The conversation then led to the little Prince, the Heir-apparent. The Emperor said, "Our father has enjoined me to adopt him as my son, and to be kind to him in every way; but he was always a favorite of mine, and this injunction was unnecessary, for I could not be any more particularly kind to him. I am very glad that he is very clever for his age in penmanship and the like."

Genji replied, "Yes, I also notice that he is of no ordinary promise; but yet we must admit that his ability may be only partial."

After this conversation Genji left. On his way he came across a nephew of the Empress-mother, who seems to have been a person of rather arrogant and rough character. As he crossed Genji's path he stopped for a minute, and loudly reciting,

"The white rainbow crossed the sun, And the Prince was frightened,"[97]

pa.s.sed on. Genji at once understood what it was intended for, but prudently proceeded on his way homeward without taking any notice of it.

Let us now proceed to the Princess Wistaria. Since she had been bereaved of the late Emperor she retired to her private residence. She fully partic.i.p.ated in all those inglorious mortifications to which Genji and his father-in-law were subjected. She was convinced she would never suffer such cruel treatment as that which Seki-Foojin[98]

did at the hands of her rival, but she was also convinced that some sort of misfortune was inevitable. These thoughts at last led her to determine to give up the world. The fortune of her child, however, had been long a subject of anxiety to her; and though she had determined to do so, the thought of him had affected her mind still more keenly.

She had hitherto rarely visited the Court, where he was residing; for her visits might be unpleasing to the feelings of her rival, the other ex-Empress, and prejudicial to his interests.

However, she now went there unceremoniously, in order to see him before she carried out her intention to retire. In the course of her chatting with him, she said, "Suppose, that while I do not see you for some time, my features become changed, what would you think?"

The little Prince, who watched her face, replied, "Like Shikib?[99]--no--that can't be." The Princess smiled a little, and said, "No, that is not so; Shikib's is changed by age, but suppose mine were different from hers, and my hair became shorter than hers, and I wore a black dress like a chaplain-in-waiting, and I could not see you often, any longer." And she became a little sad, which made the Prince also a little downcast.

Serene was his face, and finely pencilled were his eyebrows. He was growing up fast, and his teeth were a little decayed and blackened,[100] which gave a peculiar beauty to his smile, and the prettiness of his appearance only served to increase her regret; and with a profound pensiveness she returned to her residence.

In the middle of December she performed Mihakko (a grand special service on the anniversary of death), which she was carefully preparing for some days. The rolls of the Kio (Buddhist Bible) used for this occasion were made most magnificently--the spindle of jade, the covering of rich satin, and its case of woven bamboo ornamented likewise, as well as the flower-table.

The first day's ceremony was for her father, the second for her mother, and the third for the late Emperor. Several n.o.bles were present, and partic.i.p.ated, Genji being one of them. Different presents were made by them all. At the end of the third day's performance her vows of retirement were, to the surprise of all, announced by the priest. At the conclusion of the whole ceremony, the chief of the Hiye monastery, whom she had sent for, arrived, and from whom she received the "commandments." She then had her hair cut off by her uncle, Bishop of Yokogawa.

These proceedings cast a gloom over the minds of all present, but especially on those of Hiob-Kio, her brother, and Genji; and soon after every one departed for his home.

Another New Year came in, and the aspect of the Court was brighter. A royal banquet and singing dances were soon expected to take place, but the Princess Wistaria no longer took any heed of them, and most of her time was devoted to prayer in a new private chapel, which she had had built expressly for herself in her grounds.

Genji came to pay his New Year's visit on the seventh day, but he saw no signs of the season. All n.o.bles who used to pay visits of felicitation, now shunned her house and gathered at the mansion of Udaijin, near her own. The only things which caught Genji's attention in her mansion was a white horse,[101] which was being submitted to her inspection as on former occasions. When he entered, he noticed that all the hangings of the room and the dresses of the inmates were of the dark hues of conventual life. The only things that there seemed to herald spring, were the melting of the thin ice on the surface of the lake, and the budding of the willows on its banks. The scene suggested many reflections to his mind; and, after the usual greetings of the season, and a short conversation, he quitted the mansion.

It should be here noticed that none of her household officers received any promotion or appointment to any sinecure office, or honorary t.i.tle, even where the merit of the individual deserved it, or the Court etiquette required it. Nay, even the proper income for her household expenses was, under different pretexts, neglected. As for the Princess, she must have been prepared for such inevitable consequences of her giving up the world; but it ought not to be taken as implying that the sacrifice should be so great. Hence these facts caused much disappointment to her household, and the mind of the Princess herself was sometimes moved by feelings of mortification.

Nevertheless, troubled about herself no longer, she only studied the welfare and prosperity of her child, and persevered in the most devout prayers for this. She also remembered a secret sin, still unknown to the world, which tormented the recesses of her soul, and she was constantly praying to Buddha to lighten her burden.

About the same time, tired of the world, both public and private, Sadaijin sent in his resignation. The Emperor had not forgotten how much he was respected by the late ex-Emperor, how the latter had enjoined him always to regard him as a support of the country, and he several times refused to accept his resignation; but Sadaijin persevered in his request, and confined himself to his own mansion.

This gave complete ascendancy to the family of Udaijin. All the sons of Sadaijin, who formerly had enjoyed considerable distinction at Court, were now fast sinking into insignificance, and had very little influence. To-no-Chiujio, the eldest of them, was one of those affected by the change of circ.u.mstances. True, he was married to the fourth daughter of Udaijin; but he pa.s.sed little time with her, she still residing with her father, and he was not among the favorite sons-in-law. His name was also omitted in the appointment list on promotion day, which seems to have been intended by his father-in-law as a warning.

Under such circ.u.mstances he was constantly with Genji, and they studied and played together. They both well remembered how they used to compete with each other in such matters as studying and playing, and they still kept their rivalry alive. They would sometimes send for some scholars, and would compose poems together, or play the "Covering Rhymes."[102] They seldom appeared at Court, while in the outer world different scandals about them were increasing day by day.

One day in summer To-no-Chiujio came to pay his usual visit to Genji.

He had brought by his page several interesting books, and Genji also ordered several rare books from his library. Many scholars were sent for, in such a manner as not to appear too particular; and many n.o.bles and University students were also present. They were divided into two parties, the right and the left, and began betting on the game of "Covering Rhymes." Genji headed the right, and To-no-Chiujio the left.

To his credit the former often hit on the most difficult rhymes, with which the scholars were puzzled. At last the left was beaten by the right, consequently To-no-Chiujio gave an entertainment to the party, as arranged in their bet.

They also amused themselves by writing prose and verse. Some roses were blossoming in front of the veranda, which possessed a quiet charm different from those of the full season of spring.

The sight of these afforded them a delightful enjoyment while they were partaking of refreshment. A son of To-no-Chiujio, about eight or nine years old, was present. He was the second boy by his wife, Udaijin's daughter, and a tolerable player on the Soh-flute. Both his countenance and disposition were amiable. The party was in full enjoyment when the boy rose and sang "Takasago" (high sand).[103] When he proceeded to the last clause of his song,

"Oh, could I see that lovely flower, That blossomed this morn!"

To-no-Chiujio offered his cup to Genji, saying,

"How glad am I to see your gentleness, Sweet as the newly blooming flower!"

Genji, smiling, took the cup as he replied,

"Yet that untimely flower, I fear, The rain will beat, the wind will tear, Ere it be fully blown."

And added,

"Oh, I myself am but a sere leaf."

Genji was pressed by To-no-Chiujio to take several more cups, and his humor reached its height. Many poems, both in Chinese and j.a.panese, were composed by those present, most of whom paid high compliment to Genji. He felt proud, and unconsciously exclaimed, "The son of King Yuen, the brother of King Mu;" and would have added, "the King Ching's ----"[104] but there he paused.

To describe the scene which followed at a time such as this, when every mind is not in due equilibrium, is against the warning of Tsurayuki, the poet, so I will here pa.s.s over the rest.

Naishi-no-Kami, the young daughter of Udaijin, now retired to her home from the Court, having been attacked by ague; and the object of her retirement was to enjoy rest and repose, as well as to have spells performed for her illness.

This change did her great good, and she speedily recovered from the attack.

We had mentioned before that she always had a tender yearning for Genji, and she was the only one of her family who entertained any sympathy or good feeling towards him. She had seen, for some time, the lack of consideration and the indifference with which he was treated by her friends, and used to send messages of kind inquiry. Genji, on his part also, had never forgotten her, and the sympathy which she showed towards him excited in his heart the most lively appreciation.

These mutual feelings led at length to making appointments for meeting during her retirement. Genji ran the risk of visiting her secretly in her own apartments. This was really hazardous, more especially so because her sister, the Empress-mother, was at this time staying in the same mansion. We cannot regard either the lady or Genji as entirely free from the charge of imprudence, which, on his part, was princ.i.p.ally the result of his old habits of wandering.

It was on a summer's evening that Genji contrived to see her in her own apartment, and while they were conversing, a thunderstorm suddenly broke forth, and all the inmates got up and ran to and fro in their excitement. Genji had lost the opportunity of escape, and, besides, the dawn had already broken.

When the storm became lighter and the thunder ceased, Udaijin went first to the room of his royal daughter, and then to that of Naishi-no-Kami. The noise of the falling rain made his footsteps inaudible, and all unexpectedly he appeared at the door and said: "What a storm it has been! Were you not frightened?"

This voice startled both Genji and the lady. The former hid himself on one side of the room, and the latter stepped forth to meet her father.

Her face was deeply flushed, which he soon noticed. He said, "You seem still excited; is your illness not yet quite pa.s.sed?" While he was so saying he caught sight of the sash of a man's cloak, twisted round her skirt.

"How strange!" thought he. The next moment he noticed some papers lying about, on which something had been scribbled. "This is more strange!" he thought again; and exclaimed, "Whose writings are these?"

At this request she looked aside, and all at once noticed the sash round her skirt, and became quite confused. Udaijin was a man of quiet nature; so, without distressing her further, bent down to pick up the papers, when by so doing he perceived a man behind the screen, who was apparently in great confusion and was endeavoring to hide his face.

However, Udaijin soon discovered who he was, and without any further remarks quitted the room, taking the papers with him.

The troubled state of Genji and the lady may be easily imagined, and in great anxiety he left the scene.

Now it was the character of Udaijin that he could never keep anything to himself, even his thoughts. He therefore went to the eldest daughter--that is, the Empress-mother, and told her that he had found papers which clearly were in the handwriting of Genji, and that though venturesomeness is the characteristic of men, such conduct as that which Genji had indulged in was against all propriety. "People said,"

continued Udaijin, "that he was always carrying on a correspondence with the present Saiin. Were this true, it would not only be against public decorum, but his own interest; although I did not entertain any suspicion before."

When the sagacious Empress-mother heard this, her anger was something fearful. "See the Emperor," she said; "though he is Emperor, how little he is respected! When he was Heir-apparent, the ex-Sadaijin, not having presented his daughter to him, gave her to Genji, then a mere boy, on the eve of his Gembuk; and now this Genji boldly dares to carry on such intrigues with a lady who is intended to be the Royal consort! How daring, also, is his correspondence with the sacred Saiin! On the whole, his conduct, in every respect, does not appear to be as loyal as might be expected, and this only seems to arise from his looking forward to the ascent of the young Prince to the throne."

Udaijin somehow felt the undesirability of this anger, and he began to change his tone, and tried to soothe her, saying: "You have some reason for being so affected; yet don't disclose such matters to the public, and pray don't tell it to the Emperor. It is, of course, an impropriety on the part of the Prince, but we must admit that our girl, also, would not escape censure. We had better first warn her privately among ourselves; and if the matter does not even then come all right, I will myself be responsible for that."

The Empress-mother, however, could not calm her angry feelings. It struck her as a great disrespect to her dignity, on Genji's part, to venture to intrude into the very mansion where she was staying. And she began to meditate how to turn this incident into a means of carrying out the design which she had been forming for some time.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 89: A temporary residence expressly built for the Saigu to undergo purification.]

[Footnote 90: A peculiar gate erected in front of the sacred places.]