Shōnagon, who now realized that he was going to make off with the child, fell into a terrible fluster. ‘O Sir,’ she said, ‘you could not have chosen a worse time. To-day her father is coming to fetch her, and whatever shall I say to him? If only you would wait, I am sure it would all come right in the end. But by acting so hastily you will do yourself no good and leave the poor servants here in a sad pickle.’ ‘If that is all,’ cried Genji, ‘let them follow as soon as they choose,’ and to Shōnagon’s despair he had the carriage brought in. The child stood by weeping andbewildered. There seemed no way of preventing him from carrying out his purpose and gathering together the child’s clothes that she had been sewing the night before, the nurse put on her own best dress and stepped into the carriage. Genji’s house was not far off and they arrived before daylight. They drew up in front of the western wing and Genji alighted. Taking the child lightly in his arms he set her on the ground. Shōnagon, to whom these strange events seemed like a dream, hesitated as though still uncertain whether she should enter the house or no. ‘There is no need for you to come in if you do not want to,’ said Genji. ‘Now that the child herself is safely here I am quite content. If you had rather go back, you have only to say so and I will escort you.’
Reluctantly she left the carriage. The suddenness of the move was in itself enough to have upset her; but she was also worrying about what Prince Hyōbukyō would think when he found that his child had vanished. And indeed whatwasgoing to become of her? One way or another all her mistresses seemed to be taken from her and it was only when she became frightened of having wept for so long on end that she at last dried her eyes and began to pray.
The western wing had long been uninhabited and was not completely furnished; but Koremitsu had soon fitted up screens and curtains where they were required. For Genji makeshift quarters were soon contrived by letting down the side-wings of his screen-of-honour. He sent to the other part of the house for his night things and went to sleep. The child, who had been put to bed not far off, was still very apprehensive and ill at ease in these new surroundings. Her lips were trembling, but she dared not cry out loud. ‘I want to sleep with Shōnagon,’ she said at last in a tearful, babyish voice. ‘You are getting too big to sleep with a nurse,’ said Genji, who had heard her.‘You must try and go to sleep nicely where you are.’ She felt very lonely and lay weeping for a long while. The nurse was far too much upset to think of going to bed and sat up for the rest of the night in the servants’ quarters crying so bitterly that she was unconscious of all that went on around her.
But when it grew light she began to look about her a little. Not only this great palace with its marvellous pillars and carvings, but the sand in the courtyard outside which seemed to her like a carpet of jewels made so dazzling an impression upon her that at first she felt somewhat overawed. However, the fact that she was now no longer in a household of women gave her an agreeable sense of security.
It was the hour at which business brought various strangers to the house. There were several men walking just outside her window and she heard one of them whisper to another: ‘They say that someone new has come to live here. Who can it be, I wonder? A lady of note, I’ll warrant you.’
Bath water was brought from the other wing, and steamed rice for breakfast. Genji did not rise till far on into the morning. ‘It is not good for the child to be alone,’ he said to Shōnagon, ‘so last night before I came to you I arranged for some little people to come and stay here,’ and so saying he sent a servant to ‘fetch the little girls from the eastern wing.’ He had given special orders that they were to be as small as possible and now four of the tiniest and prettiest creatures imaginable arrived upon the scene.
Murasaki was still asleep, lying wrapped in Genji’s own coat. It was with difficulty that he roused her. ‘You must not be sad any more,’ he said; ‘If I were not very fond of you, should I be looking after you like this? Little girls ought to be very gentle and obedient in their ways.’ And thus her education was begun.
She seemed to him, now that he could study her at leisure,even more lovely than he had realized and they were soon engaged in an affectionate conversation. He sent for delightful pictures and toys to show her and set to work to amuse her in every way he could. Gradually he persuaded her to get up and look about her. In her shabby dress made of some dark grey material she looked so charming now that she was laughing and playing, with all her woes forgotten, that Genji too laughed with pleasure as he watched her. When at last he retired to the eastern wing, she went out of doors to look at the garden. As she picked her way among the trees and along the side of the lake, and gazed with delight upon the frosty flower-beds that glittered gay as a picture, while a many-coloured throng of unknown people passed constantly in and out of the house, she began to think that this was a very nice place indeed. Then she looked at the wonderful pictures that were painted on all the panels and screens and quite lost her heart to them.
For two or three days Genji did not go to the Palace, but spent all his time amusing the little girl. Finally he drew all sorts of pictures for her to put into her copy-book, showing them to her one by one as he did so. She thought them the loveliest set of pictures she had ever seen. Then he wrote part of theMusashi-nopoem.12She was delighted by the way it was written in bold ink-strokes on a background stained with purple. In a smaller hand was the poem: ‘Though the parent-root13I cannot see, yet tenderly I love its off-shoot,14—the dewy plant that grows upon Musashi Moor.’ ‘Come’ said Genji while she was admiring it, ‘you must write something too.’ ‘I cannot write properly yet’ she answered, looking up at him with awitchery so wholly unconscious that Genji laughed. ‘Even if you cannot write properly it will never do for us to let you off altogether. Let me give you a lesson.’ With many timid glances towards him she began to write. Even the childish manner in which she grasped the brush gave him a thrill of delight which he was at a loss to explain. ‘Oh, I have spoiled it’ she suddenly cried out and blushing hid from him what she had written. But he forced her to let him see it and found the poem: ‘I do not know what put Musashi into your head and am very puzzled. What plant is it that you say is a relative of mine?’ It was written in a large childish hand which was indeed very undeveloped, but was nevertheless full of promise. It showed a strong resemblance to the late nun’s writing. He felt certain that if she were given up-to-date copy-books she would soon write very nicely.
Next they built houses for the dolls and played so long at this game together that Genji forgot for a while the great anxiety15which was at that time preying upon his mind.
The servants who had been left behind at Murasaki’s house were extremely embarrassed when Prince Hyōbukyō came to fetch her. Genji had made them promise for a time at any rate to tell no one of what had happened and Shōnagon had seemed to agree that this was best. Accordingly he could get nothing out of them save that Shōnagon had taken the child away with her without saying anything about where she was going. The Prince felt completely baffled. Perhaps the grandmother had instilled into the nurse’s mind the idea that things would not go smoothly for the child at his palace. In that case the nurse with an excess of craftiness might, instead of openly saying that she feared the child would not be well treated under his roof, have thought it wiser to make off with her whenopportunity offered. He went home very depressed, asking them to let him know instantly if they had any news, a request which again embarrassed them. He also made enquiries of the priest at the temple in the hills, but could learn nothing. She had seemed to him to be a most lovable and delightful child; it was verydisappointingto lose sight of her in this manner. The princess his wife had long ago got over her dislike of the child’s mother and was indignant at the idea that she was not to be trusted to do her duty by the child properly.
Gradually the servants from Murasaki’s house assembled at her new home. The little girls who had been brought to play with her were delighted with their new companion and they were soon all playing together very happily.
When her prince was away or busy, on dreary evenings she would still sometimes long for her grandmother the nun and cry a little. But she never thought about her father whom she had never been used to see except at rare intervals. Now indeed she had ‘a new father’ of whom she was growing every day more fond. When he came back from anywhere she was the first to meet him and then wonderful games and conversations began, she sitting all the while on his lap without the least shyness or restraint. A more charming companion could not have been imagined. It might be that when she grew older, she would not always be so trustful. New aspects of her character might come into play. If she suspected, for example, that he cared for someone else, she might resent it, and in such a case all sorts of unexpected things are apt to happen; but for the present she was a delightful plaything. Had she really been his daughter, convention would not have allowed him to go on much longer living with her on terms of such complete intimacy; but in a case like this he felt that such scruples were not applicable.
1Fujitsubo, who was indeed the child’s aunt.
2Fujitsubo, who was Hyōbukyō’s sister.
3The Guardian Spell (goshin) is practised as follows:The ministrant holds the palms of his hands together with middle fingers touching and extended, first fingers separated and bent, tips of thumbs and little fingers bunched together, and third fingers in line with middle fingers so as to be invisible from in front. With hands in this sacred pose (mudrā) he touches the worshipper on forehead, left and right shoulder, heart and throat. At each contact he utters the spellON · BASARA GONJI HARAJŪBATA · SOHAKAwhich is corrupt Sanskrit and means ‘I invoke thee, thou diamond-fiery very majestic Star.’ The deity here invoked is Vairocana, favourite Buddha of the Mystic Sect.
The ministrant holds the palms of his hands together with middle fingers touching and extended, first fingers separated and bent, tips of thumbs and little fingers bunched together, and third fingers in line with middle fingers so as to be invisible from in front. With hands in this sacred pose (mudrā) he touches the worshipper on forehead, left and right shoulder, heart and throat. At each contact he utters the spell
ON · BASARA GONJI HARAJŪBATA · SOHAKA
which is corrupt Sanskrit and means ‘I invoke thee, thou diamond-fiery very majestic Star.’ The deity here invoked is Vairocana, favourite Buddha of the Mystic Sect.
4A Chinese instrument; often translated ‘mouth-organ.’
5A song the words of which were used as a first writing lesson.
6There is here a pun, and a reference to poem 3807 in theManyōshū.
7To Lady Rokujō.
8Arises out of some connection in a previous existence.
9Purple ismurasakiin Japanese. From this poem the child is known as Murasaki; and hence the authoress derived the nickname by which she too is known.
10His wife.
11The song is addressed by a girl to a suspicious lover; Genji reverses the sense.
12‘Though I know not the place, yet when they told me this was the moor of Musashi, the thought flashed through my mind: “What else indeed could it be, since all its grass is purple-dyed?”’
13Fujitsubo. The fuji flower is also purple (murasaki) in colour.
14The child Murasaki, who was Fujitsubo’s niece. Musashi was famous for the purple dye extracted from the roots of a grass that grew there.
15The pregnancy of Fujitsubo.