EXILE 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 there 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
never have permitted such sort of people to approach him, but under
the present circumstances of his life he was only too glad 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
Nin-wô-ye[118] 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
bedchamber.
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, "Embark at once in a boat, as the God
of Sumiyoshi[119] guides you, and leave this 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 haste 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 realize 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 some time 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 new comers. Thereupon the latter went to the boat,
thinking as he went, "How could 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 ceased, 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 of the 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 one's self makes one happier," besides, his
father had also enjoined him in the dream to leave the coast of Suma,
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 in solitude, receiving scarcely any visits
from friends in the capital, the only thing I have to regard as
friends of old 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 attendants. The same wind which had miraculously blown
the vessel of the priest to Suma now changed, and carried them with
equal favor 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 Suma, 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 plantations of trees, the shrubberies, the
rock-work, 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 the daughter of the priest were not residing here, but
were at another mansion on the hill-side, where they had removed from
fear of the recent high tides.
Genji now took up his quarters with the priest in this 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 latter, from his age and 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 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 Awaji floated like
foam on its face, just as it appeared to do at Suma. Genji took out
his favorite _kin_, on which he had not practised for some time, and
was playing an air called "Kôriô," when the priest joined him, having
left for awhile 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 _biwa_ (mandolin)[120] and a _soh-koto_ from the hill-side
mansion, and, after the fashion of a blind singer of ballads to the
_biwa_, played two or three airs.
He then handed the _soh-koto_ 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 Yenghi, 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
learnt to imitate them so well that they resemble those of the Emperor
Yenghi 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 proficients," and continued, "From olden time the
_soh-koto_ 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 skilful 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 _biwa_ very well. The _biwa_ 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
God Sumiyoshi on our daughter, and we have sent her twice a year, in
spring and autumn, to his temple. At the 'six-time' service,[121]
also, the prayers for my own repose on the lotus flower,[122] 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 hill-side 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 hill-side 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 Nijio
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 hill-side mansion
less often. His leisure hours were spent in sketching, as he used to
do in Suma, and writing short poetic effusions explanatory of the
scenery. This was also going on in the mansion at Nijio, where Violet
passed the 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 honors 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 favor of the Heir-apparent, the
child of the Princess Wistaria. 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 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 hill-side 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 Horai performed. To the temple of Sumiyoshi he sent a
messenger to say that the haste of his journey prevented him coming at
this 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
Nijiô. 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 honors were restored
to him, and he was soon created an extra Vice-Dainagon.
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 latter 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.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 118: A religious feast in the Imperial Palace, in which
Nin-wô-kiô, one of the Buddhist Bibles, was read, an event which
rarely took place. Its object was to tranquillize the country.]
[Footnote 119: The god of the sea.]
[Footnote 120: The "biwa," more than any other instrument, is played
by blind performers, who accompany it with ballads.]
[Footnote 121: The services performed by rigid priests were six times
daily--namely, at early morn, mid-day, sunset, early evening,
midnight, and after midnight.]
[Footnote 122: The Buddhist idea that when we get into Paradise we
take our seat upon the lotus flower.]