True, his thoughts had often reverted to Cicada,
and to her young friend; but it was now of little use thinking of
them, for one had gone to the country, and the other was married.
and to her young friend; but it was now of little use thinking of
them, for one had gone to the country, and the other was married.
Epiphanius Wilson - Japanese Literature
He was
unsuccessful in his effort, and presently they retired to their
apartment, where he soon relapsed into sleepy indifference. His
thoughts began to wander back into other regions, and hopes of the
future growth and charms of the young mountain-violet again occupied
his mind. "Oh! how difficult it is to secure a prize," thought he.
"How can I do so? Her father, Prince Hiobkio, is a man of rank, and
affable, but he is not of prepossessing appearance. Why does his
daughter resemble so much, in her personal attractions, the lovely one
in the chamber of Wistaria. Is it that the mother of her father and of
Wistaria is the same person? How charming is the resemblance between
them! How can I make her mine? "
Some days afterwards he sent a letter to the mountain home, and also a
communication--perhaps with some hint in it--to the priest. In his
letter to the nun he said that her indifference made it desirable to
refrain from urging his wishes; but, nevertheless, that he should be
deeply gratified if she would think more favorably of the idea which
was now so deeply rooted in his mind. Inside the letter he enclosed a
small folded slip of paper, on which was written:--
"The mountain flower I left behind
I strive but vainly to forget,
Those lovely traits still rise to mind
And fill my heart with sad regret. "
This ludicrous effusion caused the nun to be partly amused and partly
vexed. She wrote an answer as follows:--
"When you came into our neighborhood your visit was very pleasing to
us, and your special message does us honor. I am, however, at a loss
how to express myself with regard to the little one, as yet she cannot
even manage the naniwadz. "[63]
Enclosed in the note were the following lines, in which she hinted as
to her doubts of the steadfastness of Genji's character:
"Your heart admires the lowly flower
That dwells within our mountain bower.
Not long, alas! that flower may last
Torn by the mountain's angry blast. "
The tenor of the priest's answer was much the same, and it caused
Genji some vexation.
About this time the Lady Wistaria, in consequence of an attack of
illness, had retired from the palace to her private residence, and
Genji, while sympathizing with the anxiety of the Emperor about her,
longed greatly for an opportunity of seeing her, ill though she was.
Hence at this time he went nowhere, but kept himself in his mansion at
Nijio, and became thoughtful and preoccupied. At length he endeavored
to cajole O Miobu, Wistaria's attendant, into arranging an opportunity
for him to see her. On Wistaria's part there were strong doubts as to
the propriety of complying with his request, but at last the
earnestness of the Prince overcame her scruples, and O Miobu managed
eventually to bring about a meeting between them. [64]
Genji gave vent to his feelings to the Princess, as follows:--
"Though now we meet, and not again
We e'er may meet, I seem
As though to die, I were full fain
Lost in this blissful dream. "
Then the Princess replied to him, full of sadness:--
"We might dream on but fear the name,
The envious world to us may give,
Forgetful of the darkened fame,
That lives when we no longer live. "
For some time after this meeting had taken place, Genji found himself
too timid to appear at his father's palace, and remained in his
mansion. The Princess, too, experienced a strong feeling of remorse.
She had, moreover, a cause of anxiety special in its nature and
peculiar to herself as a woman, for which she alone felt some
uneasiness of conscience.
Three months of the summer had passed away, and her secret began to
betray itself externally. The Emperor was naturally anxious about the
health of his favorite, and kind inquiries were sent from time to time
to her. But the kinder he was to her the more conscience-stricken she
felt.
Genji at this time was often visited by strange dreams. When he
consulted a diviner about them, he was told that something remarkable
and extraordinary might happen to him, and that it behooved him to be
cautious and prudent.
"Here is a pretty source of embarrassment," thought Genji.
He cautioned the diviner to be discreet about it, especially because
he said the dreams were not his own but another person's. When at last
he heard authentically about the condition of the Princess, he was
extremely anxious to communicate with her, but she now peremptorily
objected to any kind of correspondence between them, and O Miobu too
refused any longer to assist him.
In July Wistaria returned to the palace. There she was received by the
Emperor with great rejoicing, and he thought that her condition did
but add to her attractiveness.
It was now autumn, the season when agreeable receptions were often
held by the Emperor in Court, and it was awkward when Genji and the
Princess happened to face each other on these occasions, as neither of
them could be free from their tender recollections.
During these autumn evenings the thoughts of Genji were often directed
to the granddaughter of the nun, especially because she resembled the
Princess so much. His desire to possess her was considerably
increased, and the recollection of the first evening when he heard
the nun intoning to herself the verses about the tender grass,
recurred to his mind. "What," thought he, "if I pluck this tender
grass, would it then be, would it then grow up, as fair as now. "
"When will be mine this lovely flower
Of tender grace and purple hue?
Like the Wistaria of the bower,
Its charms are lovely to my view. "
The Emperor's visit to the Palace Suzak-in was now announced to take
place in October, and dancers and musicians were selected from among
the young nobles who were accomplished in these arts, and Royal
Princes and officers of State were fully engaged in preparation for
the _fete_. After the Royal festivities, a separate account of which
will be given hereafter, he sent again a letter to the mountain. The
answer, however, came only from the priest, who said that his sister
had died on the twentieth day of the last month; and added that though
death is inevitable to all of us, still he painfully felt her loss.
Genji pondered first on the precariousness of human life, and then
thought how that little one who had depended on her must be afflicted,
and gradually the memory of his own childhood, during which he too had
lost his mother, came back to his mind.
When the time of full mourning was over, Shionagon, together with the
young girl, returned to their house in the capital. There one evening
Genji paid them a visit. The house was rather a gloomy one, and was
tenanted by fewer inmates than usual.
"How timid the little girl must feel! " thought Genji, as he was shown
in. Shionagon now told him with tearful eyes every circumstance which
had taken place since she had seen him. She also said that the girl
might be handed over to her father, who told her that she must do so,
but his present wife was said to be very austere. The girl is not
young enough to be without ideas and wishes of her own, but yet not
old enough to form them sensibly; so were she to be taken to her
father's house and be placed with several other children, much misery
would be the result. Her grandmother suffered much on this account.
"Your kindness is great," continued she, "and we ought not, perhaps,
to think too anxiously about the future. Still she is young, too
young, and we cannot think of it without pity. "
"Why do you recur to that so often? " said Genji, "it is her very
youthfulness which moves my sympathy. I am anxious to talk to her,
Say, can the wave that rolls to land,
Return to ocean's heaving breast,
Nor greet the weed upon the strand
With one wild kiss, all softly pressed.
How sweet it would be! "
"That is very beautifully put, sir," said Shionagon, "but,
Half trembling at the coming tide
That rolls about the sea-beat sand,
Say, can the tender weed untried,
Be trusted to its boisterous hand? "
Meanwhile the girl, who was with her companions in her apartment, and
who was told that a gentleman in Court dress had arrived, and that
perhaps it was the Prince, her father, came running in, saying,
"Shionagon, where is the gentleman in Court dress; has the Prince, my
father, arrived? "
"Not the Prince, your father," uttered Genji, "but I am here, and I
too am your friend. Come here! "
The girl, glancing with shy timidity at Genji, for whom she already
had some liking, and thinking that perhaps there was impropriety in
what she had spoken, went over to her nurse, and said, "Oh! I am very
sleepy, and wish to lie down! "
"See how childish she still is," remarked Shionagon.
"Why are you so timid, little one, come here and sleep on my knees,"
said Genji.
"Go, my child, as you are asked," observed Shionagon, and she pushed
her towards Genji.
Half-unconsciously she took her place by his side. He pushed aside a
small shawl which covered her hair, and played with her long tresses,
and then he took her small hand in his. "Ah, my hand! " cried she, and
drawing it back, she ran into a neighboring room. Genji followed her,
and tried to coax her out of her shyness, telling her that he was one
of her best friends, and that she was not to be so timid.
By this time darkness had succeeded to the beautiful evening, and hail
began to fall.
"Close the casement, it is too fearful, I will watch over you this
evening," said Genji, as he led the girl away, to the great surprise
of Shionagon and others who wondered at his ease in doing this.
By and by she became sleepy, and Genji, as skilfully as any nurse
could, removed all her outer clothing, and placed her on the couch to
sleep, telling her as he sat beside her, "some day you must come with
me to some beautiful palace, and there you shall have as many pictures
and playthings as you like. " Many other similar remarks he added to
arrest her attention and to please her.
Her fears gradually subsided, and as she kept looking on the handsome
face of Genji, and taking notice of his kindness, she did not fall
asleep for some time.
When the night was advanced, and the hailstorm had passed away, Genji
at last took his departure. The temperature now suddenly changed, and
the hail was lying white upon the grass. "Can it be," thought he,
"that I am leaving this place as a lover? " At that moment he
remembered that the house of a maiden with whom he had had an
acquaintance was on his road home. When he came near to it he ordered
one of his attendants to knock at the door. No one, however, came
forth. Thereupon Genji turned to another, who had a remarkably good
voice, and ordered him to sing the following lines:--
"Though wandering in the morning gray,
This gate is one I cannot pass,
A tender memory bids me stay
To see once more a pretty lass. "
This was repeated twice, when presently a man came to the door and
sang, in reply, as follows:--
"If you cannot pass the gate,
Welcome all to stop and wait.
Nought prevents you. Do not fear,
For the gate stands always here. "
And then went in, slamming the door in their faces, and appearing no
more. Genji, therefore disappointed, proceeded on his way home.
On the morrow he took up his pen to write a letter to Violet, but
finding that he had nothing in particular to say, he laid it aside,
and instead of a letter several beautiful pictures were sent for her.
From this time Koremitz was sent there very often, partly to do them
service, and partly to watch over their movements. At last the time
when the girl's father was to take her home approached within a night,
and Shionagon was busily occupied in sewing a dress for the girl, and
was thus consequently unable to take much notice of Koremitz when he
arrived. Noting these preparatory arrangements, Koremitz at once
hastened to inform Genji about them. He happened to be this evening at
the mansion of Sadaijin, but Lady Aoi was not, as was often the case,
with him, and he was amusing himself there with thumping a _wagon_ as
he sang a "Hitachi" song. Koremitz presented himself before him, and
gave him the latest information of what was going on.
Genji, when he had listened to Koremitz, thought, "This will never do;
I must not lose her in this way. But the difficulty is indeed
perplexing. If, on the one hand, she goes to her father, it will not
become me to ask him for her. If, on the other hand, I carry her off,
people may say that I stole her. However, upon consideration, this
latter plan, if I can manage to shut people's mouths beforehand, will
be much better than that I should demand her from her father. "
So, turning to Koremitz, he said, "I must go there. See that the
carriage is ready at whatever hour I may appoint. Let two or three
attendants be in readiness. " Koremitz, having received these orders,
retired.
Long before dawn broke, Genji prepared to leave the mansion. Lady Aoi,
as usual, was a little out of temper, but Genji told her that he had
some particular arrangements to make at his mansion at Nijio, but that
he would soon return to her. He soon started, Koremitz alone following
him on horseback.
On their arrival Koremitz proceeded to a small private entrance and
announced himself. Shionagon recognized his voice and came out, and
upon this he informed her that the Prince had come. She, presuming
that he did so only because he happened to pass by them, said, "What!
at this late hour? " As she spoke, Genji came up and said:--
"I hear that the little one is to go to the Prince, her father, and I
wish to say a few words to her before she goes. "
"She is asleep; really, I am afraid that she cannot talk with you at
this hour. Besides, what is the use? " replied Shionagon, with a smile.
Genji, however, pressed his way into the house, saying:--
"Perhaps the girl is not awake yet, but I will awake her," and, as the
people could not prevent his doing so, he proceeded to the room where
she was unconsciously sleeping on a couch. He shook her gently. She
started up, thinking it was her father who had come.
Genji pushed the hair back from her face, as he said to her, "I am
come from your father;" but this she knew to be false, and was
alarmed. "Don't be frightened," said Genji; "there is nothing in me to
alarm you. " And in spite of Shionagon's request not to disturb her, he
lifted her from the couch, abruptly saying that he could not allow her
to go elsewhere, and that he had made up his mind that he himself
would be her guardian. He also said she should go with him, and that
some of them should go with her.
Shionagon was thunderstruck. "We are expecting her father to-morrow,
and what are we to say to him? " She added, "Surely, you can find some
better opportunity to manage matters than this. "
"All right, you can come afterward; we will go first," retorted Genji,
as he ordered his carriage to drive up.
Shionagon was perplexed, and Violet also cried, thinking how strange
all this was. At last Shionagon saw it was no use to resist, and so
having hurriedly changed her own dress for a better one, and taking
with her the pretty dress of Violet which she had been making in the
evening, got into the carriage, where Genji had already placed the
little one.
It was no great distance to Nijio, and they arrived there before dawn.
The carriage was driven up to the western wing of the mansion. To
Shionagon the whole affair seemed like a dream. "What am I to do? " she
said to Genji, who teasingly answered, "What you choose. You may go if
you like; so long as this darling is here I am content. " Genji lifted
the girl out and carried her into the house. That part of the mansion
in which they now were, had not been inhabited, and the furniture was
scanty and inappropriate; so, calling Koremitz, the Prince ordered him
to see that proper furniture was brought. The beds were therefore
taken from the eastern wing, where he himself lived.
Day broke, and Shionagon surveyed with admiration all the magnificence
with which she was surrounded. Both the exterior of the building and
its internal arrangements left nothing to be desired. Going to the
casement, she saw the gravelled walks flashing brightly in the sun.
"Ah," thought she, "where am I amidst all this splendor? This is too
grand for me! "
Bath water for their ablutions, and rice soup were now brought into
the apartment, and Genji afterward made his appearance.
"What! no attendants? No one to play with the girl? I will send some,"
and he then ordered some young persons from the eastern wing of the
mansion. Four accordingly came.
Violet was still fast asleep in her night-dress, and now Genji gently
shook and woke her. "Do not be frightened any more," he said quietly
to her; "a good girl would not be so, but would know that it is best
to be obedient. " She became more and more pleasing to him, and he
tried to please her by presenting to her a variety of pretty pictures
and playthings, and by consulting her wishes in whatever she desired.
She was still wearing the dress of mourning, of sombre color and of
soft material, and it was only now at last that she began to smile a
little, and this filled Genji with delight. He now had to return to
the eastern wing, and Violet, for the first time, went to the casement
and looked out on the scenery around. The trees covered with foliage,
a small lake, and the plantations round about expanded before her as
in a picture. Here and there young people were going in and out. "Ah!
what a pretty place," she exclaimed, charmed as she gazed around.
Then, turning again into the apartment, she saw beautiful pictures
painted on the screens and walls, which could not but please her.
Genji did not go to the Palace for two or three days, but spent his
time in trying to train Violet. "She must soon take lessons in
writing," he thought, and he wrote several writing copies for her.
Among these was one in plain characters on violet-colored paper, with
the title, "Musashi-no" (The field of Musashi is known for its
violets). She took it up, and in handwriting plain and clear though
small, she found the following:
Though still a bud the violet be,
A still unopened blossom here,
Its tenderness has charms for me,
Recalling one no longer near.
"Come, _you_ must write one now," said Genji.
"I cannot write well enough," said Violet, looking up at him, with an
extremely charming look.
"Never mind, whether good or bad," said he, "but still write
something, to refuse is unkind. When there is any difficulty I will
help you through with it. "
Thereupon she turned aside shyly and wrote something, handling the pen
gracefully with her tiny fingers. "I have done it badly," she cried
out, and tried to conceal what she had written, but Genji insisted on
seeing it and found the following:--
I wonder what's the floweret's name,
From which that bud its charm may claim!
This was, of course, written in a childish hand, but the writing was
large and plain, giving promise of future excellence.
"How like her grandmother's it is," thought Genji. "Were she to take
lessons from a good professor she might become a master of the art. "
He ordered for her a beautiful doll's house, and played with her
different innocent and amusing games.
In the meantime, the Prince, her father, had duly arrived at the old
home of Violet and asked for her. The servants were embarrassed, but
as they had been requested by Genji not to tell, and as Shionagon had
also enjoined them to keep silence, they simply told him that the
nurse had taken her and absconded. The Prince was greatly amazed, but
he remembered that the girl's grandmother never consented to send his
daughter to his house, and knowing Shionagon to be a shrewd and
intelligent woman, he concluded that she had found out the reasons
which influenced her, and that so out of respect to her, and out of
dislike to tell him the reason of it, she had carried the girl off in
order that she might be kept away from him. He therefore merely told
the servants to inform him at once if they heard anything about them,
and he returned home.
Our story again brings us back to Nijio. The girl gradually became
reconciled to her new home, as she was most kindly treated by Genji.
True, during those evenings when Genji was absent she thought of her
dead grandmother, but the image of her father never presented itself
to her, as she had seldom seen him. And now, naturally enough, Genji,
whom she had learned to look upon as a second father, was the only one
for whom she cared. She was the first to greet him when he came home,
and she came forward to be fondled and caressed by him without shame
or diffidence. Girls at her age are usually shy and under restraint,
but with her it was quite different. And again, if a girl has somewhat
of jealousy in her disposition, and looks upon every little trifle in
a serious light, a man will have to be cautious in his dealings with
her, and she herself, too, will often have to undergo vexation. Thus
many disagreeable and unexpected incidents might often result. In the
case of Violet, however, things were very different, and she was ever
amiable and invariably pleasant.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 61: An Indian theological writing. ]
[Footnote 62: In the Buddhist Bible it is stated that there is in
Paradise a divine tree, called Udon, which rarely blossoms. When,
however, it does blossom, Buddha is said to appear in the world,
therefore we make use of this expression when referring to any rare
event. ]
[Footnote 63: The name of a song which in those days formed the first
lesson in writing. ]
[Footnote 64: The authoress represents her in a subsequent chapter as
suffering punishment in the next world for this sin. The real cause of
Genji's exile is also supposed to have resulted from the same sin. ]
CHAPTER VI
SAFFRON FLOWER
The beauteous Yugao of Genji was lost, but memory of her never
vanished from his mind. Her attractive nature, thoughtfulness, and
patient manner had seemed to him surpassingly charming. At last he
began to think of seeking for some other maiden who might resemble her
in these qualities.
True, his thoughts had often reverted to Cicada,
and to her young friend; but it was now of little use thinking of
them, for one had gone to the country, and the other was married.
Now, Genji had another nurse, next in degree to Daini. The daughter of
this nurse, Tayu-no-Miobu, was in Court service. She was still young,
and full of mirth and life. Genji was wont to make her useful when in
the palace. Her father, who had been remotely connected with the Royal
blood, was an official in the War Department. Her mother, however, had
been married again to the Governor of the province of Chikzen, and had
gone there with her husband; so Tayu made her father's house her home,
and went from there backwards and forwards to the palace. She was an
intimate acquaintance of a young Princess, the daughter of the late
Lord-Lieutenant of Hitachi, and she had been the child of his old age,
and was at this time his survivor. The life that she passed was
somewhat lonely, and her circumstances miserable. Tayu mentioned this
young lady to Genji, who exclaimed:--
"How sad! Tell me all about her. "
"I cannot say that I know so much about her," replied Tayu. "She leads
a very retired life, and is seldom seen in society. Perhaps, some
favorable evening, you might see her from a hiding-place. The _koto_
is her favorite instrument, and the favorite amusement of her
solitude. "
"Ah! " said Genji, "I see, one of the three friends (as the Chinese
poets call them)--Music, Poetry, and Wine; but, of the other two, one
is not always a good friend. " And he added, "Well, you may manage some
time to let me hear her _koto_. The Prince, her father, had great
taste and reputation in such arts; so, I believe, she is no ordinary
performer. "
"But, perhaps, after all, not so good as you imagine," replied Tayu,
disingenuously.
"Oh! that remains to be discovered," cried Genji, nibbling at the
bait. "One of these evenings I will come, and you had better be there
also. "
Now, the home of Tayu's father was at some distance from the
Princess's mansion; but Tayu used to spend her time very often with
the Princess, when she had leave of absence from the Court, chiefly
because she did not like being at home with her stepmother. For this
reason Tayu had plenty of chances for gratifying the wish of Genji to
see the Princess; so a certain evening was appointed.
It was a sweet balmy day in spring, and the grounds of the palace were
full of silence and repose. Tayu left the palace, and proceeded to the
mansion of the Princess, attracted more by the beauty of the evening
than by the appointment made. Genji also appeared on the scene, with
the newly risen moon, and was soon prattling with Tayu.
"You have not come at a very favorable time," said she. "This is not
the sort of evening when the _koto_ sounds sweetest. "
"But take me somewhere, so that I may hear her voice. I cannot go away
without hearing that. "
Tayu then led him into a private room, where she made him sit down,
and left him, saying, as she went away, "I am sorry to make you wait,
but you must have a little patience. " She proceeded to another part of
the palace occupied by the Princess, whom she found sitting pensively
near an open casement, inhaling the rich perfume of the plum blossoms.
"A good opportunity," thought Tayu; and, advancing to the Princess,
said: "What a lovely evening! How sweet at such an hour is the music
of the _koto_! My official going to and fro to the palace prevents me
from having the pleasure of hearing it often; so do now, if you
please, play me a tune. "
"You appreciate music," said the Princess; "but I am afraid that mine
is not good enough to charm the ear of courtiers; but, if you wish it,
I will play one tune. " And she ordered the _koto_ to be brought, and
began to strike it. Her skill was certainly not super-excellent; but
she had been well instructed, and the effect was by no means
displeasing to the ear.
Tayu, however, it must be remembered, was rather a sharp girl. She did
not like Genji to hear too much, so as to criticise; and, therefore,
said to the Princess, casting a glance upwards, "How changed and dull
the sky has become. A friend of mine is waiting; and is, perhaps,
impatient. I must have more of this pleasure some other time; at
present I must go and see him. " Thus she caused the Princess to cease
playing, and went to Genji, who exclaimed, when she returned, "Her
music seems pretty good; but I had better not have heard it at all.
How can we judge by so little? If you are willing to oblige me at all,
let me hear and see more closely than this. " Tayu made a difficulty.
"She is so retiring," she said, "and always keeps herself in the
strictest privacy. Were you to intrude upon her, it would not be
acting rightly. "
"Truly so," replied Genji; "her position insures her from intrusion.
Let us, then, seek for some better opportunity. " And then he prepared
to take leave, as if he had some other affairs on his hands. Tayu
observed, with a knowing smile, "The Emperor, your father, always
thinks of you as quite guileless, and actually says so. When I hear
these remarks I often laugh in my sleeve. Were his Majesty to see you
in these disguises, what would he then think? "
Genji answered, with a slight laugh: "Nonsense! If these trifling
amusements were thought so improper, how cheerless the life of woman
would be! "
Tayu made no remark in reply; so Genji then left the house, and took a
stroll round the garden, intending to reach that part of the mansion
where the Princess had her apartments. As he sauntered along, he came
to a thick hedge, in which there was a dark bower, and here wished to
stop awhile. He stepped cautiously into it, when he suddenly perceived
a tall man concealed there. "Who can this be? " thought Genji, as he
withdrew to a corner where the moonlight did not reach. This was
To-no-Chiujio, and the reason of his being there was this:
He had left the Palace that evening in company with Genji, who did not
go to his house in Nijio, nor to his bride, but separated from him on
the road. To-no-Chiujio was very anxious to find out where Genji was
going. He therefore followed him unperceived. When he saw Genji enter
the mansion of the Princess, he wished to see how the business would
end; so he waited in the garden, in order that he might witness
Genji's departure, listening, at the same time, to the _koto_ of the
Princess. Genji did not know who the man was, nor did he wish to be
recognized. He therefore began to retreat slowly on tip-toe, when
To-no-Chiujio came up to him from behind, and addressed him: "You
slighted me, but I have come to watch over you:--
Though like two wandering moons on high
We left our vast imperial home,
We parted on our road, and I
Knew not where you were bent to roam. "
Genji at once recognized his companion; and, being somewhat amused at
his pertinacity, exclaimed: "What an unexpected surprise!
We all admire the moon, 'tis true,
Whose home unknown to mortal eye
Is in the mountains hid, but who
To find that far-off home, would try? "
Hereupon To-no-Chiujio gave him a taunt: "What would you do," said he,
"if I were to follow you very often? Were you to maintain true
propriety in your position, you ought always to have trustworthy
attendants; and I am sure, by so doing, you will meet with better
fortune. I cannot say that it is very decorous of you to go wandering
about in such a fashion. It is too frivolous! "
"How very tiresome! " mentally exclaimed Genji; "but he little knows
about his Nadeshiko (little darling). I have him there! "
Neither of them ventured to go to any other rendezvous that night;
but, with many mutual home-thrusts, they got into a carriage together,
and proceeded home, amusing themselves all the way with a duet on
their flutes. Entering the mansion, they went to a small apartment,
where they changed their dresses, and commenced playing the flutes in
such a manner as if they had come from the Palace. The Sadaijin,
hearing this music, could not forbear joining them, and blew skilfully
a Corean flute in concert with theirs. Lady Aoi, also, in her room,
catching the impulse, ordered some practised players on the _koto_ to
perform.
Meantime, both Genji and To-no-Chiujio, in their secret minds, were
thinking of the notes of the _koto_ heard before on that evening, and
of the bare and pitiable condition of the residence of the Princess
whom they had left--a great contrast to the luxury of their present
quarters. To-no-Chiujio's idea about her took something of this shape:
"If girls who, from a modest propriety, keep themselves aloof for
years from our society, were at last to be subdued by our attentions,
our affection for them would become irresistible, even braving
whatever remarks popular scandal might pass upon us. She may be like
one of these. The Prince Genji seems to have made her the object of
some attentions. He is not one to waste his time without reason. He
knows what he is doing. "
As these thoughts arose in his mind, a slight feeling of jealousy
disturbed him, and made him ready to dare a little rivalry in that
quarter; for, it would appear, that after this day amatory letters
were often sent both by him and Genji to the Princess, who, however,
returned no answer to either.
This silence on her part made To-no-Chiujio, more especially, think
thus: "A strange rejection; and from one, too, who possesses such a
secluded life. True, her birth is high; but that cannot be the only
reason which makes her bury herself in retirement. There must be some
stronger reason, I presume. "
As we have before mentioned, Genji and To-no-Chiujio were so intimate
that all ceremony was dispensed with between them, and they could ask
each other any question without reserve. From this circumstance
To-no-Chiujio one day boldly inquired of Genji: "I dare say you have
received some replies from the Princess. Have you not? I for my part
have thrown out some hints in that quarter by way of experiment, but I
gave up in disappointment. "
"Ah, then, he too has been trying there," thought Genji, smiling
slightly, and he replied very vaguely, "I am not particularly
concerned whether I get an answer or not, therefore I cannot tell you
whether I have received any. "
"I understand that," thought To-no-Chiujio; "perhaps he has got one; I
suspect so. "
To state the truth, Genji was not very deeply smitten by the Princess,
and he was but little concerned at her sending no reply to his letter;
but when he heard the confession of his brother-in-law's attempts in
the same quarter, the spirit of rivalry stirred him once more. "A
girl," thought he, "will yield to him who pays her the most
attentions. I must not allow him to excel me in that. " And Genji
determined to achieve what he intended to do, and with this object
still enlisted the aid of Tayu. He told her that the Princess's
treating his letter with such indifference was an act of great
cruelty. "Perhaps she does this," said he, "because she suspects I am
changeable. I am not, however, such a one as that. It is often only
the fault of ladies themselves that causes men to appear so; besides a
lady, like the Princess, who has neither parent nor brother to
interfere with her, is a most desirable acquaintance, as we can
maintain our friendship far better than we could otherwise do. "
"Yes! what you say is all very well," replied Tayu, "but the Princess
is not exactly so placed that any one can make himself quite at ease
with her. As I told you before she is very bashful and reserved; but
yet is perhaps more desirable for this very reason," and she detailed
many more particulars about her. This enabled Genji to fully picture
the general bearing of the Princess's character; and he thought,
"Perhaps her mind is not one of brilliant activity, but she may be
modest, and of a quiet nature, worthy of attention. " And so he kept
the recollection of her alive in his mind. Before, however, he met
her, many events had taken place. He had been attacked by the ague,
which led to his journey to the mountain and his discovery of Violet,
and his secret affection for a certain one in the palace.
His mind being thus otherwise occupied, the spring and summer passed
away without anything further transpiring about the Princess. As the
autumn advanced his thoughts recurred to past times, and even the
sound of the fuller's hammer, which he had listened to in the home of
Yugao, came back to his mental ear; and these reveries again brought
him to the recollection of the Princess Hitachi, and now once more he
began to urge Tayu to contrive a meeting.
It would seem that there was no difficulty for Tayu to bring the
matter about, but at the same time no one knew better than herself
that the natural gifts and culture of the Princess were far from
coming up to Genji's standard. She thought, however, that it would
matter very little if he did not care for her, but if, on the other
hand, he did so, he was quite free to come and see her without any
interference. For this reason she at last made up her mind to bring
them together, and she gave several hints to the Princess.
Now it so happened towards the end of August that Tayu was on one
occasion engaged in conversing with the Princess. The evening was as
yet moonless, the stars alone twinkled in the heavens, and the gentle
winds blew plaintively over the tall trees around the mansion. The
conversation gradually led to times gone by, and the Princess was
rendered sad by the contrast of her present circumstances with those
of her father's time. "This is a good opportunity," thought Tayu, and
she sent, it seems, a message to Genji, who soon hastened to the
mansion with his usual alacrity. At the moment when he arrived on the
scene the long-looked-for moon had just made her appearance over the
tops of a distant mountain, and as he looked along the wildly growing
hedges around the residence, he heard the sound of the _koto_, which
was being played by the Princess at Tayu's request. It sounded a
little too old-fashioned, but that was of no consequence to the eager
ears of the Prince. He soon made his way to the entrance, and
requested a domestic to announce him to Tayu.
When the latter heard of this she affected great surprise, and said to
the Princess, "The Prince has come. How annoying! He has often been
displeased because I have not yet introduced him to you. I have often
told him that you do not particularly like it, and therefore I cannot
think what makes him come here. I had better see him and send him
away, but what shall I say. We cannot treat him like an ordinary
person. I am really puzzled what to do. Will you not let me ask you if
you will see him for a few minutes, then all matters will end
satisfactorily? "
"But I am not used to receive people," said the Princess, blushing.
"How simple minded! " rejoined Tayu, coaxingly, "I am sorry for that,
for the bashfulness of young ladies who are under the care of their
parents may sometimes be even desirable, but how then is that parallel
with your case? Besides, I do not see any good in a friendless maiden
refusing the offer of a good acquaintance. "
"Well, if you really insist upon it," said the Princess, "perhaps I
will; but don't expose me too much to the gaze of a stranger. "
Having thus cunningly persuaded the Princess, Tayu set the
reception-room in order, into which Genji was soon shown. The Princess
was all the while experiencing much nervousness, and as she did not
know exactly how to manage, she left everything to Tayu, and was led
by her to the room to receive her visitor. The room was arranged in
such a way that the Princess had her back to the light so that her
face and emotions could be obscured.
The perfume which she used was rich, still preserving the trait of
high birth, but her demeanor was timid, and her deportment awkward.
Genji at once noticed this. "Just as I imagined. She is so simple,"
thought he, and then he commenced to talk with her, and to explain how
passionately he had desired to see her. She, however, listened to him
almost in silence, and gave no plain answer. Genji was disconcerted,
and at last said,
"From you I sought so oft reply,
But you to give one would not deign,
If you discard me, speak, and I
Will cease to trouble you again. "
The governess of the Princess, Kojijiu by name, who was present, was a
sagacious woman, and noticing the embarrassment of the lady, she
advanced to her side, and made the following reply in such a
well-timed manner that her real object, which was to conceal the
deficiencies of her mistress, did not betray itself--
"Not by the ringing of a bell,
Your words we wish to stay;
But simply, she has nought to tell,
And nothing much to say. "
"Your eloquence has so struck me that my mouth is almost closed," said
Genji, smiling--
"Not speaking is a wiser part,
And words are sometimes vain,
But to completely close the heart
In silence, gives me pain. "
He then tried to speak of this thing and that indifferently, but all
hopes of agreeable responsiveness on the lady's part being vain, he
coolly took his leave, and left the mansion, much disappointed.
This evening he slept in his mansion at Nijio. The next morning
To-no-Chiujio appeared before he had risen.
"How late, how late! " he cried, in a peculiar tone. "Were you fatigued
last night, eh? "
Genji rose and presently came out, saying, "I have overslept myself,
that is all; nothing to disturb me. But have you come from the palace?
Was it your official watch-night? "[65]
"Yes," replied To-no-Chiujio, "and I must inform you that the dancers
and musicians for the _fete_ in Suzak-in are to be nominated to-day. I
came from the palace to report this to my father, so I must now go
home, but I will soon return to you. "
"I will go with you," said Genji, "but let us breakfast before we
start. "
Breakfast was accordingly brought, of which they partook. Two
carriages, Genji's and To-no-Chiujio's, were driven to the door, but
To-no-Chiujio invited the Prince to take a seat with him. Genji
complied, and they drove off. Going along To-no-Chiujio observed with
an envious tone in his voice, "You look very sleepy;" to which Genji
returned an indifferent reply. From the house of Sadaijin they
proceeded to the Imperial Palace to attend the selection of the
dancers and musicians. Thence Genji drove with his father-in-law to
the mansion of the latter.
Here in the excitement of the coming _fete_ were assembled several
young nobles, in addition to Genji himself. Some practised dancing,
others music, the sound of which echoed everywhere around. A large
_hichiriki_ and a _shakuhachi_ (two kinds of flute) were blown with
the utmost vigor. Even large drums were rolled upon a balcony and
beaten with a will.
During the following days, therefore, Genji was so busily engaged that
no thought came across his mind of revisiting the Princess Hitachi.
Tayu certainly came now and then, and strove to induce him to pay the
Princess another visit, but he made an excuse on the pretext of being
so much occupied.
It was not until the _fete_ was over that one evening he resolved to
pay a visit there. He did not, however, announce his intention openly,
but went there in strict secrecy, making his way to the house
unobserved, as there was no one about.
On his arrival he went up to the latticed window and peeped through.
The curtains were old and half worn out, yet were still left to hang
in the once pretty and decorated chamber. There were a few domestic
maidens there partaking of supper. The table and service seemed to be
old Chinese, but everything else betrayed a scantiness of furniture.
In the further room where the mistress was probably dining, an old
waitress was passing in and out, wearing a peculiar white dress rather
faded in appearance, and an awkward-looking comb in her hair, after
the old-fashioned style of those formerly in the service of the
aristocratic class, of whom a few might still be retained in a family.
"Ah," thought Genji, smiling, "we might see this kind of thing in the
college of ceremonies. " One of the maids happened to say, "This poor
cold place! when one's life is too long, such fate comes to us. "
Another answered her, "How was it we did not like the mansion when the
late Prince was living? "
Thus they talked about one thing or another connected with their
mistress's want of means.
Genji did not like that they should know that he had seen and heard
all this, so he slyly withdrew some distance, and then advancing with
a firm step, approached the door and knocked.
"Some one is come," cried a servant, who then brought a light, opened
the door, and showed him into a room where he was soon joined by the
Princess, neither Tayu nor Kojijiu being there on this occasion. The
latter was acquainted with the Saiin (the sacred virgin at the Temple
of Kamo),[66] and often spent some time with her. On this occasion she
happened to be visiting her, a circumstance which was not very
convenient for the Princess. The dilapidated state of the mansion was
just as novel to Genji as that which he had seen in the lodge of
Yugao, but the great drawback consisted in the Princess's want of
responsiveness. He spoke much, she but little. Outside, in the
meantime, the weather had become boisterous and snow fell thickly,
while within in the room where they sat the lamp burned dimly, no one
waiting there even to trim the light.
Some hours were spent between them, and then Genji rose, and throwing
up the shutter in the same way as he did in the lodge of Yugao, looked
upon the snow which had fallen in the garden. The ground was covered
with a sheet of pure whiteness; no footstep had left its trace,
betraying the fact that few persons came to the mansion. He was about
to take his departure, but some vague impulse arrested him. Turning to
the Princess, he asked her to come near him, and to look out on the
scene, and she somewhat unreadily complied.
The evening was far advanced, but the reflection of the snow threw a
faint light over all. Now, for the first time, he discovered the
imperfections of the personal attractions of the Princess. First, her
stature was very tall, the upper part of her figure being out of
proportion to the lower, then one thing which startled him most was
her nose. It reminded him of the elephant of Fugen. It was high and
long; while its peak, a little drooping, was tinged with pink.
unsuccessful in his effort, and presently they retired to their
apartment, where he soon relapsed into sleepy indifference. His
thoughts began to wander back into other regions, and hopes of the
future growth and charms of the young mountain-violet again occupied
his mind. "Oh! how difficult it is to secure a prize," thought he.
"How can I do so? Her father, Prince Hiobkio, is a man of rank, and
affable, but he is not of prepossessing appearance. Why does his
daughter resemble so much, in her personal attractions, the lovely one
in the chamber of Wistaria. Is it that the mother of her father and of
Wistaria is the same person? How charming is the resemblance between
them! How can I make her mine? "
Some days afterwards he sent a letter to the mountain home, and also a
communication--perhaps with some hint in it--to the priest. In his
letter to the nun he said that her indifference made it desirable to
refrain from urging his wishes; but, nevertheless, that he should be
deeply gratified if she would think more favorably of the idea which
was now so deeply rooted in his mind. Inside the letter he enclosed a
small folded slip of paper, on which was written:--
"The mountain flower I left behind
I strive but vainly to forget,
Those lovely traits still rise to mind
And fill my heart with sad regret. "
This ludicrous effusion caused the nun to be partly amused and partly
vexed. She wrote an answer as follows:--
"When you came into our neighborhood your visit was very pleasing to
us, and your special message does us honor. I am, however, at a loss
how to express myself with regard to the little one, as yet she cannot
even manage the naniwadz. "[63]
Enclosed in the note were the following lines, in which she hinted as
to her doubts of the steadfastness of Genji's character:
"Your heart admires the lowly flower
That dwells within our mountain bower.
Not long, alas! that flower may last
Torn by the mountain's angry blast. "
The tenor of the priest's answer was much the same, and it caused
Genji some vexation.
About this time the Lady Wistaria, in consequence of an attack of
illness, had retired from the palace to her private residence, and
Genji, while sympathizing with the anxiety of the Emperor about her,
longed greatly for an opportunity of seeing her, ill though she was.
Hence at this time he went nowhere, but kept himself in his mansion at
Nijio, and became thoughtful and preoccupied. At length he endeavored
to cajole O Miobu, Wistaria's attendant, into arranging an opportunity
for him to see her. On Wistaria's part there were strong doubts as to
the propriety of complying with his request, but at last the
earnestness of the Prince overcame her scruples, and O Miobu managed
eventually to bring about a meeting between them. [64]
Genji gave vent to his feelings to the Princess, as follows:--
"Though now we meet, and not again
We e'er may meet, I seem
As though to die, I were full fain
Lost in this blissful dream. "
Then the Princess replied to him, full of sadness:--
"We might dream on but fear the name,
The envious world to us may give,
Forgetful of the darkened fame,
That lives when we no longer live. "
For some time after this meeting had taken place, Genji found himself
too timid to appear at his father's palace, and remained in his
mansion. The Princess, too, experienced a strong feeling of remorse.
She had, moreover, a cause of anxiety special in its nature and
peculiar to herself as a woman, for which she alone felt some
uneasiness of conscience.
Three months of the summer had passed away, and her secret began to
betray itself externally. The Emperor was naturally anxious about the
health of his favorite, and kind inquiries were sent from time to time
to her. But the kinder he was to her the more conscience-stricken she
felt.
Genji at this time was often visited by strange dreams. When he
consulted a diviner about them, he was told that something remarkable
and extraordinary might happen to him, and that it behooved him to be
cautious and prudent.
"Here is a pretty source of embarrassment," thought Genji.
He cautioned the diviner to be discreet about it, especially because
he said the dreams were not his own but another person's. When at last
he heard authentically about the condition of the Princess, he was
extremely anxious to communicate with her, but she now peremptorily
objected to any kind of correspondence between them, and O Miobu too
refused any longer to assist him.
In July Wistaria returned to the palace. There she was received by the
Emperor with great rejoicing, and he thought that her condition did
but add to her attractiveness.
It was now autumn, the season when agreeable receptions were often
held by the Emperor in Court, and it was awkward when Genji and the
Princess happened to face each other on these occasions, as neither of
them could be free from their tender recollections.
During these autumn evenings the thoughts of Genji were often directed
to the granddaughter of the nun, especially because she resembled the
Princess so much. His desire to possess her was considerably
increased, and the recollection of the first evening when he heard
the nun intoning to herself the verses about the tender grass,
recurred to his mind. "What," thought he, "if I pluck this tender
grass, would it then be, would it then grow up, as fair as now. "
"When will be mine this lovely flower
Of tender grace and purple hue?
Like the Wistaria of the bower,
Its charms are lovely to my view. "
The Emperor's visit to the Palace Suzak-in was now announced to take
place in October, and dancers and musicians were selected from among
the young nobles who were accomplished in these arts, and Royal
Princes and officers of State were fully engaged in preparation for
the _fete_. After the Royal festivities, a separate account of which
will be given hereafter, he sent again a letter to the mountain. The
answer, however, came only from the priest, who said that his sister
had died on the twentieth day of the last month; and added that though
death is inevitable to all of us, still he painfully felt her loss.
Genji pondered first on the precariousness of human life, and then
thought how that little one who had depended on her must be afflicted,
and gradually the memory of his own childhood, during which he too had
lost his mother, came back to his mind.
When the time of full mourning was over, Shionagon, together with the
young girl, returned to their house in the capital. There one evening
Genji paid them a visit. The house was rather a gloomy one, and was
tenanted by fewer inmates than usual.
"How timid the little girl must feel! " thought Genji, as he was shown
in. Shionagon now told him with tearful eyes every circumstance which
had taken place since she had seen him. She also said that the girl
might be handed over to her father, who told her that she must do so,
but his present wife was said to be very austere. The girl is not
young enough to be without ideas and wishes of her own, but yet not
old enough to form them sensibly; so were she to be taken to her
father's house and be placed with several other children, much misery
would be the result. Her grandmother suffered much on this account.
"Your kindness is great," continued she, "and we ought not, perhaps,
to think too anxiously about the future. Still she is young, too
young, and we cannot think of it without pity. "
"Why do you recur to that so often? " said Genji, "it is her very
youthfulness which moves my sympathy. I am anxious to talk to her,
Say, can the wave that rolls to land,
Return to ocean's heaving breast,
Nor greet the weed upon the strand
With one wild kiss, all softly pressed.
How sweet it would be! "
"That is very beautifully put, sir," said Shionagon, "but,
Half trembling at the coming tide
That rolls about the sea-beat sand,
Say, can the tender weed untried,
Be trusted to its boisterous hand? "
Meanwhile the girl, who was with her companions in her apartment, and
who was told that a gentleman in Court dress had arrived, and that
perhaps it was the Prince, her father, came running in, saying,
"Shionagon, where is the gentleman in Court dress; has the Prince, my
father, arrived? "
"Not the Prince, your father," uttered Genji, "but I am here, and I
too am your friend. Come here! "
The girl, glancing with shy timidity at Genji, for whom she already
had some liking, and thinking that perhaps there was impropriety in
what she had spoken, went over to her nurse, and said, "Oh! I am very
sleepy, and wish to lie down! "
"See how childish she still is," remarked Shionagon.
"Why are you so timid, little one, come here and sleep on my knees,"
said Genji.
"Go, my child, as you are asked," observed Shionagon, and she pushed
her towards Genji.
Half-unconsciously she took her place by his side. He pushed aside a
small shawl which covered her hair, and played with her long tresses,
and then he took her small hand in his. "Ah, my hand! " cried she, and
drawing it back, she ran into a neighboring room. Genji followed her,
and tried to coax her out of her shyness, telling her that he was one
of her best friends, and that she was not to be so timid.
By this time darkness had succeeded to the beautiful evening, and hail
began to fall.
"Close the casement, it is too fearful, I will watch over you this
evening," said Genji, as he led the girl away, to the great surprise
of Shionagon and others who wondered at his ease in doing this.
By and by she became sleepy, and Genji, as skilfully as any nurse
could, removed all her outer clothing, and placed her on the couch to
sleep, telling her as he sat beside her, "some day you must come with
me to some beautiful palace, and there you shall have as many pictures
and playthings as you like. " Many other similar remarks he added to
arrest her attention and to please her.
Her fears gradually subsided, and as she kept looking on the handsome
face of Genji, and taking notice of his kindness, she did not fall
asleep for some time.
When the night was advanced, and the hailstorm had passed away, Genji
at last took his departure. The temperature now suddenly changed, and
the hail was lying white upon the grass. "Can it be," thought he,
"that I am leaving this place as a lover? " At that moment he
remembered that the house of a maiden with whom he had had an
acquaintance was on his road home. When he came near to it he ordered
one of his attendants to knock at the door. No one, however, came
forth. Thereupon Genji turned to another, who had a remarkably good
voice, and ordered him to sing the following lines:--
"Though wandering in the morning gray,
This gate is one I cannot pass,
A tender memory bids me stay
To see once more a pretty lass. "
This was repeated twice, when presently a man came to the door and
sang, in reply, as follows:--
"If you cannot pass the gate,
Welcome all to stop and wait.
Nought prevents you. Do not fear,
For the gate stands always here. "
And then went in, slamming the door in their faces, and appearing no
more. Genji, therefore disappointed, proceeded on his way home.
On the morrow he took up his pen to write a letter to Violet, but
finding that he had nothing in particular to say, he laid it aside,
and instead of a letter several beautiful pictures were sent for her.
From this time Koremitz was sent there very often, partly to do them
service, and partly to watch over their movements. At last the time
when the girl's father was to take her home approached within a night,
and Shionagon was busily occupied in sewing a dress for the girl, and
was thus consequently unable to take much notice of Koremitz when he
arrived. Noting these preparatory arrangements, Koremitz at once
hastened to inform Genji about them. He happened to be this evening at
the mansion of Sadaijin, but Lady Aoi was not, as was often the case,
with him, and he was amusing himself there with thumping a _wagon_ as
he sang a "Hitachi" song. Koremitz presented himself before him, and
gave him the latest information of what was going on.
Genji, when he had listened to Koremitz, thought, "This will never do;
I must not lose her in this way. But the difficulty is indeed
perplexing. If, on the one hand, she goes to her father, it will not
become me to ask him for her. If, on the other hand, I carry her off,
people may say that I stole her. However, upon consideration, this
latter plan, if I can manage to shut people's mouths beforehand, will
be much better than that I should demand her from her father. "
So, turning to Koremitz, he said, "I must go there. See that the
carriage is ready at whatever hour I may appoint. Let two or three
attendants be in readiness. " Koremitz, having received these orders,
retired.
Long before dawn broke, Genji prepared to leave the mansion. Lady Aoi,
as usual, was a little out of temper, but Genji told her that he had
some particular arrangements to make at his mansion at Nijio, but that
he would soon return to her. He soon started, Koremitz alone following
him on horseback.
On their arrival Koremitz proceeded to a small private entrance and
announced himself. Shionagon recognized his voice and came out, and
upon this he informed her that the Prince had come. She, presuming
that he did so only because he happened to pass by them, said, "What!
at this late hour? " As she spoke, Genji came up and said:--
"I hear that the little one is to go to the Prince, her father, and I
wish to say a few words to her before she goes. "
"She is asleep; really, I am afraid that she cannot talk with you at
this hour. Besides, what is the use? " replied Shionagon, with a smile.
Genji, however, pressed his way into the house, saying:--
"Perhaps the girl is not awake yet, but I will awake her," and, as the
people could not prevent his doing so, he proceeded to the room where
she was unconsciously sleeping on a couch. He shook her gently. She
started up, thinking it was her father who had come.
Genji pushed the hair back from her face, as he said to her, "I am
come from your father;" but this she knew to be false, and was
alarmed. "Don't be frightened," said Genji; "there is nothing in me to
alarm you. " And in spite of Shionagon's request not to disturb her, he
lifted her from the couch, abruptly saying that he could not allow her
to go elsewhere, and that he had made up his mind that he himself
would be her guardian. He also said she should go with him, and that
some of them should go with her.
Shionagon was thunderstruck. "We are expecting her father to-morrow,
and what are we to say to him? " She added, "Surely, you can find some
better opportunity to manage matters than this. "
"All right, you can come afterward; we will go first," retorted Genji,
as he ordered his carriage to drive up.
Shionagon was perplexed, and Violet also cried, thinking how strange
all this was. At last Shionagon saw it was no use to resist, and so
having hurriedly changed her own dress for a better one, and taking
with her the pretty dress of Violet which she had been making in the
evening, got into the carriage, where Genji had already placed the
little one.
It was no great distance to Nijio, and they arrived there before dawn.
The carriage was driven up to the western wing of the mansion. To
Shionagon the whole affair seemed like a dream. "What am I to do? " she
said to Genji, who teasingly answered, "What you choose. You may go if
you like; so long as this darling is here I am content. " Genji lifted
the girl out and carried her into the house. That part of the mansion
in which they now were, had not been inhabited, and the furniture was
scanty and inappropriate; so, calling Koremitz, the Prince ordered him
to see that proper furniture was brought. The beds were therefore
taken from the eastern wing, where he himself lived.
Day broke, and Shionagon surveyed with admiration all the magnificence
with which she was surrounded. Both the exterior of the building and
its internal arrangements left nothing to be desired. Going to the
casement, she saw the gravelled walks flashing brightly in the sun.
"Ah," thought she, "where am I amidst all this splendor? This is too
grand for me! "
Bath water for their ablutions, and rice soup were now brought into
the apartment, and Genji afterward made his appearance.
"What! no attendants? No one to play with the girl? I will send some,"
and he then ordered some young persons from the eastern wing of the
mansion. Four accordingly came.
Violet was still fast asleep in her night-dress, and now Genji gently
shook and woke her. "Do not be frightened any more," he said quietly
to her; "a good girl would not be so, but would know that it is best
to be obedient. " She became more and more pleasing to him, and he
tried to please her by presenting to her a variety of pretty pictures
and playthings, and by consulting her wishes in whatever she desired.
She was still wearing the dress of mourning, of sombre color and of
soft material, and it was only now at last that she began to smile a
little, and this filled Genji with delight. He now had to return to
the eastern wing, and Violet, for the first time, went to the casement
and looked out on the scenery around. The trees covered with foliage,
a small lake, and the plantations round about expanded before her as
in a picture. Here and there young people were going in and out. "Ah!
what a pretty place," she exclaimed, charmed as she gazed around.
Then, turning again into the apartment, she saw beautiful pictures
painted on the screens and walls, which could not but please her.
Genji did not go to the Palace for two or three days, but spent his
time in trying to train Violet. "She must soon take lessons in
writing," he thought, and he wrote several writing copies for her.
Among these was one in plain characters on violet-colored paper, with
the title, "Musashi-no" (The field of Musashi is known for its
violets). She took it up, and in handwriting plain and clear though
small, she found the following:
Though still a bud the violet be,
A still unopened blossom here,
Its tenderness has charms for me,
Recalling one no longer near.
"Come, _you_ must write one now," said Genji.
"I cannot write well enough," said Violet, looking up at him, with an
extremely charming look.
"Never mind, whether good or bad," said he, "but still write
something, to refuse is unkind. When there is any difficulty I will
help you through with it. "
Thereupon she turned aside shyly and wrote something, handling the pen
gracefully with her tiny fingers. "I have done it badly," she cried
out, and tried to conceal what she had written, but Genji insisted on
seeing it and found the following:--
I wonder what's the floweret's name,
From which that bud its charm may claim!
This was, of course, written in a childish hand, but the writing was
large and plain, giving promise of future excellence.
"How like her grandmother's it is," thought Genji. "Were she to take
lessons from a good professor she might become a master of the art. "
He ordered for her a beautiful doll's house, and played with her
different innocent and amusing games.
In the meantime, the Prince, her father, had duly arrived at the old
home of Violet and asked for her. The servants were embarrassed, but
as they had been requested by Genji not to tell, and as Shionagon had
also enjoined them to keep silence, they simply told him that the
nurse had taken her and absconded. The Prince was greatly amazed, but
he remembered that the girl's grandmother never consented to send his
daughter to his house, and knowing Shionagon to be a shrewd and
intelligent woman, he concluded that she had found out the reasons
which influenced her, and that so out of respect to her, and out of
dislike to tell him the reason of it, she had carried the girl off in
order that she might be kept away from him. He therefore merely told
the servants to inform him at once if they heard anything about them,
and he returned home.
Our story again brings us back to Nijio. The girl gradually became
reconciled to her new home, as she was most kindly treated by Genji.
True, during those evenings when Genji was absent she thought of her
dead grandmother, but the image of her father never presented itself
to her, as she had seldom seen him. And now, naturally enough, Genji,
whom she had learned to look upon as a second father, was the only one
for whom she cared. She was the first to greet him when he came home,
and she came forward to be fondled and caressed by him without shame
or diffidence. Girls at her age are usually shy and under restraint,
but with her it was quite different. And again, if a girl has somewhat
of jealousy in her disposition, and looks upon every little trifle in
a serious light, a man will have to be cautious in his dealings with
her, and she herself, too, will often have to undergo vexation. Thus
many disagreeable and unexpected incidents might often result. In the
case of Violet, however, things were very different, and she was ever
amiable and invariably pleasant.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 61: An Indian theological writing. ]
[Footnote 62: In the Buddhist Bible it is stated that there is in
Paradise a divine tree, called Udon, which rarely blossoms. When,
however, it does blossom, Buddha is said to appear in the world,
therefore we make use of this expression when referring to any rare
event. ]
[Footnote 63: The name of a song which in those days formed the first
lesson in writing. ]
[Footnote 64: The authoress represents her in a subsequent chapter as
suffering punishment in the next world for this sin. The real cause of
Genji's exile is also supposed to have resulted from the same sin. ]
CHAPTER VI
SAFFRON FLOWER
The beauteous Yugao of Genji was lost, but memory of her never
vanished from his mind. Her attractive nature, thoughtfulness, and
patient manner had seemed to him surpassingly charming. At last he
began to think of seeking for some other maiden who might resemble her
in these qualities.
True, his thoughts had often reverted to Cicada,
and to her young friend; but it was now of little use thinking of
them, for one had gone to the country, and the other was married.
Now, Genji had another nurse, next in degree to Daini. The daughter of
this nurse, Tayu-no-Miobu, was in Court service. She was still young,
and full of mirth and life. Genji was wont to make her useful when in
the palace. Her father, who had been remotely connected with the Royal
blood, was an official in the War Department. Her mother, however, had
been married again to the Governor of the province of Chikzen, and had
gone there with her husband; so Tayu made her father's house her home,
and went from there backwards and forwards to the palace. She was an
intimate acquaintance of a young Princess, the daughter of the late
Lord-Lieutenant of Hitachi, and she had been the child of his old age,
and was at this time his survivor. The life that she passed was
somewhat lonely, and her circumstances miserable. Tayu mentioned this
young lady to Genji, who exclaimed:--
"How sad! Tell me all about her. "
"I cannot say that I know so much about her," replied Tayu. "She leads
a very retired life, and is seldom seen in society. Perhaps, some
favorable evening, you might see her from a hiding-place. The _koto_
is her favorite instrument, and the favorite amusement of her
solitude. "
"Ah! " said Genji, "I see, one of the three friends (as the Chinese
poets call them)--Music, Poetry, and Wine; but, of the other two, one
is not always a good friend. " And he added, "Well, you may manage some
time to let me hear her _koto_. The Prince, her father, had great
taste and reputation in such arts; so, I believe, she is no ordinary
performer. "
"But, perhaps, after all, not so good as you imagine," replied Tayu,
disingenuously.
"Oh! that remains to be discovered," cried Genji, nibbling at the
bait. "One of these evenings I will come, and you had better be there
also. "
Now, the home of Tayu's father was at some distance from the
Princess's mansion; but Tayu used to spend her time very often with
the Princess, when she had leave of absence from the Court, chiefly
because she did not like being at home with her stepmother. For this
reason Tayu had plenty of chances for gratifying the wish of Genji to
see the Princess; so a certain evening was appointed.
It was a sweet balmy day in spring, and the grounds of the palace were
full of silence and repose. Tayu left the palace, and proceeded to the
mansion of the Princess, attracted more by the beauty of the evening
than by the appointment made. Genji also appeared on the scene, with
the newly risen moon, and was soon prattling with Tayu.
"You have not come at a very favorable time," said she. "This is not
the sort of evening when the _koto_ sounds sweetest. "
"But take me somewhere, so that I may hear her voice. I cannot go away
without hearing that. "
Tayu then led him into a private room, where she made him sit down,
and left him, saying, as she went away, "I am sorry to make you wait,
but you must have a little patience. " She proceeded to another part of
the palace occupied by the Princess, whom she found sitting pensively
near an open casement, inhaling the rich perfume of the plum blossoms.
"A good opportunity," thought Tayu; and, advancing to the Princess,
said: "What a lovely evening! How sweet at such an hour is the music
of the _koto_! My official going to and fro to the palace prevents me
from having the pleasure of hearing it often; so do now, if you
please, play me a tune. "
"You appreciate music," said the Princess; "but I am afraid that mine
is not good enough to charm the ear of courtiers; but, if you wish it,
I will play one tune. " And she ordered the _koto_ to be brought, and
began to strike it. Her skill was certainly not super-excellent; but
she had been well instructed, and the effect was by no means
displeasing to the ear.
Tayu, however, it must be remembered, was rather a sharp girl. She did
not like Genji to hear too much, so as to criticise; and, therefore,
said to the Princess, casting a glance upwards, "How changed and dull
the sky has become. A friend of mine is waiting; and is, perhaps,
impatient. I must have more of this pleasure some other time; at
present I must go and see him. " Thus she caused the Princess to cease
playing, and went to Genji, who exclaimed, when she returned, "Her
music seems pretty good; but I had better not have heard it at all.
How can we judge by so little? If you are willing to oblige me at all,
let me hear and see more closely than this. " Tayu made a difficulty.
"She is so retiring," she said, "and always keeps herself in the
strictest privacy. Were you to intrude upon her, it would not be
acting rightly. "
"Truly so," replied Genji; "her position insures her from intrusion.
Let us, then, seek for some better opportunity. " And then he prepared
to take leave, as if he had some other affairs on his hands. Tayu
observed, with a knowing smile, "The Emperor, your father, always
thinks of you as quite guileless, and actually says so. When I hear
these remarks I often laugh in my sleeve. Were his Majesty to see you
in these disguises, what would he then think? "
Genji answered, with a slight laugh: "Nonsense! If these trifling
amusements were thought so improper, how cheerless the life of woman
would be! "
Tayu made no remark in reply; so Genji then left the house, and took a
stroll round the garden, intending to reach that part of the mansion
where the Princess had her apartments. As he sauntered along, he came
to a thick hedge, in which there was a dark bower, and here wished to
stop awhile. He stepped cautiously into it, when he suddenly perceived
a tall man concealed there. "Who can this be? " thought Genji, as he
withdrew to a corner where the moonlight did not reach. This was
To-no-Chiujio, and the reason of his being there was this:
He had left the Palace that evening in company with Genji, who did not
go to his house in Nijio, nor to his bride, but separated from him on
the road. To-no-Chiujio was very anxious to find out where Genji was
going. He therefore followed him unperceived. When he saw Genji enter
the mansion of the Princess, he wished to see how the business would
end; so he waited in the garden, in order that he might witness
Genji's departure, listening, at the same time, to the _koto_ of the
Princess. Genji did not know who the man was, nor did he wish to be
recognized. He therefore began to retreat slowly on tip-toe, when
To-no-Chiujio came up to him from behind, and addressed him: "You
slighted me, but I have come to watch over you:--
Though like two wandering moons on high
We left our vast imperial home,
We parted on our road, and I
Knew not where you were bent to roam. "
Genji at once recognized his companion; and, being somewhat amused at
his pertinacity, exclaimed: "What an unexpected surprise!
We all admire the moon, 'tis true,
Whose home unknown to mortal eye
Is in the mountains hid, but who
To find that far-off home, would try? "
Hereupon To-no-Chiujio gave him a taunt: "What would you do," said he,
"if I were to follow you very often? Were you to maintain true
propriety in your position, you ought always to have trustworthy
attendants; and I am sure, by so doing, you will meet with better
fortune. I cannot say that it is very decorous of you to go wandering
about in such a fashion. It is too frivolous! "
"How very tiresome! " mentally exclaimed Genji; "but he little knows
about his Nadeshiko (little darling). I have him there! "
Neither of them ventured to go to any other rendezvous that night;
but, with many mutual home-thrusts, they got into a carriage together,
and proceeded home, amusing themselves all the way with a duet on
their flutes. Entering the mansion, they went to a small apartment,
where they changed their dresses, and commenced playing the flutes in
such a manner as if they had come from the Palace. The Sadaijin,
hearing this music, could not forbear joining them, and blew skilfully
a Corean flute in concert with theirs. Lady Aoi, also, in her room,
catching the impulse, ordered some practised players on the _koto_ to
perform.
Meantime, both Genji and To-no-Chiujio, in their secret minds, were
thinking of the notes of the _koto_ heard before on that evening, and
of the bare and pitiable condition of the residence of the Princess
whom they had left--a great contrast to the luxury of their present
quarters. To-no-Chiujio's idea about her took something of this shape:
"If girls who, from a modest propriety, keep themselves aloof for
years from our society, were at last to be subdued by our attentions,
our affection for them would become irresistible, even braving
whatever remarks popular scandal might pass upon us. She may be like
one of these. The Prince Genji seems to have made her the object of
some attentions. He is not one to waste his time without reason. He
knows what he is doing. "
As these thoughts arose in his mind, a slight feeling of jealousy
disturbed him, and made him ready to dare a little rivalry in that
quarter; for, it would appear, that after this day amatory letters
were often sent both by him and Genji to the Princess, who, however,
returned no answer to either.
This silence on her part made To-no-Chiujio, more especially, think
thus: "A strange rejection; and from one, too, who possesses such a
secluded life. True, her birth is high; but that cannot be the only
reason which makes her bury herself in retirement. There must be some
stronger reason, I presume. "
As we have before mentioned, Genji and To-no-Chiujio were so intimate
that all ceremony was dispensed with between them, and they could ask
each other any question without reserve. From this circumstance
To-no-Chiujio one day boldly inquired of Genji: "I dare say you have
received some replies from the Princess. Have you not? I for my part
have thrown out some hints in that quarter by way of experiment, but I
gave up in disappointment. "
"Ah, then, he too has been trying there," thought Genji, smiling
slightly, and he replied very vaguely, "I am not particularly
concerned whether I get an answer or not, therefore I cannot tell you
whether I have received any. "
"I understand that," thought To-no-Chiujio; "perhaps he has got one; I
suspect so. "
To state the truth, Genji was not very deeply smitten by the Princess,
and he was but little concerned at her sending no reply to his letter;
but when he heard the confession of his brother-in-law's attempts in
the same quarter, the spirit of rivalry stirred him once more. "A
girl," thought he, "will yield to him who pays her the most
attentions. I must not allow him to excel me in that. " And Genji
determined to achieve what he intended to do, and with this object
still enlisted the aid of Tayu. He told her that the Princess's
treating his letter with such indifference was an act of great
cruelty. "Perhaps she does this," said he, "because she suspects I am
changeable. I am not, however, such a one as that. It is often only
the fault of ladies themselves that causes men to appear so; besides a
lady, like the Princess, who has neither parent nor brother to
interfere with her, is a most desirable acquaintance, as we can
maintain our friendship far better than we could otherwise do. "
"Yes! what you say is all very well," replied Tayu, "but the Princess
is not exactly so placed that any one can make himself quite at ease
with her. As I told you before she is very bashful and reserved; but
yet is perhaps more desirable for this very reason," and she detailed
many more particulars about her. This enabled Genji to fully picture
the general bearing of the Princess's character; and he thought,
"Perhaps her mind is not one of brilliant activity, but she may be
modest, and of a quiet nature, worthy of attention. " And so he kept
the recollection of her alive in his mind. Before, however, he met
her, many events had taken place. He had been attacked by the ague,
which led to his journey to the mountain and his discovery of Violet,
and his secret affection for a certain one in the palace.
His mind being thus otherwise occupied, the spring and summer passed
away without anything further transpiring about the Princess. As the
autumn advanced his thoughts recurred to past times, and even the
sound of the fuller's hammer, which he had listened to in the home of
Yugao, came back to his mental ear; and these reveries again brought
him to the recollection of the Princess Hitachi, and now once more he
began to urge Tayu to contrive a meeting.
It would seem that there was no difficulty for Tayu to bring the
matter about, but at the same time no one knew better than herself
that the natural gifts and culture of the Princess were far from
coming up to Genji's standard. She thought, however, that it would
matter very little if he did not care for her, but if, on the other
hand, he did so, he was quite free to come and see her without any
interference. For this reason she at last made up her mind to bring
them together, and she gave several hints to the Princess.
Now it so happened towards the end of August that Tayu was on one
occasion engaged in conversing with the Princess. The evening was as
yet moonless, the stars alone twinkled in the heavens, and the gentle
winds blew plaintively over the tall trees around the mansion. The
conversation gradually led to times gone by, and the Princess was
rendered sad by the contrast of her present circumstances with those
of her father's time. "This is a good opportunity," thought Tayu, and
she sent, it seems, a message to Genji, who soon hastened to the
mansion with his usual alacrity. At the moment when he arrived on the
scene the long-looked-for moon had just made her appearance over the
tops of a distant mountain, and as he looked along the wildly growing
hedges around the residence, he heard the sound of the _koto_, which
was being played by the Princess at Tayu's request. It sounded a
little too old-fashioned, but that was of no consequence to the eager
ears of the Prince. He soon made his way to the entrance, and
requested a domestic to announce him to Tayu.
When the latter heard of this she affected great surprise, and said to
the Princess, "The Prince has come. How annoying! He has often been
displeased because I have not yet introduced him to you. I have often
told him that you do not particularly like it, and therefore I cannot
think what makes him come here. I had better see him and send him
away, but what shall I say. We cannot treat him like an ordinary
person. I am really puzzled what to do. Will you not let me ask you if
you will see him for a few minutes, then all matters will end
satisfactorily? "
"But I am not used to receive people," said the Princess, blushing.
"How simple minded! " rejoined Tayu, coaxingly, "I am sorry for that,
for the bashfulness of young ladies who are under the care of their
parents may sometimes be even desirable, but how then is that parallel
with your case? Besides, I do not see any good in a friendless maiden
refusing the offer of a good acquaintance. "
"Well, if you really insist upon it," said the Princess, "perhaps I
will; but don't expose me too much to the gaze of a stranger. "
Having thus cunningly persuaded the Princess, Tayu set the
reception-room in order, into which Genji was soon shown. The Princess
was all the while experiencing much nervousness, and as she did not
know exactly how to manage, she left everything to Tayu, and was led
by her to the room to receive her visitor. The room was arranged in
such a way that the Princess had her back to the light so that her
face and emotions could be obscured.
The perfume which she used was rich, still preserving the trait of
high birth, but her demeanor was timid, and her deportment awkward.
Genji at once noticed this. "Just as I imagined. She is so simple,"
thought he, and then he commenced to talk with her, and to explain how
passionately he had desired to see her. She, however, listened to him
almost in silence, and gave no plain answer. Genji was disconcerted,
and at last said,
"From you I sought so oft reply,
But you to give one would not deign,
If you discard me, speak, and I
Will cease to trouble you again. "
The governess of the Princess, Kojijiu by name, who was present, was a
sagacious woman, and noticing the embarrassment of the lady, she
advanced to her side, and made the following reply in such a
well-timed manner that her real object, which was to conceal the
deficiencies of her mistress, did not betray itself--
"Not by the ringing of a bell,
Your words we wish to stay;
But simply, she has nought to tell,
And nothing much to say. "
"Your eloquence has so struck me that my mouth is almost closed," said
Genji, smiling--
"Not speaking is a wiser part,
And words are sometimes vain,
But to completely close the heart
In silence, gives me pain. "
He then tried to speak of this thing and that indifferently, but all
hopes of agreeable responsiveness on the lady's part being vain, he
coolly took his leave, and left the mansion, much disappointed.
This evening he slept in his mansion at Nijio. The next morning
To-no-Chiujio appeared before he had risen.
"How late, how late! " he cried, in a peculiar tone. "Were you fatigued
last night, eh? "
Genji rose and presently came out, saying, "I have overslept myself,
that is all; nothing to disturb me. But have you come from the palace?
Was it your official watch-night? "[65]
"Yes," replied To-no-Chiujio, "and I must inform you that the dancers
and musicians for the _fete_ in Suzak-in are to be nominated to-day. I
came from the palace to report this to my father, so I must now go
home, but I will soon return to you. "
"I will go with you," said Genji, "but let us breakfast before we
start. "
Breakfast was accordingly brought, of which they partook. Two
carriages, Genji's and To-no-Chiujio's, were driven to the door, but
To-no-Chiujio invited the Prince to take a seat with him. Genji
complied, and they drove off. Going along To-no-Chiujio observed with
an envious tone in his voice, "You look very sleepy;" to which Genji
returned an indifferent reply. From the house of Sadaijin they
proceeded to the Imperial Palace to attend the selection of the
dancers and musicians. Thence Genji drove with his father-in-law to
the mansion of the latter.
Here in the excitement of the coming _fete_ were assembled several
young nobles, in addition to Genji himself. Some practised dancing,
others music, the sound of which echoed everywhere around. A large
_hichiriki_ and a _shakuhachi_ (two kinds of flute) were blown with
the utmost vigor. Even large drums were rolled upon a balcony and
beaten with a will.
During the following days, therefore, Genji was so busily engaged that
no thought came across his mind of revisiting the Princess Hitachi.
Tayu certainly came now and then, and strove to induce him to pay the
Princess another visit, but he made an excuse on the pretext of being
so much occupied.
It was not until the _fete_ was over that one evening he resolved to
pay a visit there. He did not, however, announce his intention openly,
but went there in strict secrecy, making his way to the house
unobserved, as there was no one about.
On his arrival he went up to the latticed window and peeped through.
The curtains were old and half worn out, yet were still left to hang
in the once pretty and decorated chamber. There were a few domestic
maidens there partaking of supper. The table and service seemed to be
old Chinese, but everything else betrayed a scantiness of furniture.
In the further room where the mistress was probably dining, an old
waitress was passing in and out, wearing a peculiar white dress rather
faded in appearance, and an awkward-looking comb in her hair, after
the old-fashioned style of those formerly in the service of the
aristocratic class, of whom a few might still be retained in a family.
"Ah," thought Genji, smiling, "we might see this kind of thing in the
college of ceremonies. " One of the maids happened to say, "This poor
cold place! when one's life is too long, such fate comes to us. "
Another answered her, "How was it we did not like the mansion when the
late Prince was living? "
Thus they talked about one thing or another connected with their
mistress's want of means.
Genji did not like that they should know that he had seen and heard
all this, so he slyly withdrew some distance, and then advancing with
a firm step, approached the door and knocked.
"Some one is come," cried a servant, who then brought a light, opened
the door, and showed him into a room where he was soon joined by the
Princess, neither Tayu nor Kojijiu being there on this occasion. The
latter was acquainted with the Saiin (the sacred virgin at the Temple
of Kamo),[66] and often spent some time with her. On this occasion she
happened to be visiting her, a circumstance which was not very
convenient for the Princess. The dilapidated state of the mansion was
just as novel to Genji as that which he had seen in the lodge of
Yugao, but the great drawback consisted in the Princess's want of
responsiveness. He spoke much, she but little. Outside, in the
meantime, the weather had become boisterous and snow fell thickly,
while within in the room where they sat the lamp burned dimly, no one
waiting there even to trim the light.
Some hours were spent between them, and then Genji rose, and throwing
up the shutter in the same way as he did in the lodge of Yugao, looked
upon the snow which had fallen in the garden. The ground was covered
with a sheet of pure whiteness; no footstep had left its trace,
betraying the fact that few persons came to the mansion. He was about
to take his departure, but some vague impulse arrested him. Turning to
the Princess, he asked her to come near him, and to look out on the
scene, and she somewhat unreadily complied.
The evening was far advanced, but the reflection of the snow threw a
faint light over all. Now, for the first time, he discovered the
imperfections of the personal attractions of the Princess. First, her
stature was very tall, the upper part of her figure being out of
proportion to the lower, then one thing which startled him most was
her nose. It reminded him of the elephant of Fugen. It was high and
long; while its peak, a little drooping, was tinged with pink.
