OVERGROWN MUGWORT
When Genji was an exile on the sea-coast, many people had been longing
for his return. Among these was the Princess Hitachi. She was, as we
have seen, the survivor of his Royal father, and the kindness which
she had received from Genji was to her like the reflection of the
broad starlit sky in a basin of water. After Genji left the capital,
however, no correspondence ever passed between them. Several of her
servants left her, and her residence became more lonely than ever. A
fox might have found a covert in the overgrown shrubbery, and the cry
of the owl might have been heard among the thick branches. One might
imagine some mysterious "tree-spirit" to reign there. Nevertheless,
such grounds as these, surrounded with lofty trees, are more tempting
to those who desire to have a stylish dwelling. Hence there were
several Duriôs (local governors) who had become rich, and having
returned from different provinces, sounded the Princess to see if she
were inclined to part with her residence; but this she always refused
to do, saying that, however unfortunate she might be, she was not able
to give up a mansion inherited from her parents.
The mansion contained also a store of rare and antique articles.
Several fashionable persons endeavored to induce the Princess to part
with them; but such people appeared only contemptible to her, as she
looked upon them as proposing such a thing solely because they knew
she was poor. Her attendants sometimes suggested to her that it was by
no means an uncommon occurrence for one to dispose of such articles
when destiny necessitated the sacrifice; but her reply was that these
things had been handed down to her only that she might make use of
them, and that she would be violating the wishes of the dead if she
consented to part with them, allowing them to become the ornament of
the dwellings of some lowborn upstarts.
Scarcely anyone paid a visit to her dwelling, her only occasional
visitor being her brother, a priest, who came to see her when he came
to the capital, but he was a man of eccentric character, and was not
very flourishing in his circumstances.
Such being the state of affairs with the Princess Hitachi, the grounds
of her mansion became more and more desolate and wild, the mugwort
growing so tall that it reached the veranda. The surrounding walls of
massive earth broke down here and there and crumbled away, being
trampled over by wandering cattle. In spring and summer boys would
sometimes play there. In the autumn a gale blew down a corridor, and
carried away part of the shingle roof. Only one blessing remained
there--no thief intruded into the enclosure, as no temptation was
offered to them for their attack.
But never did the Princess lose her accustomed reserve, which her
parents had instilled into her mind. Society for her had no
attractions. She solaced the hours of her loneliness by looking over
ancient story-books and poems, which were stored in the old
bookshelves, such as the Karamori, Hakoya-no-toji, or Kakya-hime.
These, with their illustrations, were her chief resources.
Now a sister of the Princess's mother had married a Duriô, and had
already borne him a daughter. This marriage had been considered an
unequal match by the father of the Princess, and for this reason she
was not very friendly with the family. Jijiû, however, who was a
daughter of the Princess's nurse, and who still remained with the
Princess, used to go to her. This aunt was influenced by a secret
feeling of spite, and when Jijiû visited her she often whispered to
her many things which did not become her as a lady. It seems to me
that where a lady of ordinary degree is elevated to a higher position,
she often acquires a refinement like one originally belonging to it;
but there are other women, who when degraded from their rank spoil
their taste and habits just like the lady in question. She fondly
hoped to revenge herself for having been formerly looked down upon, by
showing an apparent kindness to the Princess Hitachi, and by wishing
to take her into her home, and make her wait upon her daughters. With
this view she told Jijiu to tell her mistress to come to her, and
Jijiu did so; but the Princess did not comply with this request.
In the meantime the lady's husband was appointed Daini (Senior
Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant), and they were to go down to Tzkushi
(modern Kiusiu). She wished to take the Princess with her, and told
her that she felt sorry to go to such a far-off locality, leaving her
in her present circumstances; but the latter still unhesitatingly
replied in the negative, and declined the offer; whereupon her aunt
tauntingly remarked that she was too proud, and that, however exalted
she might think herself, no one, not even Genji, would show her any
further attention.
About this time Genji returned, but for some while she heard nothing
from him, and only the public rejoicing of many people, and the news
about him from the outside world reached her ears. This gave her aunt
a further opportunity of repeating the same taunts. She said, "See now
who cares for you in your present circumstances. It is not
praiseworthy to display such self-importance as you did in the
lifetime of your father." And again she pressed her to go with her,
but the Princess still clung to the hope that the time would come when
Genji would remember her and renew his kindness.
Winter came! One day, quite unexpectedly, the aunt arrived at the
mansion, bringing as a present a dress for the Princess. Her carriage
dashed into the garden in a most pompous style, and drove right up to
the southern front of the building. Jijiu went to meet her, and
conducted her into the Princess's apartment.
"I must soon be leaving the capital," said the visitor. "It is not my
wish to leave you behind, but you would not listen to me, and now
there is no help. But this one, this Jijiu at least, I wish to take
with me. I have come to-day to fetch her. I cannot understand how you
can be content with your present condition."
Here she manifested a certain sadness, but her delight at her
husband's promotion was unmistakable, and she continued:--
"When your father was alive, I was looked down upon by him, which
caused a coolness between us. But nevertheless I at no time
entertained any ill-will towards you, only you were much favored by
Prince Genji, as I heard, which made me abstain from visiting you
often; but fortune is fickle, for those in a humble position often
enjoy comfort, and those that are higher in station are not quite so
well circumstanced. I do really feel sorry to leave you behind."
The Princess said very little, but her answer was, "I really thank you
for your kind attention, but I do not think I am now fit to move about
in the world. I shall be quite happy to bury myself under this roof."
"Well, you may think so, but it is simply foolish to abandon one's
self, and to bury one's life under such a mass of dilapidation. Had
Prince Genji been kind enough to repair the place, it might have
become transformed into a golden palace, and how joyous would it not
be? but this you cannot expect. As far as I am informed the daughter
of Prince Hiob-Kio is the only favorite of the Prince, and no one else
shares his attention, all his old favorites being now abandoned. How,
then, can you expect him to say that, because you have been faithful
to him, he will therefore come to you again?"
These words touched the Princess, but she gave no vent to her
feelings. The visitor, therefore, hurried Jijiu to get ready, saying
that they must leave before the dusk.
"When I hear what the lady says," said Jijiu, "it sounds to me very
reasonable; but when I see how anxious the Princess is, that also
seems natural. Thus I am puzzled between the two. Let me, however, say
this, I will only see the lady off to-day."
Nevertheless, the Princess foresaw that Jijiu was going to leave her,
and she thought of giving her some souvenir. Her own dress was not to
be thought of, as it was too old; fortunately she had a long tress of
false hair, about nine feet long, made of the hair which had fallen
from her own head. This she put into an old casket, and gave it to
Jijiu, with a jar of rare perfume.
Jijiu had been an attendant on the Princess for a very long time,
besides, her mother (the nurse), before she died, told the Princess
and her daughter that she hoped they might be long together; so the
parting with Jijiu was very trying to the Princess who said to her
that though she could not blame her for leaving, she still felt sorry
to lose her. To this Jijiu replied, that she never forgot the wishes
of her mother, and was only too happy to share joy and sorrow with the
Princess; yet she was sorry to say that circumstances obliged her to
leave her for some time; but before she could say much, she was
hurried away by the visitor.
It was one evening in April of the following year that Genji happened
to be going to the villa of "the falling flowers," and passed by the
mansion of the Princess. There was in the garden a large pine-tree,
from whose branches the beautiful clusters of a wistaria hung in rich
profusion. A sigh of the evening breeze shook them as they hung in the
silver moonlight, and scattered their rich fragrance towards the
wayfarer. There was also a weeping willow close by, whose pensile
tresses of new verdure touched the half-broken walls of earth
underneath.
When Genji beheld this beautiful scene from his carriage, he at once
remembered it was a place he had seen before. He stopped his carriage,
and said to Koremitz, who was with him as usual--
"Is this not the mansion of the Princess Hitachi?"
"Yes, it is," replied Koremitz.
"Do ask if she is still here," said Genji; "this is a good chance; I
will see her if she is at home--ask!"
Koremitz entered, and proceeding to the door, called out. An old woman
from the inside demanded to know who he was. Koremitz announced
himself, and asked if Jijiû was within. The old women replied that she
was not, but that she herself was the same as Jijiû.
Koremitz recognized her as an aunt of the latter. He then asked her
about the Princess, and told her of Genji's intention. To his
inquiries he soon obtained a satisfactory answer, and duly reported it
to Genji, who now felt a pang of remorse for his long negligence of
one so badly circumstanced. He descended from his carriage, but the
pathway was all but overgrown with tall mugwort, which was wet with a
passing shower; so Koremitz whisked them with his whip, and led him
in.
Inside, meanwhile, the Princess, though she felt very pleased,
experienced a feeling of shyness. Her aunt, it will be remembered, had
presented her with a suitable dress, which she had hitherto had no
pleasure in wearing, and had kept it in a box which had originally
contained perfume. She now took this out and put it on. Genji was
presently shown into the room.
"It is a long time since I saw you last," said Genji, "but still I
have never forgotten you, only I heard nothing from you; so I waited
till now, and here I find myself once more."
The Princess, as usual, said very little, only thanking him for his
visit. He then addressed her in many kind and affectionate words, many
of which he might not really have meant, and after a considerable stay
he at last took his departure.
This was about the time of the feast in the Temple of Kamo, and Genji
received several presents under various pretexts. He distributed these
presents among his friends, such as those in the villa of "the falling
flowers," and to the Princess. He also sent his servant to the mansion
of the latter to cut down the rampant mugwort, and he restored the
grounds to proper order. Moreover, he had a wooden enclosure placed
all round the garden.
So far as the world hitherto knew about Genji, he was supposed only to
cast his eyes on extraordinary and pre-eminent beauties; but we see in
him a very different character in the present instance. He showed so
much kindness to the Princess Hitachi, who was by no means
distinguished for her beauty, and who still bore a mark on her nose
which might remind one of a well-ripened fruit carried by
mountaineers. How was this? it might have been preordained to be so.
The Princess continued to live in the mansion for two years, and then
she removed to a part of a newly built "eastern mansion" belonging to
Genji, where she lived happily under the kind care of the Prince,
though he had much difficulty in coming often to see her. I would fain
describe the astonishment of her aunt when she returned from the
Western Island and saw the Princess's happy condition, and how Jijiu
regretted having left her too hastily; but my head is aching and my
fingers are tired, so I shall wait for some future opportunity when I
may again take up the thread of my story.