have no time for those indiscreet conversations which at our own Court are the cause of so much trouble. There I should be allowed to live buried in my own thoughts like a tree-stump in the earth; at the same time, they would not expect me to hide from every man with whom I was not already acquainted; and even if I addressed a few remarks to such a person, I should not be thought lost to all sense of shame. Indeed, I can imagine myself under such circumstances becoming, after a certain amount of practice, quite lively and amusing!'
While pining for the elegance and freedom of Princess Senshi's Court, Murasaki was employed by her earnest young mistress for a purpose that the world would have considered far more improper than the philandering of which Akiko so sternly disapproved. The Empress had a secret desire to learn Chinese. The study of this language was considered at the time far too rough and strenuous an occupation for women. There were no grammars or dictionaries, and each horny sentence had to be grappled and mastered like an untamed steer. That Akiko should wish to learn Chinese must have been as shocking to Michinaga as it would have been to Gladstone if one of his daughters had wanted to learn boxing. Murasaki had, as we have seen, picked up something of the language by overhearing her brother's lessons. She did everything in her power to conceal this knowledge, even pretending (as she tells us in the Diary) that she could not read the Chinese characters on her mistress's screen; but somehow or other it leaked out: 'Since the summer before last, very secretly, in odd moments when there happened to be no one about, I have been reading with her Majesty the two books of "Songs."[1] There has of course been no question of formal
- ↑ The third and fourth body of Po Chü-i's poetical works, including Magic, The Old Man with the Broken Arm, The Prisoner, The Two Red Towers, and The Dragon of the Pool, all of which are translated in my '170 Chinese Poems.'
