Between Kimiko and other geisha there was a difference of gentle
blood. Before she took a professional name, her name was Ai,
which, written with the proper character, means love. Written
with another character the same word-sound signifies grief. The
story of Ai was a story of both grief and love.
She had been nicely brought up. As a child she had been sent to a
private school kept by an old samurai,--where the little girls
squatted on cushions before little writing-tables twelve inches
high, and where the teachers taught without salary. In these days
when teachers get better salaries than civil-service officials,
the teaching is not nearly so honest or so pleasant as it used to
be. A servant always accompanied the child to and from the
school-house, carrying her books, her writing-box, her kneeling
cushion, and her little table.
Afterwards she attended an elementary public school. The first
"modern" text-books had just been issued,--containing Japanese
translations of English, German, and French stories about honor
and duty and heroism, excellently chosen, and illustrated with
tiny innocent pictures of Western people in costumes never of
this world. Those dear pathetic little text-books are now
curiosities: they have long been superseded by pretentious
compilations much less lovingly and sensibly edited. Ai learned
well. Once a year, at examination time, a great official would
visit the school, and talk to the children as if they were all
his own, and stroke each silky head as he distributed the prizes.
He is now a retired statesman, and has doubtless forgotten
Ai;--and in the schools of to-day nobody caresses little girls,
or gives them prizes.
Then came those reconstructive changes by which families of rank
were reduced to obscurity and poverty; and Ai had to leave
school. Many great sorrows followed, till there remained to her
only her mother and an infant sister. The mother and Ai could do
little but weave; and by weaving alone they could not earn enough
to live. House and lands first,--then, article by article, all
things not necessary to existence--heirlooms, trinkets, costly
robes, crested lacquer-ware--passed cheaply to those whom misery
makes rich, and whose wealth is called by the people _Namida no
kane_,--"the Money of Tears." Help from the living was
scanty,--for most of the samurai-families of kin were in like
distress. But when there was nothing left to sell,--not even Ai's
little school-books,--help was sought from the dead.
For it was remembered that the father of Ai's father had been
buried with his sword, the gift of a daimyo; and that the
mountings of the weapon were of gold. So the grave was opened,
and the grand hilt of curious workmanship exchanged for a common
one, and the ornaments of the lacquered sheath removed. But the
good blade was not taken, because the warrior might need it. Ai
saw his face as he sat erect in the great red-clay urn which
served in lieu of coffin to the samurai of high rank when buried
by the ancient rite. His features were still recognizable after
all those years of sepulture; and he seemed to nod a grim assent
to what had been done as his sword was given back to him.
At last the mother of Ai became too weak and ill to work at the
loom; and the gold of the dead had been spent. Ai said:--"Mother,
I know there is but one thing now to do. Let me be sold to the
dancing-girls." The mother wept, and made no reply. Ai did not
weep, but went out alone.
She remembered that in other days, when banquets were given in
her father's house, and dancers served the wine, a free geisha
named Kimika had often caressed her. She went straight to the
house of Kimika. "I want you to buy me," said Ai;--"and I want a
great deal of money." Kimika laughed, and petted her, and made
her eat, and heard her story,--which was bravely told, without
one tear. "My child," said Kimika, "I cannot give you a great
deal of money; for I have very little. But this I can do:--I can
promise to support your mother. That will be better than to give
her much money for you,--because your mother, my child, has been
a great lady, and therefore cannot know how to use money
cunningly. Ask your honored mother to sign the bond,--promising
that you will stay with me till you are twenty-four years old, or
until such time as you can pay me back. And what money I can now
spare, take home with you as a free gift."
Thus Ai became a geisha; and Kimika renamed her Kimiko, and kept
the pledge to maintain the mother and the child-sister. The
mother died before Kimiko became famous; the little sister was
put to school. Afterwards those things already told came to pass.
The young man who had wanted to die for love of a dancing-girl
was worthy of better things. He was an only son and his parents,
wealthy and titled people, were willing to make any sacrifice for
him,--even that of accepting a geisha for daughter-in-law.
Moreover they were not altogether displeased with Kimiko, because
of her sympathy for their boy.
Before going away, Kimiko attended the wedding of her young
sister, Ume, who had just finished school. She was good and
pretty. Kimiko had made the match, and used her wicked knowledge
of men in making it. She chose a very plain, honest,
old-fashioned merchant,--a man who could not have been bad, even
if he tried. Ume did not question the wisdom of her sister's
choice, which time proved fortunate.