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"
textbooks 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little textbooks are now curiosities: they have long been superseded by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 today 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,
Umé, 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. Umé did not question the wisdom of her
sister's choice, which time proved fortunate.