Man-Pai / Genji Ch.2

Man-Pai / Genji Ch.2 - Hahakigi

Hahakigi - Broom Tree

Kuniyoshi, 1845/46

(This is the story when Genji is 17 years old. He spent little time with his bride. He stayed most of the time in the court and seldom visited her. But with his brother-in-law, To-no-Chujo, he was on particularly good terms). The summer rains came, the court was in retreat. It had been raining all day. Genji was back in his own palace quarters. To-no-Chujo was also there. Genji pulled a lamp near and sought to while away the time with his books. Numerous pieces of colored paper, obviously letters, lay on a shelf. To-no-Chujo made no attempt to hide his curiosity. It was not likely that very sensitive letters would be left scattered on a shelf, and it may be assumed that the papers treated so carelessly were the less important ones. To-no-Chujo was reading the correspondence through piece by piece. This will be from her, and this will be from her, he would say. Sometimes he guessed correctly and sometimes he was far afield.

(Two young courtiers, a guard officer and a functionary in the Ministry of Rites, appeared on the scene. They talked on of the varieties of women). The guard officer once had a woman who was a model of devotion; but she was violently jealous. One day I said to her: If you go on doubting me as you have, I will not see you again. She answered: Maybe this is the time, and then, suddenly, she took my hand and bit my finger. After parting, he never visited her again, and the woman passed away in sorrow.

The guard officer talked on. "There was another one besides jealous woman. clever with her hands and clever with words. And I learned that I was not her only secret visitor. One bright moonlit autumn night I chanced to leave court with a friend. He got in the same carriage and got off in the front of the woman's house. The chrysanthemums were at their best and the red leaves were beautiful in the autumn wind. He took out a flute and played a tune on it. Blending nicely with the flute, there came the mellow tones of a Japanese koto.” After that he stopped seeing her.

"Let me tell you a story about a shy woman I once knew," said To-no-Chujo. "I was seeing her in secret. She was an orphan and had borne a child. I sensed that she had come to depend on me. I went on seeing her, but only infrequently. She did not seem to feel any resentment though I visited so seldom. My affection grew. Later, my wife found a roundabout way to be objectionable, and when I looked in on her again the woman had disappeared."

(That woman and child will appear in the later chapter as Yugao and Tamakazura).

Kunichika, 1884

"When I was still a student I knew a remarkably wise woman. She was most attentive to my needs. I learned many estimable things from her, to add to my store of erudition and help me with my work. Her letters were lucidity itself, in the purest Chinese." (But unfortunately, she was the sort of woman who lacked gentleness). One day when he visited her, she insisted on talking to me through a very obtrusive screen. She said she had been indisposed with a malady known as coryza. "I have been imbibing of a steeped potion made from garlic," she said, and continued that when she had disencumbered herself of this aroma, they could meet once more. But he thought that he had had enough and left her then.

(One day, Genji could not return to his mansion, since his mansion laid in a forbidden direction according to Buddhism.) He decided to visit the governor of Kii in Kyoto. The governor’s mansion had been cleaned and made presentable. The shallow rivers were created pleasingly in the garden. A fence of wattles, of a deliberately rustic appearance, enclosed the garden, and much care had gone into the plantings. Insects were humming, one scarcely knew where, fireflies drew innumerable lines of light. Genji sat in the east room of the mansion facing the south side of the garden. His men were already tippling, out where they could admire a brook flowing under a gallery. The governor seemed busy and hurried off for viands. (That night he saw Utsusemi and her stubbornness was what interested him). (He was attracted by her thoughtful character.)

All was quiet. Genji could make his way through to Utsusemi. She was so small that he lifted her up easily. She stood in confusion. She spoke with great firmness, but her thoughts were far from as firm. How happy she might have been if she had not made this unfortunate marriage with the old governor, the father of the Kii governor. The first cock was crowing and Genji's men were awake. Genji parted, attracted to her extraordinary coldness. She trembled to think that a dream might have told him of the night's happenings.

(Genji’s longing was undiminished. He could not forget how touchingly fragile and confused Utsusemi had seemed.) Genji asked the governor of Kii to introduce him to Kokimi, the young brother of Utsusemi. He gave the boy a letter for his sister. But Utsusemi gave no reply to her brother, telling "You are a child, and it is quite improper for you to be carrying such messages. " The hand was splendid, but she should not wait for this kind of letter. She belonged to another man, whom she must abandon if she would follow Genji.