No More Learning

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. To compete with this, that of "Toshikage,"[126] from "The
Empty Wood," was selected by the right. The left now stated their
case, saying, "The bamboo--indeed, its story too--may be an old and
commonly known thing, but the maiden Kakya, in keeping her purity
unsullied in this world, is highly admirable; besides, it was an
occurrence that belongs to a pre-historical period. No ordinary woman
would ever be equal to her, and so this picture has an excellence. "
Thereupon the right argued in opposition to this, saying, "The sky,
where the maiden Kakya has gone away, may indeed be high, but it is
beyond human reach, so we may put it aside. When she made her
appearance in this world she was, after all, a creature of bamboo;
and, indeed, we may consider her even lower than ourselves. It may
also be true that she threw a bright radiance over the inside of a
cottage, but she never shone in the august society of a palace.
Abe-no-oshi's[127] spending millions of money in order to get the
so-called fire-proof rat, which, when obtained, was consumed in the
flames in a moment, is simply ridiculous. Prince Kuramochi's[128]
pretended jewel branch was simply a delusion. Besides, this picture is
by Kose-no-Omi, with notes[129] by Tsurayuki. These are not very
uncommon. The paper is Kamiya, only covered with Chinese satin. The
outer cover is reddish purple, and the centre stick is purple
Azedarach. These are very common ornaments. Now Toshikage, though he
had undergone a severe trial from the raging storm, and had been
carried to a strange country, arrived at length at the country to
which he was originally despatched, and from there returned to his
native land, having achieved his object, and having made his ability
recognized both at home and abroad. This picture is the life of this
man, and it represents many scenes, not only of his country but of
foreign ones, which cannot fail to be interesting. We therefore dare
to place this one above the other in merit. "

The ground of this picture was thick white tinted paper, the outer
cover was green, and the centre stick jade. The picture was by
Tsunenori, and the writing by Michikage. It was in the highest taste
of the period.

The left made no more protestation against the right.

Next the romance of Ise by the left, and that of Shio-Sammi by the
right, were brought into competition. Here again the relative merit
was very difficult to be decided at once. That of the right had
apparently more charms than that of the other, since it beautifully
represented the society of a more recent period.

Hei-Naishi, of the left, therefore said,

"If leaving the depths of Ise's night-sea,
We follow the fancies of new-fashioned dreams,
All the beauty and skill of the ancients will be
Swept away by the current of art's modern streams.

Who would run down the fame of Narihira for the sake of the
pretentious humbug of our own days? "

Then Daini-no-Naishi-no-Ske, of the right, replied,

"The noble mind that soars on high,
Beyond the star-bespangled sky;
Looks down with ease on depths that lie
A thousand fathoms 'neath his eye. "[130]

Upon this, the Empress-mother interceded. She said, that "The exalted
nobility of Lord Hioye[131] may not, indeed, be passed over without
notice, yet the name of Narihira could not altogether be eclipsed by
his.

Though too well-known to all may be
The lovely shore of Ise's sea;
Its aged fisher's honored name,
A tribute of respect may claim. "

There were several more rolls to be exhibited, and the rival
protestations on both sides became very warm, so that one roll
occasioned considerable discussion.

While this was going on, Genji arrived on the scene. He suggested to
them that if there was any competition at all it should be decided on
a specially appointed day, in a more solemn manner, in the presence of
the Emperor. This suggestion having been adopted, the discussion came
to an end.

The day for this purpose was fixed. The ex-Emperor, who had been
informed of this, presented several pictures to the lady of the
plum-chamber.
They were mostly illustrations of Court Festivals, on
which there were explanatory remarks written by the Emperor Yenghi.
Besides these, there was one which had been expressly executed at his
own order by Kim-mochi. This was an illustration of the ceremony which
took place at his palace on the departure of the lady for Ise, some
time back, when she had gone there as the Saigu. It was also probable
that some of his pictures came into the possession of her rival, the
Lady Kokiden, through his mother (as the mother of the former was a
sister of the latter).

When the day arrived every arrangement was made in the large saloon at
the rear of the Palace, where the Imperial seat was placed at the top.
The Court ladies of both parties--those of the lady of the
plum-chamber, and those of the lady of Kokiden--were arranged
respectively left and right, the left, or those of the lady of the
plum-chamber, facing southwards, and those of the right, northwards.
All the courtiers also took the places allotted to them. Here the
pictures were brought. The box, containing those of the left was of
purple Azedarach. The stand on which the box was placed was of safran,
and over this was thrown a cover of Chinese brocade with a mauve
ground. The seat underneath was of Chinese colored silk. Six young
girls brought all this in, and arranged it all in order. Their Kazami
(outer dress) was of red and cherry color, with tunics of Wistaria
lining (light purple outside, and light green within).

The box which contained the pictures of the right was of "Jin" wood,
the stand of light colored "Jin," the cover of Corean silk with a
green ground. The legs of the stand, which were trellised round with a
silken cord, showed modern and artistic taste. The Kazami of the young
girls was of willow lining (white outside and green within), and their
tunics were of Kerria japonica lining (or yellow outside and light red
within). Both Genji and Gon-Chiunagon were present, by the Emperor's
special invitation, as also the Prince Lord-Lieutenant of Tzkushi who
loved pictures above all things, and he was consequently chosen umpire
for this day's competition. Many of the pictures were highly
admirable, and it was most difficult to make any preference between
them. For instance, if there was produced by one party a roll of "The
Season," which was the masterpiece of some old master, on selected
subjects; there was produced also, by the other party, a roll of
sketches on paper, which were scarcely inferior to, and more
ornamented with flourishing than the ancient works, in spite of the
necessary limitation of space which generally makes the wide expanse
of scenery almost too difficult to express. Thus the disputes on both
sides were very warm.

Meanwhile the Imperial-mother (the Princess Wistaria) also came into
the saloon, pushing aside the sliding screen of the breakfast chamber.
The criticisms still continued, in which Genji made, now and then,
suggestive remarks. Before all was finished the shades of evening
began to fall on them. There remained, on the right, one more roll,
when the roll of "Suma" was produced on the left. It made
Gon-Chiunagon slightly embarrassed. The last roll of the right was, of
course, a selected one, but it had several disadvantages in comparison
with that of "Suma. " The sketches on this roll had been done by Genji,
with great pains and time. They were illustrations of different bays
and shores. They were most skilfully executed, and carried away the
minds of the spectators to the actual spots. On them illustrative
remarks were written, sometimes in the shape of a diary, occasionally
mingled with poetical effusions in style both grave and easy. These
made a great impression on the Emperor, and on everyone present; and
finally, owing to this roll, the left was decided to have won the
victory.

Then followed the partaking of refreshments, as was usual on such
occasions. In the course of conversation, Genji remarked to the
Lord-Lieutenant, "From my boyhood I paid much attention to reading and
writing, and perhaps my father noticed that I had benefited by these
pursuits. He observed that 'few very clever men enjoyed worldly
happiness and long life'; perhaps because ability and knowledge are
too highly valued in the world to admit of other blessings. True it
is, that even a man whose high birth assures him a certain success in
life, ought not to be devoid of learning, but I advise you to moderate
your exertions. After this time, he took more pains in instructing me
in the ways and manners of men of high position than in the minute
details of science. For these reasons, though on the one hand I was
not quite clumsy, I cannot, on the other, say in what particular
subject I am well versed and efficient. Drawing, however, was a
favorite object of my taste and ambition, and I also desired to
execute a work to the full extent of my ideas. In the meantime, I
enjoyed quiet leisure by the sea-shore, and as I contemplated the wide
expanse of scenery, my conception seemed to enlarge as I gazed upon
it. This made me take up my brush, but not a few parts of the work
have fallen short of those conceptions. Therefore, I thought them
altogether unworthy to be shown expressly, though I have now boldly
submitted them to your inspection on this good opportunity. "

"Nothing can be well learned that is not agreeable to one's natural
taste," replied the Lord-Lieutenant. "It is true, but every art has
its special instructor, and by this means their methods can be copied
by their pupils, though there may be differences in skill and
perfection. Among arts, however, nothing betrays one's tastes and
nature more than work of pen or brush (writing and painting), and
playing the game of Go. Of course men of low origin, and of little
accomplishment, often happen to excel in these arts, but not so
frequently as persons of position. Under the auspicious care of the
late Emperor, what prince or princess could have failed to attain the
knowledge of such arts? a care which was directed towards yourself
especially. I will not speak of literature and learning too. Your
accomplishments comprised the _kin_, next the flute, the mandolin, and
_soh-koto_--this we all knew, and so, too, the late Emperor said: your
painting, however, has been hitherto thought to be mere amusement, but
we now have seen your sketches executed with a skill not unequal to
the ancient famous draughtsmen in black ink. "

It was about the twentieth of the month, and the evening moon appeared
in the sky, while they were thus conversing. Her radiance was too weak
to make the ground near them bright, but afar-off the sky became
palely white. Several musical instruments were sent for from the
guardian of the library. Genji played a _kin_, Gon-Chiunagon a
_wagon_, the Lord-Lieutenant a _soh-koto_, and Shioshio-no-Miobu a
mandolin. The _hioshi_ (beating time to music) was undertaken by a
courtier. As this went on, the darkness of night began to diminish,
and the hues of the flowers in the garden, and the countenance of each
of the party, became gradually visible, while the birds themselves
began to chirp in the trees. It was a pleasant dawn. Several presents
were made to the company by the Imperial-mother, and to the
Lord-Lieutenant a robe was given in addition, as an acknowledgment of
his services as judge in the competition. And so the party broke up.
The roll of "Suma" was left, as was requested, in the hands of the
Imperial-mother. Genji had some more rolls of the same series, but
they were reserved for some future occasion.

During the reign of this Emperor every care was taken on the occasion
of all Court Festivals, so that future generations should hold that
such and such precedents took their origin in this reign. Hence a
meeting even such as above described, which was only private in its
nature, was carried out in a manner as pleasant and enlightened as
possible.

As to Genji, he thought he had obtained a position too exalted, and an
influence too great. There were, indeed, several instances of public
men surprised by misfortune, who, in premature age, obtained high
position and vast influence. He thought of these examples, and though
he had hitherto enjoyed his position and authority, as if he regarded
them as a compensation for his former fall, he began, as the Emperor
was now becoming older, to retire gradually from public life, so as to
prepare his mind and thoughts, and devote himself to the attainment of
happiness in the world to come, and also for the prolongation of life.
For these reasons he ordered a chapel to be built for himself on a
mountain side, where he might retire. In the meantime he had the
ambition to see his children satisfactorily brought out into the
world--an ambition which restrained him from carrying out his wishes
of retiring.

It is not easy to understand or define the exact state of his mind at
this period.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 125: A short romance, supposed to be the oldest work of the
kind ever written in Japan, as the authoress states. The story is,
that once upon a time there was an aged man whose occupation was to
cut bamboo. One day he found a knot in a bamboo cane which was radiant
and shining, and upon cutting it he found in it a little girl who was
named Kakya-hime. He took her home and brought her up. She grew a
remarkable beauty. She had many suitors, but she refused to listen to
their addresses, and kept her maiden reputation unsullied. Finally, in
leaving this world, she ascended into the moon, from which she
professed to have originally come down. ]

[Footnote 126: This is another old romance, and Toshikage is its
principal hero. When twelve or thirteen years of age he was sent to
China, but the ship in which he was, being driven by a hurricane to
Persia, he met there with a mystic stranger, from whom he learned
secrets of the "Kin;" from thence he reached China, and afterwards
returned to Japan. ]

[Footnote 127: This man was one of the maiden's suitors. He was told
by her that if he could get for her the skin of the fire-proof rat she
might possibly accept his hand. With this object he gave a vast sum of
money to a Chinese merchant, who brought him what he professed to be
the skin of the fire-proof rat, but when it was put to the test, it
burnt away, and he lost his suit. ]

[Footnote 128: This Prince was another suitor of the maiden. His task
was to find a sacred island called Horai, and to get a branch of a
jewelled tree which grew in this island. He pretended to have embarked
for this purpose, but really concealed himself in an obscure place. He
had an artificial branch made by some goldsmith; but, of course, this
deception was at once detected. ]

[Footnote 129: Japanese pictures usually have explanatory notes
written on them. ]

[Footnote 130: It seems that this stanza alludes to some incident in
the Shio-Sammi, at the same time praising the picture. ]

[Footnote 131: This seems to be the name of the hero in the story
alluded to above. ]

* * * * *




CLASSICAL POETRY OF JAPAN

[_Selections translated by Basil Hall Chamberlain_]




INTRODUCTION


The poetry of a nation is always the best revealer of its genuine
life: the range of its spiritual as well as of its intellectual
outlook. This is the case even where poetry is imitative, for
imitation only pertains to the form of poetry, and not to its essence.
Vergil copied the metre and borrowed the phraseology of Homer, but is
never Homeric. In one sense, all national poetry is original, even
though it be shackled by rules of traditional prosody, and has adopted
the system of rhyme devised by writers in another language, whose
words seem naturally to bourgeon into assonant terminations. But
Japanese poetry is original in every sense of the term. Imitative as
the Japanese are, and borrowers from other nations in every department
of plastic, fictile, and pictorial art, as well as in religion,
politics, and manufactures, the poetry of Japan is a true-born flower
of the soil, unique in its mechanical structure, spontaneous and
unaffected in its sentiment and subject.

The present collection of Japanese poetry is compiled and translated
into English from what the Japanese call "The Collection of Myriad
Leaves," and from a number of other anthologies made by imperial
decree year by year from the tenth until the fifteenth century. This
was the golden age of Japanese literature, and nowadays, when poetry
is dead in Japan, and the people and their rulers are aiming at
nothing but the benefits of material civilization, these ancient
anthologies are drawn upon for vamping up and compiling what pass for
the current verses of the hour. The twenty volumes of the "Myriad
Leaves" were probably published first in the latter half of the eighth
century, in the reign of the Mikado Shiyaumu; the editor was Prince
Moroye, for in those days the cultivation of verse was especially
considered the privilege of the princely and aristocratic. A poem
written by a man of obscure rank was sometimes included in the royal
collections, but the name of the author never. And indeed some of the
distinctive quality of Japanese poetry is undoubtedly due to the air
in which it flourished. It is never religious, and it is often
immoral, but it is always suffused with a certain hue of courtliness,
even gentleness. The language is of the most refined delicacy, the
thought is never boorish or rude; there is the self-collectedness
which we find in the poetry of France and Italy during the
Renaissance, and in England during the reign of Queen Anne. It
exhibits the most exquisite polish, allied with an avoidance of every
shocking or perturbing theme. It seems to combine the enduring lustre
of a precious metal with the tenuity of gold-leaf. Even the most vivid
emotions of grief and love, as well as the horrors of war, were
banished from the Japanese Parnassus, where the Muse of Tragedy
warbles, and the lyric Muse utters nothing but ditties of exquisite
and melting sweetness, which soothe the ear, but never stir the heart:
while their meaning is often so obscure as even to elude the
understanding.

Allied to this polite reserve of the courtly poets of Japan is the
simplicity of their style, which is, doubtless, in a large measure,
due to the meagre range of spiritual faculties which characterize the
Japanese mind. This intellectual poverty manifests itself in the
absence of all personification and reference to abstract ideas. The
narrow world of the poet is here a concrete and literal sphere of
experience. He never rises on wings above the earth his feet are
treading, and the things around him that his fingers touch. But within
this limited area he revels in a great variety of subjects. In the
present anthology will be found ballads, love-songs, elegies, as well
as short stanzas composed with the strictest economy of word and
phrase. These we must characterize as epigrams. They are gems,
polished with almost passionless nicety and fastidious care. They
remind us very much of Roman poetry under the later Empire, and many
of them might have been written by Martial, at the court of Domitian.
They contain references to court doings, compliments, and sentiments
couched in pointed language. The drama of Japan is represented by two
types, one of which may be called lyrical, and the other the comedy of
real life. Specimens of both are found in the present collection,
which will furnish English readers with a very fair idea of what the
most interesting and enterprising of Oriental nations has done in the
domain of imaginative literature.

E. W.




BALLADS

THE FISHER-BOY URASHIMA


'Tis spring, and the mists come stealing
O'er Suminoye's shore,
And I stand by the seaside musing
On the days that are no more.

I muse on the old-world story,
As the boats glide to and fro,
Of the fisher-boy, Urashima,
Who a-fishing loved to go;

How he came not back to the village
Though sev'n suns had risen and set,
But rowed on past the bounds of ocean,
And the sea-god's daughter met;

How they pledged their faith to each other,
And came to the Evergreen Land,
And entered the sea-god's palace
So lovingly hand in hand,

To dwell for aye in that country,
The ocean-maiden and he--
The country where youth and beauty
Abide eternally.

But the foolish boy said, "To-morrow
I'll come back with thee to dwell;
But I have a word to my father,
A word to my mother to tell. "

The maiden answered, "A casket
I give into thine hand;
And if that thou hopest truly
To come back to the Evergreen Land,

"Then open it not, I charge thee!
Open it not, I beseech! "
So the boy rowed home o'er the billows
To Suminoye's beach.

But where is his native hamlet?
Strange hamlets line the strand.
Where is his mother's cottage?
Strange cots rise on either hand.

"What, in three short years since I left it,"
He cries in his wonder sore,
"Has the home of my childhood vanished?
Is the bamboo fence no more?

"Perchance if I open the casket
Which the maiden gave to me,
My home and the dear old village
Will come back as they used to be. "

And he lifts the lid, and there rises
A fleecy, silvery cloud,
That floats off to the Evergreen Country:--
And the fisher-boy cries aloud;

He waves the sleeve of his tunic,
He rolls over on the ground,
He dances with fury and horror,
Running wildly round and round. [132]

But a sudden chill comes o'er him
That bleaches his raven hair,
And furrows with hoary wrinkles
The form erst so young and fair.

His breath grows fainter and fainter,
Till at last he sinks dead on the shore;
And I gaze on the spot where his cottage
Once stood, but now stands no more.

_Anon_.




ON SEEING A DEAD BODY


Methinks from the hedge round the garden
His bride the fair hemp hath ta'en,
And woven the fleecy raiment
That ne'er he threw off him again.

For toilsome the journey he journeyed
To serve his liege and lord,[133]
Till the single belt that encircled him
Was changed to a thrice-wound cord;

And now, methinks, he was faring
Back home to the country-side,
With thoughts all full of his father,
Of his mother, and of his bride.

But here 'mid the eastern mountains,
Where the awful pass climbs their brow,
He halts on his onward journey
And builds him a dwelling low;

And here he lies stark in his garments,
Dishevelled his raven hair,
And ne'er can he tell me his birthplace,
Nor the name that he erst did bear.

_Sakimaro_.




THE MAIDEN OF UNAHI[134]


In Ashinoya village dwelt
The Maiden of Unahi,
On whose beauty the next-door neighbors e'en
Might cast no wandering eye;

For they locked her up as a child of eight,
When her hair hung loosely still;
And now her tresses were gathered up,
To float no more at will. [135]

And the men all yearned that her sweet face
Might once more stand reveal'd,
Who was hid from gaze, as in silken maze
The chrysalis lies concealed.

And they formed a hedge round the house,
And, "I'll wed her! " they all did cry;
And the Champion of Chinu he was there,
And the Champion of Unahi.

With jealous love these champions twain
The beauteous girl did woo,
Each had his hand on the hilt of his sword,
And a full-charged quiver, too,

Was slung o'er the back of each champion fierce,
And a bow of snow-white wood
Did rest in the sinewy hand of each;
And the twain defiant stood.

Crying, "An 'twere for her dear sake,
Nor fire nor flood I'd fear! "
The maiden heard each daring word,
But spoke in her mother's ear:--

"Alas! that I, poor country girl,
Should cause this jealous strife!
As I may not wed the man I love
What profits me my life?

"In Hades' realm I will await
The issue of the fray. "
These secret thoughts, with many a sigh,
She whisper'd and pass'd away.

To the Champion of Chinu in a dream
Her face that night was shown;
So he followed the maid to Hades' shade,
And his rival was left alone;

Left alone--too late! too late!
He gapes at the vacant air,
He shouts, and he yells, and gnashes his teeth,
And dances in wild despair.

"But no! I'll not yield! " he fiercely cries,
"I'm as good a man as he! "
And girding his poniard, he follows after,
To search out his enemy.

The kinsmen then, on either side,
In solemn conclave met,
As a token forever and evermore--
Some monument for to set,

That the story might pass from mouth to mouth,
While heav'n and earth shall stand;
So they laid the maiden in the midst,
And the champions on either hand.

And I, when I hear the mournful tale,
I melt into bitter tears,
As though these lovers I never saw
Had been mine own compeers.

_Mushimaro_.




THE GRAVE OF THE MAIDEN OF UNAHI


I stand by the grave where they buried
The Maiden of Unahi,
Whom of old the rival champions
Did woo so jealously.

The grave should hand down through ages
Her story for evermore,
That men yet unborn might love her,
And think on the days of yore.

And so beside the causeway
They piled up the bowlders high;
Nor e'er till the clouds that o'ershadow us
Shall vanish from the sky,

May the pilgrim along the causeway
Forget to turn aside,
And mourn o'er the grave of the Maiden;
And the village folk, beside,

Ne'er cease from their bitter weeping,
But cluster around her tomb;
And the ages repeat her story,
And bewail the Maiden's doom.

Till at last e'en I stand gazing
On the grave where she now lies low,
And muse with unspeakable sadness
On the old days long ago.

_Sakimaro_.

[Note. --The existence of the Maiden of Unahi is not doubted by any of
the native authorities, and, as usual, the tomb is there (or said to
be there, for the present writer's search for it on the occasion of a
somewhat hurried visit to that part of the country was vain) to attest
the truth of the tradition. Ashinoya is the name of the village, and
Unahi of the district. The locality is in the province of Setsutsu,
between the present treaty ports of Kobe and Osaka. ]




THE MAIDEN OF KATSUSHIKA


Where in the far-off eastern land
The cock first crows at dawn,
The people still hand down a tale
Of days long dead and gone.

They tell of Katsushika's maid,
Whose sash of country blue
Bound but a frock of home-spun hemp,
And kirtle coarse to view;

Whose feet no shoe had e'er confined,
Nor comb passed through her hair;
Yet all the queens in damask robes
Might nevermore compare.

With this dear child, who smiling stood,
A flow'ret of the spring--
In beauty perfect and complete,
Like to the moon's full ring.

And, as the summer moths that fly
Towards the flame so bright,
Or as the boats that deck the port
When fall the shades of night,

So came the suitors; but she said:--
"Why take me for your wife?
Full well I know my humble lot,
I know how short my life. "[136]

So where the dashing billows beat
On the loud-sounding shore,
Hath Katsushika's tender maid
Her home for evermore.

Yes! 'tis a tale of days long past;
But, listening to the lay,
It seems as I had gazed upon
Her face but yesterday.

_Anon_.




THE BEGGAR'S COMPLAINT[137]


The heaven and earth they call so great,
For me are mickle small;
The sun and moon they call so bright,
For me ne'er shine at all.

Are all men sad, or only I?
And what have I obtained--
What good the gift of mortal life,
That prize so rarely gained,[138]

If nought my chilly back protects
But one thin grass-cloth coat,
In tatters hanging like the weeds
That on the billows float--

If here in smoke-stained, darksome hut,
Upon the bare cold ground,
I make my wretched bed of straw,
And hear the mournful sound--

Hear how mine aged parents groan,
And wife and children cry,
Father and mother, children, wife,
Huddling in misery--

If in the rice-pan, nigh forgot,
The spider hangs its nest,[139]
And from the hearth no smoke goes up
Where all is so unblest?

And now, to make our wail more deep,
That saying is proved true
Of "snipping what was short before":--
Here comes to claim his due,

The village provost, stick in hand
He's shouting at the door;--
And can such pain and grief be all
Existence has in store?

_Stanza_

Shame and despair are mine from day to day;
But, being no bird, I cannot fly away.

_Anon. _




A SOLDIER'S REGRETS ON LEAVING HOME


When _I left_ to keep guard on the frontier
(For such was the monarch's decree),
My mother, with skirt uplifted,[140]
Drew near and fondled me;

And my father, the hot tears streaming
His snow-white beard adown,
Besought me to tarry, crying:--
"Alas! when thou art gone,

"When thou leavest our gate in the morning,
No other sons have I,
And mine eyes will long to behold thee
As the weary years roll by;

"So tarry but one day longer,
And let me find some relief
In speaking and hearing thee speak to me! "
So wail'd the old man in his grief.

And on either side came pressing
My wife and my children dear,
Fluttering like birds, and with garments
Besprinkled with many a tear;

And clasped my hands and would stay me,
For 'twas so hard to part;
But mine awe of the sovereign edict
Constrained my loving heart.

I went; yet each time the pathway
O'er a pass through the mountains did wind,
I'd turn me round--ah! so lovingly! --
And ten thousand times gaze behind.

But farther still, and still farther,
Past many a land I did roam,
And my thoughts were all thoughts of sadness,
All loving, sad thoughts of home;--

Till I came to the shores of Sumi,
Where the sovereign gods I prayed,
With off'rings so humbly offered--
And this the prayer that I made:--

"Being mortal, I know not how many
The days of my life may be;
And how the perilous pathway
That leads o'er the plain of the sea,

"Past unknown islands will bear me:--
But grant that while I am gone
No hurt may touch father or mother,
Or the wife now left alone! "

Yes, such was my prayer to the sea-gods;
And now the unnumbered oars,
And the ship and the seamen to bear me
From breezy Naniha's shores,

Are there at the mouth of the river:--
Oh! tell the dear ones at home,
That I'm off as the day is breaking
To row o'er the ocean foam.

_Anon. _

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 132: Such frantic demonstrations of grief are very
frequently mentioned in the early poetry, and sound strangely to those
who are accustomed to the more than English reserve of the modern
Japanese. Possibly, as in Europe, so in Japan, there may have been a
real change of character in this respect. ]

[Footnote 133: The Mikado is meant. The feudal system did not grow up
till many centuries later. ]

[Footnote 134: The N-a-h-i are sounded like our English word nigh, and
therefore form but one syllable to the ear. ]

[Footnote 135: Anciently (and this custom is still followed in some
parts of Japan) the hair of female children was cut short at the neck
and allowed to hang down loosely till the age of eight. At twelve or
thirteen the hair was generally bound up, though this ceremony was
often frequently postponed till marriage.