 CHAPTER 10 DIVINE TREE The departure of the Saigu, the lady of the Rokujou for her destination in the temple of Issei, which was postponed from time to time owing to different circumstances, was at length, arranged to take place in September. This definite arrangement delighted the Saigu, to whom the uncertainty of the event had been somewhat tiresome. Her mother also bade up her mind to accompany her to the temple. Although there was no precedence for the mother of the Saigu accompanying her daughter, this lady made up her mind to do so, because she would not allow her young daughter to go alone. In a sub-urban field, the field palace was built. It was of wood and surrounded by a fence of newly cut branches of trees. In front stood a huge torii of logs, and within the compound were the quarters of the Kanskasa. Here the Saigu took up her residence, where her mother also accompanied her. On the sixteenth of September, which was fixed for the departure arrived, the ceremony of her last consecration was truly performed on the banks of the River Katsura, whence the Sacred Virgin went to the Imperial Palace to have the farewell audience with the Emperor. She was accompanied by her mother. The father of the latter had been a great personage of state, and she had been married to a royal prince at sixteen, when there had been every possibility of her coming to the court in a position far superior to what she now enjoyed. She was, however, bereaved of him at the age of twenty, and now at thirty she comes to take leave at her departure for a far-off province with her only daughter. The Saigu was about fourteen years of age, was extremely delicate and fair to look upon, and when presented to the Emperor, he was struck by the charms of her youthful appearance. Those carriages were arranged at the front of eight state departments, to see her off in state, besides many others along the road, full of spectators. Late in the afternoon her party left the palace, and turned away from Nijo, ground to the highway of Toin, and passed by the mansion of Genji who witnessed their passing, and sent the following to the Lady Mother with a twig of Sakaki, Divine Tree. Bravely you quit this scene, it is true, but though you dauntless fly so far, your sleeve may yet be wet with dew, before you cross Suzuka. The answer to this was sent to him from beyond the barrier of Aosaka, meeting path, in the following form. Whether my sleeve be wet or not, in the waters of the Suzuka, who will care, too soon for God will Ise be that lies so far? And thus the Lady of Rokjo and her daughter disappear for some time from our scenes in the capital. It was about this time that the ex-Emperor was indisposed for some time, and in October his state became precarious. The anxiety of the public was general, and the Emperor went to visit him. Notwithstanding his weakness, the former gave him every injunction, first about the heir apparent, then about Genji, and said, Regard him as your advisor, both in large and small matters, without reserve, and not otherwise than if I were still alive. He is not incapable of sharing the administration of public affairs, notwithstanding his youth. He has a physiognomy which argues great qualities, and for this reason I made him remain in an ordinary position, without creating him a royal prince, with the object that he should be able to take part in public affairs. Do not misconstrue these ideas. There were some more injunctions given of like nature relating to public matters, and the Emperor sorrowfully and repeatedly assured him that he would not neglect them. Such, however, are not subjects which we women are supposed to understand, and even thus much that I have mentioned is given not without some apprehension. A few days after the visit of the Emperor, the heir apparent was brought before his dying father. There had been some idea that he should be brought on the day when the Emperor paid his visit, but it was postponed to avoid any possible confusion. The boy prince was apparently more pleased at seeing his father than concerned at his illness. To him the ex-Emperor told many things, but he was too young to heed them. Genji was also present, and the ex-Emperor explained to him in what way he should serve the government, and how he should look after this young prince. When their interview concluded, it was already merging towards the evening, and the young prince returned to the palace. The royal mother of the reigning Emperor, formerly Kokidan Yogo, would also have visited the ex-Emperor, but for her repugnance to encounter the Princess Wisteria, who never left his side. In the course of a few days, the strength of the Emperor began to decline, and at last he quietly and peacefully passed away. And now the court went into general mourning, and Genji, being one of the principal mourners, put on a dress of Wisteria cloth. So frequently it did misfortune fall on him in the course of a few years, and his cares became really great. The funeral and the weekly requiem were performed with all due pomp and ceremony, and when the forty-ninth day had passed, all the private household of his late Majesty dispersed in the midst of the dreary weather of the latter part of December to their own homes. The Princess Wisteria retiring to her own residence in Sanjyo, accompanied by her brother, Prince Hyobuk Yol. True, it is that his late Majesty had been for some time off the throne, but his authority had by no means diminished on that account, but his death now altered the state of things, and the ascendancy of the family of Uda Jin became assured. The people in general entertained great fear that invillicitous changes would take place in public affairs, and among these Genji and the Princess Wisteria were the most disturbed by such anxieties. The new year came in, but nothing joyful or exciting accompanied its presence. The world was still. Genji kept himself to his mansion. In those days, when his father was still in power, his courtyard was filled with the carriages of visitors, especially when the days of the appointments were approaching, but now this was changed, and his household secretaries had but little to occupy them. In January, the Princess Momozono, Peach Gardens, was chosen for the Sai-in of the Temple of Kamal, her predecessor having retired from office, on account of the mourning for her father, the late ex-emperor. There were not many precedents for princesses of the second generation being appointed to this position, but this princess was so chosen, owing, it seems, to the circumstance that there was no immediate issue of the imperial blood suitable for this office. In February, the youngest daughter of the Uda Jin became the Naishinokami, in the place of the former one who had left office and become anon after the death of the ex-emperor. She took up her residence in the Kokiden, which was, till lately, occupied by her sister, the Empress Mother, who at this period spent most of her time at her father's, and who, when she came to the court, made the Umetsubo, the plum chamber, her apartment. Meanwhile, the Empress Mother, who was by nature sagacious and revengeful, and who, during the late emperor's life, had been feigned to disguise her spiteful feelings, now conceived designs of vengeance against those who had been adverse to her, and this spirit was directed especially against Genji and his father-in-law, Sadaijin, against the latter, because he had married his only daughter to Genji, against the wishes of the emperor when heir apparent, and because, during the life of the late emperor, his influence eclipsed that of her father, Udajin, who had long been his political adversary. The emperor, it is true, never forgot the dying injunctions of his father, and never failed in sympathy with Genji, but he was still young, with a weak mind, and therefore he was under the influence of his mother and grandfather Udajin, and was often constrained by them in his actions to go contrary to his own wishes. Such being the state of things, Sadaijin seldom appeared at court, and his loss of influence became manifest. Genji too had become less adventurous and more steady in his life, and in his mansion Violet became the favorite object of attraction, in whose behalf the ceremony of Mogi had been Julie performed some time before, and who had been presented to her father. The latter had for a long time regarded her as lost, and even now he never forgave the way in which his daughter had been taken away by Genji. The summer had passed without any particular events, and autumn arrived. Genji, wishing to have a little change, went to the monastery of Unlinin, and spent some days in the chamber of Arish, discipline master, who was a brother of his mother. Maple trees were changing their tints, and the beautiful scenery around this spot made him almost forget his home. His daily amusement was to gather together several monks, and make them discuss before him. He himself produced so-called sixty volumes, and would get the monks to explain any point which was not clear to his understanding. When he came to reflect on the various circumstances taking place in the capital, he would have preferred remaining in his present retirement, but he could not forget one whom he had left behind there, and this caused him to return. After he had requested a splendid expiatory service to be performed, he left the monastery. The monks and the neighbors came to see him depart. His carriage was still black, and his sleeves were still of wisteria, and in this gloomy state he made his return to his mansion in Nijo. He brought back some twigs of maple, whose hues, when compared with those in his own garden, he perceived were far more beautiful. He, therefore, sent one of these to the residence of Princess Wisteria, who had put it in a vase, and hung at the side of her veranda. Next day he went to the imperial palace to see his brother the emperor, who was passing a quiet and unoccupied leisure, and soon entered into a pleasant conversation on matters both past and present. This emperor, it must be remembered, was a person of quiet ways and moderate ambition. He was kind in heart and affectionate to his relatives. His eyes were shut to the more objectionable actions of Genji. He talked with him on different topics of literature, and asked his opinions on different questions. He also talked on several poetical subjects, and on the news of the day, of the departure of the Saigu. 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 wide rain will cross the sun, and the prince was frightened, passed on. Genji at once understood what it was intended for, but fruitlessly proceeded on his way homeward, without taking any notice of it. Let us now proceed to the princess Visteria. Since she had been bereaved of the late emperor, she retired to her private residence. She fully participated 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 Sekifu Jin did at the hands of her rival. 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 hid here to rarely visit a 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 Shikibu? No, that can't be. The prince smiled a little and said, No, that is not so. Shikibu 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 finally penciled were his eyebrows. He was growing up fast, and his teeth were a little decayed and blackened, 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 Kyo 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 nobles were present and participated, 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 Hiei 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 Hyobo Kyo, her brother, and Genji, and soon after everyone 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 Wisteria no longer took any heed of them, and most of her time was devoted to prayer in a new private chapel, which she had built expressly for herself in her grounds. Genji came to pay his new year's visits on the seventh day, but he saw no signs of the season. All nobles 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, 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 conventional 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, in 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 title, 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 Udayjin. All the sons of Sadaijin, who formerly had enjoyed considerable distinction at court, were now fast sinking into insignificance, and had very little influence. Dono Chujo, the eldest of them, was one of those affected by the change of circumstances. True, he was married to the fourth daughter of Udayjin, but he passed little time with her. He was 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 circumstances, 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. They seldom appeared at court, while in the outer world, different scandals about them were increasing day by day. One day in summer, Dono Chujo 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 nobles 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 Dono Chujo 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, Dono Chujo 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 Dono Chujo, about eight or nine years old, was present. He was the second boy by his wife, Uday Jean's daughter, and a tolerable player of the so-of-lute. Both his countenance and disposition were amiable. The party was in full enjoyment when the boy rose in sang Takasago, high-sand, when he proceeded to the last clause of his song. Oh, could I see that lovely flower that blossomed this morn? Dono Chujo offered his cup to Genji, saying, How glad am I to see your gentleness, as 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 seer-leaf. Genji was pressed by Dono Chujo to take several more cups, and his humor reached its height. Many poems, both in Chinese and Japanese, were composed by those present, most of whom paid high compliment to Genji. He felt proud and unconsciously exclaimed, The son of King Yuan, the brother of King Mu, and would have added, The king chings, but there he paused, to describe the scene which followed at a time such as this, when every mind is not in Jew equilibrium, is against the warning of Turayuki, the poet, so I will hear pass over the rest. Maishinokami, the young daughter of Udaijin, now retired to her home from the court, having been attacked by Egg, 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 apartment. 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 principally 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, Udayjin went first to the room of his royal daughter, and then to that of Naishino coming. 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? His 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 past? While he was so sane, 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 troubled. 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. Udayjin 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, Udayjin 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 Udayjin 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 Udayjin, that he was always carrying on a correspondence with the present Sai-in, 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 irreparant, the ex-Sahdayjin, not having presented his daughter to him, gave her to Genji, then a mere boy, on the eve of his game-book, and now this Genji boldly dares to carry on such intrigues with the Lady, who is intended to be the Royal Consort, how daring also is his correspondence with the sacred Sai-in, 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. Udayjin 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. CHAPTER 11 VILLA OF FALLING FLOWERS The troubles of Genji increased day by day, and the world became irksome to him. One incident, however, deserves a brief notice before we enter into the main consequences of these troubles. There was a lady who had been a Nioko at the court of the late ex-Emperor, and who was called Rai Kudun Nioko, from the name of her chamber. Genji had born no child to him, and after his death, she together with a younger sister was living in straightened circumstances. Genji had long known both of them, and they were often aided by the liberality with which he cheerfully assisted them, both from feelings of friendship and out of respect to his late father. He at this time kept himself quiet at his own home, but he now paid these ladies a visit one evening, when the weather, after a long continued rain, had cleared up. He conversed with them on topics of past times until late in the evening. The waning moon threw her faint light over the tall trees standing in the garden, which spread their dark shadows over the ground. From among them an orange tree in full blossom poured forth its sweet perfume, and a hot Tōgi-su flew over it singing most enchantingly. Ah, how he recollects his own friend, said Genji, and continued, to this home of falling flower the odours bring thee back again, and now thou singst in evening hour thy faithful loving strain. To this the elder lady replied, at the home where one lives all sadly alone, and the shadow of friendship but seldom is cast, these blossoms reach the bright days that are gone, and bring to our sadness the joys of the past. And after a long and friendly conversation Genji returned to his home. One may say that the character of Genji was changeable. It is true, yet we must do him justice for his kind-heartedness to his old acquaintances such as these two sisters. And this would appear to be the reason why he seldom estranged the hearts of those whom he liked. CHAPTER XII OF GENJI MONAGATURI This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Genji Monagatari by Murasaki Shikibu translated by Suimatsu Kencho. CHAPTER XII EXILE AT SUMA Genji at last made up his mind to undergo a voluntary exile before the opinion of the Imperial Court should be publicly announced against him. He heard that the beautiful sea coast along SUMA was a most suitable place for retirement, and that though formerly populous there were now only a few fisherman's dwellings scattered here and there. To SUMA he finally determined to go into voluntary exile. When he had thus made up his mind he became somewhat regretful to leave the capital, although it had hitherto appeared ungenial. The first thing which disturbed his mind was the young violet whom he could not take with him. The young lady also in the villa of falling flowers, notwithstanding that he was not a frequent visitor, was another object of his regret. In spite of these feelings he prepared to set off at the end of March, and at length it came within a few days of the time fixed for his departure, when he went privately under the cover of the evening, to the mansion of the ex-Sadaijin in an Adjir carriage generally used by women. He proceeded into the inner apartment where he was greeted by the nurse of his little child. The boy was growing fast, was able to stand by this time, and to toddle about and run into Genji's arms when he saw him. The latter took him on his knee, saying, ah, my good little fellow, I have not seen you for some time, but you do not forget me, do you? The ex-Sadaijin now entered. He said, often have I thought of coming to have a talk with you. But you see my health has been very bad of late, and I seldom appear at court. Having resigned my office, it would be impolitic to give cause to be talked about, and for it to be said that I stretch my old bones when private matters please me. Of course I have no particular reason to fear the world. Still, if there is anything dreadful, it is the demagogical world. When I see what unpleasant things are happening to you, which were no more probable than that the heavens should fall, I really feel that everything in the world is irksome to me. Yes, what you say is indeed true, replied Genji. However all things in the world, this or that, are the outcome of what we have done in our previous existence. Hence if we dive to the bottom we shall see that every misfortune is only the result of our own negligence. Examples of men's losing the pleasures of the court are indeed not wanting. Some of these cases may not go so far as a deprivation of titles and honours, as is mine. Still if one thus banished from the pleasures of court behaves himself as unconcernedly as those to whom no such misfortune has happened, this would not be becoming. So at least it is considered in a foreign country. This is what one ought to expect in such circumstances, and banishment to a far-off locality is a measure generally adopted for offenses different from ordinary ones. If I simply relying on my innocence pass unnoticed the recent displeasure of the court, this would only bring upon me greater dishonour. I have therefore determined to go into voluntary exile before receiving such a sentence from the court. Then the conversation fell back as usual on the times of the late ex-emperor which made them sad, while the child also, who innocently played near, made them still more gloomy. The ex-Sadiagin went on to say, There is no moment when I ever forget the mother of the boy, but now I almost dare to think that she was fortunate in being short-lived, and being free from witnessing the dream like sorrow we now suffer. With regard to the boy the first thing which strikes me as unbearable is that he may pass some time of his lovely childhood away from the gaze of your eyes. There are, as you say, no want of instances of persons suffering a miserable fate without having committed any real offence, yet still in such cases there was some pretext to justify their being so treated. I cannot see any such against you. While he was thus speaking, Tono Jiu-Jiu joined them, and partaking of sake they continued their conversation till late in the evening. This night Genji remained in the mansion. Early the next morning he returned to his own residence, and he spent the whole day with Violet in the western wing. It should here be noticed that she was scarcely ever with her father, even from childhood. He strongly disapproved of his daughter being with Genji, and of the way in which she had been carried off. So he scarcely ever had any communication with her, nor did he visit her. These circumstances made her feel Genji's affection more keenly than she otherwise would have. Hence her sorrow at the thought of parting with him in a few days may be easily imagined. Towards the evening Prince Sotsu came with Tono Jiu-Jiu and some others to pay him a visit. Genji, in order to receive them, rose to put on one of his Naushi, which was plain without pattern, as proper for one who had no longer a title. Approaching the mirror to comb his hair, he noticed that his face had grown much thinner. Oh, how changed I appear, he exclaimed. Am I really like this image which I see of myself? He said, turning to the girl, who cast on him a sad and tearful glance. Genji continued, Though changed I wander far away, my soul shall still remain with you. Perhaps in this mirror's mystic ray my face may linger still in view. To this violent replied, if in this mirror I could see always your face, then it would be my consolation when thou art gone. As she said this she turned her face to one side of the room, and by doing so obscured the tears gathering in her soft eyes. Genji then left her to receive his friends, who, however, did not remain long, leaving the mansion after a short conversation of a consolatory nature. His evening Genji paid his visit to the sisters of the Falling Flower Villa. On the following day the final arrangements necessary for his household affairs were made at his residence. The management of the mansion was entrusted to a few confidential friends, while that of his lands and pasture, and the charge of his documents, were entrusted to the care of Violet, to whom he gave every instruction what she should do. As he enjoined Shonagon, in whom he placed his confidence to give her every assistance, he told all the inmates who wished to remain in the mansion in order to await his return that they might do so. He also made an appropriate present to the nurse of his boy, and to the ladies of the Villa of Falling Flowers. When all these things were accomplished he occupied himself in writing farewell letters to his intimate friends, such as the young daughter of Udaidjin and others, to none of whom he had paid a visit. On the evening prior to his departure he went on horseback to visit the tomb of his father. On his way he called on the Princess Wisteria, and then proceeded to the mountain where the remains reposed. The tomb was placed among tall growing grass under thick and gloomy foliage. He advanced to the tomb, and half kneeling down before it, and half sobbing uttered many words of remembrance and sorrow. Of course no reply came forth. The moon by this time was hidden behind dark clouds, and the wind blew keen and nipping, when suddenly a shadowy phantom of the dead stood before Genji's eyes. How would his image look on me, knew he the secret of the past, as yonder moon in clouded sky looks o'er the scene mysteriously? He returned to his mansion late in the night. Early in the morning he sent a letter to Omiolvul, the nurse of the heir apparent, in which he said, I had last leave the capital to-day. I know not when I may come and see the Prince again. On him my thoughts and anxieties are concentrated above all else. Realize these feelings in your own mind, and tell them to him. He also sent the following fastened to a bough of cherry flowers, already becoming thin. Then shall I see these scenes again, and view the flowers of spring in bloom, like rustic from his mountain home, a mere spectator shall I come. These were carefully read by Omiolvul to the Prince, and when he was asked what she should write in answer he said, write that I said that since I feel every longing to see him, when I do not see him for a long time, how shall I feel when he goes away altogether? Thereupon she wrote an answer, in which she indefinitely stated that she had shown the letter to the Prince, whose answer was simple, yet very affectionate, and so on, with the following. It is sad that fair blossoms so soon fade away, in the darkness of winter no flower remains, but let spring return with its sun-shiny ray, then once more the flowers we look on again. Now with regard to the recent disgrace of Genji, the public in general did not approve of the severity which the court had shown to him. Moreover, he had been constantly with the Emperor his father since the age of seven, and his requests had been always cheerfully at listened to by the latter. Hence there were very many, especially among public servants of the ordinary class, who were much indebted to him. However none of them now came to pay their respects to him. It seems that in a world of intrigue none dares to what is right for fear of risking his own interests. Such being the state of things Genji during the whole day was unoccupied, and the time was entirely spent with violet. Then at his usual late hour in the evening he, in a travelling dress of incognito, at length left the capital, where he had passed five and twenty years of his life. His attendants Koromitsa and Yoshikyo, being among them, were seven or eight in number. He took with him but little luggage. All ostentatious robes, all unnecessary articles of luxury were dispensed with. Among things taken was a box containing the works of Hakkura Katen, a famous Chinese poet, with other books, and besides these, a kin-koto, for his amusement. They embarked in a boat and sailed down the river. Early the next morning they arrived at the sea coast of Naniwa. They noticed the Oya Palace standing lonely amidst the group of pine trees. The sight of this palace gave a thrill of sadness to Genji who was now leaving, and not returning home. He saw the waves rolling on the coast and again sweep back. He hummed as he saw them. The waves roll back, but unlike me they come again. From Naniwa they continued their voyage sailing in the bay. As they proceeded they looked back on the scenes they had left. They saw all the mountains veiled in haze growing more and more distant, while the rowers gently pulled against the rippling waves. It seemed to them as if they were really going three thousand miles distance. Our home is lost in the midst of the mountain. Let us gaze on the sky which is ever the same. The day was long and the wind was fair, so they soon arrived at the coast of Suma. The place was near the spot where the exiled Yukihira had lived, and had watched the beautiful smoke rising from the salt ovens. There was a thatched house in which the party temporarily took up their residence. It was a very different home from what they were used to, and it might have appeared even novel had the circumstances of their coming there being different. The authorities of the neighbourhood were sent for and a lodge was built under the direction of Yoshikiyo in accordance with Genji's wishes. The work was hurried on and the building was soon completed. In the garden several trees, cherries and others were planted, and water was also conducted into it. Here Genji soon took up his abode. The governor of the province, who had been at court, secretly paid attention to the prince with as much respect as was possible. For some time Genji did not feel settled in his new residence. When he had become in some degree accustomed to it, the season of continuous rain had arrived, in brackets May. His thoughts more than ever reverted to the old capital. The thoughtful expression of violet's face, the childish affection of the heir apparent, and the innocent playfulness of his little son became the objects of his reveries and anxiety, nor did he forget his old companions and acquaintances. He therefore sent a special messenger to the capital bearing his letters so that speedy answers might be returned from every quarter. He also sent a message to Ise to make inquiry after the lady who also sent one to him in return. Now the young daughter of Udaijin had been remaining repentingly in the mansion of her father since the events of the stormy evening. Her father felt much for her and interceded with the emperor's mother on her behalf, and also with her son, that is the emperor, thus getting permission to introduce her once more into court, an event which took place in the month of July. To return to Suma. The rainy season had passed and autumn arrived. The sea was at some distance from the residence of Genji, but the dash of its waves sounded close to their ears as the winds passed by, of which Yukihira sang, the autumn wind which passes the barrier of Suma. The autumn winds are, it seems, in such a place as this far more plaintive than elsewhere. It happened one evening that when all the attendants were fast asleep, Genji was awake and alone. He raised his head and rested his arms on his pillow, and listened to the sound of the waves which reached his ear from a distance. They seemed nearer than ever as though they were coming to flood his pillows. He drew his koto towards him and struck a melancholy air as he hummed a verse of a poem in a low tone. With this everyone awoke and responded with a sigh. Such was a common occurrence in the evening, and Genji always felt saddened whenever he came to think that all his attendants had accompanied him, having left their families and homes simply for his sake. In the daytime, however, there were changes. He would then enjoy pleasant conversations. He also joined several papers into long roles on which he might practice penmanship. He spent a good deal of time in drawing and sketching. He remembered how Yoshikyo, on one occasion in Mount Kurama, had described the beautiful scenery of the place on which he was now gazing. He sketched every beautiful landscape of the neighbourhood and collected them in albums, thinking how nice it would be if he could send for Tsuna Nori, a renowned contemporary artist, and get him to paint the sketches which he had made. Out of all the attendants of Genji there were four or five who had been more especially his favourites, and who had constantly attended on him. One evening they were all sitting together in a corridor which commanded a full view of the sea. They perceived the island of Awaji, lying in the distance as if it were floating on the horizon, and also several boats with sailors singing as they rode to the shore over the calm surface of the water like waterfowl in their native element. Over their heads flocks of wild geese rustled on their way homeward, with their plaintive cry which made the thoughts of the spectators revert to their homes. Genji hummed this verse, those wandering birds above us flying, do they, our far-off friends resemble, with their voice of plaintive crying, make us full of thoughtful sighing. Yoshikiyo took up the idea and replied, though these birds no friends of ours are, and we to them are not, yet their voice in these still hours, bring those old friends to our thought. Then Koromitsu continued, Before to-day I always thought they flew on pleasure's wing alone, but now their fate to me is fraught, with some resemblance to our own. Okon no dual added, though we like them have left our home to wander forth, yet still for me there's joy to think where ere I roam, my faithful friends are still with me. Okon no dual was the brother of Kino Kami, his father Io no Kami, had now been promoted to be Hitachi no Kami, Governor of Hitachi, and had gone down to that province, but Okon no dual did not join his father, who would have gladly taken him, and faithfully followed Genji. This evening happened to be the fifteenth of August on which day a pleasant reunion is generally held at the Imperial Palace. Genji looked at the silvery pale sky, and as he did so the affectionate face of the Emperor, his brother, whose expression strikingly resembled their father's, presented itself to his mind. After a deep and long sigh he returned to his couch humming as he went. Here is still a robe his Majesty gave to me. It should be here notice that he had been presented by the Emperor on a certain occasion with a robe, and this robe he had never parted with, even in his exile. About this time Daini, the Senior Secretary of the Lord Lieutenant of Kushu, returned to the capital with his family, having completed his official term. His daughter had been a virgin dancer and was known to Genji. They preferred to travel by water and slowly sailed up along the beautiful coast. When they arrived at Tsuma the distant sound of a kin was heard, mingled with the sea-coast wind, and they were told that Genji was there in exile. Daini therefore sent his son Chikutsen no Kami to the Prince with these words. Coming back from a distant quarter I expected as soon as I should arrive in the capital to have had the pleasure of visiting you and listening to your pleasant voice, and talking of events which have taken place there, but little did I think that you had taken up your residence in this part of the country. How greatly do I sympathise with you! I ought to land and see you at once, but there are too many people in the same boat, therefore I think it better to avoid the slightest grounds which may cause them to talk. However possibly I shall pay you a visit soon. This Chikutsen no Kami had been for some time previously a kurodo, a sort of equity to Genji. Therefore his visit was especially welcome to him. He said that since he had left the capital it had become difficult to see any of his acquaintances, and that therefore this special visit was a great pleasure to him. His reply to the message of Daini was to the same effect. Chikutsen no Kami soon took his leave and returning to the boat reported to his father and others all he had seen. His sister also wrote to Genji privately thus, Pray excuse me if I am too bold, know you not the mind is swayed, like the tow-rope of our boat, at the sounds your kin has made which around us sweetly float. When Genji received this his pleasure was expressed by his placid smile and he sent back the following. If this music moves the mind so greatly as you say no one would care to leave behind these lonely waves of Sumer's Bay. This recalls to our mind that there was in the olden time an exile who gave a stanza even to the postmaster of a village. Why then should not Genji have sent to her whom he knew this stanza? In the meantime as time went on more sympathizers with Genji were found in the capital, including no lesser personage than the Emperor himself. True it is that before Genji left many even of his relatives and most intimate friends refrained from paying their respects to him, but in the course of time not a few began to correspond with him and sometimes they communicated their ideas to each other in pathetic poetry. These things reached the ears of the Empress mother, who was greatly irritated by them. She said, the only thing a man who has offended the court should do is to keep himself as quiet as possible. It is most unpardonable that such a man should haughtily cause scandal to the court from his humble dwelling. Does he intend to imitate the treacherous example of one who made a deer pass for a horse? Those who intrigue with such a man are equally blameable. These spiteful remarks once more put a stop to the correspondence. Meanwhile it sumer the autumn passed away and winter succeeded with all its dreariness of scene and with occasional falls of snow. Genji often spent the evening in playing upon the kin, being accompanied by Koremitsu's flute and the singing of Yoshikiyo. It was on one of these evenings that the story of a young Chinese court lady who had been sent to the frozen land of barbarians occurred to Genji's mind. He thought what a great trial it would be if one were obliged to send away one whom he loved, like the lady in the tale, and as he reflected on this with some melancholy feelings it appeared to him as vividly as if it were only an event of yesterday, and he hummed. The sound of the piper's distant strain broke on her dreams in the frozen eve. He then tried to sleep but could not do so, and as he lay the distant cry of Chidori reached his ears he hummed again as he heard them. Although on lonely couch I lie without a mate yet still so near adorn the cries of Chidori, with their fond mates, it is sweet to hear. Having washed his hands he spent some time in reading a kiyo in bracket sutra, and in this manner the winter time passed away. Towards the end of February the young cherry trees which Genji had planted in his garden blossomed, and this brought to his memory the well-known cherry tree in the southern palace, and the fate in which he had taken part. The noble countenance of the late ex-emperor and that of the present one, the then heir apparent, which had struck him much at that time, returned to his recollection with the scene where he had read out his poem. While on the lordly crowd I muse which haunts the royal festive hours the day has come when I've put on the crown of fairest cherry flowers. While thus meditating on the past, strange to say, tono chiu-chiu, Genji's brother-in-law, came from the capital to see the prince. He had been now made seishaw, privy counsellor in brackets. Having therefore more responsibility he had to be more cautious in dealing with the public. He had, however, a personal sympathy with Genji, and thus came to see him at the risk of offending the court. The first thing which struck his eyes was not the natural beauty of the scenery, but the style of Genji's residence which showed the novelty of pure Chinese fashion. The enclosure was surrounded by a trellis-work of bamboo, with stone steps and pillars of pine tree. He entered, and the pleasure of Genji and tono chiu-chiu was immense, so much so that they shed tears. The style of the prince's dress next attracted the attention of tono chiu-chiu. He was habited in a plain, simple country style, the coat being of an unforbidden color, a dull yellow, the trousers of a subdued green. The furniture was all of a temporary nature, with goth and sugerokku playing boards as well as one for the game of dagi. He noticed some articles for the services of religion showing that Genji was want to indulge in devotional exercises. The visitor told Genji many things on the subject of affairs in the capital, which he had been longing to impart to him for many months past, telling him also how the grandfather of his boy always delighted in playing with him and giving him many more interesting details. Several fishermen came with the fish which they had caught. Genji called them in and made them show their spoils. He also led them to talk of their lives spent on the sea, and each in his own peculiar local dialect gave him a narration of his joys and sorrows. He then dismissed them with the gift of some stuff to make them clothing. All this was quite a novelty to the eyes of tono chiu-chiu, who also saw the stable in which he obtained a glimpse of some horses. The attendants at the time were feeding them. Dinner was presently served at which the dishes were necessarily simple yet tasteful. In the evening they did not retire to rest early but spent their time in continuing their conversation and in composing verses. Although tono chiu-chiu had in coming risked the displeasure of the court, he still thought it better to avoid any possible slander, and therefore he made up his mind to set out for home early next morning. The sake cup was offered and they part took of it as they hummed. In our parting cup the tears of sadness fall. Several presents had been brought from the capital for Genji by tono chiu-chiu, and in return the former made him a present of an excellent dark-colored horse, and also a celebrated flute as a token of remembrance. As the sun shed forth his brilliant rays, tono chiu-chiu took his leave, and as he did so he said, When shall I see you again? You cannot be here long? Genji replied, Your noble crane that soars on high and hovers in the clear blue sky, believe my soul as pure and light, as spotless as the spring day bright. However a man like me whose fortune once becomes adverse seldom regains, even in the case of great wisdom, the prosperity he once fully enjoyed, and so I cannot predict when I may find myself again in the capital. So tono chiu-chiu having replied as follows, The crane mounts on height is true, but now he soars and cries alone, still fondly thinking of his friend with whom in former days he flew, set off on his homeward road leaving Genji cast down for some time. Now the coast of Akashi is a very short distance from Tsuma, and there live the former governor of the province, now a priest, of whom we have spoken before. Yoshikiyo well remembered his lovely daughter, and after he came to Tsuma with Genji he wrote to her now and then. He did not get any answer from her, but sometimes heard from her father, to whom Genji's exile became soon known, and who wished to see him for a reason not altogether agreeable to himself. It should be remembered that this old man always entertained aspirations on behalf of his daughter, and in his eyes the successive governors of the province who came after him, and whose influence had been unbounded, were considered as nobodies. To him his young daughter was everything, and he used to send her twice a year to visit the temple of Sumiyoshi, in order that she might obtain good fortune by the blessing of the God. She was not of an ideal beauty, but yet expressive incontinence, and exalted in mind. She could in this respect rival any of those of high birth in the capital. The priest said one day to his wife, Prince Genji, the imperial son of the Koyii of Karitsibo, is now in Tsuma in exile having offended the court. How fortunate would be if we could take the opportunity of presenting our child to him. The wife replied, Oh how dreadful when I heard what the townspeople talk, I understood he had several mistresses. He went even so far as to carry on a secret intimacy which happened to be obnoxious to the emperor. And it is said that this offense was the cause of his exile. I have some reason for mentioning this to you, he interrupted impatiently. It is not a thing which you understand. So make up your mind, I shall bring the matter about, and take an opportunity of making him come to us. No matter how distinguished a personage he is, replied his wife, it is a fact that he has offended the court and is exiled. I do not understand why you could take a fancy to such a man for our maiden-daughter. It is not a joking matter. I hope you will take it into grave consideration. That a man of ability and distinction should meet with adverse fortune is a very common occurrence, said he, still more obstinately, both in our empire and in that of China. How then do you venture to say such things against the prince? His mother was the daughter of an Azeci Dainagon, who was my uncle. She enjoyed a good reputation, and when she was introduced at court became both prosperous and distinguished. Although her life was shortened by the suffering caused by the fierce jealousy of her rivals, she left behind the royal child, who is no other person than Prince Genji. A woman should always be aspiring as this lady was. What objection, then, is there in the idea of introducing our only child to a man like him? Although I am now only a country gentleman, I do not think he would withdraw his favour from me. Such were the opinions of this old man, and hence his discouragement of the advances of Yoshikiyo. The first of March came, and Genji was persuaded by some to perform Hori, prayer for purification in brackets, for the coming occasion of the third. He therefore sent for a calendar priest, with whom he went out, accompanied by attendance to the seashore. Here a tent was erected ceremoniously, and the priest began his prayers which were accompanied by the launching of a small boat, containing figures representing human images. On seeing this, Genji said, Never thought I in my younger day to be thrown on the wild seashore, and like these figures to float away, and perhaps see my home no more. As he contemplated the scene around him, he perceived that the wild surface of the sea was still and calm, like a mirror without its frame. He offered prayers in profound silence, and then exclaimed, Oh, all ye eight millions of gods hear my cry, O give me your sympathy, aid me, I pray, for when I look over my life, ne'er did I commit any wrong, or my fellows betray. Suddenly as he spoke these words, the wind arose, and began to blow fiercely. The sky became dark, and torrents of rain soon followed. This caused great confusion to all present, and each ran back to the house without finishing the ceremony of prayers. None of them were prepared for the storm, and all got drenched with rain. From this the rain continued to pour down, and the surface of the sea became as it were tapestryed with white, over which the lightning darted and the thunder rolled. It seemed as if thunderbolts were crashing overhead, and the force of the rain appeared to penetrate the earth. Everyone was frightened, for they thought the end of the world was near. Genji occupied his time in quietly reading his Buddhist Bible. In the evening the thunder became less loud, though the wind still blew not less violently than in the daytime. Everyone in the residence said that they had heard of what is termed a flood tide, which often caused a great deal of damage. But they had never witnessed such a scene as they had that day. Genji dropped off into a slumber, when indistinctly the resemblance of a human figure came to him and said, You are requested to come to the palace, why don't you come? Genji was startled by the words and awoke. He thought that the king of the dragon palace might have admired him, and was perhaps the author of this strange dream. These thoughts made him weary of remaining at Suma. End of CHAPTER XII EXCEL AT AKASHI The storm and thunder still continued for some days, and the same strange dream visited Genji over and over again. This made him miserable. To return to the capital was not yet to be thought of, as to do so before the imperial permission was given would only be to increase his disgrace. On the other hand, to render himself obscure by seeking further retreat was also not to be thought of, as it might cause another rumor that he had been driven away by mere fear of the disturbed state of the ocean. In the meantime a messenger arrived from the capital with a letter from Violet. It was a letter of inquiry about himself. It was written in most affectionate terms, and stated that the weather dare was extremely disagreeable, as rain was pouring down continuously, and that this made her especially gloomy in thinking of him. This letter gave Genji great pleasure. The messenger was of the lowest class. At other times Genji would have never permitted such sort of people to approach him, but under the present circumstances of his life he was only too blunt 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 ninwo ye 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 bed-chamber. 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, embarked once in a boat as the god of Sumiyoshi guides you, and leave his 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 taste 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 realise 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 sometime 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 newcomers. Thereupon the letter went to the boat, thinking as he went, how would 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 seized 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 after 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 oneself makes one happier. Besides, his father had also enjoined him in the dream to leave the coast of Tsuma, 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 into solitude, receiving scarcely any visits from friends in the capital, the only thing I have to regard as friends of all 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 attendance. The same wind which had miraculously blown the vessel of the priest to Tsuma now changed and carried them with equal favour 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 Tsuma, 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 plantation of trees, the shrubberies, the rockwork 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 daughter of the priest were not residing here, but were at another mansion on the hillside where they had removed from fear of the recent high tides. Genji now took up his quarters with the priest in his 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 letter from his agent 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 the 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 Avaji floated like foam on its face, just as it appeared to do at Zuma. Genji took out his favourite kin, on which he had not practised for some time, and was playing an air called Koryo, when the priest joined him, having left for a while 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 Biva, Mandolin, and a Sokoto from the hillside mansion, and, after the fashion of a blind singer of ballads to the Biva, played two or three airs. He then handed the Sokoto 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 Genji, 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 learned to imitate them so well that they resemble those of the Emperor Yengi 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 proficient. And continued, from olden time the Sokoto 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 skillful 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 Biva very well. The Biva 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 gods Sumiyoshi on our daughter, and we have sent her twice a year in spring and autumn to his temple. At the six-time service also, the prayers for my own repose on the lotus flower 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 hillside 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 hillside 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 Nidio 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 hillside mansion less often. His leisure hours were spent in sketching, as he used to do in Summa, and writing short poetic effusions explanatory of the scenery. This was also going on in the mansion at Nidio, where Violet passed 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 honours 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 favour of the heir apparent, the child of the Princess Visteria. 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 were 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 Hillside 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 Hordai performed. To the temple of Sumiyoshi, he sent a messenger to say that the haste of his journey prevented him coming at his 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 honours were restored to him, and he was soon created an extra vice-dynagon. 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 letter 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. End of Chapter 13. Chapter 14 of Genji Monogatari This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Timothy Lucas Genji Monogatari by Murasaki Shikibu Translated by Suematsu Kenshiro Chapter 14 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 illusion 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 Mihakul 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 belong 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 Gembuk of the heir apparent, who is 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 counselors who resigned and had retired into 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 Dajio Daijin, the Premier. He was now 63 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. Tono Chiujiro, his eldest son, was also made the Gon Chiu Nagon, his daughter by his wife. The fourth daughter of Udaijin was now 12 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 of Nijial, 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 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 ones 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 dispatched a messenger there on the 1st 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 16th 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 Daji-Odaijin. He also remembered that a daughter who would be afterwards an empress would also be 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 sometime 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 dispatched with a confidential servant to attend on the newborn 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 Setsu, 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 wish 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, You're 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, 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 Wastaria. Though she had become a nun, her title of ex-emperoress 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 Dajio Daijin and his son-in-law Genji by whose influence all things in public were swayed. In August of this year, the daughter of Gon Chiyunagon, formerly Tono Chiyujiyo, 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 Nio-Go of Kokiden. Prince Hiobuki 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 fulfill his vows. His party consisted of many young nobles and court retainers besides his own private attendant. By a coincidence, the maiden Avakashi, who had been prevented from coming to the temple since the last year, happened to arrive there on the same day. Her party traveled 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 Nani Daijin, the Prince Genji, here today to fulfill his vows? Most of the young nobles were on horseback, with beautifully made saddles, and others including Ukonnojiyo, Yoshikiyo, and Koremitsu 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 the 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 of Koremitsu, 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 harmed. Ima hata onaji naniwa naru, and he stopped while contemplating the Bay. Koremitsu, 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 Asean beacon meets our eye to dream per chance of days gone by. A few words more, the change of the ruler had brought a change of the saigu, and the lady of Rokujou 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.