The Tale of Genji: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition) (Junichiro Breakdown of Genji)

by Murasaki Shikibu

  He returned home long before it was full day. He really did not have to leave while it was still dark, she thought, and her distress lingered on well after he had gone.

  She was waiting for him, with what disapproval he could well imagine. “I cannot understand it,” he began in a comical effort to placate her, “I simply dropped off and slept on and on like a boy, and you see, you never did anything about waking me up!” When this got no particular answer from her, he lay down, not knowing what else to do, and pretended to sleep, until he rose at last with the sun high in the sky.

  He spent the day hiding from her behind everything that had to be done for the special guests.17 As usual every last one of the Princes and senior nobles came. There was music, and the gifts and rewards were second to none. Every visitor made it clear that he would not be outdone, but no, not one of them could compare in any way with his host! Many in those days, taken by themselves, made thoroughly worthy gentlemen, but alas, his presence eclipsed them all. Even underlings beneath notice looked carefully to themselves when they visited his estate; no wonder, then, that the young senior nobles, with their particular preoccupation,18 were somehow keener and more animated than in ordinary years. While the blossom-scented evening breeze at last coaxed the plums in Genji's garden into bloom, instruments rang out nobly in the gathering dusk, and when they struck up ‘This Lord of Ours,”19 the clapping of the rhythm sounded simply magnificent. Now and again His Grace joined in, and from “sakigusa” on to the end his voice was utterly entrancing. His participation, as anyone could tell, brought color and sound to new heights on any occasion.

  Overhearing the noise of horses and carriages, the ladies here and there felt as though they now knew what it must be like inside the still-unopened lotus flower.20 This was truer yet for those far away in Genji's east pavilion, since less and less claimed their attention over the years; but in thought they likened their home to the mountain retreat untouched by worldly sorrows,21 for how could they really blame him for neglecting them? In truth they had no other cares. The one who had chosen her devotions pursued them untroubled, while the one whose taste ran to studying kana books of every kind had her wish as well, since the provisions Genji had kindly made allowed each to live as she pleased.

  He came to see them once the busy days were over. Compassionate regard for Her Highness of Hitachi's rank prompted him to treat her for form's sake as well as he could. The marvelous hair of her youth had suffered through the years, until he was obliged to avert his eyes in sorrow before a profile whiter than any pool below a waterfall. He now saw that the willow robe was indeed a disaster, presumably because of its wearer. She had it on over a dark and lusterless layering, cracklingly starched,22 and she looked pathetically cold. What could she possibly have done with the layered gowns that had come with it? Only the color of her nose shone undimmed through the mists. Despite himself he sighed and adjusted her standing curtain so as to put it safely between them. She seemed to have no idea why, though, and her meekly trusting faith in his loyalty was certainly touching. Poor thing, he said to himself in this rare moment of concern for her, even in things like this she is eccentric. Well, at least she has me! Her voice, too, seemed to tremble with cold as she conversed.

  “Do you have anyone to help you dress?” He could not bear it. “In a nice house like this you should make yourself perfectly at home and wear comfortably soft clothes. It is not right to mind only your dress gown.”

  Dull or not, she replied with a smile, “I am so busy looking after the Daigo Adept,23 you know, that I have not managed to sew anything for myself. He even took my fur coat, and I have been cold ever since.” A fine pair they made, that red-nosed brother and sister!

  This is all very well, Genji thought, but she is carrying it a bit far. He always ended up being solicitously stern with her. “You did the right thing with the coat— there is nothing wrong with letting a mountain ascetic have something to keep the weather off him. But why not wear seven layers of those white shifts? There is no need to stint on them. If I happen to forget something you need, please let me know. I am not very quick on the uptake, and sometimes I simply miss things. I suppose that is natural enough, what with all the competing demands on my attention.”

  He had the storehouse opposite24 opened and made sure that she received silks and damasks. There was nothing neglected about the place, but his absence made it very quiet; the only real pleasure was the trees in the near garden. Genji saw that there was no one to enjoy either them or the scent of the blossoming red plum.

  “Having come again to visit the springtime tree where I lived of old,

  I observe before my eyes a flower like none seen before!”25

  He murmured it for himself, and she can hardly have caught his meaning.

  He looked in on the cicada shell, too, in her nun's robes. She lived without ostentation in a modest room where she devoted space only to the Buddha, and he was moved to see the evidence of her piety, for the sutra scrolls, the altar ornaments, and even the simple provisions for holy water26 were intriguingly pretty and showed her even now to be someone of taste. She hid herself so thoroughly behind her charming blue-gray standing curtain that only the ends of her sleeves, with their varied colors,27 invited him to respond to her presence. His eyes filled with tears.

  “I should only have imagined the Isle of Pines,” he said, “from a distance.”28 “What a difficult time we have always had with each other! Still, we have at least managed to remain this close, after all.”

  The nun he addressed seemed moved as well. “It shows how strong a tie we really share, that I should be so wholly in your hands.”

  “I am sorry that you are now atoning before the Buddha for all those times when you made me suffer so. Do you realize what I went through? Not everyone is as mild as I am, as I am sure you know.”

  She gathered with acute embarrassment that he must have heard of that miserable business years before.29 “What atonement could hurt more than your simply seeing what has become of me?” She wept in earnest. By now she was even more profoundly modest than she had been long ago, and the very gulf that yawned between them made it impossible to imagine ever giving her up; yet he could hardly banter with her. Instead he only chatted innocuously about past and present, glancing meanwhile toward where he had just been and wishing that she could at least manage this much of a conversation.

  Many ladies lived this way under his protection. He looked in on them all, fondly assuring each that despite his long silence he was always thinking of her. “My only care is the parting that no one evades. ‘I know not what life remains…’”30 he would say, and so on. He loved them all, each according to her station. At his rank he might deservedly have swelled with pride, and yet he seldom advertised himself, treating all instead with tact and kindness as place or degree required, so that just this much from him sustained many through the years.

  This was a year for the men's mumming. After performing before His Majesty the mummers went to the Suzaku Palace, then on to Rokujō. It was a long way, and they did not get there till daybreak. A perfectly clear moon illumined the garden's thin fall of snow, and there were so many fine musicians among the privy gentlemen in those days that their flutes rang out very beautifully, especially when they played before Genji himself. It had been arranged beforehand that the other ladies should all come and watch, too, and each now occupied a curtained-off space in the east or west wing, or along a bridgeway. The young lady from the west wing31 came to the south side of the main house, where she met Genji's little girl, and since the mistress of the house was with her, the two conversed with only a standing curtain between them.

  Dawn was near by the time the mummers got round to the Empress Mother32 at the Suzaku Palace, and although Rokujō should have been only a water stop,33 they received there a lavish welcome that added a great deal to what precedent required. The snow deepened slowly, beneath the wan light of an early-morning moon. What charm could they offer, in their white lay
erings over soft leaf green, when a cold wind from the sighing pine-tree tops threatened only desolation? Nor did the cotton flowers in their headdresses charm the eye—and yet somehow, in that setting perhaps, the effect was so lovely that one felt the years melt away His Grace's son, the Captain, and the sons of His Excellency the Palace Minister, stood out most agreeably among the rest. Under a gradually lightening sky, amid a scattering of snowflakes in the insistent cold, they swayed as one, singing “Bamboo River” in sweet voices and what a shame it is that no painting could ever have done them justice! The sleeves, each lovelier than the last, spilling out from where each lady sat, recalled by the brilliance and the beauty of their colors spring brocade glowing through the mists of dawn. It all made a remarkably satisfying spectacle, despite the oddness of the dome caps34 and the clamor and portentously delivered nonsense of the blessings,35 none of which could possibly flatter the ear. They all withdrew at last after receiving their gifts of cotton cloth.36

  Once full day had come, the ladies went home again. Genji slept a little and rose when the sun was high. “The Captain's voice was hardly less good than the Controller Lieutenant's,”37 he observed. “What an extraordinary number of worthy gentlemen we have nowadays! Those of the past may have excelled in the pursuit of learning, but in the expressive arts they can hardly have outdone the ones we have now. As for the Captain, the reason why I decided to make him a proper official is that I wanted to steer him away from my own foolishness and frivolity, although actually I think he could do with a little more of a roving eye. His outward gravity and composure just make him harder to deal with.” He thought very affectionately of his son. “I should so like to have these ladies play together, now that they are all here,” he went on, humming “Ten thousand springs.”38 “I must have my own concluding banquet.”39 He took all the instruments out of the bags in which they had been carefully stored, wiped them, and tuned the strings that had gone slack. No doubt his several ladies were attentive to his wishes and disposed themselves in every way so as not to disappoint him.

  24

  KOCHŌ

  Butterflies

  The chapter title, which means “butterfly” or “butterflies,” comes from an exchange of poems between Murasaki and Akikonomu:

  “Will you look askance, O pine cricket in the grass, longing for autumn,

  even at these butterflies from my own flower garden?”

  and

  “Come, they seemed to say, and your butterflies might well have lured me away,

  if between us did not grow bank on bank of kerria rose.”

  RELATIONSHIP TO EARLIER CHAPTERS

  “Butterflies” begins late in the third month, about two months after the end of “The Warbler's First Song,” and takes the story of Tamakazura into the fourth month.

  PERSONS

  His Grace, the Chancellor, Genji, age 36

  The mistress of the southeast quarter, 28 (Murasaki)

  Her Majesty, the Empress, 27 (Akikonomu)

  The lady in the west wing, Yūgao's daughter, 22 (Tamakazura)

  His Highness of War, Genji's brother (Hotaru Hyōbukyō no Miya)

  The Captain, son of Tō no Chūjō, 20 or 21 (Kashiwagi)

  The Captain, Genji's son, 15 (Yūgiri)

  The Commander of the Right, 31 or 32 (Higekuro)

  Miruko, Tamakazura's gentlewoman

  Hyōbu, the daughter of Tamakazura's nurse

  The twentieth of the third month had passed, and the spring garden's flowers and birdsong were lovelier than ever, until people began to wonder how they could possibly have lasted so long. The groves on the hills, the view of the island,1 the expanses of richly glowing moss—when all these seemed to make the younger women a little restless, Genji had Chinese-style barges made and outfitted, and on the very day they were launched, he summoned people from the Office of Music to perform aboard them. A great many Princes and senior nobles came.

  Her Majesty was then at home. The mistress of the southeast quarter thought it time to answer Her Majesty's challenge to one “whose garden waits to welcome spring,”2 and he himself had spoken of wishing he could show her all their flowers, but since she could not visit without sufficient reason, merely for the pleasure of the blossoms, he had young gentlewomen of hers—ones apt to enjoy the adventure— board a boat and row toward them along the southern lake. The boundary knoll he had put between the gardens did not keep them from coming right round its little promontory and up to the east fishing pavilion, where he had assembled other women from his side.

  The dragon-prow and roc-prow barges3 were adorned magnificently in continental style, and the boys wielding the steering oars wore twin tresses as in China. The astonished women were thrilled and delighted to see them launched on so broad a lake, and they felt as though transported to an unknown land. When they came under the great rocks of the island's little cove, they marveled to find the least stone standing as though in a painting. The trees near and far, their branches merging in veils of brocade into the mist, drew their gaze toward their distant goal, where willows trailed bright green fronds and blossoms cast ineffable perfumes upon the air. The cherries that were gone elsewhere smiled here in all their beauty, and the wisteria twined about the galleries opened into deep-hued clusters, flower

  Dragon- and roc-prow barges

  by flower. How marvelously the kerria roses were mirrored in the water and spilled in superb profusion from the bank! Waterbirds, sporting in loyal pairs, flitted about with twigs in their bills, while mandarin ducks made a brilliant pattern on the ground weave of the waves, until one longed only to turn it all into a painted design.4 That day one's ax handle could well have rotted away.

  “When the breezes blow, the very waves seem to bloom in lovely colors:

  could this then be the far-famed Cape of Kerria Roses?”5

  “Why, the lake in spring must recall the glinting stream of Ide River,

  for the kerria roses blossom also in its depths!”6

  “No, I shall not seek the mountain the tortoise bears! It shall be my fame

  I chose immortality here aboard this very boat!”7

  “As our boat glides on through the sweetly mild sunshine of a fine spring day,

  every drop the oars let fall blossoms into a flower!”

  Such were the trifles with which they amused each other, almost forgetting as they did so where they were going and whence they had come, because they had of course lost their hearts to the mirroring water.

  “The Royal Deer” rang out nobly as dusk fell, and it was only then that they reluctantly put in to the fishing pavilion and disembarked. The place was done up very plainly, but gracefully so, and the young women from each side, all dressed to uphold their pride, and very pretty, too, presented the beauty of a floral brocade. The dances performed were novel and rare.8 Genji had chosen the dancers with particular attention, and he made sure that they devoted all their art to pleasing the watching ladies.

  After dark he was still eager for more. He ordered cressets lit in the near garden, called the musicians onto the moss below the steps,9 and had each of the Princes and senior nobles take up his own favorite instrument, stringed or wind. After the pick of the professionals had played in the sō mode,10 those above them took up the music brilliantly on the koto and so on. Their playing of “Ah, Wondrous Day!” brought the most ignorant menservants in to listen among the horses and carriages crowded by the gate, smiling broadly as though life was at last worth living. The beauty of the sky, the tone of the instruments, the spring mood and mode, had surely made plain to all by now that season's higher worth. The music went on through the night. When the mode shift11 led into “Joy of Spring,” His Highness of War sang “Green Willow” twice, very nicely. His Grace, their host, joined in as well. Dawn came, and at daybreak Her Majesty beyond the knoll was sorry to hear the singing of birds.

  Despite the spring light that forever shone in the southeast quarter, some regretted that the lady there had no one to receive h
er deepest love;12 meanwhile, talk of Genji's visibly pleased attentions to the flawless lady in that west wing of the northeast spread far and wide until, as he had foreseen, many gentlemen found themselves under her sway. Those who had reason to esteem themselves worthy seized every opportunity to signify their interest and to pass her word of it as well, but no doubt there were other young and noble sons who burned with the inner pent-up fires of love. Smitten, too, was the Captain, the Palace Minister's son, for he did not know.

  His Highness of War made no secret of his intentions, having lost his wife of many years and struggled through three years alone. He made a very amusing spectacle this morning as he pranced about with wisteria in his headdress, under cover of gloriously feigned drunkenness. Genji, secretly pleased, did his best to take no notice of him.

  “Now would be the time for me to make my escape, if I had no reason to stay!” His Highness said in great distress when the cup came round again. “This is all too much for me!” He declined to accept more.

  “I have dyed my heart so deeply in the charming hue of murasaki,

  why care if all think me lost to these flowers' sweet abyss?”13