The unusual color of her attractively plain, light gray costume set off her looks perfectly, and the women waiting on her were smiling at the sight when the Consultant Captain arrived, likewise more graceful and handsome than ever in a dress cloak of the same color, though a slightly darker shade, and a formal cap with its tail rolled.2 He was always so kindly attentive that she had made it her practice not to keep him at any unnecessary distance, and since it would have been too cruel greatly to change that custom now that he knew the truth, she still conversed with him directly, with only a standing curtain between her and her blinds.3
Man's court cap with rolled tail
He first delivered a message from Genji about His Majesty's remarks and then passed to what he himself had gathered on the subject. Her reply was quietly composed, but its skill and warmth, and the wonderful quality in what he gleaned of her presence as she spoke, recalled to him the face he had seen the morning after the storm—a face that had aroused his longing, although he had then dismissed his feelings as wrong, and that now, when at last he knew who she was, disturbed him even more. No, he thought, it is not her entering palace service that will decide my father to give her up; considering what fascinating women he already has, those looks of hers are certain to mean trouble.
He managed to say coolly enough, despite the rush of feeling that oppressed him, “I must convey to you something that I am told is for no one's ears but your own. May I do so?” At this hint her women retreated a little and averted their faces from him behind their standing curtains. With great feeling he poured forth a long and thoroughly plausible but invented message from Genji concerning His Majesty's exceptional eagerness and the dispositions that she should take in consequence.
She had no words with which to answer him but only sighed, secretly and so sweetly, so touchingly that he could bear no more. “You are to doff your mourning this month,” he said, “and today was not the day for a speech like that. According to His Grace you are to go out to the riverbank on the thirteenth.4 I look forward to escorting you there.”
“That might turn the trip into rather a procession, might it not? One ought really to keep it discreet.” It was wise of her to hint that she preferred not to have everyone know she had been in mourning.5
“I am sorry to hear that you wish to keep it a secret. This mourning is for me a reminder of an unbearable loss, and removing it will be another sorrow. But I do not understand the tie that continues to bind us. The color you wear is the only sign of it, as far as I can see.”
“I who understand so little can make nothing at all of such things, but I know that this color is strangely sad to wear.” She did indeed seem more than usually subdued, and she was only the more delightfully lovely for it.
Perhaps the Captain had foreseen such a moment, because he had brought some very pretty thoroughwort flowers that he now slipped in to her past the edge of a blind. “You should look at these—there is a reason why,”6 he said but retained his hold, which she failed to notice; and when she moved to take them, he tugged at her sleeve.
“Here is thoroughwort laden with the very dews that soak your own field—
O have pity on me, then, if only just to be kind!”7
“At the road's end,” I suppose he means,8 she said to herself, shocked and angry, but she pretended not to notice and only slipped quietly away from him to reply,
“Ah, if, after all, the dew you have brought me here came from a far field,
then these flowers' light purple might earn you kindness at least.9
Talking together this way does not mean that we share anything very deep.”
The Captain gave a little smile. “Shallow or deep, I am sure that you follow me well enough,” he said. “Seriously, though, I well know the lofty state to which you are called, but I wonder whether you can possibly understand the stubborn turmoil in my heart. I have endured it in bitter silence for fear of your displeasure, but you see, ‘Nothing is left me now’ describes my own misery.10 Do you really know how the Secretary Captain feels? For that matter, I wonder why I ever imagined that I spoke for someone else.11 When it comes to my own interests, I am a fool, as I know all too well. I feel jealous and disappointed when I see how he can actually enjoy the solace of being near you, now that he knows the truth. Do at least grant me some sympathy for that!” He said much more in this vein, with great feeling, but it was all too unpleasant to write down.
Repelled, she12 had slowly withdrawn farther and farther from him. “You are very cruel!” he protested. “I am certain you know quite well that I would never commit any offense.” He wanted to go on to pour out a little more of his heart, but she now withdrew completely, claiming that she felt strangely unwell, and so he left, too, amid pathetic sighs.
Why did I have to go and say all that? he asked himself ruefully, wondering at the same time when he would ever see again, even through curtains and blinds, a figure now more than ever sharply graven in his mind, or hear that voice however faintly. He reached Genji's residence preoccupied by these unhappy thoughts. Genji came forth, and he gave him her reply.
“She does not much like the prospect of palace service, does she,” Genji remarked. “It is sad to think that with His Highness and those other tried-and-true gentlemen turning all their charm on her and pursuing her with their entreaties, she may actually have taken a fancy to them. Still, she was greatly attracted to His Majesty when she saw him during his progress to Ōharanō. No young woman could catch a glimpse of him and still dismiss the idea of serving him. That is why I decided to do things this way.”
“But how could she ever really find her place there?” The Captain spoke in his most grown-up manner. “Her Majesty is a very, very great lady, and the Kokiden Consort enjoys such consideration that it would be difficult for her to compete with them, whatever His Majesty's personal feeling for her might be. His Highness is extremely keen on her, and he might well take it amiss, even though her service to His Majesty will not earn her a proper title.13 That could in turn have unfortunate consequences for your own relationship with him.”
“It is difficult, yes. Her fate is not entirely in my hands, but I gather that even the Commander has it in for me. I suppose it is foolish of me only to invite people's resentment, when I have no need to do so, but I simply cannot ignore her unfortunate situation. I have never forgotten her mother's touching words to me about her, and how she complained that His Excellency would want to know nothing further about someone from a miserable mountain village. That is why I brought her here in the first place, for her own good. The only reason why His Excellency takes her at all seriously is that I make so much of her myself.” He sounded thoroughly plausible. “I think she should do very well for His Highness, considering the sort of person she is,” he went on. “She is stylish and graceful but also bright and unlikely to stray—yes, she would make him a good match. She is perfect for palace service, though. She has looks and intelligence, she is reliable and well up to her duties, and she would never fail to satisfy His Majesty's desires.”
The Captain decided to press him further. “I gather that some people speculate unflatteringly on your motive for having kept her here all this time. His Excellency hinted at the same thing in his answer to the Commander, when the Commander approached him about her.”
Genji smiled. “They are all talking nonsense. As to palace service and so on, I still mean to do whatever His Excellency prefers. A woman owes obedience to three men in her life,14 but it would be quite wrong to confuse things and have her obey me.”
“In private, or so I have it on good authority, His Excellency thanks you for your brilliant scheme more or less to leave her to him—since your distinguished ladies have been with you so long that she could not very well join their company now—and then, while she goes through the motions of palace service, to have her for yourself.” He spoke with exquisite correctness.
Yes, I suspect that is what he thinks. Genji pitied him. “What extraordinary ideas he ha
s!” he said aloud. “I suppose it is just like him to think too hard.” He laughed. “Anyway, everything will soon be perfectly open and aboveboard. How tactless of him!” His manner was completely convincing, but the Captain still had his doubts.
So that is what people are inferring! Genji reflected. It would be a disaster if they ever turned out to be right. I must convince His Excellency that I have only good intentions. It frightened him to think that His Excellency was acute enough actually to have divined what might lurk behind the ambiguity of this proposed palace service.
The lady doffed her mourning, and Genji announced, “You will still have to abstain from going next month, too.15 In the tenth, then.” The news disappointed His Majesty, and meanwhile, her thwarted suitors all tearfully implored whatever gentlewoman of hers they happened to favor to do something while there was still time; but they might as well have been asking them to dam the Yoshino Waterfall,16 and they all got back the same answer, to wit, “There is nothing I can do.”
Ever since blurting out his feelings the Captain had been rushing about in misery over what she must think of him, and it was in a spirit of simple kindness that he busied himself doing everything he possibly could for her. He no longer rashly indulged in bringing up the subject, and he behaved instead with exemplary discretion. Her real brothers, who now felt unable to approach her, impatiently awaited the opportunity to serve her once she was at the palace.
The Secretary Captain's tragic ardor had vanished so swiftly that his agility of sentiment amused her women, and he now arrived with messages from His Excellency. He did not come forward, since in the past he had presented his messages to her only in secret; instead, on this brightly moonlit night he remained hidden beneath the laurel tree in the garden. She who had ignored his every word now willingly had him seated before the blinds on her south side. She had Saishō convey her remarks to him, for she was reluctant even now to address him directly.
He was annoyed. “That His Excellency my father chose me to represent him suggests that he preferred not to address you through an intermediary. I myself do not matter, but they say there is a lasting tie between people like you and me. I thought that I might be able count on your trust, if I may resort to so old-fashioned an expression.”
“I should indeed like to talk over with you all that has happened in recent years,” she replied gravely, “but lately I have been feeling so strangely unwell that I have hardly even been able to get up. Your reproach only serves to persuade me that you have little regard for me after all.”
“Will you not allow me in up to your standing curtain, if you are feeling unwell? Ah, never mind. I should not have spoken as I did.” He quietly gave her His Excellency's messages. His thoroughly agreeable manner could not have been more tactful. “My father was unable to learn the particulars surrounding your forthcoming entry into His Majesty's service,” he went on, “but on matters of that nature you might consult him personally. He regrets very much that the fear of being indiscreet should always prevent him from coming to talk to you himself.
“No, you will hear no more foolishness from me,” he felt obliged to add, “but it upsets me more and more that you should manage to ignore my affection for you in both roles. Look at the way you have treated me tonight, for example. I should have been glad to be admitted on the north17 and to have spoken at least to some of the servants, even at the risk of offending you. When has anyone ever been received like this? Ah, our relationship is so strange in so many ways!”
Saishō was amused by the way he nodded while pouring forth his complaint, and she conveyed his remarks to her mistress, who replied forthrightly, “Yes, of course, but I prefer not to risk being thought too quickly accessible. For that reason I can give voice to none of the feelings that have burdened me in recent years, and I find that still more oppressive.”
The Secretary Captain was abashed and kept his peace. He only answered,
“We who never found in the Hills of Man and Maid those most hidden depths,
like our letters went astray on the Bridge of Odae!”18
His bitterness was no one's fault but his own.
“Ah, but it is you in the Hills of Man and Maid who strayed from the path,
and I, ever wondering, who read those letters from you,”19
she replied.
“My lady seemed not to know how to take your letters,” Saishō added. “It is her excessive caution before the world that prevents her from speaking to you in her own voice. She will certainly not keep this up forever.”
“Very well.” He rose. “I must not stay too long. I shall claim the reward for all my services in due time.” The brilliant moon aloft in a lovely sky gave his figure great beauty and distinction, and he carried himself in his dress cloak with a pleasingly attractive flair. Although not comparable to the Consultant Captain in looks or grace, he had his own appeal. The younger women wondered that two such men should be cousins, and as usual they gave loud praise even to things about him that hardly deserved it.
The Commander20 was always summoning the Secretary Captain, his deputy in the Right Palace Guards, and passionately urging him to press his suit with His Excellency. His Excellency could see nothing wrong with him, since he was a fine man who promised to become a pillar of the realm, but he could hardly object to Genji's own plans for her, granting as he did that Genji might after all have his reasons, and he therefore left Genji free to do as he pleased.
Knotted letter
This Commander was a brother of the Consort who had borne the Heir Apparent,21 and after His Grace and His Excellency it was he who enjoyed the highest reputation at court. He was thirty-two or thirty-three. His wife was Lady Murasaki's elder half sister, I believe— that is to say, His Highness of Ceremonial's elder daughter. The elder of the couple by three or four years, she had nothing particularly wrong with her, but something about her personality seemed to have put him off her, because he referred to her as “the old woman” and wanted very much to be rid of her. Perhaps that is why His Grace of Rokujō felt that he would make an improper and perhaps troublesome match. Nothing in the gentleman inclined him to amorous adventures, but in this case he was an extremely eager suitor. He knew quite well from an inside source that the Palace Minister did not reject him outright and that the lady disliked the prospect of palace service, and he therefore gave the gentlewoman Ben no quarter.22 “His Grace of Rokujō is alone in disagreeing,” he said, “and as long as it is not against her real father's wishes…”
The ninth month came. On the lovely morning of the first frost, each of the women in league with a suitor stealthily brought their mistress her letter, as usual, but their mistress looked at none of them; she just had them read to her instead. The Commander had written, “I had still thought of this month with hope, but the passing skies only leave me desolate.
Alas, I could hate, if anyone cared at all, this fatal Long Month,
when my very life depends on the slenderest of hopes.”23
He seems to have known all about the decision to send her off the following month.
His Highness of War had written, “Now all hope is lost, I do not know what to say.
Though you gaze upon the light of the morning sun, O still bear in mind
the frost consigned to shadow on the gleaming sasa leaves!24
It would be such a comfort, you know, if only you understood.” Even the messenger who brought it—tied to pathetically withered and still frost-covered leaves from low on the sasa plant—was just right.
The Intendant of the Left Watch,25 His Highness's son, was a half brother of His Grace's dearest lady. A frequent visitor to her residence, he naturally knew well enough what the future held in store, and he suffered accordingly. A bitter letter from him included this:
“I want nothing more than to forget you at last, yet in my distress
I know neither what to do nor even how to begin.”
The colors of the paper, the tones of the ink, the letters' varied
fragrances—all these moved her gentlewomen to say, “It will be so sad when all these gentlemen give up at last!” For some reason His Highness was the only one to whom she gave a trifling reply:
“Of its own accord a sunflower may indeed turn toward the light,
yet for that must it forget every thought of morning frost?”
The faint writing struck him as a true wonder, and her suggestion that she might indeed feel for him brought him at least a touch of happiness. In this way she received many a bitter complaint from one gentleman or another, although without notable incident.
They say that His Grace and His Excellency both hoped to make her a model for all women.
31
MAKIBASHIRA
The Handsome Pillar
Makibashira means, roughly, “pillar of fine wood” or “handsome pillar”: here, a house pillar probably of Japanese cypress (hinoki). The word forms the chapter title because of its role in the poem that Higekuro's daughter leaves attached to a pillar when she and her mother move out of Higekuro's house:
“I am leaving now a home that has long been mine: O handsome pillar,
you whom I have loved so well, please do not forget me yet!”
The Tale of Genji: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition) (Junichiro Breakdown of Genji) Page 66