THE WEDDING FEAST
On the third day after the wedding, all preparations having been made,
the newly wedded couple started upon their bridal tour to the home of
the bride's parents. This was no small undertaking, and to any other
than a bride it would have seemed decidedly unpleasant. The only means
of transit was by chair, and, as she had just been borne over the same
route and had in prospect a speedy return, Takara might well have
complained of the three long journeys, if not of custom.
Upon coming to the wedding ceremony the bride had brought with her a
large number of useful and costly presents, and, as might be expected,
the family of the bridegroom had been exceedingly liberal in bestowing a
return compliment. Maido had spared neither pains nor expense to laden
Shibusawa's train with tokens of his appreciation, and as squad after
squad of carriers passed out at the front gate the gathering onlookers
cheered with something like frenzy. It was, therefore, late in the
morning before the last of the baggage had passed and the way was made
clear for Shibusawa's chair, and as he came forward there arose a mighty
shout of "Long live the prince." Early in the day the kaika (household
treasurer), acting under Ikamon's instructions, had begun distributing
coins among the hangers-on, and now that the noble suite was passing a
perfect shower of "cash" was thrown upon them. No other means could so
readily call forth their hearty applause, and Ikamon was gratified and
Maido perhaps pleased, if Shibusawa was entirely unconcerned.
As Shibusawa's chair swung into the roadway he drew back the curtain and
looked out at the excited throng. There was one who stood, amid all this
noise, with a strained, eager expression. It was Kinsan; and Shibusawa,
looking straight into her face, without offering to recognise her,
closed the curtain and continued his way. Probably she knew as well as
he that the least sign of recognition on his part might, if detected,
bring horrible punishment, or even death to her. Possibly she believed
him cruel. Whatever her thoughts may have been, she felt crushed and
forlorn. She knew now that it was only too true; that her heart was
broken and her life for ever shadowed.
Kinsan had gone there again to determine if possible the truth or
falsity of her former conviction. Without any consciousness she had done
her hair in the prettiest fashion and dressed in her very best kimono,
and so anxious was she that before the sun had barely risen she began
planning to go. The fresh air and the excitement brought the colour to
her cheeks, and when Tetsutaisho chanced to pass her, on his way to wish
Takara a safe journey and a speedy return, he stopped and spoke to her
and chided her for being so far from home. She made no answer, but his
kindly attention lingered on her mind, and possibly she may have
contrasted this with Shibusawa's greeting.
However, Kinsan was not so ready to heed the one or condemn the other,
and with a determination stronger than ever she proceeded on her way
home. She had not gone far, though, before she was overtaken by
Tetsutaisho, who hastened to her and said:
"Which way are you going now, my pretty young lady?"
Kinsan started at the sound of his voice, and when she turned about and
saw who it was, she blushed deeply, then grew pale. She made no
immediate answer, but stood debating in her own mind what she had best
do; and as she made no offer to move he became emboldened, and, coming
closer, began to talk in a confidential manner:
"Come, my sweet little girl, come with me and sit in the shade over
there, where it is quiet and out of reach of the curious."
"I thank you, honourable sir, I am on the way to my house and I wish not
to delay, for that would be improper. Please, sir, excuse me--my mother
has said nothing about this proposal."
"But," said he, "I will pay the mother. I will double and treble the
price. Come with me now. My bungalow is large and you shall share the
privileged mat. I am rich and my station is high. I will free your
father and mother from all their debts and make them comfortable and
happy. Come, now; what more can be done? Is not all this worth the
while?"
Kinsan listened to all he said. She measured well his proposals and
thought of the ease and comfort it would bring to her parents.
She also remembered that look of Shibusawa's and how her heart had
failed her; and then her love for him began to reassert itself, and she
turned upon her enticer and scorned him, and without saying another word
walked rapidly away.
After Shibusawa had so coldly turned from Kinsan, while passing through
the gate and into the roadway, he sank back in his chair, stunned and
fearful. The shock had overcome him, and he did not recover until he had
gone far beyond her reach. It was only a glance, yet he now appreciated
the force with which that must have stricken Kinsan. While, as he well
knew, there could have been no escaping the consequences of an overt
act, nevertheless, had he done no more he might in some way have sought
Kinsan and explained to her the true circumstances of his situation. And
now that he had not done so, and fully realised the sad mistake, it was
only with much self-control that he held himself from attempting to
return to her.
Nothing further marked his progress, and the visit at Kyoto was a great
success in spite of Shibusawa's preoccupied state of mind. His reserve
gave him an air of dignity and charm of manner that surprised and
pleased the too much coddled mikado, who could not help admiring the
young man's strong, athletic build and evenly balanced temperament. Here
at last was one who frowned upon frivolity and seemed to exemplify real
manhood; who aimed at something above sordid pleasure.
Takara, too, was proud of her husband, and had already begun to look up
to him and to feel the force of his character. Yet something she had
hoped and longed for was missing. All her maiden life she had dreamed of
this one sweet satisfying thing, and it was still an unrealised thought.
They did not remain at Kyoto longer than etiquette required, though in
that time Shibusawa saw something of the life and manners at the royal
abode. He came in contact with not only the immediate members of the
family but some of the mikado's most intimate advisers and a multitude
of his well-paid admirers, and therefrom formed some notion of the
prodigality if not unwisdom of such a duplicity of government. Returning
they went by way of Kanazawa, where Takara was very much impressed with
the magnificence of her father-in-law's estates, the prospective seat of
her husband's future empire.
"Oh, what a beautiful place, and such a grand scene!" said she, with
rapture, as they approached the family mansion at the summit of the
hill. "And the lovely breeze, and the stately pines, and all the
beautiful things which Kami has given us--here you will be my lover, and
I, oh, how I shall love you! Yes, I will love you, love you, oh, so
much!"
Shibusawa did not answer, but for the first time recognised her full
nature, and presaged the consequence of his failure. Nor did he venture
to speak and in some measure unfold the true state of his feelings until
the day before their final departure for Tokyo. She had waited for him
and longed for him, and now somewhat of despair if not disgust had taken
hold of her. They were sitting side by side on the matted floor, and
from the open side could see afar over the wind-tossed deep or out at
the timbered hills looming in the background.
"Takara," said he, after a long silence, "you are a patient, noble
woman. You deserve a better appreciation than I can give you. Our
connection is the result of a false tradition, a perverted truth.
Ambition is the sponsor and necessity the maker of this cruel situation,
and in order that we may not suffer therefrom let us be wise."
With the first sound of Shibusawa's voice Takara brightened with
encouragement, but as he proceeded her ardour cooled; and when she came
to measure him in the light of a starved sensibility there dawned upon
her a full appreciation of their true relation, though she did not
hasten to answer nor did she shrink in the least from him. She only sat
toying with a loose obi (sash); finally it occurred to her to speak, and
she said with a sigh:
"Shibusawa, you just now made me happy, when for the first time you
spoke my name. Though only a short happiness, it momentarily filled me
with the pride that comes not of unchaste wedlock. It would have
satisfied me to feel that you knew this if nothing more. It is a little
thing, yet a priceless jewel in the crown of perfect womanhood. This
privilege is denied me and a more convenient one granted. Sorrow is my
reward; wisdom could have served me no worse."
Nothing further was said to mar the pleasure of their visit at Kanazawa
or the remainder of the journey, and when they had safely arrived at
Tokyo they found themselves in a mood to enjoy a brief interval of rest
before the giving of the grand final entertainment. This sumptuous
affair was supposed to be given under the immediate auspices of the
contracting parties themselves, but in this case it had been made the
special business of the redoubtable Ikamon. And so well did he manage
that Maido indulged a lavish generosity, and even the shogun expressed a
sincere appreciation. Invitations had been issued to all of the shogun's
court and the royal court, and to such of the nobility as were in
sympathy or could in any manner be accounted influential or desirable.
An effort was made to bring together all the dignitaries and supporters
of state as well as the beauty and fashion of the land; to inaugurate a
better understanding between the two parties and bring as far as
possible the malcontented literati under the influence of the shogun;
and, of course, incidentally, to advance Ikamon and his friends wherever
and whenever convenient.
The night of July 7th had been set for the festivities, and when that
evening came the grounds were resplendent with lighted lanterns and the
banquet halls were festooned with vine and blossom. The beautiful
foliage, the brilliant lights, the fragrant flowers, the lacquered
walls, the spotless floors, the embroidered screens, the simple
ornaments, all combined to make a scene of beauty and inspire a hearty
good will.
The feast had employed the highest art and the ransacking of every
market for rare foods and choice viands. The delicate cooking and
exquisite flavouring proclaimed the finest culinary art, while the mild
tea and rich liquor evinced an exactness of curing and perfection of
brewing that might well rank Maido's workers and artisans in the highest
class of perfection. The dinner in its almost endless round of courses
represented the very acme of human endeavour, tastes, and desires
covering an unbroken period of over a thousand years of polite and civil
life, and might well be the joy of a people who in the nicety of its
conception and the beauty of its creation stands for all time as a model
to the world.
A thousand dancing girls, with embroidered gowns, reeled hither and
thither over the noiseless floor, tripping time to strangely harmonious
and sweet-sounding instruments, while the guests mingled and the feast
progressed. The hour was neither early nor late. The night was warm. Not
a leaf stirred. No sound rose from without. Then suddenly there came the
cannon's roar, a blinding flash. The startled throng sprang up and
stared blankly.
"It is Hoti, god of good will, brandishing his heavenly sword and
beating the mighty drum, Sekegakara," they cried in one accord, as they
recovered, and ran from one to another, talking and laughing the event
away. "How silly to take fright! Let us be merry! Now and for ever!"
rang out, sounding anew the dash of pomp, the march of joy.
Then again and again the threatening voice broke upon the still air,
telling them that a new agency, the force of a friendly foe, was at
their door, bidding them hearken. With each discharge their fears grew,
until bitterness and hate burst forth in determinate unison:
"Foreign devil!"
It was all they could say; it was enough. Yet in all that excitement
there were two who more than others controlled their emotions, and set
about calmly to dissuade hasty and ill-advised action. From the firing
of Commodore Perry's first shot Ikamon divined its certain meaning; and
before the old _Susquehanna_ had ceased sounding her notes of warning he
had begun to evolve a plan for his own aggrandisement. Therefore, while
others fell upon one another in loud appeals to the gods, he moved
quietly among them, foretelling the true character of the strange
visitation. It was quite different, however, with Tetsutaisho, for at
the first sound of firing he fell upon his knees in the midst of a
coterie of admirers, and between gesticulating with his arms and beating
his head upon the floor prayed first to one god, then another, to drive
away the unforeseen and save them from an untimely end. Whether it be
earthquake or "foreign devil" mattered not to him so long as their women
be spared and their honour maintained, though when understanding finally
dawned he suddenly changed face and began strutting around in a boastful
manner, vowing the enemy all sorts of speedy overthrowings and fatal
exterminations.
Between Ikamon's expounding and Tetsutaisho's boasting there was left
little place for speculation, yet there was one, young as he was, who
gave himself over to calm reason. Shibusawa not only judged, but
observed as well. Before the conclusion of the first salute from the
little squadron in the harbour he had realised that the spirit of the
entertainment was broken; and before the last began, saw that the guests
were departing, some politely though all in haste. The few who had the
right were hastening to the citadel, while others sought elsewhere the
most advantageous points of observation; therefore Shibusawa embraced
the earliest opportunity to withdraw, and retired directly to his own
rooms.
From the lower side of his chamber he could see out across the harbour
to where the strange vessels were being placed at anchor. The grey hulls
of the little squadron lay broadside to the city, and their long rows of
mysterious lights shone brightly against the dark background. Rumour had
pictured these castles of the deep, though few in this sacred land had
known or seen them in reality. The sight was an inspiring one, and when
the final salute began Shibusawa's spirit rose, and as volley after
volley rang out against the still, cool air of night his patriotism
stirred him to grand, uplifting thoughts. Here at last was a force
unknown to them; a power beyond their comprehension; a god to be
reckoned with.
He did not stand there long, but in that time fully resolved what he
himself should do. It was a moment for serious thought, and in it there
came to him a world of possibilities. There was no need for him in the
council chamber; he had not yet assumed the responsibilities of state.
His place in the family was that of a makeshift, and his true voice
unheeded. Why not go out into the world and there gain that knowledge
which would satisfy his thirst and possibly in some measure enable him
to preserve the happiness of his own people? Yes; here was an
opportunity; he must go, he would go, come what might.
And then he thought of Kinsan. Would she understand him? He must see
her, and explain. He would reassure her, and gain her consent. Then, and
not until then, there would be no obstacle in the way of his highest
ambition. But how could he reach her? and would she hear him?
"Ah," said he, to himself, "I have it. She will be at the cave;--she is
there now;--it is her only lookout, and she too may have seen this
beautiful sight. The whole place is roused, and by this time on the
move. If my ears serve me right, even the shogun is trying to make his
way to the citadel! I shall have no trouble about entering at the gate,
and will find her. I must go."
His mind once made up he lost no time, but made ready and hurried away.
Outside the castle grounds he found everything in confusion; a few
lingered in front, others tramped up and down, some going, some coming,
and all were in a state of feverish anxiety. At times almost an
uncontrollable impulse to join in with the rest took hold of him, yet he
did not yield but kept steadfastly to his purpose.
Shibusawa soon arrived at the cave, but to his dismay found it
unoccupied. He sat down, and pondered. Presently he looked out over the
vast expanse of tiled and thatched roof, and as his eyes lingered he
comprehended the full measure of its content. There was at their door a
force which proclaimed a greater, a grander civilisation, and could he
but reach the seat of its activities he might know and determine its
character. But was such a thing possible? He knew of no means; not even
whence they came or what were their necessities. Yet those monsters of
the deep must hail from somewhere, and could he but put himself on board
without detection he would be carried thither. Whether they possessed a
like means of subsistence he did not know; tradition did not tell him
that, but he did know that the sea and the air contained food such as he
required, and so long as they did not go beyond these he felt reasonably
sure of being able to provide for himself. His very finger tips tingled
with expectation--but Kinsan arose in his mind and he half whispered:
"No, I cannot, must not go without first seeing her. It is my duty, her
right."
Presently he started off and, not knowing just where to go,
unconsciously turned toward Kinsan's house, opposite to whence he came.
A flight of less than a half dozen steps led down a small declivity, and
when he had nearly reached the bottom he almost stumbled upon Kinsan,
who lay, with her hands folded, crouching upon the lower step. He
stooped quietly over her and whispered, "Kinsan," but she did not answer
him.
"She is sleeping," thought he, "and I will sit here at her side until
she has awakened. The pause will give me time to choose the words, and
her presence the courage to speak."
The warm breeze fanned and soothed, and the still, clear night inspired
him. His mind ran on and out until transported into boundless fancy. The
earth, the sun, the moon, and the stars were not of his world. All were
in the great abyss beyond. He spoke, saying:
"Where?"
A voice answered:
"At my side."
He said:
"At the side of whom?"
The voice said:
"Love."
He looked. The darkness disappeared, and a flood of light streamed
around them and away into limitless space. He said:
"I have found the Light."
And she whispered:
"You are my god."
Kinsan had arisen, and together they walked into the cave, and there sat
and looked and talked and reasoned for a long time.
Not so very long before Shibusawa's arrival at the cave a mysterious
voice had called Kinsan, and she had gone there, kneeling at the stone
steps as she had knelt and prayed since their last meeting. From that
time she had not entered the enclosure, but held it as a place sacred
even to her. It was the throne upon which sat her love, her life, her
god. There she could not enter, but at his feet she was wont to kneel
and pray that he be saved, that the light return, and that he proclaim
her his own, his goddess love.
It was long after midnight when Shibusawa and Kinsan fully understood
each other and again pledged their faith and vowed their never-ending
love: when the stars witnessed their seal, and they parted and went
according to their destined way.