No More Learning

"What carelessness! I will soon get it mended for you. Don't cry this
day, please," said Genji, and he went off, the maidens who attended on
Violet accompanying him to the door. This example was also followed by
Violet herself.

She went back again to her toys, and presented a toy prince, whom she
called Genji, at the Court of her toy house. Shionagon was beside her.
She said:--

"You might really be a little more womanly, as the Prince told you.
How very childish! a girl older than ten always playing with toys! "

Violet said nothing; but she seemed, for the first time, to have
become aware that she was expected to be a woman in the course of
time.

From the Court, Genji went to the mansion of Sadaijin. Lady Aoi was as
cool to him as ever. His persuasive eloquence availed him but little.
She was older than Genji by four years, and was as cold and stately in
her mien as ever. Her father, however, received him joyfully whenever
he called, although he was not always satisfied with the
capriciousness of his son-in-law.

The next morning Genji rose early, and was arranging his toilet, with
a view of making his New Year's visits, when Sadaijin entered the
room, and officiously assisted him in putting on his dress, except,
perhaps, his boots. He, moreover, had brought him a belt mounted with
rare jewels, and requested him to wear it.

Genji observed: "Such a belt is more suited for some special
occasion--such as a Royal banquet, or the like. " But Sadaijin insisted
on his putting it on, telling him that for that sort of occasion he
possessed a much more valuable one.

These New Year's visits were only paid to the Emperor, to the
Heir-apparent, and to the Princess Wistaria at her private residence
in Sanjio, where she had retired, but she did not receive him
personally. At this time, the Princess was not in her usual state of
health, for she was approaching her confinement. Many people, who
thought that they might have heard of the event in December, now began
to say, "At least we shall receive the intelligence this month," and
the Emperor himself became impatient; but the month passed away, and
yet it did not happen. In the middle of February, however, she was
safely delivered of a Prince. During the following April the child was
presented to the Emperor. [73] He was rather big for his age, and had
already begun to notice those around him.

In these days much of Genji's time was passed at Nijio with Violet,
and Lady Aoi was still greatly neglected. The circumstances which
induced him to stay at home more than ever were these: He would order
his carriage to be brought in readiness to take him; but, before it
was ready, he would proceed to the western wing, where Violet lived.
Perhaps, with eyes drowsy after dozing, and playing on a flute as he
went, he would find her moping on one side of the room, like a fair
flower moistened with dews. He would then approach her side, and say,
"How are you? Are you not well? " She, without being startled, would
slowly open her eyes, and murmur: "Sad like the weed in a creek," and
then put her hand on her mouth deprecatingly. On this he would remark,
"How knowing you are! Where did you learn such things? " He would then
call for a _koto_, and saying "The worst of the _soh-koto_ is that its
middle chord should break so easily," would arrange it for a Hiojio
tune, and when he had struck a few chords on it, would offer it to
her, asking her to play, and would presently accompany her with his
flute. They would then play some difficult air, perhaps Hosoroguseri,
a very ugly name, but a very lively tune, and she would keep very good
time, and display her skill. The lamp would be presently brought in,
and they would look over some pictures together. In due time, the
carriage would be announced. Perhaps it might be added, "It is coming
on to rain. " Upon hearing this, she would, perhaps, put her pictures
aside, and become downcast. He would then smooth her wavy hair, and
say, "Are you sorry when I am not here? " To this question she would
indicate her feelings by slightly nodding an affirmative, and she
would lean on his knee and begin to doze.

He would then say, "I shall not go out to-night. " The servant having
brought in supper, would tell her that Genji was not going out that
evening. Then she would manifest the greatest delight, and would
partake of the supper. And thus it came to pass that he often
disappointed one who was expecting him.

The way that Genji neglected his bride gradually became known to the
public--nay, to the Emperor himself, who sometimes admonished him,
telling him that his father-in-law always took great interest in him
and great care from his earliest childhood, and saying that he hoped
that he would surely not forget all these benefits, and that it was
strange to be unkind to his daughter. But when these remarks were made
to Genji, he answered nothing.

Let us now change our subject. The Emperor, though he had already
passed the meridian of life, was still fond of the society of the fair
sex. And his Court was full of ladies who were well versed in the ways
of the world. Some of these would occasionally amuse themselves by
paying attentions to Genji. We will here relate the following amusing
incident:--

There was at the Court a Naishi-no-Ske, who was already no longer
young, and commonly called Gen-Naishi-no-Ske. Both her family and
character were good. She was, however, in spite of her age, still
coquettish, which was her only fault. Genji often felt amused at her
being so young in temperament, and he enjoyed occasionally talking
nonsense with her. She used to attend on the Emperor while his hair
was being dressed. One day, after he had retired into his
dressing-room, she remained in the other room, and was smoothing her
own hair. Genji happened to pass by. He stole unperceived into the
room, and slyly tugged the skirt of her robe. She started, and
instinctively half concealed her face with an old-fashioned fan, and
looked back at Genji with an arch glance in her sunken eyes. "What an
unsuitable fan for you! " exclaimed Genji, and took it from her hand.
It was made of reddish paper, apparently long in use, and upon it an
ancient forest had been thickly painted. In a corner was written, in
antique style, the following words:--

"On grasses old, 'neath forest trees,
No steed will browse or swain delay,
However real that grass may be,
'Tis neither good for food nor play. "

Genji was highly amused. "There are many things one might write on
fans," thought he; "what made her think of writing such odd lines as
these? "

"Ah! " said Genji, "I see, 'its summer shade is still thick
though! '"[74]

While he was joking he felt something like nervousness in thinking
what people might say if anyone happened to see him flirting with such
an elderly lady. She, on her side, had no such fear. She replied--

"If beneath that forest tree,
The steed should come or swain should be,
Where that ancient forest grows,
Is grass for food, and sweet repose. "

"What? " retorted Genji,

"If my steed should venture near,
Perhaps he'd find a rival there,
Some one's steed full well, I ween,
Rejoices in these pastures green. "

And quitted the room.

The Emperor, who had been peeping unobserved into it, after he had
finished his toilet, laughed heartily to himself at the scene.

To-no-Chiujio was somehow informed of Genji's fun with this lady, and
became anxious to discover how far he meant to carry on the joke. He
therefore sought her acquaintance. Genji knew nothing of this. It
happened on a cool summer evening that Genji was sauntering round the
Ummeiden in the palace yard. He heard the sound of a _biwa_ (mandolin)
proceeding from a veranda. It was played by this lady. She performed
well upon it, for she was often accustomed to play it before the
Emperor along with male musicians. It sounded very charming. She was
also singing to it the "Melon grower. "

"Ah! " thought Genji, "the singing woman in Gakshoo, whom the poet
spoke of, may have been like this one," and he stood still and
listened. Slowly he approached near the veranda, humming slowly, as
he went, "Adzmaya," which she soon noticed, and took up the song, "Do
open and come in! but

I do not believe you're in the rain,
Nor that you really wish to come in. "

Genji at once responded,

"Whose love you may be I know not,
But I'll not stand outside your cot,"

and was going away, when he suddenly thought, "This is too abrupt! "
and coming back, he entered the apartment.

How great was the joy of To-no-Chiujio, who had followed Genji
unperceived by him, when he saw this. He contrived a plan to frighten
him, so he reconnoitred in order to find some favorable opportunity.

The evening breeze blew chill, and Genji it appears was becoming very
indifferent. Choosing this moment To-no-Chiujio slyly stepped forth to
the spot where Genji was resting.

Genji soon noticed his footsteps, but he never imagined that it was
his brother-in-law. He thought it was Suri-no-Kami, a great friend of
the lady. He did not wish to be seen by this man. He reproached her
for knowing that he was expected, but that she did not give him any
hint. Carrying his Naoshi on his arm, he hid himself behind a folding
screen. To-no-Chiujio, suppressing a laugh, advanced to the side of
the screen, and began to fold it from one end to the other, making a
crashing noise as he did so. The lady was in a dilemma, and stood
aloof. Genji would fain have run out, and concealed himself elsewhere,
but he could not get on his Naoshi, and his head-dress was all awry.
The Chiujio spoke not a word lest he should betray himself, but making
a pretended angry expostulation, he drew his sword. All at once the
lady threw herself at his feet, crying, "My lord! my lord! "
To-no-Chiujio could scarcely constrain himself from laughing. She was
a woman of about fifty seven, but her excitement was more like that of
a girl of twenty.

Genji gradually perceived that the man's rage was only simulated, and
soon became aware who it was that was there; so he suddenly rushed
out, and catching hold of To-no-Chiujio's sword-arm, pinched it
severely. To-no-Chiujio no longer maintained his disguise, but burst
into loud laughter.

"How are you my friend, were you in earnest? " exclaimed Genji,
jestingly--"but first let me put on my Naoshi. " But To-no-Chiujio
caught it, and tried to prevent him putting it on.

"Then I will have yours," cried Genji, seizing the end of
To-no-Chiujio's sash, and beginning to unfasten it, while the latter
resisted. Then they both began to struggle, and their Naoshi soon
began to tear.

"Ah," cried To-no-Chiujio,

"Like the Naoshi to the eye,
Your secrets all discovered lie. "

"Well," replied Genji,

"This secret if so well you know,
Why am I now disturbed by you? "

And they both quitted the room without much noticing the state of
their garments.

To-no-Chiujio proceeded to his official chamber, and Genji to his own
apartment. The sash and other things which they had left behind them
were soon afterwards sent to Genji by the lady.

The sash was that of To-no-Chiujio. Its color was somewhat deeper than
his own, and while he was looking at this, he suddenly noticed that
one end of a sleeve of his own Naoshi was wanting. "To-no-Chiujio, I
suppose, has carried it off, but I have him also, for here is his
sash! " A page boy from To-no-Chiujio's office hereupon entered,
carrying a packet in which the missing sleeve was wrapped, and a
message advising Genji to get it mended before all things. "Fancy if I
had not got this sash? " thought Genji, as he made the boy take it back
to his master in return.

In the morning they were in attendance at Court. They were both
serious and solemn in demeanor, as it happened to be a day when there
was more official business than on other days; To-no-Chiujio (who
being chief of the Kurand, which office has to receive and despatch
official documents) was especially much occupied. Nevertheless they
were amused themselves at seeing each other's solemn gravity.

In an interval, when free from duty, To-no-Chiujio came up to Genji
and said, with envious eyes, "Have you not been a little scared in
your private expedition? " when Genji replied, "No, why so? there was
nothing serious in it; but I do sympathize with one who took so much
useless trouble. "

They then cautioned each other to be discreet about the matter, which
became afterwards a subject for laughter between them.

Now even some Royal Princes would give way to Genji, on account of his
father's favor towards him, but To-no-Chiujio, on the contrary, was
always prepared to dispute with him on any subject, and did not yield
to him in any way. He was the only brother of the Lady Aoi by the same
Royal mother, with an influential State personage for their father,
and in his eyes there did not seem to be much difference between
himself and Genji.

The incidents of the rivalry between them, therefore, were often very
amusing, though we cannot relate them all.

In the month of July the Princess Wistaria was proclaimed Empress.
This was done because the Emperor had a notion of abdication in favor
of the Heir-apparent and of making the son of the Princess Wistaria
the Heir-apparent to the new Emperor, but there was no appropriate
guardian or supporter, and all relations on the mother's side were of
the Royal blood, and thereby disqualified from taking any active part
in political affairs.

For this reason the Emperor wished to make the position of the mother
firmer.

The mother of the Heir-apparent, whom this arrangement left still a
simple Niogo, was naturally hurt and uneasy at another being
proclaimed Empress. Indeed she was the mother of the Heir-apparent,
and had been so for more than twenty years. And the public remarked
that it was a severe trial for her to be thus superseded by another.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 71: Kalavinka, the beautifully singing holy birds in
Paradise, to whose singing the voice of Buddha is compared. ]

[Footnote 72: On New Year's Eve, in Japan, some people fry peas, and
throw them about the rooms, saying, "Avaunt, Devil, avaunt! Come in
happiness! " This is called driving out devils. ]

[Footnote 73: An infant born to the Emperor is presented to him only
when it has attained the age of some months. ]

[Footnote 74: From an old poem,

"The shade of Oaraki forest is thick:
The summer has come there, the summer has come! "

This is a mere metaphorical pun referring to her still being lively in
spite of age. ]




CHAPTER VIII

FLOWER-FEAST


Towards the end of February the cherry flowers at the front of the
Southern Palace were coming into blossom, and a feast was given to
celebrate the occasion. The weather was most lovely, and the merry
birds were singing their melody to the charms of the scene. All the
Royal Princes, nobles and _literati_ were assembled, and among them
the Emperor made his appearance, accompanied by the Princess Wistaria
(now Empress) on the one side, and the Niogo of Kokiden, the mother of
the Heir-apparent on the other; the latter having constrained herself
to take part with her rival in the _fete_, in spite of her uneasiness
at the recent promotion of that rival.

When all the seats were taken the composing[75] of poems, as was the
custom, commenced, and they began picking up the rhymes. The turn came
in due course to Genji, who picked up the word spring. Next to Genji,
To-no-Chiujio took his.

Many more followed them, including several aged professors, who had
often been present on similar occasions, with faces wrinkled by time,
and figures bowed by the weight of years. The movements and
announcements[76] both of Genji and his brother-in-law were elegant
and graceful, as might be expected; but among those who followed there
were not a few who showed awkwardness, this being more the case with
scholars of ordinary accomplishments, since this was an epoch when the
Emperor, the Heir-apparent and others of high distinction were more or
less accomplished in these arts.

Meanwhile, they all partook of the feast; the selected musicians
joyfully played their parts, and as the sun was setting, "The
Spring-lark Sings" (name of a dance) was danced. This reminded those
present of Genji's dance at the maple _fete_, and the Heir-apparent
pressed him to dance, at the same moment putting on his head a wreath
of flowers. Upon this Genji stood up, and waving his sleeves, danced a
little. To-no-Chiujio was next requested by the Emperor to do the same
thing, and he danced the "Willow Flower Gardens" most elaborately, and
was honored by the Emperor with a present of a roll of silk. After
them, many young nobles danced indiscriminately, one after another,
but we cannot give an opinion about them as the darkness was already
gathering round. Lamps were at length brought, when the reading of the
poems took place, and late in the evening all present dispersed.

The palace grounds now became quite tranquil, and over them the moon
shone with her soft light.

Genji, his temper mellowed by _sake_, was tempted to take a stroll to
see what he could see. He first sauntered round Fuji-Tsubo (the
chamber of Wistaria) and came up by the side of the corridor of
Kokiden. He noticed a small private door standing open. It seems that
the Niogo was in her upper chamber at the Emperor's quarters, having
gone there after she retired from the feast. The inner sliding door
was also left open, and no human voice was heard from within.

"Such are occasions on which one often compromises one's self,"
thought he, and yet slowly approached the entrance. Just at that
moment he heard a tender voice coming toward him, humming, "Nothing so
sweet as the _oboro_[77] moon-night. " Genji waited her approach, and
caught her by the sleeve. It made her start. "Who are you? " she
exclaimed. "Don't be alarmed," he replied, and gently led her back to
the corridor. He then added, "Let us look out on the moonlight
together. " She was, of course, nervous, and would fain have cried out.
"Hush," said he; "know that I am one with whom no one will interfere;
be gentle, and let us talk a little while. " These words convinced her
that it was Prince Genji, and calmed her fears.

It appears that he had taken more _sake_ than usual, and this made him
rather reckless. The girl, on the other hand, was still very young,
but she was witty and pleasantly disposed, and spent some time in
conversing with him.

He did not yet know who she was, and asked, "Can't you let me know
your name? Suppose I wish to write to you hereafter? " But she gave no
decided answer; so Genji, after exchanging his fan with hers, left her
and quietly returned to his apartments.

Genji's thoughts were now directed to his new acquaintance. He was
convinced that she was one of the younger sisters of the Niogo. He
knew that one of them was married to a Prince, one of his own
relations, and another to his brother-in-law, To-no-Chiujio. He was
perfectly sure that his new acquaintance was not either of these, and
he presumed her to be the fifth or sixth of them, but was not sure
which of these two.

"How can I ascertain this? " he thought. "If I compromise myself, and
her father becomes troublesome, that won't do; but yet I must know. "

The fan which he had just acquired was of the color of cherry. On it
was a picture representing the pale moon coming out of a purple cloud,
throwing a dim light upon the water.

To Genji this was precious. He wrote on one side the following, and
kept it carefully, with a longing for the chance of making it
useful:--

"The moon I love has left the sky,
And where 'tis hid I cannot tell;
I search in vain, in vain I try
To find the spot where it may dwell. "

Now, it so happened that on a certain day at the end of March, an
archery meeting was to be held at Udaijin's, in which numerous noble
youths were to be present, and which was to be succeeded by the
Wistaria flower-feast. The height of the flower season was past, but
there were two cherry-trees, besides the Wistaria in the gardens,
which blossomed later. A new building in the ground, which had been
decorated for the occasion of the Mogi[78] of the two Princesses, was
being beautifully arranged for this occasion.

Genji also had been told one day at Court by Udaijin that he might
join the meeting. When the day came Genji did not arrive early.
Udaijin sent by one of his sons the following haughty message to
Genji, who was at the time with the Emperor:--

"If the flowers of my home were of every-day hue,
Why should they so long a time have tarried for you? "

Genji at once showed this to the Emperor, asking whether he had better
go. "Ah! " said the latter, smiling, "This is from a great personage.
You had better go, I should think; besides there are the Princesses
there. "

Thereupon he prepared to go, and made his appearance late in the
afternoon.

The party was very pleasant, although the archery-match was almost
finished, and several hours were spent in different amusements. As
twilight fell around, Genji affected to be influenced by the _sake_ he
had taken, left the party, and went to that part of the Palace where
the Princesses lived. The Wistaria flowers in the gardens could also
be seen from this spot, and several ladies were looking out on them.

"I have been too much pressed. Let me take a little quiet shelter
here," said Genji, as he joined them. The room was nicely scented with
burning perfume. There he saw his two half-sisters and some others
with whom he was not acquainted. He was certain that the one he wished
to ascertain about was among them, but from the darkness of the
advancing evening he was unable to distinguish her. He adopted a
device for doing so. He hummed, as he looked vacantly around, the
"Ishi-kawa,"[79] but instead of the original line, "My belt being
taken," artfully, and in an arch tone, substituted the word "fan" for
"belt. "

Some were surprised at this change, while others even said, "What a
strange Ishi-kawa! " One only said nothing, but looked down, and thus
betrayed herself as the one whom he was seeking, and Genji was soon at
her side.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 75: Composing poems in Chinese was a principal part of the
feast. The form of it is this, a Court scholar selects in obedience to
Imperial command, the subject, and then writes different words on
pieces of paper and places them on a table in the gardens, folded up.
Two of these are first picked out for the Emperor, and then each one
after another, according to precedence, goes to the table, takes one,
and these words form their rhymes. ]

[Footnote 76: It was also the custom, when each had taken his paper,
to read it aloud, and also to announce his particular title or
station. ]

[Footnote 77: "Oboro" is an adjective meaning calm, and little
glaring, and is specially attributed to the moon in spring. The line
is from an old ode. ]

[Footnote 78: The ceremony of girls putting on a dress marking the
commencement of womanhood, corresponding to the Gembuk in the case of
boys. These princesses were the daughters of the Niogo of Kokiden. It
was the custom that royal children should be brought up at the home of
the mother. ]

[Footnote 79: Name of a well-known ballad. ]




CHAPTER IX

HOLLYHOCK


The Emperor has at last abdicated his throne, as he has long intended,
in favor of the Heir-apparent, and the only child of the Princess
Wistaria is made Heir-apparent to the new Emperor.

The ex-Emperor now lived in a private palace with this Princess in a
less royal style; and the Niogo of Kokiden, to whom was given the
honorary title of ex-Empress, resided in the Imperial Palace with the
Emperor, her son, and took up a conspicuous position. The ex-Emperor
still felt some anxiety about the Heir-apparent, and appointed Genji
as his guardian, as he had not yet a suitable person for that office.

This change in the reigning Emperor, and the gradual advancement of
Genji's position, gave the latter greater responsibility, and he had
to restrain his wandering.

Now, according to usage, the Saigu[80] and Saiin[81] were selected;
for the latter the second sister of the Emperor was chosen, and for
the former the only daughter of the Lady of Rokjio, whose husband had
been a Royal Prince.

The day of the departure of the Saigu for Ise was not yet fixed; and
the mind of her mother, who had some reasons for dissatisfaction with
Genji, was still wavering in her indecision, whether or not she should
go to Ise with her daughter.

The case of the Saiin, however, was different, and the day of her
installation was soon fixed. She was the favorite child of her mother
as well as of her father, and the ceremonies for the day of
consecration were arranged with especial splendor. The number of
persons who take a share in the procession on this occasion is defined
by regulations; yet the selection of this number was most carefully
made from the most fashionable of the nobles of the time, and their
dresses and saddles were all chosen of beautiful appearance. Genji was
also directed by special order to take part in the ceremony.

As the occasion was expected to be magnificent, every class of the
people showed great eagerness to witness the scene, and a great number
of stands were erected all along the road. The day thus looked forward
to at last arrived.

Lady Aoi seldom showed herself on such occasions; besides, she was now
in a delicate state of health, near her confinement, and had,
therefore, no inclination to go out. Her attendants, however,
suggested to her that she ought to go. "It is a great pity," they
said, "not to see it; people come from a long distance to see it. " Her
mother also said, "You seem better to-day. I think you had better go.
Take these girls with you. "

Being pressed in this way, she hastily made up her mind, and went with
a train of carriages. All the road was thronged by multitudes of
people, many dressed in a style which is called Tsubo-Shozok. Many of
great age prostrated themselves in an attitude of adoration, and many
others, notwithstanding their natural plainness, looked almost
blooming, from the joy expressed in their countenances--nay, even nuns
and aged women, from their retreats, were to be seen amongst them.
Numerous carriages were also squeezed closely together, so that the
broad thoroughfare of the Ichijio road was made almost spaceless.
When, however, the carriages of the Lady Aoi's party appeared, her
attendants ordered several others to make way, and forced a passage to
the spot where the best view could be obtained, and where the common
people were not allowed. Among these happened to be two _ajiro_[82]
carriages, and their inmates were plainly incognito and persons of
rank.

These belonged to the party of the Lady of Rokjio. When these
carriages were forced to give place, their attendants cried out,
"These carriages do not belong to people who ought to be so abruptly
forced away. " But the attendants of the Lady Aoi, who were slightly
under the influence of drink, would not listen to their
expostulations, and they at last made their way and took up their
position, pushing the other two back where nothing could be seen, even
breaking their poles.

The lady so maltreated was of course extremely indignant, and she
would fain have gone home without seeing the spectacle, but there was
no passage for retiring. Meanwhile the approach of the procession was
announced, and only this calmed her a little.

Genji was as usual conspicuous in the procession. There were several
carriages along the roads on whose occupants his glance was cast; that
of Lady Aoi, however, was the most striking, and as he passed by the
attendants saluted him courteously, which act Genji acknowledged. What
were the feelings of the Lady of Rokjio, who had been driven back, at
this moment!

In due course the procession passed, and the exciting scene of the day
was over. The quarrels about the carriage naturally came to the ears
of Genji. He thought that Lady Aoi was too modest to be the instigator
of such a dispute; but her house was one of great and powerful
families famous for overweening pride, a tendency shared by its
domestics; and they, for other motives, also of rivalry, were glad to
have an opportunity of mortifying the Lady of Rokjio.

He felt for the wounded lady, and hastened to see her; but she, under
some pretext, refused to see him.

The day of the hollyhock _fete_ of the same temple came. It was
especially grand, as it was the first one after the installation of
the new Saiin, but neither Lady Aoi or the Lady of Rokjio was present,
while Genji privately took Violet with him in a close carriage to see
the festival, and saw the horse-races.

We have already mentioned that the mind of the Lady of Rokjio was
still wavering and unsettled whether or not she should go to Ise with
her daughter; and this state of mind became more and more augmented
and serious after the day of the dispute about the carriages, which
made her feel a bitter disdain and jealousy towards the Lady Aoi.
Strange to say, that from about the same time, Lady Aoi became ill,
and began to suffer from spiritual influences. All sorts of exorcisms
were duly performed, and some spirits came forth and gave their names.
But among them was a spirit, apparently a "living one,"[83] which
obstinately refused to be transmitted to the third party. It caused
her great suffering, and seemed not to be of a casual nature, but a
permanent hostile influence. Some imagined this to be the effect of
fearful jealousy of some one who was intimately known to Genji and who
had most influence over him; but the spirit gave no information to
this effect. Hence some even surmised that the wandering spirit of
some aged nurse, or the like, long since dead, still haunted the
mansion, and might have seized the opportunity of the lady's delicate
health, and taken possession of her. Meanwhile at the mansion of
Rokjio, the lady, when she was informed of the sufferings of Lady Aoi,
felt somewhat for her, and began to experience a sort of compassion.

This became stronger when she was told that the sufferings of the Lady
Aoi were owing to some living spirit. She thought that she never
wished any evil to her; but, when she reflected, there were several
times when she began to think that a wounded spirit, such as her own,
might have some influence of the kind. She had sometimes dreams, after
weary thinking, between slumber and waking, in which she seemed to fly
to some beautiful girl, apparently Lady Aoi, and to engage in bitter
contention and struggle with her. She became even terrified at these
dreams; but yet they took place very often. "Even in ordinary
matters," she thought, "it is too common a practice, to say nothing of
the good done by people, but to exaggerate the bad; and so, in such
cases, if it should be rumored that mine was that living spirit which
tormented Lady Aoi, how trying it would be to me! It is no rare
occurrence that one's disembodied spirit, after death, should wander
about; but even that is not a very agreeable idea. How much more,
then, must it be disagreeable to have the repute that one's living
spirit was inflicting pain upon another! "

These thoughts still preyed upon her mind, and made her listless and
depressed.

In due course, the confinement of Lady Aoi approached. At the same
time, the jealous spirit still vexed her, and now more vigorous
exorcising was employed. She became much affected by it, and cried
out, "Please release me a little; I have something to tell the
Prince. "

Hereupon he was ushered into the room. The curtain was dropped, and
the mother of the lady left the room, as she thought her daughter
might prefer to speak to him in private. The sound of the spells
performed in the next chamber ceased, and Hoke-kio was read in its
place. The lady was lying on her couch, dressed in a pure white
garment, with her long tresses unfastened. He approached her, and
taking her hand, said: "What sad affliction you cause us! " She then
lifted her heavy eyelids, and gazed on Genji for some minutes.

He tried to soothe her, and said, "Pray don't trouble yourself too
much about matters. Everything will come right. Your illness, I think,
will soon pass away. Even supposing you quit this present world, there
is another where we shall meet, and where I shall see you once more
cheerful, and there will be a time when your mother and father will
also join you. "

"Ah! no. I only come here to solicit you to give me a little rest. I
feel extremely disturbed. I never thought of coming here in such a
way; but it seems the spirit of one whose thoughts are much
disconcerted wanders away unknown even to itself.

Oh, bind my wandering spirit, pray,
Dear one, nor let it longer stray. "

The enunciation of these words was not that of Lady Aoi herself; and
when Genji came to reflect, it clearly belonged to the Lady of Rokjio.
Always before, when anyone had talked with him about a living spirit
coming to vex Lady Aoi, he felt inclined to suppress such ideas; but
now he began to think that such things might really happen, and he
felt disturbed. "You speak thus," said Genji, as if he was addressing
the spirit, "but you do not tell me who you are. Do, therefore, tell
me clearly. " At these words, strange to say, the face of the Lady Aoi
seemed momentarily to assume the likeness of that of Rokjio. On this,
Genji was still more perplexed and anxious, and put a stop to the
colloquy. Presently she became very calm, and people thought that she
was a little relieved. Soon after this, the lady was safely delivered
of a child.

Now, to perform due thanksgiving for this happy deliverance, the head
of the monastery on Mount Hiye and some other distinguished priests
were sent for. They came in all haste, wiping off the perspiration
from their faces as they journeyed; and, from the Emperor and Royal
princes down to the ordinary nobles, all took an interest in the
ceremony of Ub-yashinai (first feeding), and the more so as the child
was a boy.

To return to the Lady of Rokjio. When she heard of the safe delivery
of Lady Aoi, a slightly jealous feeling once more seemed to vex her;
and when she began to move about, she could not understand how it was,
but she perceived that her dress was scented with a strange odor. [84]
She thought this most surprising, and took baths and changed her
dress, in order to get rid of it; but the odor soon returned, and she
was disgusted with herself.

Some days passed, and the day of autumn appointments arrived. By this
time, Lady Aoi's health seemed progressing favorably, and Genji left
her in order to attend the Court.

When he said good-by to her, there was a strange and unusual look in
her eyes. Sadaijin also went to Court, as well as his sons, who had
some expectation of promotion, and there were few people left in the
mansion.

It was in the evening of that day that Lady Aoi was suddenly attacked
by a spasm, and before the news of this could be carried to the Court,
she died.

These sad tidings soon reached the Court, and created great distress
and confusion: even the arrangements for appointments and promotion
were disturbed. As it happened late in the evening there was no time
to send for the head of the monastery, or any other distinguished
priest. Messengers of inquiry came one after another to the mansion,
so numerous that it was almost impossible to return them all answers.
We need not add how greatly affected were all her relations.

As the death took place from a malign spiritual influence, she was
left untouched during two or three days, in the hope that she might
revive; but no change took place, and now all hope was abandoned. In
due course the corpse was taken to the cemetery of Toribeno. Numerous
mourners and priests of different churches crowded to the spot, while
representatives of the ex-Emperor, Princess Wistaria, and the
Heir-apparent also were present. The ceremony of burial was performed
with all solemnity and pathos.

Thus the modest and virtuous Lady Aoi passed away forever.

Genji forthwith confined himself to his apartment in the grand mansion
of Sadaijin, for mourning and consolation. To-no-Chiujio, who was now
elevated to the title of Sammi, constantly bore him company, and
conversed with him both on serious and amusing subjects. Their
struggle in the apartment of Gen-naishi, and also their rencontre in
the garden of the "Saffron Flower," were among the topics of their
consoling conversation.

It was on one of these occasions that a soft shower of rain was
falling. The evening was rendered cheerless, and To-no-Chiujio came to
see him, walking slowly in his mourning robes of a dull color. Genji
was leaning out of a window, his cheek resting on his hand; and,
looking out upon the half-fading shrubberies, was humming--

"Has she become rain or cloud?
'Tis now unknown. "

To-no-Chiujio gently approached him. They had, as usual, some pathetic
conversation, and then the latter hummed, as if to himself--

"Beyond the cloud in yonder sky,
From which descends the passing rain,
Her gentle soul may dwell,
Though we may cease to trace its form in vain. "

This was soon responded to by Genji:--

"That cloudy shrine we view on high,
Where my lost love may dwell unseen,
Looks gloomy now to this sad eye
That looks with tears on what has been. "

There was among the faded plants of the garden a solitary
Rindo-nadeshko. [85] When To-no-Chiujio had gone, Genji picked this
flower, and sent it to his mother-in-law by the nurse of the infant
child, with the following:--

"In bowers where all beside are dead
Survives alone this lovely flower,
Departed autumn's cherished gem,
Symbol of joy's departed hour. "[86]

Genji still felt lonely. He wrote a letter to the Princess Momo-zono
(peach-gardens). He had known her long. He admired her, too. She had
been a spectator, with her father, on the day of the consecration of
the Saiin, and was one of those to whom the appearance of Genji was
most welcome. In his letter he stated that she might have a little
sympathy with him in his sorrow, and he also sent with it the
following:--

"Many an autumn have I past
In gloomy thought, but none I ween
Has been so mournful as the last,
Which rife with grief and change hath been. "

There was, indeed, nothing serious between Genji and this princess;
yet, as far as correspondence was concerned, they now and then
exchanged letters, so she did not object to receiving this
communication. She felt for him much, and an answer was returned, in
which she expressed her sympathy at his bereavement.

Now, in the mansion of Sadaijin every performance of requiem was
celebrated. The forty-ninth day had passed, and the mementoes of the
dead, both trifling and valuable, were distributed in a due and
agreeable manner; and Genji at length left the grand mansion with the
intention of first going to the ex-Emperor, and then of returning to
his mansion at Nijio. After his departure, Sadaijin went into the
apartment occupied till lately by him. The room was the same as
before, and everything was unchanged; but his only daughter, the
pride of his old days, was no more, and his son-in-law had gone too.

He looked around him for some moments. He saw some papers lying about.
They were those on which Genji had been practising penmanship for
amusement--some in Chinese, others in Japanese; some in free style,
others in stiff. Among these papers he saw one on which the words "Old
pillows and old quilts" were written, and close to these the
following:--

"How much the soul departed, still
May love to linger round this couch,
My own heart tells me, even I
Reluctant am to leave it now. "

And on another of these papers, accompanying the words, "The white
frost lies upon the tiles," the following:--

"How many more of nights shall I
On this lone bed without thee lie;
The flower has left its well-known bed,
And o'er its place the dews are shed. "

As Sadaijin was turning over these papers a withered flower, which
seems to have marked some particular occasion, dropped from amongst
them.

Return we now to Genji. He went to the ex-Emperor, to whom he still
seemed thin and careworn. He had some affectionate conversation with
him, remained till evening, and then proceeded to his mansion at
Nijio. He went to the western wing to visit the young Violet. All were
habited in new winter apparel, and looked fresh and blooming.

"How long it seems since I saw you! " he exclaimed. Violet turned her
glance a little aside. She was apparently shy, which only increased
her beauty.

He approached, and after having a little conversation, said, "I have
many things to say to you, but now I must have a little rest," and
returned to his own quarters.

The next morning, first of all he sent a letter to Sadaijin's, making
inquiry after his infant child.

At this time he confined himself more than usual to his own house, and
for companionship he was constantly with Violet, who was now
approaching womanhood. He would sometimes talk with her differently
from the manner in which he would speak to a mere girl; but on her
part she seemed not to notice the difference, and for their daily
amusement either Go or Hentski[87] was resorted to, and sometimes they
would play on till late in the evening.

Some weeks thus passed away, and there was one morning when Violet did
not appear so early as usual. The inmates of the house, who did not
know what was the reason, were anxious about her, thinking she was
indisposed. About noon Genji came. He entered the little room, saying,
"Are you not quite well? Perhaps you would like to play at Go again,
like last night, for a change;" but she was more than ever shy.

"Why are you so shy? " he exclaimed; "be a little more cheerful--people
may think it strange," said he, and stayed with her a long time trying
to soothe her; but to no effect--she still continued silent and shy.

This was the evening of Wild Boar's day, and some _mochi_ (pounded
rice cake) was presented to him, according to custom, on a tray of
plain white wood.

He called Koremitz before him and said, "To-day is not a very
opportune day; I would rather have them to-morrow evening. Do send in
some to-morrow. [88] It need not be of so many colors. " So saying, he
smiled a little, and sharp Koremitz soon understood what he meant. And
this he accordingly did on the morrow, on a beautiful flower-waiter.

Up to this time nothing about Violet had been publicly known, and
Genji thought it was time to inform her father about his daughter; but
he considered he had better have the ceremony of Mogi first performed,
and ordered preparations to be made with that object.

Let us here notice that the young daughter of Udaijin, after she saw
Genji, was longing to see him again. This inclination was perceived by
her relations. It seems that her father was not quite averse to this
liking, and he told his eldest daughter, the reigning Emperor's
mother, that Genji was recently bereaved of his good consort, and that
he should not feel discontented if his daughter were to take the place
of Lady Aoi; but this the royal mother did not approve. "It would be
far better for her to be introduced at Court," she said, and began
contriving to bring this about.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 80: The sacred virgin of the temple of Ise. ]

[Footnote 81: The same of Kamo, which is situated in the neighborhood
of Kioto, the then capital. ]

[Footnote 82: "Ajiro" means woven bamboo, and here it signifies a
carriage made of woven bamboo. ]

[Footnote 83: Before proceeding with the story, it is necessary for
the reader to peruse the following note: In Japan there existed, and
still more or less exists, a certain superstition which is
entertained, that the spirits of the dead have the power of inflicting
injury on mankind; for instance, a woman when slighted or deserted,
dies, her spirit often works evil on the man who forsook her, or on
her rival. This is the spirit of the dead. There is also another
belief that the spirits of the living have sometimes the same power,
but in this case it only takes place when one is fiercely jealous.
When this spirit works upon the rival, the owner of the spirit is not
aware of it; but she herself becomes more gloomy, as if she had, as it
were, lost her own spirit. These spirits can be exorcised, and the act
is performed by a certain sect of priests; but the living one is
considered far more difficult to exorcise than the other, because it
is imagined that the dead spirit can be easily "laid," or driven back
to the tomb, while the living one, being still in its present state,
cannot be settled so easily. The method of exorcism is as follows:
Certain spells are used on the sufferer, and certain religious
addresses are read from the Buddhist bibles, and then the sufferer is
made to speak out all his subjects of complaint; but it is supposed
not to be the man himself who speaks and tells these causes of
complaint, but the spirit of which he is possessed. This process is
sometimes performed on a third party; in that case the priest
temporarily transmits the spirit from the sufferer to the substitute
and makes it speak with his mouth. When he has told all the causes of
his complaint and wrongs, the priest sometimes argues with him,
sometimes chides, sometimes soothes, and sometimes threatens, and at
last says to the spirit, "If you do not go out quietly, I will confine
you by my sacred power. " By such means the spirit is exorcised; the
process resembles mesmerism in some points, but of course has no
sensible foundation.