“My lady,” her women said, “please do not keep yourself from him as you would from any other guest! Especially now, you really must let him know how much you appreciate everything he has done for you!” But she hesitated, for she could not yet bring herself to speak to him in person. Meanwhile His Highness came to say good-bye before setting off. Beautifully dressed and made up as he was, he made a very fine sight.
“Why are you keeping him all the way out there?” he asked when he noticed the Counselor. “Just think of the quite extraordinary amount he has done for you! I know I may have cause to regret it, but even so, it is wrong of you always to be this distant with him. Do have him come in and talk over your memories.” But then in a changed mood he added, “Do not be too free with him, though. You never know what might happen. That man has his murky depths!” This left her at a loss toward both, but she had every reason now to humor someone whose great kindness to her she herself fully acknowledged, and she would have welcomed a chance to show him her gratitude, considering that, as he had said, he was now to be to her as her sister had once been. Still, with His Highness sometimes betraying anxiety of that kind, she could not help finding her position rather difficult.
49
YADORIGI
The Ivy
Yadorigi, or yadoriki, refers in this chapter to vines that “lodge” (yadori) on other trees. The chapter derives its title from a poetic exchange between Kaoru and Ben, in which both poems play on the two meanings of the syllables yadoriki: “climbing vine” (perhaps ivy, but not necessarily) and “I lodged [here].” Kaoru says,
“Did not memory tell me I have lodged before beneath these ivied trees,
ah, then, how forlorn this night, spent lonely and far from home”;
and Ben replies,
“You have lodged before here beneath the withered boughs of this ivied tree—
how sad, then, it is to think that you keep that memory!”
RELATIONSHIP TO EARLIER CHAPTERS
The beginning of “The Ivy” takes place at the same time as “Red Plum Blossoms,” the end of “Beneath the Oak,” and the beginning of “Trefoil Knots,” when Kaoru is twenty-four; it then continues during the time of “Bracken Shoots” and “The Eastern Cottage,” when Kaoru is twenty-five and twenty-six.
PERSONS
The Counselor, then the Commander, age 24 to 26 (Kaoru)
The Fujitsubo Consort, daughter of the late Minister of the Left
His Majesty, the Emperor, 45 to 47
The Second Princess, daughter of the Fujitsubo Consort, 14 to 16 (Onna Ni no Miya)
His Highness of War, 25 to 27 (Niou)
His Excellency, the Minister of the Right, 50 to 52 (Yūgiri)
His Sixth Daughter, early 20s (Roku no Kimi)
Her Majesty, the Empress, 43 to 45 (Akashi no Chūgū)
The lady in the wing at Nijō, younger daughter of Hachi no Miya, 24 to 26
(Naka no Kimi)
The Right City Commissioner
Her Cloistered Highness, Kaoru's mother, mid- to late 40s (Onna San no Miya)
The Secretary Captain, brother of Roku no Kimi
Her Highness, the Second Princess, Roku no Kimi's stepmother
(Ochiba no Miya)
Azechi, a gentlewoman at Sanjō
Taifu, a gentlewoman of Naka no Kimi
Shōshō, a gentlewoman of Naka no Kimi
Ben, a nun at Uji (Ben no Ama)
The Adept (Uji no Ajari)
A young woman, the unrecognized third daughter of Hachi no Miya, around 19 to 21 (Ukifune)
Chūjō, now wife of the Governor of Hitachi, Ukifune's mother
The Inspector Grand Counselor, mid-50s (Kōbai)
There was in those days a Consort known as Fujitsubo, a daughter of the late Minister of the Left.1 His Majesty was distinctly fond of her because she had been the first to go to him when he was still Heir Apparent, but he had done nothing further for her over the years, and while it was his Empress's happy fortune also to have many growing children, her pleasures of that sort were few, since she had only a single daughter. It rankled that her bitter fate had been to be swept aside by another, and she brought up her daughter with great care so as to have the comfort of seeing her, at least, succeed. The Princess, who was extremely pretty, delighted His Majesty. She commanded less widespread regard than the First Princess, whom he cherished as peerless, but she was equally worthy in her own person, and she certainly was secure, since her father's great wealth had hardly declined. In dress and style those who served her lacked nothing, and her mode of life displayed on every occasion an admirable flair for tasteful fashion.
In the spring of Her Highness's fourteenth year2 her mother gave up all else to prepare her donning of the train, which she planned to make exceptional in every way. She brought out each treasure that had come down to her from the past—After all, she thought, this is what they are for!—and was thus busily engaged when, that summer, she began to suffer from the workings of a baneful spirit and very soon was gone. His Majesty mourned her passing as a grievous loss. She had had such warmth and kindness that the senior nobles, too, knew they would miss her greatly. Even palace women3 whose rank discouraged personal sentiment remembered her with sorrow.
Of course the young Princess grieved more pathetically than any for her mother, which moved His Majesty to pity when he learned of her condition, and as soon as the forty-nine days were over, he had her return discreetly to the palace.4 He went to visit her daily. Her modest robes of dark, mourning gray gave her a still more sweetly noble appeal. She was quite grown-up in manner, too, and she had if any thing a somewhat greater poise and dignity than her mother, which His Majesty found gratifying; however, the truth of it was that her mother's side could not offer a single uncle properly able to look after her interests—nothing but two half brothers, a Lord of the Treasury and a Director of Upkeep. Neither enjoyed any great reputation, and for herself the consequences of having to lean on men of insufficient distinction were often unfortunate. The matter was His Majesty's, and his alone, to decide, and he dwelled on it constantly.
Playing Go
One day, when the chrysanthemums in the garden were most beautifully touched by frost and a cold rain was setting in to fall from a lowering sky, he went straight to the Princess's, where he spoke to her of her mother, and he found himself very pleased by her artless yet by no means childish answers. There must be someone, he said to himself, who would recognize her qualities and honor her properly for them. He recalled all His Eminence Suzaku's deliberations at the time when he gave his daughter to His Grace of Rokujō. Yes, for a time I disapproved, and I let His Majesty know that I wished he would desist; but still, the Minamoto Counselor is a very fine young man, and he looks after her so well that she continues to command all the respect she did then, whereas without him some sort of unpleasantness could easily have discredited her. Reflections like these convinced him that he might as well resolve the issue while he still reigned, and there really was nothing for it but to take the same course, since no one except the Counselor would do. He is worthy in every way to stand beside a Princess, he continued, and while for a very long time he had his heart set on someone else, there is no reason to think that he would ever do anything to injure her good name. He cannot possibly remain unattached forever, and I had better drop him a hint before anything happens to remove him from consideration.
He and she played a game of Go. Toward sundown, amid a pleasantly melancholy rain, he noticed how the sun's last light colored the chrysanthemums, and he summoned an attendant. “Who is in the privy chamber just now?” he asked.
“His Highness of Central Affairs, His Highness of Kanzuke, and the Minamoto Counselor are present in waiting, Your Majesty.”
“Have his lordship the Counselor come to me.” The Counselor soon arrived. His Majesty's reward for singling him out this way was the delicious fragrance that announced from afar how little he resembled other men.
“The rain thi
s evening is very soothing,” His Majesty began, “but music would be out of place,5 and nothing helps more to while away the day when there is little else to do.”6 He called for a Go board and invited the Counselor to play. The Counselor, who was often called into such intimate service, assumed that this time would be no different from the rest.
“I have something of value to wager,” His Majesty declared, “but I could not let you have it too easily. What else would do? I wonder.” Noting His Majesty's self-conscious air, the Counselor adopted a manner more circumspect than before.
They played, and His Majesty lost two out of three. “What a bore!” he exclaimed. Then he continued, “In any case, today you may have a flower.”7
Without a word the Counselor went down into the garden, picked a beautiful flower, and brought it back inside.
“Were this a flower blossoming very sweetly in a common hedge,
I would have followed my heart and picked it for my pleasure,”
he said, with an air of grave respect.
“This chrysanthemum comes, alas, from a garden withered by the frost,
yet what color lingers on glows as ever fresh and new!”8
His Majesty replied.
Despite repeated intimations of this kind from His Majesty himself, the Counselor remained true to his penchant for indecision. Come now, he reflected, this is not what I want. Over the years I have let pass more than one opportunity to accept someone whose fortunes deeply concerned me, and now I feel like a holy man contemplating a return to the world. It is odd of me, though, when some would be only too pleased. Still, he knew at heart that he might well feel otherwise if she were Her Majesty's daughter, which was most impudent of him.
This unexpected development annoyed His Excellency of the Right when he caught wind of it, since he had been telling himself, Well, I shall at least be able to give him my Sixth Daughter, and bother him if he does not like the idea; he will have to concede in the end, as long as I insist loudly enough. His mind therefore turned again to His Highness of War, who now and again was still casually sending her perfectly nice notes. Very well, he thought, never mind if he is only amusing himself. Why should he not take a fancy to her, if that is his destiny? It would be all very well to choose for the sake of her happiness, but in the end it would be an embarrassment, and a great disappointment as well, to have her stoop too tediously low.
“Any girl in these latter days is worry enough, and when the Emperor himself must hunt for a son-in-law, it certainly is a crying shame that the best years of a commoner's daughter should have to go to waste!” In this evident mood of complaint he broached the subject with bitter insistence several times to Her Majesty,9 who was then sufficiently troubled to make His Highness an uncharacteristically long speech.
“Unfortunately,” she said, “he has had this matter quite openly on his mind for years, and it has been unkind of you to go on evading him. How well a Prince gets on depends on his backing.10 His Majesty says often enough that he does not expect to reign much longer, and while a commoner can no longer really share his heart with many, once he is settled with one, His Excellency, however staid he may be, still manages to get on without jealousy on either side.11 Is that not so? Well, then, if what His Majesty plans for you comes to pass, why should you not keep as many as you like?”
Her remarks made perfect sense, and he saw no excuse for insisting on dismissing the prospect outright, since he himself had never entirely rejected it. What did bother him, unfortunately, was the thought of being caught in surroundings so excessively proper that he would no longer be able to do as he pleased; at the same time, though, yes, he certainly might regret turning His Excellency against him. Such reflections as these are no doubt what led him at last to yield. His roving fancy had not yet renounced the Inspector Grand Counselor's daughter—she of the red plum blossoms—and he continued sending notes to both, tied to spring blossoms or autumn leaves, for both retained his interest.
Meanwhile the New Year came. Now that the Second Princess's mourning was over, there was less reason than ever to hesitate. When one person after another suggested to the Counselor that His Majesty seemed reluctant to proceed without a word from him, the Counselor made up his mind that it would be strange and rude of him to pretend not to have heard, and he let it be known to His Majesty several times that he aspired to the favor in question. The response was hardly likely to embarrass him. He gathered that His Majesty himself had decided the day, and he received his approval in person. At heart, though, he knew that he would never forget a loss he still felt keenly, and he simply could not understand why, when they had clearly been meant for each other, they had nonetheless remained strangers to the end. Oh, how I could love someone whose looks recalled hers a little, even if she was unworthy in rank! If only I might see her again, just once, at least in the incense smoke of that old story!12 He was in no hurry to consummate this exalted alliance.
His Excellency of the Right hastened to inform His Highness that that event would take place in the eighth month, and she who inhabited His Highness's wing at Nijō cried to herself when she heard the news, Oh, I knew this would happen! How could it not? What had the miserable likes of me to expect, ever since this began, but mockery and humiliation? I had always heard what a rascal he was, and no, I never trusted him, but in person I never saw in him anything strikingly reprehensible, and he made me such heartfelt promises! How am I ever to know peace again, now that he has suddenly changed? This may not mean a final break, as it would between commoners, but there will often be unpleasantness like this! I am sure one as wedded as I to misfortune should go straight back to her hills, but if I were simply to disappear that way, I know the mountain folk there would only laugh at me! In anger and shame she knew the folly of having wandered away, against her father's advice, from the home that had always been her own.
What my sister voiced of her thoughts was always so slight, so tentative—but deep in her heart she had a superb strength. His lordship the Counselor seems to be mourning her even now as though he will never forget her, but I do not doubt that if she were alive, she would have cares just like mine. She decided at all costs to avoid giving what he wanted of her, even to the point of proposing to leave the world, because she was convinced that it could not be otherwise. And she would have done so! At last I understand how farsighted she was. Now that they are gone, they must both be watching me and thinking me an unmitigated fool! These were her thoughts, but despite her hurt and shame she kept them well hidden—For am I to betray how I feel, when I can do nothing at all about it?—and ignored the news as though she had not heard a word.
His Highness was now more attentive and affectionate than he had been, and he assured her that he was hers not only for this life but for all lives to come. Meanwhile it came to pass that in the fifth month she began to feel not herself and quite unwell; not that she was in any great pain, but she ate less and less, and she spent all her time lying down, which he, who had never really known anyone in her condition, attributed simply to the heat. Still, he noticed certain things that puzzled him. “Could it be?” he would sometimes say. “Is there something new with you? I hear that people feel then just as you do.” She was acutely embarrassed and passed it off as nothing, and since no one came forward to tell him, he never actually found out.
The eighth month came, and she learned the day from someone else. His Highness had never wanted to keep it from her, but sorrow and pity undid him whenever he actually meant to tell her, so that in the end he never did, and she resented that as well. There was nothing secret about it—the whole world knew—and he had not even let her know when it would be! How could she not be angry with him? Nothing much had happened since she came. He made a point of not staying the night even when he went to the palace, and he had never gone off for a night elsewhere. Now, to dull his unhappiness over what she might think of this sudden change, he began going to the palace now and then for night duty, so as to inure her to his absences in advance;
but she only took this badly as well.
His lordship the Counselor was greatly saddened to hear all this. His Highness enjoys diversion, he said to himself, and even if he feels guilty toward her, his affections can hardly help shifting to someone new. He is marrying into a very powerful house, too, and if they leave him in no doubt that they expect him there, then alas, she will spend many lonely nights waiting, which she has never had to do over these last few months. How wrong I was! Ah, why did I come forward to let him have her? I wanted her, the one I loved, to be mine, and ever since, my heart has been clouded, although it once ran clear toward renouncing the world, and one way or another she is all I think of; and yet I held back because it seemed to me from the beginning that I wanted no consummation without her consent, and meanwhile I only looked to the future, gauging her mood and hoping that she would somehow have pity and yield at last. But no, she felt otherwise, and to make up for it, since she did not really wish just to send me away, she assured me that she and her sister were one and the same and urged me in a direction for which I had no heart. That baffled and angered me, and I hastened to thwart her plan once and for all. He thought back over how in a mad fit of womanish scheming he had taken His Highness down to Uji, and he bitterly regretted doing so, because yes, that had been despicable! At any rate, he reflected with rancor, what I hear now should affect His Highness a little if he remembers all that; but no, he will never say a word to me about it. So impossibly frivolous a man, with so fickle a heart, may betray more than women—no folly of his would surprise me. His way of nursing an all too single-minded obsession must be what made him so furious with His Highness.
The Tale of Genji: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition) (Junichiro Breakdown of Genji) Page 119