think it very strange if you lie here all day,’ and he pulled aside the scarlet coverlet beneath which she had dived. To his astonishment he found that she was bathed in sweat; even the hair that hung across her cheeks was dripping wet. ‘No! This is too much,’ he said; ‘what a state you have worked yourself up into!’ But try as he would to coax her back to reason he could not get a word out of her, for she was really feeling very vexed with him indeed. ‘Very well then,’ he said at last, ‘if that is how you feel I will never come to see you again,’ and he pretended to be very much mortified and humiliated. Turning away, he opened the writing-box to see whether she had written any answer to his poem, but of course found none. He understood perfectly that her distress was due merely to extreme youth and inexperience, and was not at all put out. All day long he sat near her trying to win back her confidence, and though he had small success he found even her rebuffs in a curious way very endearing.

At nightfall, it being the Day of the Wild Boar, the festival cakes[27] were served. Owing to Genji’s bereavement no great display was made, but a few were brought round to Murasaki’s quarters in an elegant picnic-basket. Seeing that the different kinds were all mixed up together Genji came out into the front part of the house and calling for Koremitsu said to him: ‘I want you to take these cakes away and bring me some more to-morrow evening; only not nearly so many as this, and all of one kind.[28] This is not the right evening for them.’ He smiled as he said these words and Koremitsu was quick-witted enough at once to guess what had happened. He did not however think that it would be discreet to congratulate his master in so many words, and merely said: ‘It is true enough that if you want to make a good beginning you must eat your cakes on the proper day. The day of the Rat is certainly very much to the purpose.[29] Pray how many am I to bring?’ When Genji answered ‘Divide by three[30] and you will get the answer,’ Koremitsu was no longer in any doubt, and hastily retired, leaving Genji amused at the practised air with which he invariably handled matters of this kind. He said nothing to anyone, but returning to his private house made the cakes there with his own hands.

Genji was beginning to despair of ever restoring her confidence and good humour. But even now, when she seemed as shy of him as on the night when he first stole her from her home, her beauty fascinated him and he knew that his love for her in past days had been but a particle compared with what he had felt since yesterday.

How strange a thing is the heart of man! For now it would have seemed to him a calamity if even for a single night he had been taken from Murasaki’s side; and only a little while ago....

Koremitsu brought the cakes which Genji had ordered very late on the following night. He was careful not to entrust them to Shōnagon, for he thought that such a commission might embarrass a grown woman. Instead, he sent for her daughter Miss Ben and putting all the cakes into one large perfume-box he bade her take them secretly to her mistress. ‘Be sure to put them close by her pillow, for they are lucky cakes and must not be left about the house. Promise me not to do anything silly with them.’ Miss Ben thought all this very odd, but tossing her head she answered ‘When, pray, did you ever know me to be silly,’ and she walked off with the box. Being quite a young girl and completely innocent as regards matters of this kind she marched straight up to her mistress’s bed and, remembering Koremitsu’s instructions, pushed the box through the curtains and lodged it safely by the pillow. It seemed to her that there was someone else there as well as Murasaki. ‘No doubt,’ thought she ‘Prince Genji has come as usual to hear her repeat her lessons.’

As yet no one in the household save Koremitsu had any knowledge of the betrothal. But when next day the box was found by the bed and brought into the servant’s quarters some of those who were in closest touch with their master’s affairs at once guessed the secret. Where did these little dishes come from, each set on its own little carved stand? and who had been at such pains to make these dainty and ingenious cakes? Shōnagon, though she was shocked at this casual way of slipping into matrimony, was overjoyed to learn that Genji’s strange patronage of her young mistress had at last culminated in a definite act of betrothal, and her eyes brimmed with tears of thankfulness and delight. All the same, she thought he might at least have taken the trouble to inform her old nurse, and there was a good deal of grumbling in the household generally at an outside retainer such as Koremitsu having got wind of the matter first.

During the days that followed he grudged even the short hours of attendance which he was obliged to put in at the Palace and in his father’s rooms, discovering (much to his own surprise) that save in her presence he could no longer enjoy a moment’s peace. The friends whom he had been wont to visit showed themselves both surprised and offended by this unexplained neglect, but though he had no wish to stand ill with them he now found that even a remote prospect of having to absent himself from his palace for a single night was enough to throw him quite out of gear; and all the time he was away his spirits were at the very lowest ebb and he looked for all the world as though he were sickening from some strange illness. To all invitations or greetings he invariably replied that he was at present in no fit mood for company (which was naturally taken as an allusion to his recent loss) or that he must now be gone, for someone with whom he had business was already awaiting him.

The Minister of the Right was aware that his youngest daughter[31] was still pining for Prince Genji and he said one day to Princess Kōkiden: ‘While his wife was alive we were bound of course to discourage her friendship with him in every way we could. But the position is now quite changed and I feel that as things are there would be much to be said for such a match.’ But Kōkiden had always hated Genji and having herself arranged that her sister should enter the Palace,[32] she saw no reason why this plan should suddenly be abandoned. Indeed from this moment onwards she became obstinately determined that the girl should be given to the Emperor and to no one else. Genji indeed still retained a certain partiality towards her; but though it grieved him to hear that he had made her unhappy he had not at present any spare affection to offer her. Life, he had come to the conclusion, was not long enough for diversions and experiments; henceforward he would concentrate. He had moreover received a terrible warning of the dangers which might accrue from such jealousies and resentments as his former way of life had involved. He thought with great tenderness and concern of Lady Rokujō’s distress; but it was clear to him that he must beware of ever again allowing her to regard him as her true haven of refuge. If however she would renew their friendship in quite new terms, permitting him to enjoy her company and conversation at such times as he could conveniently arrange to do so, he saw no reason why they should not sometimes meet.

Society at large knew that someone was living with him, but her identity was quite unknown. This was of no consequence; but Genji felt that sooner or later he ought to let her father Prince Hyōbukyō know what had become of her and decided that before he did so it would be best to celebrate her Initiation. This was done privately, but he was at pains that every detail of the ceremony should be performed with due splendour and solemnity, and though the outside world was not invited it was as magnificent an affair as it well could be. But ever since their betrothal Murasaki had shown a certain shyness and diffidence in his presence. She could not help feeling sorry that after all the years during which they had got on so well together and been such close friends he should suddenly take this strange idea into his head, and whenever her eyes met his she hastily averted them. He tried to make a joke of the matter, but to her it was very serious indeed and weighed heavily upon her mind. Her changed attitude towards him was indeed somewhat comic; but it was also very distressing, and one day he said: ‘Sometimes it seems as though you had forgotten all the long years of our friendship and I had suddenly become as new to you as at the start’; and while thus he scolded her the year drew to a close. On New Year’s Day he paid the usual visits of ceremony to his father, to the Emperor and to the Heir Apparent. Next he visited the Great Hall. The old Minister made no reference to the new year, but at once began to speak of the past. In the midst of his loneliness and sorrow he was so deeply moved even by this hasty and long deferred visit that though he strove hard to keep his composure it was more than he could compass to do. Looking fondly at his son-in-law he thought that the passage of each fresh year did but add new beauty to this fair face. They went together into the inner rooms, where his entry surprised and delighted beyond measure the disconsolate ladies who had remained behind. Next they visited the little prince who was growing into a fine child; his merry face was indeed a pleasure to see. His resemblance to the Heir Apparent was certainly very striking and Genji wondered whether it had been noticed.

Aoi’s things were still as she had left them. His New Year clothes had as in former years been hung out for him on the clothes-frame. Aoi’s clothes-frame which stood empty beside it wore a strangely desolate air. A letter from the Princess her mother was now brought to him: ‘To-day,’ she said, ‘our bereavement was more than ever present to my mind, and though touched at the news of your visit, I fear that to see you would but awaken unhappy recollections.’ ‘You will remember,’ she continued, ‘that it was my custom to present you with a suit of clothes on each New Year’s Day. But in these last months my sight has been so dimmed with tears that I fear you will think I have matched the colours very ill. Nevertheless I beg that though it be for to-day only you will suffer yourself to be disfigured by this unfashionable garb ...’ and a servant held out before him a second[33] suit, which was evidently the one he was expected to wear to-day. The under-stuff was of a most unusual pattern and mixture of colours and did not at all please him; but he could not allow her to feel that she had laboured in vain, and at once put the suit on. It was indeed fortunate that he had come to the Great Hall that day, for he could see that she had counted on it. In his reply he said: ‘Though I came with the hope that you would be the first friend I should greet at this new springtide, yet now that I am here too many bitter memories assail me and I think it wiser that we should not meet.’ To this he added an acrostic poem in which he said that with the mourning dress which he had just discarded so many years of friendship were cast aside that were he to come to her[34] he could but weep. To this she sent in answer an acrostic poem in which she said that in this new season when all things else on earth put on altered hue, one thing alone remained as in the months gone by—her longing for the child who like the passing year had vanished from their sight.

But though hers may have been the greater grief we must not think that there was not at that moment very deep emotion on both sides.

[1] We learn in Chapter XXXIV that he was made Commander of the Bodyguard at the age of twenty-one. He is now twenty-two.

[2] Genji’s son by Fujitsubo (supposed by the world to be the Emperor’s child) had been made Heir Apparent.

[3] An Emperor upon his succession was obliged to send one unmarried daughter or grand-daughter to the Shintō Temple at Ise, another to the Shintō Temple at Kamo. See Appendix II.

[4] She was seven years older than Genji.

[5] a Daughter of Prince Momozono. See above, p. 68.

[6] We learn later that he was a son of Iyo no Kami.

[7] Father of Princess Asagao; brother of the ex-Emperor and therefore Genji’s paternal uncle.

[8] The clash of coaches took place at the Purification. The actual _matsuri_ (Festival) takes place some days later.

[9] I.e. astrologically.

[10] _Kokinshū_ 509.

[11] The clash of the chariots at the Festival of Purification. Probably a quotation.

[12] The jealous person is unconscious of the fatal effects which his jealousy is producing.

[13] Members of the Imperial family were not allowed to leave the Capital without the consent of the Emperor.

[14] A temporary building erected afresh for each new Virgin a few miles outside Kyoto. She spent several years there before proceeding to Ise.

[15] The Chinese version of the Sanskrit _Saddharma Pundarika Sutra_; see _Sacred Books of the East_, Vol. 21.

[16] The lying-in jacket.

[17] These presents (_ubuyashinai_) were given on the third, fifth and ninth nights.

[18] The ceremony of investing the newly elected officials.

[19] Had she corresponded with someone who was in mourning, she would herself have become unclean and been disqualified from attending upon her daughter the Vestal Virgin.

[20] Used in writing to people who were in mourning.

[21] See p. 182.

[22] Winter clothes are begun on the first day of the tenth month.

[23] From a poem to a dead lady, by Liu Yü-hsi (A.D. 772–842).

_I saw you first standing at the window of Yü Liang’s tower;_ _Your waist was slender as the willow-trees that grow at Wu-ch‘ang._ _My finding you and losing you were both like a dream;_ _Oh tell me if your soul dwells in the rain, or whether in the clouds above!_

[24] A husband in mourning may not wear winter clothes. The mourning lasts for three months.

[25] Fujitsubo.

[26] Murasaki quotes the line in the form in which it occurs in Japanese MSS. of Po Chü-i’s poem. The Chinese editions have a slightly different text. Cf. Giles’s translation, _History of Chinese Literature_, p. 172.

[27] On the Day of the Boar in the tenth month it was the custom to serve little cakes of seven different kinds, to wit: Large bean, mungo, dolicho, sesamun, chestnut, persimmon, sugar-starch.

[28] On the third night after the first cohabitation it was the custom to offer up small cakes (all of one kind and colour) to the god Izanagi and his sister Izanami.

[29] First, because the Rat comes at the beginning of the series of twelve animal signs; secondly, because ‘Rat’ is written with a character that also means ‘baby.’

[30]The phrase which I have translated ‘Divide by three’ also means ‘One of three’ i.e. of the Three Mysteries (Birth, _Marriage_, Death). That is why Koremitsu was ‘no longer in any doubt.’ But many other explanations of the passage have been given. It is indeed one of the three major difficulties enumerated by the old-fashioned Genji teachers.

[31] Oborozukiyo. See above, p. 242.

[32] I.e. become a concubine of the Emperor.

[33] In addition to the one hanging on the frame.

[34] _Kiteba_, ‘were he to come,’ also means ‘should he wear it.’

APPENDIX I

A.D. 978 (?) Murasaki born.

A.D. 994 (?) Marries Fujiwara no Nobutaka.

A.D. 1001 Nobutaka dies.

A.D. 1005 (?) She becomes lady-in-waiting to the Empress Akiko, then a girl of sixteen.

A.D. 1007–1010 Keeps a diary, which survives.

A.D. 1008 Book I of the _Tale of Genji_ read to the Emperor.

A.D. 1025 Murasaki still at Court.

A.D. 1031 Murasaki no longer at Court and perhaps dead.

APPENDIX II

The Vestal Virgins of Ise and Kamo.

So important a part do these ladies play in the Tale of Genji that the reader may perhaps wish to know exactly what they were. I may say at the outset that I have used the term ‘vestal’ merely for convenience. These Virgins were not guardians of a sacred fire.

_Ise_.—Upon the accession of a new Emperor, a princess of the Imperial House (preferably a daughter of the Emperor) was sent to be priestess of the great Shintō shrines at Ise. According to the _Nihongi_ (Bk. V; Emperor Sūjin 6th year[1]) ‘The gods Amaterasu and Ōkunidama were formerly both worshipped in the Emperor’s Palace Hall. But the Emperor Sūjin was frightened of having so much divine power concentrated in one place. Accordingly he entrusted the worship of Amaterasu to the Princess Toyosuku-iri, bidding her carry it out in the village of Kasanui in Yamato.’ Subsequently Amaterasu expressed a desire to be moved to Ise.

The Virgin was usually about twelve years old at the time of her appointment. Cases however are recorded in which she was an infant of one year old; or again, a woman of twenty-eight. Her office lasted till

(1) The Emperor died or resigned (2) She herself died or became disabled (3) Either of her parents died (4) She misconducted herself.

Thus in A.D. 541 the Vestal, a certain Princess Iwane, misconducted herself with Prince Mubaragi and was replaced. The process of preparing the Virgin for her office lasted three years. She was first of all, after a preliminary purification in running water handed over to the City guards. Meanwhile, just outside the Capital, a special place of purification was built for her, called the Palace-in-the-Fields. After a second River Purification she took up her residence in this temporary Palace and stayed there till the time came for her to settle at Ise. Before the journey to Ise she was again purified in the River, and she appeared at the Imperial Palace to receive at the Emperor’s hands the ‘Comb of Parting.’ No Virgin of Ise was appointed after 1342.

_Kamo_.—The Virgin of Kamo, first instituted in A.D. 818 was a replica of the Ise Virgin. She too had her Palace-in-the-Fields, three years of purification, etc. The practice of sending a Virgin to Kamo was discontinued in 1204.

Upon both Virgins curious speech-taboos were imposed. Thus they called

death, ‘recovery’ illness, ‘taking a rest’ weeping, ‘dropping salt water’ blood, ‘sweat’ to strike, ‘to fondle’ a tomb, ‘an earth heap’ meat, ‘vegetables’

All words connected with Buddhism were taboo. Thus Buddha himself was called ‘The Centre’; Buddhist scriptures were called ‘stained paper’; a pagoda, ‘araragi’ (meaning unknown); a temple, ‘a tile-covered place’; a priest (ironically), ‘hair-long’; a nun, ‘female hair-long’; fasting, ‘partial victuals.’

To both Virgins was attached an important retinue of male officials. These were appointed by the Emperor and no doubt acted as his agents and informers in the districts of Ise and Kamo.

Probably the Ise Virgin was a very ancient institution which later proved useful for political ends. The Virgin of Kamo, who does not appear on the scene till the ninth century, was presumably instituted simply as a means of spreading Court influence.

[1] 92 B.C. according to the usual chronology, which is however purely fictitious.

Transcriber’s Notes.

1. Italicized text is indicated with leading and trailing underscores.

2. Footnotes have been renumbered and placed at the end of each chapter.

3. The bastard-title page prior to the main title page and the half-title page preceding the main text have both been omitted. They contained the words “THE TALE OF GENJI”.

4. The original landscape orientation of the genealogical tables has changed to a portrait orientation by the transcriber in order to provide a better view for eReaders. Each table has has been separated by two blank lines for clarity.

5. In order to facilitate word wrapping, ellipses in the middle of a sentence have been replaced with a group of three periods. This group has a leading and, unless a comma is present, trailing blank space added. Ellipses at the end of a sentence do not have a leading blank space, but closing punctuation has been added if needed.

6. Except as mentioned above and in the Change List that follows, every effort has been made to replicate this first-edition text as faithfully as possible, including non-standard punctuation, inconsistently hyphenated words, and other inconsistencies.

Change List:

Page 7 of ‘governess changed to of ‘governess’

Page 9 PREFACE 9 changed to PREFACE 7

Page 69 lack of influence... changed to lack of influence....’

Page 95 reason’ said Gengi. changed to reason’ said Genji.

Page 102 joins Mount Katsuragi and Mount Kombu changed to joins Mount Katsuragi and Mount Kombu.

Page 114 steward’s son, and tell changed to steward’s son, ‘and tell

Page 130 There could be on harm in this interchange changed to There could be no harm in this interchange

Page 137 and that blurr of shimmering changed to and that blur of shimmering

Page 179 it was very diasppointing to lose changed to it was very disappointing to lose

Page 228 off the scent. And this opinion changed to off the scent.’ And this opinion

Page 232 modern Wu-ch’ang in Hupeh. changed to modern Wu-ch‘ang in Hupeh.

Page 242 ‘Oh, how you frightened me? she cried. changed to ‘Oh, how you frightened me,’ she cried.

Page 263 consent of the Emperor changed to consent of the Emperor.

Page 275 deep-dyed robe, and he recited the poem: changed to deep-dyed robe,’ and he recited the poem:

Page 293 sickening for some strange illness. changed to sickening from some strange illness.

Page 294 her father Prince Hyōbukyo changed to her father Prince Hyōbukyō