No More Learning

At other times Genji would
never have permitted such sort of people to approach him, but under
the present circumstances of his life he was only too glad to put up
with it. He summoned the man to his presence, and made him talk of all
the latest news in the capital.

The messenger told him, in awkward terms, that in the capital these
storms were considered to be a kind of heavenly warning, that a
Nin-wo-ye[118] was going to be held; and that many nobles who had to
go to Court were prevented from doing so by the storms, adding that he
never remembered such violent storms before.

From the dawn of the next day the winds blew louder, the tide flowed
higher, and the sound of the waves resounded with a deafening noise.
The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed, while everyone was
trembling in alarm, and were all, including Genji, offering up prayers
and vows to the God of Sumiyoshi, whose temple was at no great
distance, and also to other gods. Meanwhile a thunderbolt struck the
corridor of Genji's residence and set fire to it. The Prince and his
friends retired to a small house behind, which served as a kitchen.
The sky was as if blackened with ink, and in that state of darkness
the day ended. In the evening the wind gradually abated, the rain
diminished to a thin shower, and even the stars began to blink out of
the heavens.

This temporary retreat was now irksome, and they thought of returning
to their dwelling quarters, but they saw nothing but ruins and
confusion from the storm, so they remained where they were. Genji was
occupied in prayer. The moon began to smile from above, the flow of
the tide could be seen, and the rippling of the waves heard. He opened
the rude wooden door, and contemplated the scene before him. He seemed
to be alone in the world, having no one to participate in his
feelings. He heard several fishermen talking in their peculiar
dialect. Feeling much wearied by the events of the day, he soon
retired, and resigned himself to slumber, reclining near one side of
the room, in which there were none of the comforts of an ordinary
bedchamber.

All at once his late father appeared before his eyes in the exact
image of life, and said to him, "Why are you in so strange a place? "
and taking his hand, continued, "Embark at once in a boat, as the God
of Sumiyoshi[119] guides you, and leave this coast. "

Genji was delighted at this, and replied, "Since I parted from you I
have undergone many misfortunes, and I thought that I might be buried
on this coast. "

"It must not be thus," the phantom replied; "your being here is only a
punishment for a trifling sin which you have committed. For my own
part, when I was on the throne, I did no wrong, but I have somehow
been involved in some trifling sin, and before I expiated it I left
the world. Hurt, however, at beholding you oppressed with such
hardships I came up here, plunging into the waves, and rising on the
shore. I am much fatigued; but I have something I wish to tell the
Emperor, so I must haste away," and he left Genji, who felt very much
affected, and cried out, "Let me accompany you! " With this exclamation
he awoke, and looked up, when he saw nothing but the moon's face
shining through the windows, with the clouds reposing in the sky.

The image of his father still vividly remained before his eyes, and he
could not realize that it was only a dream. He became suddenly sad,
and was filled with regret that he did not talk a little more, even
though it was only in a dream. He could not sleep any more this night,
and dawn broke, when a small boat was seen approaching the coast, with
a few persons in it.

A man from the boat came up to the residence of Genji. When he was
asked who he was, he replied that the priest of Akashi (the former
Governor) had come from Akashi in his boat, and that he wished to see
Yoshikiyo, and to tell him the reason of his coming. Yoshikiyo was
surprised, and said, "I have known him for years, but there was a
slight reason why we were not the best of friends, and some time has
now passed without correspondence. What makes him come? "

As to Genji, however, the arrival of the boat made him think of its
coincidence with the subject of his dream, so he hurried Yoshikiyo to
go and see the new comers. Thereupon the latter went to the boat,
thinking as he went, "How could he come to this place amidst the
storms which have been raging? "

The priest now told Yoshikiyo that in a dream which he had on the
first day of the month, a strange being told him a strange thing, and,
said he, "I thought it too credulous to believe in a dream, but the
object appeared again, and told me that on the thirteenth of this
month he will give me a supernatural sign, directing me also to
prepare a boat, and as soon as the storm ceased, to sail out to this
coast. Therefore, to test its truth I launched a boat, but strange to
say, on this day the extraordinarily violent weather of rain, wind,
and thunder occurred. I then thought that in China there had been
several instances of people benefiting the country by believing in
dreams, so though this may not exactly be the case with mine, yet I
thought it my duty, at all events, to inform you of the fact. With
these thoughts I started in the boat, when a slight miraculous breeze,
as it were, blew, and drove me to this coast. I can have no doubt that
this was divine direction. Perhaps there might have been some
inspiration in this place, too; and I wish to trouble you to transmit
this to the Prince. "

Yoshikiyo then returned and faithfully told Genji all about his
conversation with the priest. When Genji came to reflect, he thought
that so many dreams having visited him must have some significance. It
might only increase his disgrace if he were to despise such divine
warnings merely from worldly considerations, and from fear of
consequences. It would be better to resign himself to one more
advanced in age, and more experienced than himself. An ancient sage
says, that "resigning one's self makes one happier," besides, his
father had also enjoined him in the dream to leave the coast of Suma,
and there remained no further doubt for taking this step. He,
therefore, gave this answer to the priest, that "coming into an
unknown locality, plunged in solitude, receiving scarcely any visits
from friends in the capital, the only thing I have to regard as
friends of old times are the sun and the moon that pass over the
boundless heavens. Under these circumstances, I shall be only too
delighted to visit your part of the coast, and to find there such a
suitable retreat. "

This answer gave the priest great joy, and he pressed Genji to set out
at once and come to him. The Prince did so with his usual four or five
confidential attendants. The same wind which had miraculously blown
the vessel of the priest to Suma now changed, and carried them with
equal favor and speed back to Akashi. On their landing they entered a
carriage waiting for them, and went to the mansion of the priest.

The scenery around the coast was no less novel than that of Suma, the
only difference being that there were more people there. The building
was grand, and there was also a grand Buddha-hall adjoining for the
service of the priest. The plantations of trees, the shrubberies, the
rock-work, and the mimic lakes in the garden were so beautifully
arranged as to exceed the power of an artist to depict, while the
style of the dwelling was so tasteful that it was in no way inferior
to any in the capital.

The wife and the daughter of the priest were not residing here, but
were at another mansion on the hill-side, where they had removed from
fear of the recent high tides.

Genji now took up his quarters with the priest in this seaside
mansion. The first thing he did when he felt a little settled was to
write to the capital, and tell his friends of his change of residence.
The priest was about sixty years old, and was very sincere in his
religious service. The only subject of anxiety which he felt was, as
we have already mentioned, the welfare of his daughter. When Genji
became thoroughly settled he often joined the priest, and spent hours
in conversing with him. The latter, from his age and experience, was
full of information and anecdotes, many of which were quite new to
Genji, but the narration of them seemed always to turn upon his
daughter.

April had now come. The trees began to be clothed with a thick shade
of leaves, which had a peculiar novelty of appearance, differing from
that of the flowers of spring, or the bright dyes of autumn. The Kuina
(a particular bird of summer) commenced their fluttering. The
furniture and dresses were changed for those more suitable to the time
of year. The comfort of the house was most agreeable. It was on one of
these evenings that the surface of the broad ocean spread before the
eye was unshadowed by the clouds, and the Isle of Awaji floated like
foam on its face, just as it appeared to do at Suma. Genji took out
his favorite _kin_, on which he had not practised for some time, and
was playing an air called "Korio," when the priest joined him, having
left for awhile his devotions, and said that his music recalled to his
mind the old days and the capital which he had quitted so long. He
sent for a _biwa_ (mandolin)[120] and a _soh-koto_ from the hill-side
mansion, and, after the fashion of a blind singer of ballads to the
_biwa_, played two or three airs.

He then handed the _soh-koto_ to Genji, who also played a few tunes,
saying, as he did so, in a casual manner, "This sounds best when
played upon by some fair hand. " The priest smiled, and rejoined: "What
better hand than yours need we wish to hear playing; for my part, my
poor skill has been transmitted to me, through three generations, from
the royal hand of the Emperor Yenghi, though I now belong to the past;
but, occasionally, when my loneliness oppresses me, I indulge in my
old amusement, and there is one who, listening to my strains, has
learnt to imitate them so well that they resemble those of the Emperor
Yenghi himself. I shall be very happy, if you desire, to find an
opportunity for you to hear them. "

Genji at once laid aside the instrument, saying: "Ah, how bold! I did
not know I was among proficients," and continued, "From olden time the
_soh-koto_ was peculiarly adopted by female musicians. The fifth
daughter of the Emperor Saga, from whom she had received the secret,
was a celebrated performer, but no one of equal skill succeeded her.
Of course there are several players, but these merely strike or strum
on the instrument; but in this retreat there is a skilful hand. How
delightful it will be. "

"If you desire to hear, there is no difficulty. I will introduce her
to you. She also plays the _biwa_ very well. The _biwa_ has been
considered from olden time very difficult to master, and I am proud of
her doing so. "

In this manner the priest led the conversation to his own daughter,
while fruit and _sake_ were brought in for refreshment. He then went
on talking of his life since he first came to the coast of Akashi, and
of his devotion to religion, for the sake of future happiness, and
also out of solicitude for his daughter. He continued: "Although I
feel rather awkward in saying it, I am almost inclined to think your
coming to this remote vicinity has something providential in it, as an
answer, as it were, to our earnest prayers, and it may give you some
consolation and pleasure. The reason why I think so is this--it is
nearly eighteen years since we began to pray for the blessing of the
God Sumiyoshi on our daughter, and we have sent her twice a year, in
spring and autumn, to his temple. At the 'six-time' service,[121]
also, the prayers for my own repose on the lotus flower,[122] are only
secondary to those which I put up for the happiness of my daughter. My
father, as you may know, held a good office in the capital, but I am
now a plain countryman, and if I leave matters in their present state,
the status of my family will soon become lower and lower. Fortunately
this girl was promising from her childhood, and my desire was to
present her to some distinguished personage in the capital, not
without disappointment to many suitors, and I have often told her that
if my desire is not fulfilled she had better throw herself into the
sea. "

Such was the tedious discourse which the priest held on the subject of
his family affairs; yet it is not surprising that it awakened an
interest in the susceptible mind of Genji for the fair maiden thus
described as so promising. The priest at last, in spite of the shyness
and reserve of the daughter, and the unwillingness of the mother,
conducted Genji to the hill-side mansion, and introduced him to the
maiden. In the course of time they gradually became more than mere
acquaintances to each other. For some time Genji often found himself
at the hill-side mansion, and her society appeared to afford him
greater pleasure than anything else, but this did not quite meet with
the approval of his conscience, and the girl in the mansion at Nijio
returned to his thoughts. If this flirtation of his should become
known to her, he thought, it perhaps would be very annoying to her.
True, she was not much given to be jealous, but he well remembered the
occasional complaints she had now and then made to him while in the
capital. These feelings induced him to write more frequently and more
minutely to her, and he soon began to frequent the hill-side mansion
less often. His leisure hours were spent in sketching, as he used to
do in Suma, and writing short poetic effusions explanatory of the
scenery. This was also going on in the mansion at Nijio, where Violet
passed the long hours away in painting different pictures, and also in
writing, in the form of a diary, what she saw and did. What will be
the issue of all these things?

Now, since the spring of the year there had been several heavenly
warnings in the capital, and things in general were somewhat
unsettled. On the evening of the thirteenth of March, when the rain
and wind had raged, the late Emperor appeared in a dream to his son
the Emperor, in front of the palace, looking reproachfully upon him.
The Emperor showed every token of submission and respect when the dead
Emperor told him of many things, all of which concerned Genji's
interests. The Emperor became alarmed, and when he awoke he told his
mother all about his dream. She, however, told him that on such
occasions, when the storm rages, and the sky is obscured by the
disturbance of the elements, all things, especially on which our
thoughts have been long occupied, appear to us in a dream in a
disturbed sleep; and she continued, "I further counsel you not to be
too hastily alarmed by such trifles. " From this time he began to
suffer from sore eyes, which may have resulted from the angry glances
of his father's spirit. About the same time the father of the
Empress-mother died. His death was by no means premature; but yet,
when such events take place repeatedly, it causes the mind to imagine
there is something more than natural going on, and this made the
Empress-mother feel a little indisposed.

The Emperor then constantly told her that if Genji were left in his
present condition it might induce evil, and, therefore, it would be
better to recall him, and restore his titles and honors to him. She
obstinately opposed these ideas, saying, "If a person who proved to be
guilty, and has retired from the capital, were to be recalled before
the expiration of at least three years, it would naturally show the
weakness of authority. "

She gained her point, and thus the days were spent and the year
changed.

The Emperor still continually suffered from indisposition, and the
unsettled state of things remained the same as before. A prince had
been born to him, who was now about two years old, and he began to
think of abdicating the throne in favor of the Heir-apparent, the
child of the Princess Wistaria. When he looked around to see who would
best minister public affairs, he came to think that the disgrace of
Genji was a matter not to be allowed to continue, and at last,
contrary to the advice of his mother, he issued a public permission
for Genji's return to the capital, which was repeated at the end of
July. Genji therefore prepared to come back. Before, however, he
started, a month passed away, which time was mostly spent in the
society of the lady of the hill-side mansion. The expected journey of
Genji was now auspicious, even to him, and ought also to have been so
to the family of the priest, but parting has always something painful
in its nature. This was more so because the girl had by this time the
witness of their love in her bosom, but he told her that he would send
for her when his position was assured in the capital.

Towards the middle of August everything was in readiness, and Genji
started on his journey homeward. He went to Naniwa, where he had the
ceremony of Horai performed. To the temple of Sumiyoshi he sent a
messenger to say that the haste of his journey prevented him coming at
this time, but that he would fulfil his vows as soon as circumstances
would permit. From Naniwa he proceeded to the capital, and returned
once more, after an absence of nearly three years, to his mansion at
Nijio. The joy and excitement of the inmates of the mansion were
unbounded, and the development of Violet charmed his eyes. His delight
was great and the pleasure of his mind was of the most agreeable
nature; still, from time to time, in the midst of this very pleasure,
the recollection of the maiden whom he had left at Akashi occurred to
his thoughts. But this kind of perturbation was only the result of
what had arisen from the very nature of Genji's character.

Before the lapse of many days all his titles and honors were restored
to him, and he was soon created an extra Vice-Dainagon.

All those who had lost dignities or office on account of Genji's
complications were also restored to them. It seemed to these like a
sudden and unexpected return of spring to the leafless tree.

In the course of a few days Genji was invited by the Emperor to come
and see him. The latter had scarcely recovered from his indisposition,
and was still looking weak and thin. When Genji appeared before him,
he manifested great pleasure, and they conversed together in a
friendly way till the evening.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 118: A religious feast in the Imperial Palace, in which
Nin-wo-kio, one of the Buddhist Bibles, was read, an event which
rarely took place. Its object was to tranquillize the country. ]

[Footnote 119: The god of the sea. ]

[Footnote 120: The "biwa," more than any other instrument, is played
by blind performers, who accompany it with ballads. ]

[Footnote 121: The services performed by rigid priests were six times
daily--namely, at early morn, mid-day, sunset, early evening,
midnight, and after midnight. ]

[Footnote 122: The Buddhist idea that when we get into Paradise we
take our seat upon the lotus flower. ]




CHAPTER XIV

THE BEACON


Genji well remembered the dream which he had dreamt at Suma, and in
which his father, the late ex-Emperor, had made a faint allusion to
his fallen state. He was always thinking of having solemn service
performed for him, which might prove to be a remedy for evils.

He was now in the capital, and at liberty to do anything he wished. In
October, therefore, he ordered the grand ceremony of Mihakko to be
performed for the repose of the dead. Meanwhile the respect of the
public towards Genji had now returned to its former state, and he
himself had become a distinguished personage in the capital. The
Empress-mother, though indisposed, regretted she had not ruined Genji
altogether; while the Emperor, who had not forgotten the injunction of
the late ex-Emperor, felt satisfied with his recent disposition
towards his half-brother, which he believed to be an act of goodness.

This he felt the more, because he noticed the improvement in his
health continued from day to day, and he experienced a sensation of
fresh vigor. He did not, however, believe he should be long on the
throne, and when he found himself lonely, he often sent for Genji, and
spent hours conversing with him, without any reserve, on public
affairs.

In February of the next year the ceremony of the "Gembuk" of the
Heir-apparent, who was eleven years of age, was performed.

At the end of the same month the Emperor abdicated the throne in favor
of the Heir-apparent, and his own son was made the Heir-apparent to
the new Emperor.

The suddenness of these changes struck the Empress-mother with
surprise, but she was told by her son that his abdication had been
occasioned by his desire to enjoy quiet and repose.

The new reign opened with several changes in public affairs. Genji had
been made Naidaijin. He filled this extra office of Daijin because
there was no vacancy either in the Sadaijin or the Udaijin. He was to
take an active part in the administration, but as he was not yet
disposed to engage in the busy cares of official life, the
ex-Sadaijin, his father-in-law, was solicited to become the regent for
the young Emperor. He at first declined to accept the office, on the
ground that he was advanced in age, that he had already retired from
official life, and that the decline of his life left him insufficient
energy. There was, however, an example in a foreign State, where some
wise councillors, who resigned and had retired into the far-off
mountains when their country was in a disturbed state, came forth from
their retreat, with their snow-crowned heads, and took part in the
administration of affairs. Nor was it an unusual thing for a statesman
who had retired from political scenes to assume again a place under
another government.

So the ex-Sadaijin did not persist in his refusal, but finally
accepted the post of Dajiodaijin (the Premier). He was now sixty-three
years of age. His former retirement had taken place more on account of
his disgust with the world than from his indisposition, and hence,
when he accepted his new post, he at once showed how capable he was of
being a responsible Minister. To-no-Chiujio, his eldest son, was also
made the Gon-Chiunagon. His daughter by his wife, the fourth daughter
of Udaijin, was now twelve years old, and was shortly expected to be
presented at Court; while his son, who had sung the "high sand" at a
summer-day reunion at Genji's mansion, received a title. The young
Genji too, the son of the late Lady Aoi, was admitted to the Court of
the Emperor and of the Heir-apparent.

The attendants who faithfully served the young Genji, and those in the
mansion at Nijio, had all received a satisfactory token of
appreciation from Genji, who now began to have a mansion repaired,
which was situated to the east of the one in which he resided, and
which had formerly belonged to his father. This he did with a notion
of placing there some of his intimate friends, such as the younger one
of the ladies in the "Villa of Falling Flowers. "

Now the young maiden also, whom Genji had left behind at Akashi, and
who had been in delicate health, did not pass away from his thoughts.
He despatched a messenger there on the first of March, as he deemed
the happy event would take place about that time. When the messenger
returned, he reported that she was safely delivered of a girl on the
sixteenth of the month.

He remembered the prediction of an astrologer who had told him that an
Emperor would be born to him, and another son who would eventually
become a Dajiodaijin. He also remembered that a daughter, who would be
afterwards an Empress, would be also born to him, by a lady inferior
to the mothers of the other two children. When he reflected on this
prediction and on the series of events, he began thinking of the
remarkable coincidences they betrayed; and as he thought of sending
for her, as soon as the condition of the young mother's health would
admit, he hurried forward the repairs of the eastern mansion. He also
thought that as there might not be a suitable nurse at Akashi for the
child, he ought to send one from the capital. Fortunately there was a
lady there who had lately been delivered of a child. Her mother, who
had waited at Court when the late ex-Emperor lived, and her father,
who had been some time Court Chamberlain, were both dead. She was now
in miserable circumstances. Genji sounded her, through a certain
channel, whether she would not be willing to be useful to him. This
offer on his part she accepted without much hesitation, and was
despatched with a confidential servant to attend on the new-born
child. He also sent with her a sword and other presents. She left the
capital in a carriage, and proceeded by boat to the province of
Settsu, and thence on horseback to Akashi.

When she arrived the priest was intensely delighted, and the young
mother, who had been gradually improving in health, felt great
consolation. The child was very healthy, and the nurse at once began
to discharge her duties most faithfully.

Hitherto Genji did not confide the story of his relations with the
maiden of Akashi to Violet, but he thought he had better do so, as the
matter might naturally reach her ears. He now, therefore, informed her
of all the circumstances, and of the birth of the child, saying, "If
you feel any unpleasantness about the matter, I cannot blame you in
any way. It was not the blessing which I desired. How greatly do I
regret that in the quarter where I wished to see the heavenly gift,
there is none, but see it in another, where there was no expectation.
The child is merely a girl too, and I almost think that I need pay no
further attention. But this would make me heartless towards my
undoubted offspring. I shall send for it and show it to you, and hope
you will be generous to her. Can you assure me you will be so? " At
these words Violet's face became red as crimson, but she did not lose
her temper, and quietly replied:

"Your saying this only makes me contemptible to myself, as I think my
generosity may not yet be fully understood; but I should like to know
when and where I could have learnt to be ungenerous. "

"These words sound too hard to me," said he. "How can you be so cruel
to me? Pray don't attribute any blame to me; I never thought of it.
How miserable am I! " And he began to drop tears when he came to
reflect how faithful she had been all the time, and how affectionate,
and also how regular had been her correspondence. He felt sorry for
her, and continued, "In my anxious thoughts about this child, I have
some intentions which may be agreeable to you also, only I will not
tell you too hastily, since, if I do so now, they might not be taken
in a favorable light. The attractions of the mother seem only to have
arisen from the position in which she was placed. You must not think
of the matter too seriously. " He then briefly sketched her character
and her skill in music. But on the part of Violet she could not but
think that it was cruel to her to give away part of his heart, while
her thoughts were with no one but him, and she was quite cast down for
some time.

Genji tried to console her. He took up a _kin_ and asked her to play
and sing with him; but she did not touch it, saying that she could not
play it so well as the maiden of Akashi. This very manner of her mild
jealousy made her more captivating to him, and without further remarks
the subject was dropped.

The fifth of May was the fiftieth day of the birth of the child, so
Genji sent a messenger to Akashi a few days before the time when he
would be expected. At Akashi the feast for the occasion was arranged
with great pains, and the arrival of Genji's messenger was most
opportune.
Let us now relate something about the Princess Wistaria. --Though she
had become a nun, her title of ex-Empress had never been lost; and
now the change in the reigning sovereign gave her fresh honors. She
had been recognized as equivalent to an Empress-regnant who had
abdicated. A liberal allowance was granted to her, and a becoming
household was established for her private use. She, however, still
continued her devotion to religion, now and then coming to Court to
see her son, where she was received with all cordiality; so that her
rival, the mother of the ex-Emperor, whose influence was overwhelming
till lately, now began to feel like one to whom the world had become
irksome.

In the meantime, public affairs entirely changed their aspects, and
the world seemed at this time to have been divided between the
Dajiodaijin and his son-in-law, Genji, by whose influence all things
in public were swayed.

In August, of this year, the daughter of Gon-Chiunagon (formerly
To-no-Chiujio) was introduced at Court. She took up her abode in the
Kokiden, which had been formerly occupied by her maternal aunt, and
she was also styled from this time the Niogo of Kokiden. Prince
Hiob-Kio had also the intention of introducing his second daughter at
Court, but Genji took no interest in this. What will he eventually do
about this matter?

In the same autumn Genji went to the Temple of Sumiyoshi to fulfil his
vows. His party consisted of many young nobles and Court retainers,
besides his own private attendants.

By a coincidence the maiden of Akashi, who had been prevented from
coming to the Temple since the last year, happened to arrive there on
the same day. Her party travelled in a boat, and when it reached the
beach they saw the procession of Genji's party crossing before them.
They did not know what procession it was, and asked the bystanders
about it, who, in return, asked them sarcastically, "Can there be
anyone who does not know of the coming of Naidaijin, the Prince Genji,
here to-day to fulfil his vows? "

Most of the young nobles were on horseback, with beautifully made
saddles; and others, including Ukon-no-Jio, Yoshikiyo, and Koremitz,
in fine uniforms of different colors (blue, green, or scarlet),
according to their different ranks, formed the procession, contrasting
with the hue of the range of pine-trees on both sides of the road.

Genji was in a carriage, which was followed by ten boy pages, granted
by the Court in the same way as a late Sadaijin, Kawara, had been
honored. They were dressed in admirable taste, and their hair was
twisted up in the form of a double knot, with ribbons of gorgeous
purple. The young Genji was also in the procession on horseback, and
followed the carriage.

The maiden of Akashi witnessed the procession, but she avoided making
herself known. She thought she had better not go up to the Temple on
that day; but she could not sail back to Akashi, so she had her boat
moored in the bay of Naniwa for the night. As to Genji, he knew
nothing of the maiden being a spectator of the procession, and spent
the whole night in the Temple with his party in performing services
which might please the God.

It was then that he was informed by Koremitz that he had seen the
maiden of Akashi in a boat. On the morrow Genji and his party set off
for their homes. As they proceeded Genji hummed,

"Ima hata onaji Naniwa nal,"[123]

and he stopped, while contemplating the bay. Koremitz, who stood
beside him, and divined what he was thinking about, took out a small
pen from his pocket and presented it to Genji, who took it and wrote
the following on a piece of paper, which he sent to the maiden by one
of his attendants who knew her whereabouts:--

"Divinely led by love's bright flame,
To this lone temple's shrine we come;
And as yon beacon meets our eye,
To dream, perchance, of days gone by. "

A few words more. The change of the ruler had brought a change of the
Saigu; and the Lady of Rokjio, with her daughter, returned to the
capital. Her health, however, began to fail, and she became a nun, and
after some time died. Before her death Genji visited her, and with her
last breath she consigned her daughter to his care. Genji was
thinking, therefore, of introducing her at Court at some future time.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 123: A line of an old ode about the beacon in the bay of
Naniwa, at the same time expressing the desire of meeting with a loved
one. It is impossible to translate this ode literally, as in the
original there is a play upon words, the word beacon (in Japanese)
also meaning "enthusiastic endeavor. " The word "myo-tzkushi" (beacon) more properly means "water-marker" though disused in the
modern Japanese. In the translation a little liberty has been taken. ]




CHAPTER XV

OVERGROWN MUGWORT


When Genji was an exile on the sea-coast, many people had been longing
for his return. Among these was the Princess Hitachi. She was, as we
have seen, the survivor of his Royal father, and the kindness which
she had received from Genji was to her like the reflection of the
broad starlit sky in a basin of water. After Genji left the capital,
however, no correspondence ever passed between them. Several of her
servants left her, and her residence became more lonely than ever. A
fox might have found a covert in the overgrown shrubbery, and the cry
of the owl might have been heard among the thick branches. One might
imagine some mysterious "tree-spirit" to reign there. Nevertheless,
such grounds as these, surrounded with lofty trees, are more tempting
to those who desire to have a stylish dwelling. Hence there were
several Durios (local governors) who had become rich, and having
returned from different provinces, sounded the Princess to see if she
were inclined to part with her residence; but this she always refused
to do, saying that, however unfortunate she might be, she was not able
to give up a mansion inherited from her parents.

The mansion contained also a store of rare and antique articles.
Several fashionable persons endeavored to induce the Princess to part
with them; but such people appeared only contemptible to her, as she
looked upon them as proposing such a thing solely because they knew
she was poor. Her attendants sometimes suggested to her that it was by
no means an uncommon occurrence for one to dispose of such articles
when destiny necessitated the sacrifice; but her reply was that these
things had been handed down to her only that she might make use of
them, and that she would be violating the wishes of the dead if she
consented to part with them, allowing them to become the ornament of
the dwellings of some lowborn upstarts.

Scarcely anyone paid a visit to her dwelling, her only occasional
visitor being her brother, a priest, who came to see her when he came
to the capital, but he was a man of eccentric character, and was not
very flourishing in his circumstances.

Such being the state of affairs with the Princess Hitachi, the grounds
of her mansion became more and more desolate and wild, the mugwort
growing so tall that it reached the veranda. The surrounding walls of
massive earth broke down here and there and crumbled away, being
trampled over by wandering cattle. In spring and summer boys would
sometimes play there. In the autumn a gale blew down a corridor, and
carried away part of the shingle roof. Only one blessing remained
there--no thief intruded into the enclosure, as no temptation was
offered to them for their attack.

But never did the Princess lose her accustomed reserve, which her
parents had instilled into her mind. Society for her had no
attractions. She solaced the hours of her loneliness by looking over
ancient story-books and poems, which were stored in the old
bookshelves, such as the Karamori, Hakoya-no-toji, or Kakya-hime.
These, with their illustrations, were her chief resources.

Now a sister of the Princess's mother had married a Durio, and had
already borne him a daughter. This marriage had been considered an
unequal match by the father of the Princess, and for this reason she
was not very friendly with the family. Jijiu, however, who was a
daughter of the Princess's nurse, and who still remained with the
Princess, used to go to her. This aunt was influenced by a secret
feeling of spite, and when Jijiu visited her she often whispered to
her many things which did not become her as a lady. It seems to me
that where a lady of ordinary degree is elevated to a higher position,
she often acquires a refinement like one originally belonging to it;
but there are other women, who when degraded from their rank spoil
their taste and habits just like the lady in question. She fondly
hoped to revenge herself for having been formerly looked down upon, by
showing an apparent kindness to the Princess Hitachi, and by wishing
to take her into her home, and make her wait upon her daughters. With
this view she told Jijiu to tell her mistress to come to her, and
Jijiu did so; but the Princess did not comply with this request.

In the meantime the lady's husband was appointed Daini (Senior
Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant), and they were to go down to Tzkushi
(modern Kiusiu). She wished to take the Princess with her, and told
her that she felt sorry to go to such a far-off locality, leaving her
in her present circumstances; but the latter still unhesitatingly
replied in the negative, and declined the offer; whereupon her aunt
tauntingly remarked that she was too proud, and that, however exalted
she might think herself, no one, not even Genji, would show her any
further attention.

About this time Genji returned, but for some while she heard nothing
from him, and only the public rejoicing of many people, and the news
about him from the outside world reached her ears. This gave her aunt
a further opportunity of repeating the same taunts. She said, "See now
who cares for you in your present circumstances. It is not
praiseworthy to display such self-importance as you did in the
lifetime of your father. " And again she pressed her to go with her,
but the Princess still clung to the hope that the time would come when
Genji would remember her and renew his kindness.

Winter came! One day, quite unexpectedly, the aunt arrived at the
mansion, bringing as a present a dress for the Princess. Her carriage
dashed into the garden in a most pompous style, and drove right up to
the southern front of the building. Jijiu went to meet her, and
conducted her into the Princess's apartment.

"I must soon be leaving the capital," said the visitor. "It is not my
wish to leave you behind, but you would not listen to me, and now
there is no help. But this one, this Jijiu at least, I wish to take
with me. I have come to-day to fetch her. I cannot understand how you
can be content with your present condition. "

Here she manifested a certain sadness, but her delight at her
husband's promotion was unmistakable, and she continued:--

"When your father was alive, I was looked down upon by him, which
caused a coolness between us. But nevertheless I at no time
entertained any ill-will towards you, only you were much favored by
Prince Genji, as I heard, which made me abstain from visiting you
often; but fortune is fickle, for those in a humble position often
enjoy comfort, and those that are higher in station are not quite so
well circumstanced. I do really feel sorry to leave you behind. "

The Princess said very little, but her answer was, "I really thank you
for your kind attention, but I do not think I am now fit to move about
in the world. I shall be quite happy to bury myself under this roof. "

"Well, you may think so, but it is simply foolish to abandon one's
self, and to bury one's life under such a mass of dilapidation. Had
Prince Genji been kind enough to repair the place, it might have
become transformed into a golden palace, and how joyous would it not
be? but this you cannot expect. As far as I am informed the daughter
of Prince Hiob-Kio is the only favorite of the Prince, and no one else
shares his attention, all his old favorites being now abandoned. How,
then, can you expect him to say that, because you have been faithful
to him, he will therefore come to you again? "

These words touched the Princess, but she gave no vent to her
feelings. The visitor, therefore, hurried Jijiu to get ready, saying
that they must leave before the dusk.

"When I hear what the lady says," said Jijiu, "it sounds to me very
reasonable; but when I see how anxious the Princess is, that also
seems natural. Thus I am puzzled between the two. Let me, however, say
this, I will only see the lady off to-day. "

Nevertheless, the Princess foresaw that Jijiu was going to leave her,
and she thought of giving her some souvenir. Her own dress was not to
be thought of, as it was too old; fortunately she had a long tress of
false hair, about nine feet long, made of the hair which had fallen
from her own head. This she put into an old casket, and gave it to
Jijiu, with a jar of rare perfume.

Jijiu had been an attendant on the Princess for a very long time,
besides, her mother (the nurse), before she died, told the Princess
and her daughter that she hoped they might be long together; so the
parting with Jijiu was very trying to the Princess who said to her
that though she could not blame her for leaving, she still felt sorry
to lose her. To this Jijiu replied, that she never forgot the wishes
of her mother, and was only too happy to share joy and sorrow with the
Princess; yet she was sorry to say that circumstances obliged her to
leave her for some time; but before she could say much, she was
hurried away by the visitor.

It was one evening in April of the following year that Genji happened
to be going to the villa of "the falling flowers," and passed by the
mansion of the Princess. There was in the garden a large pine-tree,
from whose branches the beautiful clusters of a wistaria hung in rich
profusion. A sigh of the evening breeze shook them as they hung in the
silver moonlight, and scattered their rich fragrance towards the
wayfarer. There was also a weeping willow close by, whose pensile
tresses of new verdure touched the half-broken walls of earth
underneath.

When Genji beheld this beautiful scene from his carriage, he at once
remembered it was a place he had seen before. He stopped his carriage,
and said to Koremitz, who was with him as usual--

"Is this not the mansion of the Princess Hitachi? "

"Yes, it is," replied Koremitz.

"Do ask if she is still here," said Genji; "this is a good chance; I
will see her if she is at home--ask! "

Koremitz entered, and proceeding to the door, called out. An old woman
from the inside demanded to know who he was. Koremitz announced
himself, and asked if Jijiu was within. The old women replied that she
was not, but that she herself was the same as Jijiu.

Koremitz recognized her as an aunt of the latter. He then asked her
about the Princess, and told her of Genji's intention. To his
inquiries he soon obtained a satisfactory answer, and duly reported it
to Genji, who now felt a pang of remorse for his long negligence of
one so badly circumstanced. He descended from his carriage, but the
pathway was all but overgrown with tall mugwort, which was wet with a
passing shower; so Koremitz whisked them with his whip, and led him
in.

Inside, meanwhile, the Princess, though she felt very pleased,
experienced a feeling of shyness. Her aunt, it will be remembered, had
presented her with a suitable dress, which she had hitherto had no
pleasure in wearing, and had kept it in a box which had originally
contained perfume. She now took this out and put it on. Genji was
presently shown into the room.

"It is a long time since I saw you last," said Genji, "but still I
have never forgotten you, only I heard nothing from you; so I waited
till now, and here I find myself once more. "

The Princess, as usual, said very little, only thanking him for his
visit. He then addressed her in many kind and affectionate words, many
of which he might not really have meant, and after a considerable stay
he at last took his departure.

This was about the time of the feast in the Temple of Kamo, and Genji
received several presents under various pretexts. He distributed these
presents among his friends, such as those in the villa of "the falling
flowers," and to the Princess. He also sent his servant to the mansion
of the latter to cut down the rampant mugwort, and he restored the
grounds to proper order. Moreover, he had a wooden enclosure placed
all round the garden.

So far as the world hitherto knew about Genji, he was supposed only to
cast his eyes on extraordinary and pre-eminent beauties; but we see in
him a very different character in the present instance. He showed so
much kindness to the Princess Hitachi, who was by no means
distinguished for her beauty, and who still bore a mark on her nose
which might remind one of a well-ripened fruit carried by
mountaineers. How was this? it might have been preordained to be so.

The Princess continued to live in the mansion for two years, and then
she removed to a part of a newly built "eastern mansion" belonging to
Genji, where she lived happily under the kind care of the Prince,
though he had much difficulty in coming often to see her. I would fain
describe the astonishment of her aunt when she returned from the
Western Island and saw the Princess's happy condition, and how Jijiu
regretted having left her too hastily; but my head is aching and my
fingers are tired, so I shall wait for some future opportunity when I
may again take up the thread of my story.




CHAPTER XVI

BARRIER HOUSE


We left beautiful Cicada at the time when she quitted the capital with
her husband. Now this husband Iyo-no-Kami, had been promoted to the
governorship of Hitachi, in the year which followed that of the demise
of the late ex-Emperor, and Cicada accompanied him to the province. It
was a year after Genji's return that they came back to the capital. On
the day when they had to pass the barrier house of Ausaka
(meeting-path) on their homeward way, Hitachi's sons, the eldest known
to us as Ki-no-Kami, now became Kawachi-no-Kami, and others went from
the city to meet them. It so happened that Genji was to pay his visit
to the Temple of Ishiyama on this very day. This became known to
Hitachi, who, thinking it would be embarrassing if they met with his
procession on the road, determined to start very early; but, somehow
or another, time passed on, and when they came to the lake coast of
Uchiide (modern Otz, a place along Lake Biwa), the sun had risen high,
and this was the moment when Genji was crossing the Awata Road. In the
course of a few hours the outriders of Genji's cortege came in sight;
so that Hitachi's party left their several carriages, and seated
themselves under the shade of the cedars on the hill-side of Ausaka,
in order to avoid encountering Genji and his procession. It was the
last day of September. All the herbage was fading under the influence
of the coming winter, and many tinted autumn leaves displayed their
different hues over the hills and fields. The scene was in every way
pleasing to the eyes of the spectators. The number of the carriages of
Hitachi's party was about ten in all, and the style and appearance of
the party showed no traces of rusticity of taste. It might have been
imagined that the party of the Saigu journeying towards or from Ise,
might be something similar to this one.

Genji soon caught sight of them, and became aware that it was Hitachi.
He therefore sent for Cicada's brother--whom we know as Kokimi, and
who had now been made Uyemon-no-Ske--from the party, and told him that
he hoped his attention in coming there to meet them would not be
considered unfavorable. This Kokimi, as we know, had received much
kindness from Genji up to the time of his becoming a man; but when
Genji had to quit the capital he left him and joined his
brother-in-law in his official province. This was not viewed as very
satisfactory; but Genji manifested no bad feeling to him, and treated
him still as one of his household attendants. Ukon-no-Jio, a
brother-in-law of Cicada, on the other hand, had faithfully followed
Genji to his exile, and after their return he was more than ever
favored by Genji. This state of things made many feel for the bad
taste of the ordinary weakness of the world, exhibited by the
faithfully following of one when circumstances are flourishing, and
deserting him in the time of adversity. Kokimi himself was one of
those who fully realized these feelings, and was pained by them. When
Genji finished his visit to the Temple, and was coming back, Kokimi
once more came from the capital to meet him. Through him Genji sent a
letter to his sister, asking her if she had recognized him when he
passed at Ausaka, adding the following verse:--

"As onward we our way did take,
On Meeting-Path, both I and you,
We met not, for by the saltless lake,
No _milme_[124] by its waters grew. "

In handing the letter to Kokimi, Genji said, "Give this to your
sister; it is a long time since I heard anything from her, still the
past seems to me only like yesterday. But do you disapprove of my
sending this? " Kokimi replied in a few words, and took the letter back
to his sister, and told her, when he gave it, that she might easily
give him some sort of answer. She did indeed disapprove of treating
the matter in any way more seriously than she had formerly done, yet
she wrote the following:--

"By Barrier-House--oh, name unkind,
That bars the path of friendly greeting;
We passed along with yearning mind,
But passed, alas! without a meeting. "

After this time some other correspondence now and then passed between
them. As time rolled on the health of her aged husband visibly
declined; and after fervently enjoining his sons to be kind and
attentive to her, in due time he breathed his last.

For some time they were kind and attentive to her, as their father had
requested, and there was nothing unsatisfactory in their behavior
towards her, yet many things which were not altogether pleasant
gradually presented themselves to her, and so it is always in life.
Finally Cicada, telling her intentions to no one beforehand, became a
nun.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 124: The name of a seaweed, but also meaning the eyes that
meet, and hence the twofold sense of the word. ]




CHAPTER XVII

COMPETITIVE SHOW OF PICTURES


The introduction of the late Saigu, the daughter of the Lady of
Rokjio, at Court, was now arranged to take place, with the approval of
the Empress-mother (the Princess Wistaria). All the arrangements and
preparations were made, though not quite openly, under the eye of
Genji, who took a parental interest in her. It may be remembered that
the ex-Emperor was once struck by her charms, on the eve of her
departure for Ise; and though he never encouraged this fancy to become
anything more than an ordinary partiality, he took no small interest
in all that concerned her welfare.

When the day of introduction arrived, he made her several beautiful
presents, such as a comb-box, a dressing-table, and a casket
containing rare perfumes. At her residence all her female attendants,
and some others, assembled, who made every preparation with the utmost
pains.

In the Palace, the Empress-mother was with her Royal son on this day.
He was still a mere boy, and scarcely understood what was going on;
but he was now fully informed on the subject by his mother, and was
told that a very interesting lady was going to reside in the Palace to
attend on him, and that he must be good and kind to her. The
presentation took place late in the evening, and henceforth she was
called the Niogo of the Ume-Tsubo (plum-chamber), from the name of her
apartment.

She was a charming lady, and the Emperor was not without a certain
liking for her; yet Lady Kokiden, the daughter of Gon-Chiunagon
(To-no-Chiujio), who had been introduced some time previously, and
consequently was an acquaintance of an older date, was much more
frequently preferred by him to the other for society in daily
amusement. When Gon-Chiunagon introduced his daughter, he did not of
course do so without hope of her further elevation; but now Lady Plum
came to assume a position through Genji's influence, as if to compete
with his daughter for the royal favor; and it was by no means glad
tidings for him. It may be here mentioned that Prince Hiob-Kio had
also, as we have already seen, an intention of introducing one of his
daughters at Court; but this hope was doomed to disappointment by the
establishing of the two ladies already introduced, and he was induced
to defer his intention, at least for the present.

The Emperor was very fond of pictures, and painted with considerable
ability. Lady Plum, too, as it happened, possessed the same taste as
the Emperor, and used often to amuse herself by painting. If,
therefore, he liked ordinary courtiers who exhibited a taste for
painting, it was no matter of surprise that he liked to see the
delicate hands of the lady occupied in carefully laying on colors.
This similarity of taste gradually drew his attention to her, and led
to frequent visits to the "plum-chamber. " When Gon-Chiunagon was
informed of these circumstances, he took the matter into his own
hands. He himself determined to excite a spirit of rivalry. He
contrived means to counteract the influence of painting, and
commissioned several famous artists of the times to execute some
elaborate pictures. Most of these were subjects taken from old
romances, as he conceived that these were always more attractive than
mere fanciful pictures. He had also caused to be painted a
representation of every month of the year, which would also be likely,
he thought, to interest the Emperor. When these pictures were finished
he took them to Court, and submitted them to his inspection; but he
would not agree that he should take any of them to the plum-chamber;
and they were all deposited in the chamber of his daughter.

Genji, when he heard of this, said of his brother-in-law, "He is
young; he never could be behind others. " He was, however, unable to
pass the matter over unnoticed. He told the Emperor that he would
present him with some old pictures, and returning to his mansion at
Nijio he opened his picture cabinet, where numbers of old and new
pictures were kept. From these, with the assistance of Violet, he made
a selection of the best. But such pictures as illustrations of the
"Long Regrets," or representations of "O-shio-kun," were reserved,
because the terminations of these stories were not happy ones. He
also took out of his cabinet the sketches which he had made while in
Suma and Akashi, and showed them for the first time to Violet, who was
a little angry at his not having shown them to her sooner.

It was about the tenth of February, and the face of Nature began to
smile with the approach of spring, making the hearts and tempers of
people more calm and cheerful; besides, it was just the time when the
Court was unoccupied with the keeping of any festival. There could be
no better chance than this for such an exhibition of pictures to
attract the attention of people enjoying leisure. Genji, therefore,
sent his collection of pictures to the Palace in behalf of the lady of
the plum-chamber.

This soon created a sensation in the Palace. Most of the pictures that
were in the possession of the lady of the plum-chamber were from old
romances, and the pictures themselves were of ancient date, being
rare, while those of Kokiden were more modern subjects and by living
artists. Thus each of them had their special merits, so that it became
difficult to say which were more excellent. Talking of these pictures
became quite a fashionable subject of conversation of the courtiers of
the day. The Imperial-mother happened to be at Court, and when she saw
these pictures and heard different persons at Court discussing their
relative merits, she suggested that they should divide themselves into
two parties, right and left, and regularly to give their judgment.
This was accordingly done: Hei-Naishi-no-Ske, Jijiu-no-Naishi, and
Shioshio-no-Miobu took the left, on the side of the lady of the
plum-chamber; while Daini-no-Naishi-no-Ske, Chiujio-no-Miobu, and
Hioye-no-Miobu took the right, on the side of the Kokiden.

The first picture selected was the illustration of the "Bamboo
Cutter,"[125] by the left, as it was the most appropriate to come
first for the discussion of its merits, as being the parent of
romance.