CHAPTER II

BLUE TROUSERS

Though both Genji and Tō no Chūjō strongly urged her to accept the post of Lady-of-the-Bedchamber, Tamakatsura still hesitated. The position did not necessarily imply that she would have personal contact with the Emperor or be in any way under his protection. But since so many people (even her supposed ‘father’) seemed to find her interesting, she now assumed, without any very good reason for doing so, that the Emperor too would doubtless become attached to her, and she foresaw endless conflicts of the most disagreeable kind with both Akikonomu and Lady Chūjō, not to mention other minor favourites. Her own rapid rise to fame and the deference with which she, a mere foundling from the hedgeside, was treated by both the Chief Ministers, had inevitably aroused hostility in many quarters; among her female acquaintances there were many (she was sure) who regarded her as a pampered upstart, and would with the greatest pleasure in the world have seen her placed in a painful and undignified position. She was old enough to be fully aware of the disadvantages and dangers of every course which lay open to her, and though she concealed her troubles from those about her, she was during all this time in a condition of great depression and perplexity.

Many people would not have regarded her present situation as anything to be complained of. Genji’s behaviour towards her was still beyond reproach, and in many respects her life at the New Palace was obviously a very enviable one. But she felt that their relation was equivocal, the subject for months past of many jests and speculations. She was occupying a position which was in its essence utterly distasteful to her, and longed to clear herself finally of the suspicions which were bound to hang over her as long as she stayed under this roof.

Tō no Chūjō, anxious to remain on good terms with Genji, and certain that, whatever might be his friend’s professions, he could not really wish to part with the girl, made no effort to remove her from her present quarters or in any way assert his parental authority.

The extraordinary position which she occupied, thus hung as it were precariously between two rival parents, naturally caused her name and story to become more than ever notorious in the City; and to make matters worse, just at the moment when all eyes were turned upon her, Genji began once more, as the summer drew on, to be far less discreet in his behaviour; as though, having heroically discharged his duty by informing her father of her whereabouts, he were exempt from any further obligation to play a sober and paternal part. How she longed at this time for some female confidant, mother or sister, with whom she could discuss even some small part of the difficulties which now beset her! Unfortunately, her most frequent visitors during all these months were Genji and Tō no Chūjō, precisely the two persons in whom it was least possible that she should confide.

Tamakatsura’s mourning[19] was now over; but until the end of the month,[20] there could be no question of her formal affiancement. The Emperor was impatient to get the matter settled, and her various lovers pressed their claims more vehemently than ever upon those whom they imagined to be responsible for her decision. But in whatever quarter they applied, the answer was the same: nothing could be done until the tenth month had begun.

Her new brothers[21] received no encouragement to visit her. But it would be their business to look after her affairs should she take service at Court, and they were anxious to discuss with her several matters in connection with this. Kashiwagi had been much attracted by Genji’s daughter. The rapidity with which he had adjusted himself to the new situation caused a good deal of amusement. This embarrassed him, and it was only at his father’s request that he visited the New Palace. Outwardly, there was no change in the manner of his reception. When he first arrived, announcing that he had a message to deliver, he was left waiting in the garden, and as he had been instructed to perform his commission secretly, he was obliged to hide in the shadow of a laurel-tree, for a bright moon was shining. Having protested that his message was of a very private nature, he was at last allowed to address Tamakatsura through the curtains of the southern window. But in her nervousness she did not feel capable of speaking to him herself, and her replies were made through her maid Saishō. ‘When my father chose me to deliver this message, I am sure he took for granted that you would do me the honour of replying to it with your own lips. The matter will require a certain amount of further discussion, and I fear we shall find this roundabout method very inconvenient. Even though you do not consider me worth putting yourself out for in the usual way, you must remember that we are now recognized to be children of the same father. I may be old-fashioned, but I came here hoping that a brother counted with you for a good deal....’

She felt that she must make some concrete excuse, and said to her maid: ‘Tell him that I should very much like to thank him for all his kindness to me during the last year or so; but unfortunately I am feeling very unwell and cannot leave my couch. I should not feel justified in treating him with such informality but for the family tie which now unites us.’ This, repeated to him by the maid Saishō, sounded very stiff and unaccommodating. ‘If your mistress is unwell,’ he said, ‘would it not be better if I came and stood at her bedside? The matter is an important one, and I do not at present feel as though I were getting into touch with her at all. But I will not insist ...’ and he began in a low voice to read out his father’s message. Kashiwagi was as well turned-out as any prince at Court, and the maid by no means regretted her mistress’s obduracy. ‘I have heard nothing more from you’ (the message ran) ‘about our Palace project. It is high time that a decision were reached, and I should like to have another talk with you. But I think that, for obvious reasons, it is better for me to keep away at present. There can, however, be no objection to your sending me an occasional note, and your complete silence is somewhat perplexing.’ ‘Tell your mistress,’ Kashiwagi added on his own account, ‘that however distasteful to her my conversation may in the past have been, it cannot in our altered circumstances be of a nature to cause her the slightest offence. I am still at a loss to know why my previous advances, made in ignorance of our true relation, were so coldly and unfeelingly rejected. Still less do I understand why now, when I can no longer be suspected of coming as a lover, she should insist upon putting the whole breadth of her apartments between us. Never again shall I consent to be treated in this way. Polite society, please point out to her, will have to change a great deal before such discourtesy is tolerated....’

How was she to pacify him? ‘The change in our relationship is not generally known,’ she said in her reply; ‘moreover, I do not think that having left me to rusticate for so many years amid the savagery of Tsukushi, your family ought to expect of me the last refinements of urban demeanour.’ So she rallied him, and with complete success.

‘Forgive me for intruding,’ said the maid, ‘but I think Madam’s difficulty to-day has been that she did not know whether you came as a suitor or a brother. She is extremely sensitive to what is thought of her by the world at large; that, I am sure, is the only reason she did not come and converse with you at close quarters. But such behaviour is quite unlike her, and you will find that next time you come....’ ‘No, thank you,’ he cried; ‘I fancy I might have to come a great many times and sit here a very long while before your mistress would own that my service had redeemed me from her ban.’ So saying, he left the house.

Prince Higekuro served in the same Guard Regiment as Yūgiri, and was continually seeking him out in order to have long and emotional conversations about Tamakatsura. He always hoped that Yūgiri would plead his cause with Genji. A more suitable husband for her than himself could not, Higekuro felt sure, possibly be imagined. He was amiable, good-looking, qualified by rank and birth to secure for her at Court a far higher place than that to which she had any right to aspire. What more could Genji want? But, as Yūgiri pointed out, the main difficulty was that, as things now stood, she was in a few months’ time to take service in the Palace; this was Genji’s idea, and Tō no Chūjō, convinced that it was part of some subtle plan, did not think it wise to interfere.

Prince Higekuro was the elder brother of the ex-Emperor Suzaku’s Consort, Lady Jōkyōden. With the exception of Genji and Tō no Chūjō, he was by far the most influential man in the country. He was now about thirty-two or three. His wife, an elder sister of Murasaki, was four years his senior. In many cases such a disparity of age would not much have mattered; but Lady Makibashira[22] seemed far older than her actual years. He nicknamed her ‘granny,’ and in this there was something more than a jest, for soon her old-maidish ways began to annoy him, and they had not been together many months before he was wondering how long he should be able to go on enduring her society.

It was the existence of this unfortunate entanglement that had discouraged Genji from furthering Prince Higekuro’s suit. The Prince had not, indeed, by any means the reputation of leading a disorderly or even frivolous existence. True, he was seldom at home; but apart from his courtship of Tamakatsura herself, his time seemed to be devoted entirely to practical affairs. Having heard that Tō no Chūjō thought well of him and also that the lady herself was by no means anxious for a career at the Palace, Higekuro, who had almost lost hope, again plucked up heart. Genji, he admitted to himself, was evidently against him. But every one knew why Genji was so reluctant to part with her.

One morning in the ninth month, when the whole world lay glittering in the first frost of the year, messenger after messenger began to arrive with the usual fancifully decked and folded love-letters. Tamakatsura refused even to look at them, and only reluctantly consented to hear them read aloud.

From Higekuro came a note in which he said: ‘The changing skies tell me that the time of my respite[23] is almost spent. “Lived I in hope, so were this Month of Fasting my despair; but being what I am, I hang my life upon the weak thread of its dwindling days.”’ He seemed to assume that a decision had been reached and would irretrievably take effect at the beginning of the next month. She herself knew nothing of this.

Another suitor. Prince Sochi, was equally despondent: ‘Why am I writing?’ he said in his letter. ‘I have lost you, and there is no more to be said. But “Though you be standing in the radiance of the Morning Sun, perchance one drop of dew may linger of those your sleeve once gathered in shadowy garden walks.” Did I but think you knew how much it costs me to lose you, I should derive some trifling comfort....’ The note containing this poem was attached to an ice-cold spray of bamboo, plucked from near the ground and carried with such care that it was still thickly covered with hoar-frost. The messenger was on this, as upon every occasion, a person whose quality matched the elegance of the letter.

Yet another suitor, whose communications were of the most pressing nature, was Prince Hyōbukyō’s son, Sahyōye. Being Murasaki’s brother, he was constantly at her apartments, and his present despondency seemed to prove that, according to the information to be gathered in that quarter, Lady Tamakatsura’s fate was already decided. His messenger now brought a letter in which Sahyōye said: ‘Even though I should at last forget you, how oh how shall I learn to support the dreariness of a life into which no thought of you may find its way?...’ And so on.

These letters were a source of great interest and pleasure to Tamakatsura’s gentlewomen, who discussed with unfailing relish the colour of the paper, the style of penmanship, the various kinds of scent with which the letter was perfumed, and many kindred questions. ‘I hope Madam will not make up her mind for a long while to come,’ said one of them. ‘We shall be bored to death when this is all over.’

Her reply to Prince Sochi was short and vague, but not altogether discouraging; for in her poem she said: ‘The sunflower, that seems so willingly of its own nature to turn towards the Light of Day, would fain enough (who knows?) have kept the bright frost glittering on its leaves.’ This could be interpreted in several ways; but Prince Sochi was very agreeably surprised by even so faint a flicker of regret. That in entering the Palace she was acting against her own will and judgment he did not at all believe, and he could only regard her reply as a sign of well-bred gratitude for his patient courtship; yet it gave him a considerable degree of pleasure.

In the course of the morning love-lorn communications arrived from a number of less distinguished suitors. For most of them she had no special feeling one way or the other, and dealt with each of these protestations as her guardians informed her that the position of the writer required. She showed indeed throughout the whole business (as both Genji and Tō no Chūjō were forced to admit) a good sense and docility that other members of her sex might have done well to imitate.

[19] For the old Princess, Tō no Chūjō’s mother, and consequently her grandmother, whose death is here assumed, though not actually referred to till three chapters later. The blue trousers, after which the chapter is named, were worn in sign of mourning.

[20] The ninth month, in which no marriages could be celebrated.

[21] Kashiwagi, Kōbai, and Tō no Chūjō’s other sons.

[22] Not named in the book. But in English she needs a name. Makibashira is the name of her little girl, who appears so seldom as not to need one, so I have used this name for the mother.

[23] The ninth month, during which no such step as the affiancement of Tamakatsura or her presentation at Court could take place. See above, p. 41.