MAKIBASHIRA
‘I am very much perturbed by what you have just told I me,’ said Genji
to Prince Higekuro some months later. ‘It will very likely upset all
my plans. I hope you are not telling every one about it....’ That
is precisely what Higekuro _was_ doing; the temptation to brag of
such a success was one indeed which he could hardly be expected to
resist. Some time had now elapsed since the episode to which Genji
referred. Tamakatsura had then yielded less to his importunity than
to a feeling that this man, from whose touch she still shrank with
horror, was not so much a lover as an instrument of Fate, no more to
be avoided than were those other strokes of destiny that had pursued
her so relentlessly since her earliest years. He hoped at first that
she would grow used to him, and pretended not to notice her depression.
But as time went on matters only became worse, and Higekuro was already
beginning to regard the situation as hopeless, when it became clear
that she was with child. This gave him fresh courage; he felt that
Heaven had set its seal upon their union, and determined to bear with
patience her present wayward humour. For the mere sight of her beauty
gave him an increasing pleasure, and the thought that he had still no
hold upon her and might any day wake to find that she had fled from
him to the Emperor’s Palace, perhaps even into his Majesty’s arms, was
more than he could bear. He attributed his momentary success quite as
much to the astuteness of Ben no Omoto[24] as to the compassion of
the Ishiyama Buddha, to whom his prayers had for long been addressed.
But his human ally was now in deep disgrace for the part she had
played in the affair and was at present a prisoner in the servants’
rooms. ‘Though all the blame falls upon me,’ thought this unfortunate
creature, ‘it is clear that the Blessed Buddha is really responsible.
For I have played the go-between without a grain of success for a score
or so of my mistress’s lovers; and if I did better this time it was
only because the Buddha of Ishiyama knows an honest gentleman when he
sees one....’
Genji would have given worlds that this thing should not have happened;
but both he and Tō no Chūjō had encouraged Higekuro’s suit, and though
they had every right to complain of the unfortunate manner in which
he had urged it, it was now too late to scold him or send him about
his business. Indeed, if the girl’s reputation were to be saved, the
only possible course was to treat Higekuro as an approved and accepted
lover; and henceforward on his visits to the New Palace he was openly
received with every mark of consideration and respect. Higekuro for his
part was anxious to go through the necessary formalities and establish
the young bride in his own palace at the earliest possible moment.
But Genji was determined that this should not take place if there was
any chance that the girl’s reception there would in any quarter be
an unfavourable one. Such at least was the pretext which he used for
delaying Tamakatsura’s departure. ‘Do, I beg of you, make sure,’ he
said to her father, ‘that she is not suddenly plunged into scenes of
jealousy and intrigue. Anything in the shape of scandal or bickering
would be extremely painful to her.’ ‘On the contrary,’ said Tō no
Chūjō, ‘I should be much more uneasy if she were going to the Palace,
which I imagine to be now out of the question. His Majesty has an
undoubted partiality for her; and any one in that position, unless
backed up by the most powerful family connections, is apt to have a
very disagreeable time. I should certainly do all I could for her. But
you see for yourself what difficulties I am having over Lady Chūjō’s
Palace career....’ There was much truth in this. The Emperor had
himself suggested her application for the vacant post. But his interest
in her, if it existed at all, was based only on one brief glimpse, and
so casual an approbation by no means implied that he would protect her
with the full weight of Imperial authority against the contemptuous
hostility of her rivals.
In the formal letter of committal sent by Tō no Chūjō to the husband on
the third day after the wedding, he purposely laid great stress on the
part played by Genji in her upbringing, expressing in the warmest terms
his gratitude for her foster-father’s unceasing care and kindness; for
he was certain that the content of the letter would end by reaching
Genji’s ears. The marriage was of course concluded with the utmost
secrecy; but the news of it was too interesting a piece of gossip to
remain long concealed. It was whispered, in strictest confidence, from
ear to ear; before long it had reached the Palace, and was finally
recounted to the Emperor himself.
He was very nice about it. ‘I am extremely sorry that we are to lose
her,’ he said. ‘But of course, if her thoughts have been occupied
elsewhere, that quite explains her long hesitation.... I can easily
understand that at such a moment as this she would not be willing
to take up permanent duties at Court. But if she cares to assist us
occasionally....’
It was now the eleventh month. Tamakatsura had agreed to discharge
the functions of Lady-of-the-Bedchamber from her apartments in
Genji’s palace. It was a time of year when a great many religious
ceremonies take place at Court, and the new Lady-of-the-Bedchamber
had not a moment’s leisure. Her subordinates were continually coming
over from the Palace to ask her advice, and her rooms were full of
bustle and youthful chatter. Much to her annoyance, Prince Higekuro was
no longer content to pay long evening visits, but had now installed
himself permanently in her quarters. Prince Sochi and the other
suitors, who were still unaware that a secret wedding had taken place,
were naturally indignant at the liberties which they saw accorded to
their rival. One of them, indeed, had a double reason for annoyance.
This was Sahyōye, the brother of Lady Makibashira. Not only was his
own suit ignominiously unsuccessful, but his sister was being made
publicly ridiculous by the continued presence of her husband in another
woman’s house. The young man was furious, but at present saw no means
of bringing his brother-in-law[25] to book.
The situation was really rather comic. Higekuro had for years past
been held up as a model of regularity, industry, sobriety; and
now his hectic courtship, with its secret journeyings at dead of
night and break of dawn, was the talk of half the Court. Romantic
touches were added to the story, and in the end it really seemed
to Higekuro’s astonished friends that he must have undergone some
mysterious transformation. Tamakatsura, too, was by nature sociable,
good-humoured and full of high spirits; but in Higekuro’s presence her
whole being underwent a profound change: she became gloomy, irritable,
sharp-tempered, to a degree that must have made it sufficiently
apparent to every one that she did not care in the least for him. But
she constantly wondered whether Genji thought that she was really
enjoying herself with this repulsive man, and blushed at the low
opinion he must now have formed of her taste. She remembered too Prince
Sochi’s attractive warmth and liveliness of disposition. What could
have possessed her?... And she became more disagreeable to Higekuro
than ever.
Genji was much relieved at having put an end once and for all to a
situation which had involved him in much unpleasant suspicion. Feelings
beyond his control might sometimes lead him into odd and equivocal
positions, but (Genji assured himself) his natural tendency was to
shrink from such entanglements. He was with Murasaki when these
reflections passed through his mind, and said to her suddenly: ‘Do
you remember how suspicious you were when Tamakatsura first came to
us? You see now that there was no reason for your alarm....’ Yes, he
could at last be certain that he was quite safe. Even if circumstances
should bring them together again and some part of their former intimacy
revive, there would never be the same danger as before.... And he began
to recall the time when he was most in love with her, when he had even
persuaded himself that he could find a way of keeping her for his own.
But stay! Had things changed so much after all? Could the thought of
parting with her ever have been more painful to him than at this very
minute it was? Henceforward the image of Tamakatsura haunted his mind
more constantly than ever.
One morning, hearing that Prince Higekuro had for a short while quitted
her apartments, Genji once more paid her a visit. He found her looking
extremely depressed and unwell. He was told that for some time past
she had seemed incapable of making the slightest exertion. But his
arrival seemed to give her a little strength, for she raised herself on
her couch and had her screens drawn partly back. Genji was careful to
behave with the utmost restraint, and for some while they conversed
rather stiffly about the general news of the day. What a relief it
was to be in the company of some one really good-looking, after such
a long spell of Higekuro’s society! Her husband, it was true, had a
straightforward, well-meaning sort of face, but how commonplace, how
ordinary! She felt bitterly ashamed at the choice that Genji and the
world at large must be thinking her to have made, and the tears welled
into her eyes. Gradually their conversation became less strained, he
moved to a low stool which he drew up quite close to her couch. She was
much thinner in the face than when he last saw her, but this showed
her features to even better advantage, and the prospect of losing her
entirely was unendurably painful to him.
‘Though when I stooped I drew no draught, yet never thought I that at
the Shallows of the Stream of Death another would stretch out his hand
to claim what I had lost.’[26] He looked at her more tenderly than she
could bear. She hid her face, murmuring as she did so the lines: ‘Long
ere he guide me across the Shallows of Death’s Stream, may my life, a
foam-fleck on the Waters of Trouble, have vanished quite away.’ ‘Come,’
he said smiling, ‘the River has got to be crossed; we cannot escape it
by “vanishing.” However, I promise you I will be there too to hold your
other hand. But let us be serious. You know, I am sure, how wretched I
am at what has happened. Clearly, when I struggled as I did to overcome
my feelings for you, it was not that you might be free to yield
yourself in this rash way to one who, after all, cares far less for
you than I did. It seems to me now incredible that I should ever have
placed such confidence in his discretion; but who could foresee...?’
He saw that the whole matter was too painful for her to discuss;
and to change the subject he continued hastily: ‘The Emperor is very
much disappointed that you have not once been seen at Court. How would
it be if you were to stay at the Palace for a little while after you
leave us? It will not be so easy for you to get away, once you have
settled in your new home. The Emperor will in any case think that I
have behaved in a very inconsistent way. But I am glad to say your
father is quite satisfied at what has happened....’ So he spoke, trying
to distract her by such comfortable considerations as occurred to
him. But it was all of no avail, and she was soon hopelessly involved
in tears. He was aghast to discover into what depths of misery her
own inexplicable act had plunged her; but it was clear that sympathy
could not help her, and in as sensible and dispassionate a tone as
he could muster he began to give her advice concerning her immediate
future, insisting above all that, as things were,[27] there could be no
question of her living at Higekuro’s house.
Prince Higekuro himself was at first very adverse to the idea of her
going to the Palace at all. But in the end he saw that it would be
easier to move her thence to his own palace than to snatch her straight
from Genji’s hands, and he at last consented to her spending a few
weeks at Court.
His present mode of existence, stowed away in a corner of Tamakatsura’s
apartments, was very cramped and inconvenient; but even should he
persuade her to return with him to his own palace, much required to be
done before he could house her with even tolerable comfort. In the last
year he had allowed everything to go to ruin, and there was hardly a
corner in the whole building that did not urgently need repairs.
For many months he had ceased to make any enquiry concerning his wife’s
present condition of mind, and even his children, of whom he had always
been particularly fond, seemed no longer to interest him. But he was at
bottom a kind-hearted and even rather sentimental man; he realized in
a vague and general way that this refurnishing of the house in honour
of another woman’s arrival was probably rather painful to her, and he
did his best to spare her any unnecessary inconvenience or humiliation.
But his thoughts were all the time so entirely occupied with other
things that his precautions were not in the least successful; indeed,
everything seemed to happen in the way most calculated to wound her
susceptibilities.
Lady Makibashira had not been brought up in a way to prepare her for
servility or self-effacement. The daughter of a Royal Prince, and
herself not lacking (at least in girlhood) either charm or good looks,
she had been universally flattered and applauded. But in recent years
a change had come over her; she had been subject to some strange
possession or spiritual disorder. Her behaviour became more and more
peculiar, and at times she seemed barely conscious of what was going on
around her. For these and other reasons there had for a long time past
been no question of Higekuro living with her as a wife in the ordinary
sense of the word. But he continued to treat her in the way that her
rank demanded, and nothing had occurred till now which could suggest to
the world at large that she did not occupy the foremost place in his
affections.
News of these preparations for Tamakatsura’s arrival reached Prince
Hyōbukyō’s ears: ‘So it has come to this!’ he said with a sigh. ‘I
hear she is extremely handsome and intelligent. No doubt he will
make arrangements to keep her out of sight; but once this girl gets
a foothold in the house, my daughter’s position will become such as
no woman of her quality should be called upon to endure. I shall
at once take steps to protect her from this humiliation; if Higekuro
cannot be brought to reason, she must leave his house immediately.
After all, so long as I am alive, she will not lack a home ...’; and he
began setting to rights an unoccupied wing in his own palace.
But Lady Makibashira had been a married woman for many years. Though
Prince Hyōbukyō was her father, she had long since ceased to think of
his palace as her ‘home,’ and so far from reassuring her, the news that
he intended her to come back to him completely overwhelmed her already
distracted brain. She became first desperately violent and irrational,
and then for days on end lay stretched out motionless upon her bed in a
state of complete exhaustion.
She was by nature very quiet and even-tempered, seeming at times more
like a child on its best behaviour than a full-grown woman. But for
some while past she had suffered from sudden attacks, during which
she played upon those about her the most unaccountable and repulsive
tricks. Lately she had allowed no one to come near her, and her room
had fallen into an indescribable state of filth and disorder. Such a
scene would have at any time disgusted Prince Higekuro, to whom the
least sign of slovenliness was an unforgivable offence. But coming
as he now did straight from Tamakatsura’s scrupulously clean and
well-ordered apartments, he was appalled at the slatternly scene that
lay before him.
But he had shared his life with her for year upon year, and even now
pity soon prevailed over disgust. She seemed to know him and be quite
capable of carrying on a conversation. After a while he said: ‘It is
obvious, is it not, that the relation between two people cannot go
on being always exactly the same. But it is only among savages
or quite uneducated persons that this leads to wranglings and
altercations. People of our sort know how to control themselves, show
a reasonable amount of forbearance so long as they choose to put up
with the situation; and when there is obviously nothing to be gained
by holding out any longer, they part good-humouredly. You, on the
contrary, have worked yourself up into such a state over this business
that you are quite ill, and though I have wanted to talk things over
with you, I did not know whether you were in a fit state to take part
in such a conversation. Not that there is anything new to say. We
agreed about all this some time ago. For a long while after you first
began to suffer from these attacks I waited patiently and was careful
to do nothing that might distress you. But you always admitted that I
could not be expected to wait for ever; sooner or later some one fresh
would have to be called in to manage the household. Well, that’s what
is now going to happen; you must try not to be cross with me about
it. Quite apart from my affection for you, if it were only for our
little people’s sake, you may be quite sure I should never ill-treat or
neglect you. This continual state of grievance and jealousy in which
you now live is simply due to your abandoning yourself unresistingly,
morbidly to wild dreams and imaginings. I can quite understand that
while all this was still undecided you passed through a very anxious
and agitated time. But now everything is settled, and you must make up
your mind to give the new arrangements a trial before you decide that
you are being treated unkindly. I hear that your father is full of
indignation at my alleged barbarity, and intends to remove you to his
own house. Do you think he really means anything by it, or is it only
a threat by which he hopes to bring me to my senses?’ He laughed as he
said this, but in reply she only stared at him with an expression
of reproach and anguish. Even Higekuro’s personal servants, the maids
Moku no Kimi and Chūjō no Omoto, were against him in this matter, and
expressed loud indignation at the prospect of Tamakatsura’s arrival.
One day when Makibashira, apparently better than she had been for some
time, lay quietly weeping, she suddenly said to Chūjō no Omoto: ‘If he
told me straight out that he is ashamed of me because I look so old
and do odd things, I should not mind. But I cannot bear his dragging
in my father’s name. He would not dare say such things to my father’s
face, and if they were to get round.... What he says to me does not
much matter. I have heard it all before, and it does me no harm to hear
it again. But my father....’ At this moment Prince Higekuro entered.
She quickly turned on the couch so that her face was hidden from him.
She was very lightly built, and emaciated as she now was by months of
constant illness, she presented as she lay there a spectacle of almost
unconceivable fragility. Her hair was long and fine; but it had lately
been falling out rapidly, and had in places become very thin. It was
now in a hopeless tangle and pitiably dedraggled with tears. She could
never have been very strikingly handsome, but there was enough of her
father in her to give her face great distinction and charm, which,
however, in her present uncared-for and haggard condition, had not much
chance to take effect.
‘What is this you are saying about your father?’ asked Higekuro as he
entered. ‘You will make terrible mischief between us, if you put it
about that I speak slightingly of him. Besides, it is quite untrue....’
Then more kindly: ‘I have never felt at my ease in that magnificent
palace of Prince Genji’s, and should not care to stay there for long at
a time. But I am determined to go on seeing the lady whom I have just
been visiting, and as I am not suited either by age or temperament
to these perpetual runnings to and fro, I have arranged for her to
come and live with us here. This will certainly be much pleasanter for
her and me; and, I think, for you too. The fact that she is at such a
distance and in so closely scrutinized a place makes the whole affair
far more conspicuous than it need be. Prince Genji, as you know well
enough, is a very important person; he has made himself responsible for
this lady’s happiness, and if he hears that you are being unkind to
her, he will be very angry both with you and with me. So please be as
nice to her as you can.... But of course if you feel you would rather
go and live with Prince Hyōbukyō for a little while, by all means do
so. I promise to come and see you frequently. But in either case you
need not be afraid that I shall cease to care for you and look after
you. I wish I could be as sure that you, on your side, will begin to
take things a little more quietly and sensibly. You do not realize,
I am sure, that all this outcry (which presumably you would not make
unless you were fond of me) is doing me a great deal of harm. For years
past I have done all that was in my power to make you happy, and you
may rest assured that I shall continue to do so....’ He tried to soothe
her, speaking somewhat as he would have spoken to a cross child. ‘There
is no need for you to tell me about your love affairs,’ she answered.
‘I am not interested in them. You know quite well what is worrying me.
My father has been terribly upset by my illness ever since it began.
What the effect upon him would be if I were to go home in my present
condition, I dread to think. It distresses him immeasurably to see me
suffer.... I cannot do it.... My father says that, after all, Lady
Murasaki is my own sister, and it is very wrong of her to spoil my
happiness by introducing you to this girl. But I do not at all agree
with him. Let her introduce you to any one she likes. It is no
affair of mine....’
She spoke quite calmly and sensibly. But Higekuro had seen her in
this mood before, and knew only too well that it might at any moment
terminate in an outburst of the wildest irrationality. ‘You are quite
mistaken about Lady Murasaki,’ he said. ‘She had no hand whatever in
this. She lives locked away in her bower like an Enchanted Princess in
a fairy-story, and would never dream of interfering in the affairs of
persons such as you or me. She regards us all, I can assure you, with
complete contempt. Certainly nothing would distress her more than that
it should be thought she had tried to interest me in Lady Tamakatsura.
Please do not spread such a report; it might do a great deal of harm.’
He stayed chatting with her all the afternoon. By dusk his attention
had already begun to wander, and he was conscious that his replies
were often somewhat at random. For he was trying to decide whether he
could contrive, without too much hurting her feelings, not to spend the
whole of the evening in her society. Just as he was about to rise, a
violent snowstorm began. To insist upon leaving at such a moment would
have shown with too painful a clearness how anxious he was to escape
from her company. Had she spoken one word of complaint or showed the
slightest sign of ill-humour, it would have been easy enough for him
to flare up on his side and so escape from his predicament. But she
had, on the contrary, been a marvel of tolerance, reasonableness and
amiability. It seemed too cruel to leave her, but he had not yet quite
made up his mind, and stood with his hand on the door, staring out into
the dusk. ‘I am afraid it is going to be a very heavy storm,’ she said,
watching him. ‘You will never find your way. It has suddenly grown
quite dark...’ Suddenly her expression changed. He knew exactly
what was passing in her mind. ‘That is all over now,’ she was thinking.
‘If he does stay, what will be the use?...’ ‘I will wait till it clears
a little,’ he said to her. And later: ‘Another time I shall be able
to stay here as long as you like. But to-night there are reasons....
It might be misunderstood.... Both Genji and Tō no Chūjō particularly
desired that I should not miss.... But there is no need to explain. You
are so good and patient that I am sure you will forgive me. To-night
will be the last time. When Lady Tamakatsura is living here everything
will be easier.... But really, you are so much better to-night that
there seems no reason to have any one else in the house at all.’ ‘I
know you would not really like to stay here to-night,’ she said gently.
‘I shall be happier if you go. So long as I know you are thinking
kindly of me I do not mind where you go. I promise not to cry any more.
Look! My sleeve is almost dry....’
Then she sent for her incense-burner, poured in fresh perfumes one
upon another, and with her own hands scented his great riding-cloak
from tip to toe. Her own dress was of a soft yielding stuff, and as
she bent over her work, this dress fell in loose folds that gave her
figure a homely, useful air. But how thin, how frail she had grown!
She seemed like some pale phantom flickering across the winter night.
Her eyes were swollen with weeping, yet her face, he thought, was
beautiful. He felt a sudden tenderness towards her. She had never been
to blame. Ought he not to have waited months, years if need be, before
he inflicted this terrible suffering upon her? For he knew in that
moment all that she had suffered since his dereliction of her began.
But in the midst of his remorse the image of Tamakatsura rose up before
him, and sighing deeply he began to put on his cloak, perfuming it once
more with a miniature brazier that he held for a moment inside
each sleeve. He was not as handsome as Genji, but he was magnificently
built; and as he stood there handling his great riding-coat he looked a
man not lightly to be trifled with. One of his retainers remarked loud
enough to be heard, though not speaking directly to the Prince, that it
had ‘almost stopped snowing and was getting very late.’ The maids Chūjō
no Omoto and Moku no Kimi were lying on a couch in the corner telling
one another dismal stories and sighing ‘What a sad world it is to be
sure!’ at regular intervals. Makibashira herself was lying calm and
still at Higekuro’s feet, her head resting on a low stool. Suddenly she
leapt up, seized a large brazier that was used for drying damp clothes,
and coming up from behind, emptied it over his head.
The thing was done in a moment; so swiftly indeed that Higekuro had
no idea what had happened. He only knew that suddenly his eyes and
nostrils were full of fine, penetrating dust. Blind, choking, and still
but dimly aware of what had happened to him, he found himself shaking
ashes out of his coat, his breeches, his shirt, his hair. Her ladies
stood by terror-stricken. Would he understand that this was one of her
fits, one of those strange accesses of perversity in which her frenzy
drove her to play the most revolting tricks precisely on those whom she
most wished to please? If he thought that she had acted deliberately,
was in possession of her senses when she played this odious prank, it
was inconceivable that he would ever come near her again. They pressed
round, dusting him, sponging him, offering him fresh clothes; but
nothing took away this dry, gritty sensation that pervaded his whole
person, so that he still felt as though he were smeared with ashes to
the very roots of his thick, stubborn hair.
He could not present himself at Tamakatsura’s immaculate apartments
in this condition, and dismissing his followers, he prepared to settle
in for the night.
Makibashira was now in her gentlewomen’s hands. He knew that it was
impossible to hold her responsible for what she had done. Yet the look
of complete unconcern with which she surveyed the havoc she had just
created stung him to a sudden fury, and he felt that he would have
shouted abuse at her, had he not been terrified of provoking on her
part a fresh outburst of devilry. It was now midnight, but he sent for
priests and exorcists, and soon a service of Intercession was in full
swing. The mad woman was now cursing and raving in the most horrifying
manner. All night long she was cudgelled and pulled about by the
priests[28]; dawn found her still maundering and weeping, but after
a little while she became somewhat quieter, and Higekuro took this
opportunity of sending his apologies to the New Palace. ‘Some one here
was suddenly taken ill last night,’ he wrote, ‘and it was impossible
for me to get away. Besides, it looked as though we were in for a very
heavy fall of snow, and it would have seemed to my friends very odd if
I had insisted upon setting out. Time after time I was on the point
of starting, and at this moment I am chilled to the bone with waiting
about for a chance to escape.... I know well enough that you will not
be heart-broken at my failure to appear; but I fear that others may
have taken advantage of my discourtesy....’
He was right. His absence had certainly not caused Tamakatsura the
slightest concern, and the letter of apology, which he had penned with
such agitation in the midst of a scene of utmost horror, she did not
open or in any way acknowledge.
Next day Higekuro’s wife was still in a very distracted condition, and
further incantations were performed. His own secret prayer was that
she might at least recover her reason for a sufficient length of time
to permit of his installing Tamakatsura in the house. For at present
any such step was clearly impossible. He who knew her as she ought to
be could realize that her present savagery and malice were merely the
result of her illness; but a stranger would be terrified and disgusted.
At dusk he set out as usual for Tamakatsura’s rooms. Since his wife’s
illness his wardrobe had been much neglected, and he was continually
complaining that the garments put out for his use were so badly cut
as to make him an object of ridicule as he drove through the streets.
To-day a new cloak had been put out, which fitted him so ill that
he refused to appear in it. The one he had worn on the night of the
catastrophe was full of small holes made by fragments of red-hot
charcoal, and though it had been carefully cleaned, there still clung
to it a most unpleasant smell of burning. Yet in all his clothes
the fragrance of the incense with which she had perfumed them that
night was still distinctly perceptible. To arrive in this charred and
smouldering condition at the New Palace was not to be thought of. He
threw off all these garments, sent them to the washhouse, and once more
had them thoroughly cleaned and set to rights. When they came back,
Moku no Kimi was sent for to give them a good final perfuming. At last
he was ready to start.
Even this one night’s absence made her seem to him more marvellously
lovely than ever. To be with her drove the thought of what was going
on in his own house completely out of his head. And some such solace
was needed, for the scene which he had just left had been agonizing in
the extreme. He stayed at the New Palace till far into the next day.
Spells and incantations seemed powerless against the spirit which had
possessed the sick woman, and she continued to rave in an unabating
frenzy. Terrified lest she should attempt to disfigure him, or, at the
best, play upon him some other sinister prank, Higekuro for the next
few days kept as far away from her rooms as possible. When from time
to time business compelled him to spend an hour or two at his house,
he established himself at the farthest possible end of the building,
and it was here that with great precautions he sent for his children to
come and see him. The eldest was a girl of twelve; the two boys were
younger. They had grown gradually used to the fact that their father
and mother did not often meet; but till now there had never been any
question of their mother’s place being usurped by some one else, and
primed by their nurses with the notion that Tamakatsura’s projected
arrival was part of a dark and monstrous conspiracy, they obeyed his
summonses very sullenly.
Hearing what had taken place, Prince Hyōbukyō’s first thought was to
get his daughter as quickly as possible out of Higekuro’s house. ‘This
is certain to lead to a definite and final breach,’ he said. ‘She
cannot with any dignity remain a day longer under his roof. After all,
so long as I am alive, she can have a very good time here.... There
is no need to take this business too tragically....’ And without any
warning he arrived at Higekuro’s to fetch her away. It so happened that
she was on this occasion enjoying an interval of comparative quietness
and lucidity; though on recovering her self-possession, and realizing
to some extent what had been passing, she was seized with a terrible
fit of melancholy.
When informed that her father was at the door she knew at once what
this implied, and determined to offer no resistance. To stay meant only
to witness the last remnants of her husband’s affection for her dwindle
and disappear. In the end she would probably be forced out of the
house, under circumstances of even greater humiliation. Thinking that
it would give her a feeling of support, her father had brought with
him all her brothers; both the elder ones, Sahyōye and the rest, all
of whom were now great officers at Court, and had come uniformed and
attended as though for a state ceremony; and also her younger brothers,
who by now were making their way in the world, one of them being a
Captain in the Bodyguard, another a Lieutenant; a third, Assistant
in the National Board. The whole party filled no less than three
coaches. That if her father ever came to fetch her, it would be in
this cumbersome and ceremonious way, both she and her gentlewomen had
long anticipated. But the sight of the formidable cortège which was to
put an end for ever to her married life completely overwhelmed her. To
make matters worse, it was announced that the part of his palace which
Hyōbukyō could put at her disposal could not possibly house both her
and all her gentlewomen. Hasty consultations followed. It was arranged
that about half the maids should go back to their own homes. There was
much weeping, whispered promises of reinstatement ‘when Madam recovers
herself,’ and hasty sorting out of small personal belongings. Then
there was the sick woman’s own baggage to be considered, and heated
discussions as to what she would need in her new home. Amid this scene
of tears and confusion the three children strayed about, apparently
quite unmoved. Calling to them, their mother now said: ‘I have been in
great trouble for a long time; but now everything is over, and I do not
care what becomes of me. But you three still have all your lives before
you, and I do not want you to be dragged down with me in my ruin. You,
my little girl, I shall keep with me, come what may. But I shall let
the boys go to their father as often as he wants them—indeed, I
would leave them with him altogether if I thought he would go on taking
any interest in them. Their grandfather will give them all the usual
advantages and make them as happy as he can; but when they grow up
they will find it a great handicap to have been connected with him;
for nothing can nowadays be done except through Prince Genji, and your
grandfather is on very bad terms with him. What I should really like
would be to take you all to some forest far away in the mountains where
no one could ever find us.... But I know that would be a crime ...’ and
she burst into tears. The children had very little idea what all this
was about, but they too began quietly weeping. ‘Poor little things,’
said the nurses. ‘One knows from old stories that the kindest father
will turn against his children if his heart is set upon another woman;
and a man so barbarous as our master, who puts his own wife out of his
house when she is ailing, is not likely to show much pity towards these
defenceless creatures....’ It was now getting late. It looked as if
more snow were coming, and was indeed a most cheerless and uninviting
evening. ‘Make haste,’ some one shouted from outside, ‘it’s blowing
up for a storm.’ Wiping her eyes, Makibashira went to the window and
looked out. She was ready for the journey; but the little girl, who
had always been a great favourite with her father, could not believe
that he would wish her to go away without even having said good-bye
to him; and she now flung herself upon a couch and declared that the
carriage must start without her. Her mother tried to coax her, saying
that things were bad enough as it was, and it was very unkind of her
to be disobedient at such a time. But the child was all the while
hoping that her father would come back to say good-bye to her, and
was determined not to start until she had seen him. But the storm had
now commenced, and she at last saw for herself that there was not
the remotest chance of his stirring on such a night.
There was a certain pillar on the right as you went into the women’s
rooms. Here it was that the little girl generally had her seat; and
now, hating to think that this favourite corner of hers might soon
become some stranger’s sitting-place, she took a folded sheet of
dark-brown paper, and hastily scribbling something upon it, she pushed
it into a crack in the pillar with the point of her long hair-pin. What
she wrote was: ‘Though I say good-bye to this house and shall never see
it again, do not forget me, O pillar of the Steadfast Tree!’ As the
carriage drove away the maids looked wistfully at the familiar haunts
that they would in all likelihood never set eyes on again. At this last
moment many a tree, never noticed before, seemed the one place where it
would be pleasant to seek shade when the summer-time came round; and
neither Lady Makibashira nor her ladies ceased to gaze behind them till
the topmost bough of the last tree had faded out of sight. For this
place had been their home for year upon year, and even though they had
been leaving under very different circumstances, they must needs have
forsaken it with many a bitter pang.
Meanwhile their arrival was awaited at Prince Hyōbukyō’s palace with
great trepidation. His wife, sharp-tongued as ever,[29] was bitterly
reproaching him for having fallen out with Genji, whose hostility (she
now made sure) was at the bottom of all their present trouble. ‘It
all began with your miserable cowardice over that Suma affair. You
did not write to him once all the time he was away from Court,
and then were surprised that he would not help you to make an Empress
of our younger daughter. You know quite well why it was that he would
do nothing for you, as you confessed to me at the time and every one
agreed. However, I did think that you had learnt your lesson and would
take the first opportunity of re-establishing yourself in his good
graces. But nothing of the kind. Prince Genji was completely under
the sway of this bastard of yours, Lady Murasaki. Everything is easy
for you. You had only to interest the girl in her sisters—people
in her privileged position are expected to do something for their
relations—and we could have got anything we liked to ask for. Instead
of that, having got into a scrape with this supposed “daughter” of his,
and being under the necessity of passing her off on any one who was
fool enough to take her, he hit upon this simpleton Higekuro, whose
wife, being your daughter, could easily be hustled out of the way. Upon
my honour, I wonder you are willing to sit down under it all....’
‘Silence, woman,’ he broke in. ‘Prince Genji is our lord and master,
and must be spoken of in this house with proper respect. A man of his
intelligence is not as easily wheedled into friendship by one whom he
believes to have done him an injury. My blunder at the time of his
exile has turned out to be a great misfortune for us all. But I was not
the only person to make that mistake. Indeed, if you look round the
Court and note who has gone under and who has kept afloat, you will see
that in every case it depended on what line they took in those Suma
and Akashi days. So meticulous a scheme of punishments and rewards
has surely never before been put into practice. I certainly have not
fared worse than the rest. On the contrary, when a year or two ago I
celebrated my fiftieth birthday,[30] Prince Genji’s interest in
the affair gave it an importance far beyond what my rank and birth
demanded; and this was solely due to his affection for my daughter
Murasaki, a feeling which you accuse me of never having turned to
proper account.’
But his wife’s bitterness only became more intense than ever; moreover,
she began to spread the most scandalous stories about Genji’s conduct
in the affair. And it may be imagined that in these inventions he did
not come off lightly; for hers was the most dangerous tongue in the
whole Court. The removal of his wife and children came as a complete
surprise to Higekuro. He assumed that Lady Makibashira had, in a sudden
fit of childish spleen, implored her father to take this drastic
step. But Prince Hyōbukyō must himself be held largely to blame, for
Makibashira’s mind was in an entirely volatile condition, and if her
father had exercised a little tact she would a few hours later have
been begging him to leave her where she was. ‘This has come as rather a
shock,’ he said to Tamakatsura when he heard the news. ‘Of course, in
a way it makes it much easier for you to come and live with me. But in
any case she is in a condition which would soon have made it absolutely
necessary to shut her up in some outlying wing of the house; and then
you could have lived with me quite comfortably. I resent her being
carried off so suddenly. It implies that I am not looking after her
properly. I shall go at once to her father and complain.’
He was wearing a very handsome cloak lined with willow-green and
blue-grey silken breeches. The costume became him particularly well,
and the waiting-women who saw him pass out on the way to Hyōbukyō’s
palace could not for the lives of them make out why their mistress was
so down upon him.
The news that she had just heard convinced Tamakatsura more firmly
than ever of the folly that she had committed in blindly yielding
herself to such a man, and as he left the room she did not even raise
her eyes to watch him go.
On the way to Prince Hyōbukyō’s he called at his own house. He was met
by Moku no Kimi, who being his personal servant had been left behind,
and from her lips he heard the full story of his wife’s departure. His
distress was obvious, and when she was telling him of the little girl’s
reluctance to leave the house without saying good-bye to him Moku no
Kimi feared that her master would altogether lose his self-possession.
‘Hyōbukyō,’ he said at last, ‘does not in the least realize all that I
patiently endured during the earlier stages of my wife’s insanity. I
do not think there are many men in the world who would have sacrificed
themselves as I did. As regards her happiness, it is doubtful if this
change of residence will make any difference at all, for her mind is
now breaking down entirely. But in any case what sense can there be in
letting her carry off those unfortunate children?...’ Just then his eye
fell upon the little girl’s favourite pillar. He saw that something was
poked into the crack, and grasping at once who had put it there, he
rescued the folded note and put it in his sleeve. On the way to Prince
Hyōbukyō’s palace he read it, obliged to wipe the tears from his eyes
while he did so, for though the handwriting had as yet no beauty, the
sentiment expressed in the child’s poem could not fail to move him.
On his arrival he found that there was no question of his wife or
daughter being allowed to see him. From her parents he received this
message: ‘If your neglect of our daughter were of recent origin, we
might be willing to listen to your protestations, and if satisfactory
assurance were forthcoming might consider the possibility of permitting
her return. But we are fully aware that your affections have for a
long time past been engaged in another quarter, and we see no reason to
suppose that time would bring any amendment to your ways. We therefore
decided to act without delay, and are persuaded that by so doing we
have saved you from much annoyance and discomfort.’ He replied that
they had taken advantage of him in an extremely unfair way. They knew
how great was his affection for the children, and might have assumed
that his feelings towards the mother were at least sufficiently humane
to make it worthwhile discussing this matter with him (many times, if
necessary) before taking so drastic a measure. As it was, the world at
large, which knew nothing of the real facts, must inevitably be led to
the most damaging and at the same time erroneous conclusions.
So he justified himself, but with no effect; and Hyōbukyō would not
even allow the little girl to come out and talk to him. The elder
boy, now ten years old, had already become a page at Court. He was a
fascinating child and much beloved; not exactly handsome, but very
quick-witted and alert. The other, a boy of eight, was particularly
good-looking and bore a strong resemblance to his sister. This child
was now brought to Higekuro, and patting it on the head, he said sadly:
‘It is well that you are so like your sister, for you are all that
I shall see to remind me of her in the years that are to come.’ He
begged Prince Hyōbukyō to accord him even a few moments’ interview.
But the prince excused himself on the ground that ‘he had caught cold
and was at present avoiding all exertion.’ There was nothing for it
but to drive away. His two sons had climbed into the carriage to talk
to him. They now begged for a drive; but as he was going straight to
Tamakatsura’s, this was rather embarrassing. ‘You had better stay
here,’ he said. ‘I will come and see you again soon.’ They gazed after
the carriage, and when they presently saw that instead of going in
the direction of their father’s house it had turned towards the New
Palace, they looked at one another in bewilderment. But once he was
back again in Tamakatsura’s presence, the picture of these two children
staring after him in consternation, the memory of his unhappy wife’s
ravings and contortions, all vanished completely from his mind, and it
was long before he again attempted to get news from his father-in-law’s
house. He felt indeed that he could hardly be expected to risk the
repetition of such a welcome as he had met with last time he called;
but Hyōbukyō insisted upon regarding this abstention as a fresh
offence, and made many caustic remarks concerning Higekuro’s callous
indifference.
‘Even _I_ have been getting into trouble over this business,’ said
Murasaki to Genji one day. ‘My stepmother says I ought not to have let
you upset her daughter’s domestic arrangements!’ ‘It has been very
difficult to know what to do,’ he replied. ‘If it had rested with me
only, I should never have encouraged her to marry Higekuro. But her
father was bent upon it, and I fell in with his desire. The Emperor
was not at all pleased, and one naturally hears it said that all the
other suitors are in a rage with me; though I can hardly believe this
of Prince Sochi, who is such a sensible fellow, that I am sure as soon
as he sees that I have really given Tamakatsura up he will not, despite
his disappointment, be so unreasonable as to pick a quarrel with _me_.
I am very glad that the true nature of my relations with her is now
known. For though I think that in general it is better for people to
keep their private affairs to themselves, there are cases where, unless
all be known, far worse things will be imagined than there is any
warrant for assuming.’
Meanwhile Tamakatsura was taking less trouble than ever to pretend
that Higekuro’s caresses were agreeable to her. But his efforts to
overcome her distaste for him were untiring, and when the time came
for her to spend a few days at the Palace in order to be presented to
the Emperor, Higekuro did his best to prevent or at least postpone
this separation. But it was evident that the Emperor would regard any
further refusal as an act of discourtesy; Genji and Tō no Chūjō both
strongly urged him to obey at once, and Higekuro himself discovered,
on looking into the matter, that there were numberless precedents for
the Emperor’s request. Accordingly he yielded, and in the spring of the
next year she was brought to the Palace. There was a dancing festival
going on at the time, and consequently the ceremonies connected with
her Presentation attracted very little notice. But it was known that
Genji, Tō no Chūjō and Higekuro, the three most powerful men in the
country, were her sponsors; while she was actually attended at the time
of her arrival by Yūgiri and several of her elder brothers, so that
it was by no means likely that she would be overlooked. The room that
was allotted to her was separated only by a covered gallery from the
apartments of Lady Nishi no Miya, Prince Hyōbukyō’s eldest daughter;
but though their habitations were divided by so small a space, their
interests and sympathies could hardly have been farther apart, and no
civilities were exchanged between them.
It happened to be a moment when the scene at Court was simplified
by the absence of low-born favourites or clandestine mistresses.
Four great ladies, Akikonomu, Lady Chūjō, Nishi no Miya (whom I have
just mentioned), and finally a daughter of the Minister of the Left
held absolute sway. Apart from them, two young girls, daughters of
the Junior State Secretary and the Chancellor, enjoyed a certain
prominence; but on the whole the field was remarkably clear.
This year the Mummers[31] visited all the apartments at Court where
they had kinswomen or connections of any kind, and the whole affair
was far more animated and interesting than usual. The reception given
to the dancers in the various quarters they visited was of the most
magnificent kind, such a display of hangings and gay-coloured favours
seldom having been witnessed. One of the most dazzling displays took
place in the rooms of the Crown Prince’s mother, Lady Jōkyōden. The
Prince was still a mere child,[32] but his nursery had already become a
centre of fashionable activities.
After performing before the Emperor, the Mummers visited the quarters
of Lady Akikonomu, and finally finished their round very late in the
day at the ex-Emperor Suzaku’s palace. There had been some talk of
their going on to Genji’s; but it would have been inconvenient to
receive them at such an hour, and he discouraged the visit. On their
way back from Suzaku’s, already much enlivened by the hospitality which
they had received during the course of the evening, they went the round
of the Crown Prince’s apartments, singing the ‘Bamboo River’[33] at the
tops of their voices. Faint streaks of light were already appearing in
the sky when they were joined by a band of young men, which included
some of Tō no Chūjō’s sons and a number of courtiers famous for the
beauty of their voices. The youngest among them all was Chūjō’s eighth
son, who being the child of his legitimate wife, had been brought up
to regard himself as a little person of considerable consequence. He
was a good-looking child, about the same age as Higekuro’s eldest boy,
with whom he was often favourably compared. Unlike many of the other
children who saw the sights that day, he was not at all overawed by
the first appearance at Court of this much-talked-about lady, but on
the contrary stared at her to his fill.
Tamakatsura had not so much experience of Court festivities as was
possessed by most of her rivals and neighbours. She wisely refrained
from venturing upon any unusual or particularly ambitious combinations
of colour. But upon the general lines laid down by the taste of her
competitors, she often achieved a success considerably greater than
theirs. Both she and her gentlewomen found this sojourn at the Palace a
most welcome distraction, and only wished that it might be indefinitely
prolonged.
Wherever they went the Mummers were received with presents of costly
wadded cloaks and a profusion of good things both to eat and drink.
Though it was not at Tamakatsura’s that they were to have their set
banquet, the entertainment she gave them was, by Higekuro’s help, on so
generous a scale that it was hard to recognize in it the mere ‘passing
refreshments,’[34] which it was supposed to represent. Higekuro was
himself on duty at the Palace that day, and said to his wife more than
once during the course of the festivities, ‘There is no need whatever
for you to sleep here a second night; it would look as though you had
changed your mind and meant to stay on in the Palace.’ She did not
answer. But her gentlewomen protested that Genji had only allowed her
to leave the New Palace on the express understanding that she should
pay a leisurely visit to the Emperor, which, considering she had never
once been to Court before and might not go again for a long time, was
the least that ordinary good breeding demanded. To leave so soon as
this would be far too precipitate....
He noted with pain her obvious reluctance to leave a place the
chief charm of which, as he conjectured, lay in the fact that it
afforded her a refuge from his embraces.
Prince Sochi was present when the Mummers performed at the
Palace, and his heart beat wildly as he pressed near the
Lady-of-the-Bedchamber’s[35] office. Knowing that if she recognized a
note as coming from him she would not open it, he found an excuse for
going to Higekuro’s official quarters and sent a messenger from there.
Tamakatsura naturally thought that the note came from her husband,
and reluctantly opened it: ‘Hatefullest of seasons for me has Spring
become, who must stand by and watch the birds of the deep forest folded
wing in wing.’ So ran his poem. She blushed crimson as she read it,
and was just thinking how she could possibly reply, when the Emperor
himself came that way. The moon had risen, and in its full light she
scanned his countenance. He was, she at once noticed, extraordinarily
like Genji, and it was a relief to her to discover that there were
perhaps people in the world who possessed Genji’s beauty yet at the
same time were not cut off from her by fictitious parental ties. But
her guardian had been extremely fond of her, of that there could be no
doubt; whereas this young man unfortunately showed no signs whatever
of feeling for her one particle of the affection which Genji had
attributed to him. His Majesty expressed in a very good-tempered and
considerate way his regret that she had decided not to live permanently
at the Palace. This made her feel extremely uncomfortable; she hid her
face in her sleeve and did not reply. ‘I should like so much to know
what is going on in your mind,’ he said at last. ‘I have a small piece
of news for you which I flattered myself would not be unwelcome. But I
now remember that not answering is a peculiarity of yours.’
He then handed her an acrostic poem in which he at the same time
asked what previous affection on her side had for so long delayed their
meeting, and also announced that she had been promoted to the Third
Rank. ‘I had hoped that in time we might become very close friends,’
he added. ‘But I see that you hold a different view.’ There came into
his voice as he said these few words a new tone, which proved to her
in an instant that the Emperor’s feelings as well as his outward
appearance were after all uncommonly like those of Genji. Her heart
leapt, and she replied with the poem: ‘Of what former love you speak
I know not; but henceforward him alone I serve who put the purple on
my sleeve.’[36] ‘It is now my duty to earn what hitherto I have done
so little to deserve,’ she said timidly. At this he laughed. ‘No,’
he said, ‘you have got your reward, and you had better make the most
of it. I did not mean it as a bribe. But I think that any reasonable
person would admit I had come very badly out of the business....’ He
spoke lightly, but it was evident that he was genuinely piqued. ‘This
is dreadful,’ thought poor Tamakatsura. ‘Will a handsome man never fall
in love with me without saying in the same breath that we must part for
ever?’ Evidently he regarded her marriage as a fatal bar to friendship.
She became very staid in her manner. Noting this, the Emperor feared
that he had shocked her, and made up his mind (for he had by no means
abandoned the idea of continuing the acquaintance) henceforth to
advance more cautiously.
Meanwhile it reached Higekuro’s ears that the Emperor was with her,
and falling into a panic he again began scheming to carry her home at
the earliest possible moment. Nor did she attempt to dissuade him,
for repeated disasters had at last destroyed in her all capacity for
resistance. Higekuro invented one pretext after another for her
instant removal, and when each in turn had been easily disposed of,
he tried to enlist the help of Tō no Chūjō and others of the Court
Council. At last the Imperial sanction was obtained. ‘I see that I
had better let her go,’ said the young Emperor good-humouredly. ‘If
I keep her now, Higekuro will not allow her to come here again; and
I am hoping for frequent visits. I think I am right in saying that I
first began to take interest in her long before Prince Higekuro set
eyes upon her. But he got to work much more quickly than I, and fully
deserves the advantage which he has gained.... I have an idea that
there was a famous case[37] of this kind in years gone by, but cannot
now recall the names.’ When he had seen her in the distance years ago
his curiosity had been aroused, and he had felt that she might be
worth getting to know. But at close quarters he found her far more
attractive than he had imagined or been led by those who knew her
to suppose. He could not now forgive himself for having handled the
affair so incompetently. Having at one moment determined to give her
confidence by slow stages, he felt at the next that he had not made his
sentiments sufficiently plain, and plunged into the most impassioned
and hectic avowals. She could not help thinking how well her own state
of mind matched that of the lady to whose story the Emperor had already
referred.
Meanwhile the letters of several public men who were seeking audience
with his Majesty had for some time been waiting in the corridor, and
just outside the door Higekuro stood officiously mounting sentry over
the apartment. ‘I know he is an officer in the Bodyguard,’ said the
Emperor, annoyed by his persistency, ‘but I think that on this occasion
he is performing his professional duties rather too thoroughly.’
At parting he gave her the poem: ‘Because the Ninefold Hedge of
royalty girds me about, not even the scent of the plum-blossom, nay,
not even so much[38] is carried to the steps of my Throne.’ Not a
very remarkable poem, as on later reflection she would easily have
perceived; but at the time it seemed to her a masterly performance.
‘Higekuro,’ the Emperor added, ‘is like the man who “went to gather
violets”; I cannot expect that he should be willing even for the
briefest space to “quit the fields of Spring.”[39] Nor have I the heart
to ask it of him. Henceforward I shall not attempt to approach you....’
She could not but admire his delicacy of feeling: ‘Though the scent of
this blossom be not as that of others that grow upon the tree, yet even
so much let the wind carry to and from your Throne.’[40] It cost him
much to part from her for the last time as he supposed, and it was with
many backward glances that he now left her room.
Higekuro was determined that she should not sleep another night at
the Palace. He knew that if he broached the matter beforehand to his
colleagues on the Council they would certainly refuse to countenance
so precipitate a step. Accordingly, without mentioning the matter to
anybody, he went straight to Tamakatsura and said: ‘I have suddenly
caught a severe chill, and it is essential that I should go at once
to some place where I can be properly looked after. There is nothing
so awkward as being ill in other people’s houses.’ He spoke in such a
weak, plaintive tone that she felt quite sorry for him. A few hours
later she was already installed in Higekuro’s house.
Her father Tō no Chūjō soon heard of this. He was not best pleased,
for he feared that the Emperor would regard so sudden a flight as very
discourteous. But on the whole he was glad he had not been consulted,
for he had no desire to quarrel with Higekuro over so small a matter.
In fact, as he usually did when things went wrong, he chose to regard
it as Genji’s affair rather than his own; and Genji, although this
sudden termination of his tutelage over the girl came as a great shock
to him, naturally did not feel called upon to interfere.
Higekuro, though in his heart of hearts he knew that Tamakatsura had
no more chosen this destiny than the smoke from the salt-kilns chooses
to be blown back across the hill, was so much elated by his success
that for the moment her contempt for him did not in the least spoil his
pleasure. His state of mind was indeed that of some brigand chief who
has carried off an unwilling bride at his saddle-croup. He did indeed
scold her for having remained closeted so long with the Emperor. This
seemed to her insufferably petty and vindictive on Higekuro’s part.
Henceforward she took less and less pains even to keep up in public
the appearance of being on any kind of terms with him. He was also
cut off from all intercourse with Prince Hyōbukyō’s family. He tried
to give the impression that he regarded this as no great loss; but in
reality he felt this isolation acutely. However, he did not attempt to
communicate with the Prince, and henceforward spent the whole of his
time in lavishing unwanted attentions upon his new-won prize.
To Genji, who had for months past been preparing himself for
Tamakatsura’s departure, her loss came as a far greater blow than he
had ever anticipated. It was not indeed her departure (he explained
to himself) that he found difficult to bear, but the suddenness and
completeness with which Higekuro had taken possession. But be that as
it may, he could not for an instant stop thinking about her, and soon
fell into a condition of absent-mindedness and melancholy that was
observed by all who met him. It is said that whatever happens to us
is ruled by our conduct in previous existences, or, as others would
express it, by Fate. But it seemed to Genji that for the miseries into
which he constantly found himself plunged, no other person or power
could possibly be held responsible. They sprang from his own excessive
susceptibility, and from no other cause whatever. He longed to write
to her; but it seemed impossible, now that she was in the hands of
the grim, unbending Higekuro, to address to her the small humours and
absurdities of which their correspondence was usually composed. In the
second month a period of heavy rain set in; after the ceremonies of
the New Year this season is apt to seem rather flat and stale, and,
desperately in need of distraction, Genji broke all his resolutions and
called at Prince Higekuro’s house. He knew, however, that there was no
chance of his seeing her personally, and though it was painful to him,
who had been used to spend hour after hour in her company, merely to
send in a note, this was the most he dared to attempt. And even so,
despite the fact that he was able to get hold of the old nurse Ukon
and send the letter through her, he thought it unwise to send a closed
note and was therefore obliged to express himself in the most guarded
manner, trusting that she would be able to read between the lines. ‘In
these dull days when hour on hour the spring rain spills upon the quiet
earth, do you at times recall the people and the palace whence you
came?’ So he wrote, adding: ‘This is a dreary season at best; and worse
than ever for me, who am tormented by longings and recollections
of which I cannot now speak.’ Ukon took the letter and succeeded in
conveying it to Tamakatsura at one of the rare moments when Higekuro
was absent from her side. The old woman, of course, knew nothing of
Genji’s sentiments towards her mistress, who had never breathed to any
one a word concerning his occasional indiscretions and excesses; but
watching Tamakatsura’s face as she read the letter Ukon now guessed a
good deal of the truth. But exactly how much had happened between them?
That was a question about which Ukon henceforward frequently puzzled
her head; but she was unable to reach any conclusion.
Throughout this time Genji was constantly reminded of his separation
from Oborozuki[41] at the time when she became Consort of the Emperor
Suzaku. She too was Lady-of-the-Bedchamber; she too was carried away
and locked up in a place whither it was impossible for him to pursue
her. He remembered having been very unhappy then, but nothing like so
miserable as he was now. Was it that he was becoming more and more
sentimental, he asked himself, or merely that the sufferings of the
moment always seem more acute than those which we conjure up out of the
past? But whether or no the miseries of to-day were really worse than
those of yesterday, of this much he was sure, that from none of his
divagations had anything but torment and agitation ever ensued. Well,
it was all over now; henceforward his existence would be free from
these devastating entanglements, and no doubt he would be a great deal
happier than ever before. But for the moment it was not so very easy as
he had imagined to begin this new life of resignation and tranquillity.
He thought he would make use of the bad weather to practise a little
on his zithern; but no sooner did he take it into his hands than
he began to recall how Tamakatsura had played this and that phrase or
run at the time when he was giving her a lesson every day. To break the
spell of these recollections he tuned his instrument to the Eastern
Mode and played the old song ‘Let the weeds grow.’[42] Could she have
seen him as he sat playing that lovely air, it would have been strange
indeed if she had not wished herself back in her late home.
The young Emperor too, though their acquaintance had been so brief,
could not get Tamakatsura out of his head. ‘As she went by, trailing
the skirts of her crimson gown....’[43] For some reason these words
haunted him, though the poem could scarcely be more ill-sounding
and crude than it is; and he too began to contrive secret ways of
communicating with her. But she had long ago made up her mind that
happiness was not to be her fate, and could not bring herself to toy
with it by the familiar interchange of pretty thoughts and images.
Letter after letter arrived; but in her replies she never went beyond
a formal acknowledgment. Often she remembered with gratitude Genji’s
untiring devotion to her interests and comforts. What matter if he fell
between the two extremes of parent and lover? No one, she felt sure,
would ever look after her as he had done.
It was now the third month. The wisteria and mountain-kerria in the
gardens of the New Palace were in full bloom, loveliest of all at
evening, when the light of the setting sun slanted through the hanging
sprays of delicate blossom. This was a moment of the year that had
always given him an intense delight; but now it hardly seemed to
move him. He left Murasaki’s domain and made his way to the western
garden.[44] Here too the mountain-kerria was in magnificent bloom.
In especial he noticed a great trail of it that hung across a clump
of Chinese bamboos and recited to himself the poem: ‘O mountain
flower that lovest to grow upon the rocks,[45] thou shalt teach me to
endure in silence,[45] the love that I must hide.’ Never before had
he repented so bitterly of his determination to surrender the girl
into other hands. It had seemed while she was with him so easy to be
wise, to make self-sacrificing resolutions. But now that he had lost
her it was incredible that he could ever have deliberately planned
and executed so terrible a disaster. He happened to notice that there
were a lot of eggs in the pigeon-house, and arranging them prettily
in a basket along with oranges and lemons he sent it as a present to
Tamakatsura, not with any very definite intention.[46] When Higekuro
saw the basket with its accompanying note, he burst out laughing: ‘What
an extraordinary man this Genji is!’ he said. ‘Why, even if he were
your real father he could not now that you are married expect to meet
you except on particular occasions. What does he want? He seems, in one
way or another, to be always complaining that he does not see you.’ She
did not seem to have any intention of acknowledging the gift, and as
the messenger was still waiting, Higekuro said: ‘Let me answer it for
you!’ ‘I am not minded that any should reclaim her, this fledgling that
was not counted among the brood of either nest.’ Such was the poem he
sent, and he added: ‘My wife was surprised at the nature of your
gift, and was at a loss how to reply without seeming to attach an undue
importance to it....’
Genji laughed when the note was brought to him. ‘I have never known
Higekuro stoop to concern himself in such trifles as this,’ he said.
‘What is the world coming to?’ But in his heart he was deeply offended
by the arrogantly possessive tone of Higekuro’s letter.
As the months went by Lady Makibashira became more and more deeply
buried in her own dark and frightful thoughts. Soon she seemed to be
gradually lapsing into complete helplessness and imbecility. Higekuro
enquired after her constantly and did everything in his power to
make her comfortable, incurring considerable outlay on her behalf,
and indeed watching over her practical interests exactly as he would
have done if she had still been at home. He continued to be devotedly
attached to his children, but Prince Hyōbukyō would not allow him
to see the little girl. The boys, however, were constantly at their
father’s house, and came back chattering about ‘such a nice, new lady’
who had come to live there. ‘She knows all sorts of lovely games and
plays with us all day,’ they said. The little girl stared at them
open-eyed, having formed in her mind a very different picture of the
woman whom her present guardians represented always as the unscrupulous
monster who had ruined their father’s home. But in reality it was not
surprising that Tamakatsura should have won the boys’ hearts, for she
possessed an extraordinary faculty for making herself liked by people
of all sorts and ages wherever she went.
In the eleventh month of that year she bore Higekuro a handsome boy.
The father’s delight knew no bounds, and the solicitude with which
he watched over both mother and child can easily be imagined. Tō no
Chūjō too rejoiced that the match should be turning out so unqualified
a success and felt that he had acted very wisely in recommending
it. And certainly, he said to himself, she deserved a success, for she
possessed quite as much charm as the sisters over whom he had taken a
great deal more trouble. Kashiwagi too was glad that all seemed to be
going well, for he had settled down into the position of an extremely
helpful and admiring brother. Perhaps, however, he still cared for
her with something more than brotherly affection; he had a feeling
that he would have preferred the child to be some one else’s rather
than Higekuro’s; for example, if only she had borne such a child (so
he reflected as he gazed at the infant) to the Emperor Ryōzen, who
constantly lamented that he had no children, what a future might have
been in store for it!
After her recovery Tamakatsura continued to administer the business
of the Bedchamber from her husband’s house, and seemed to show no
intention of ever again appearing at the Palace. There were precedents
for such an arrangement as this, and no exception could well be taken
to it.
But to go back a little. In the autumn of this year Tō no
Chūjō’s eccentric daughter, foiled in her ambition to become
Lady-of-the-Bedchamber, added to the embarrassment of her relations
by a series of the most flutter-brained flirtations. Her sister Lady
Chūjō lived in a constant state of agitation, convinced that sooner or
later this Lady of Ōmi would get into some scrape of a kind which might
seriously compromise the whole family. She saw no reason why she should
be saddled with so needless a responsibility and begged her father
to intervene. Tō no Chūjō accordingly sent for her and warned her as
impressively as he could that she must in future stay in her sister’s
rooms and not wander all over the house, as she had lately developed
the habit of doing. This remonstrance, however, had no effect, and
she was soon causing as much anxiety as ever to her unwilling sponsors.
It happened one day that a number of distinguished courtiers had come
to the house; it was an autumn night of exceptional beauty, music was
in progress, and every one was in uncommonly good spirits. Even Yūgiri,
usually so quiet and orderly, was talking in rather an excited manner.
Some one amid the group of ladies at the end of the room pointed him
out to her neighbour and made some remark to the effect that she had
never seen him look so handsome. ‘Handsome! Who’s handsome?’ screamed
a piercing voice, the owner of which suddenly craned her neck in the
direction indicated; and before any one could stop her the Lady of
Ōmi had pressed her way to the front of the throng, where she stood
staring at Yūgiri open-mouthed, while every one present wondered
what hideous piece of folly or impertinence would shortly issue from
those ecstatically parted lips. But all she did was to point at the
embarrassed Yūgiri and say in a voice which, though it was meant to be
a whisper, was audible all over the room: ‘Look at that one, now, just
look at him!’ And she recited in a ringing voice the poem:
If your ship is lost at sea
And you cannot land where you’d like to be,
You’d better come aboard of me.[47]
‘Like the man who lost his rudder said, when he found himself at the
same place where he started: “It all comes to the same thing in the
end,”’ she added encouragingly.
Who on earth could, this extraordinary madcap be, wondered poor Yūgiri,
when suddenly he recollected the queer stories that had a little while
ago been current about some odd girl whom Tō no Chūjō had adopted. This
of course must be she, and laughing, he answered her with the poem:
Though my good ship should split in two,
I’d rather be drowned with all my crew
Than trust my life to one like you.
That does not sound very kind, she thought.
[24] One of Tamakatsura’s maids.
[25] Prince Higekuro.
[26] The soul of a woman is helped across the Stream of Death by the
spectre of her first lover.
[27] While Makibashira, Higekuro’s mad wife, was still there.
[28] In order to drive the ‘possession’ out of her.
[29] For this woman’s character see vol. i, p. 145. She had pursued her
rival, Murasaki’s mother, ‘with constant vexations and affronts; day in
and day out this obstinate persecution continued, till at last she died
of heart-break.’
[30] See vol. iii, p. 139.
[31] See vol. iii, p. 24.
[32] He must by now be about eleven, having been born shortly before
Genji’s exile.
[33] See vol. iii, p. 215.
[34] ‘Mizu-umaya,’ or water-stabling, as it was technically called
by the dancers. The regular banquet was called ‘ii-umaya,’ or
rice-stabling.
[35] Tamakatsura.
[36] Promoted her to the Third Rank.
[37] In the 9th century Fujiwara no Tokihira carried off a lady who had
for some time been admired by Taira no Sadabumi. When reproached by
Sadabumi for her fickleness, the lady replied: ‘What in waking hours I
may have promised I know not; but now I wander in the mazes of a dream;
or _some one_ wanders, for I scarce think it can be I.’
[38] _Ka bakari_ means ‘so much,’ and also ‘only the scent.’
[39] Allusion to a poem by Yamabe no Akahito (8th century).
[40] I.e. write to me sometimes.
[41] Vol. ii, p. 54.
[42] ‘The water-weeds that grow in the pool on the plain of Oshitaka
where wild doves feed—do not cut them at the root, for they will not
grow again. Do not cut them at the root.’
[43] ‘Outdoors I think, at home I think of how she looked that day as
she went by trailing the skirts of her crimson gown.’ _Manyōshū_ 2550.
A very rough, primitive poem.
[44] Tamakatsura’s former apartments.
[45]_Iwa_—‘rock’ and ‘silent.’
[46] But there is a hint that Tamakatsura is shut away in Higekuro’s
palace like a tame bird in a cage. The bird mentioned is really a kind
of duck, but much smaller. ‘Duck’s eggs’ would give a wholly wrong
visual impression.
[47] If you can’t have Kumoi, why not marry me?