The Royal visit to the Suzak-in was arranged to take place towards the middle of October, and was anticipated to be a grand affair. Ladies were not expected to take part in it, and they all regretted their not being able to be present.
The Emperor, therefore, wished to let his favorite, the Princess Wistaria, above others, have an opportunity of witnessing a rehearsal that would represent the coming fête, and ordered a preliminary concert to be performed at the Court, in which Genji danced the “Blue Main Waves,” with Tâ-no-Chiûjiâ for his partner. They stood and danced together, forming a most pleasing contrast—one, so to speak, like a bright flower; the other, an everlasting verdure beside it. The rays of the setting sun shone over their heads, and the tones of the music rose higher and higher in measure to their steps. The movements both of hand and foot were eminently graceful; as well, also, was the song of Genji, which was sung at the end of his dance, so that some of the people remarked that the sound of the holy bird, Kariâbinga,1 might be even like this. And so the rehearsal ended.
When the day of the fête came, all the Royal Princes, including the Heir-apparent, and all personages of State, were present at the scene. On the lake, “the music boat,” filled with selected musicians, floated about, as usual on such occasions; and in the grounds, the bands, which were divided into two divisions on the right and left, under the direction of two Ministers and two Yemon-no-Kami, played. With this music different dances, including Chinese and Corean, were performed, one after another, by various dancers. As the performance went on, the high winds rustled against the tall fir trees, as though Divine strains of music had broken forth on high in harmony with them. The tune of the bands became quick and thrilling, as different colored leaves whirled about overhead.
Then, at length, the hero of the “Blue Main Waves” made his appearance, to the delight of the suddenly startled spectators, from the midst of a knoll in the grounds, covered with maple leaves. The twigs of maple which crowned his head, became thinned as he danced, and a Sadaishiâ, plucking a bunch of chrysanthemums from in front of the Royal stand, replaced the lessened maple leaves. The sun was by this time descending, and the sky had become less glaring, while the face of Nature seemed as if it were smiling on the scene. Genji danced with unusual skill and energy. All the pages and attendants, who were severally stationed here under the side of the rock, there under the shade of the foliage, were quite impressed with the effects of the performance.
After Genji, a little prince, the child of the Niogo of Jiâkiâden, danced the “Autumn Gales,” with a success next to that of Genji. Then, the principal interest of the day being over, as these dances were finished, the fête ended. This very evening Genji was invested with the title of Shâsammi, and Tâ-no-Chiûjiâ with that of Shâshii. Many other persons also received promotion in rank according to their merits.
It was after this fête that the young Violet was taken into the mansion of Genji at Nijiâ, and she lived with him. The more care he took of her the more amiable she became, while nothing pleased him more than teaching her to read and write.
The full extent of her mourning for her grandmother was three months, as it is for the maternal side; and on the last day of December her dress was changed. As she, however, had been always brought up under the care of her grandmother, her indebtedness to the latter was not to be held lightly; consequently any bright colors were not advisable for her, so she wore plain scarlet, mauve, and light yellow, without trimmings or ornament on them.
The dawn ushered in the New Year's day. Genji was about to leave his mansion to attend the New Year's levée . Just before starting, he came into Violet's room to see her.
“How are you? Are you becoming less childish now?” said he, with a smile to the girl who was playing with her Hina (toys).
“I am trying to mend this. Inuki damaged it when he was playing what he called ‘driving out devils,' ”2 replied the girl.
“What carelessness! I will soon get it mended for you. Don't cry this day, please,” said Genji, and he went off, the maidens who attended on Violet accompanying him to the door. This example was also followed by Violet herself.
She went back again to her toys, and presented a toy prince, whom she called Genji, at the Court of her toy house. Shiânagon was beside her. She said:—
“You might really be a little more womanly, as the Prince told you. How very childish! a girl older than ten always playing with toys!”
Violet said nothing; but she seemed, for the first time, to have become aware that she was expected to be a woman in the course of time.
From the Court, Genji went to the mansion of Sadaijin. Lady Aoi was as cool to him as ever. His persuasive eloquence availed him but little. She was older than Genji by four years, and was as cold and stately in her mien as ever. Her father, however, received him joyfully whenever he called, although he was not always satisfied with the capriciousness of his son-in-law.
The next morning Genji rose early, and was arranging his toilet, with a view of making his New Year's visits, when Sadaijin entered the room, and officiously assisted him in putting on his dress, except, perhaps, his boots. He, moreover, had brought him a belt mounted with rare jewels, and requested him to wear it.
Genji observed: “Such a belt is more suited for some special occasion—such as a Royal banquet, or the like.” But Sadaijin insisted on his putting it on, telling him that for that sort of occasion he possessed a much more valuable one.
These New Year's visits were only paid to the Emperor, to the Heir-apparent, and to the Princess Wistaria at her private residence in Sanjiâ, where she had retired, but she did not receive him personally. At this time, the Princess was not in her usual state of health, for she was approaching her confinement. Many people, who thought that they might have heard of the event in December, now began to say, “At least we shall receive the intelligence this month,” and the Emperor himself became impatient; but the month passed away, and yet it did not happen. In the middle of February, however, she was safely delivered of a Prince. During the following April the child was presented to the Emperor.3 He was rather big for his age, and had already begun to notice those around him.
In these days much of Genji's time was passed at Nijiâ with Violet, and Lady Aoi was still greatly neglected. The circumstances which induced him to stay at home more than ever were these: He would order his carriage to be brought in readiness to take him; but, before it was ready, he would proceed to the western wing, where Violet lived. Perhaps, with eyes drowsy after dozing, and playing on a flute as he went, he would find her moping on one side of the room, like a fair flower moistened with dews. He would then approach her side, and say, “How are you? Are you not well?” She, without being startled, would slowly open her eyes, and murmur: “Sad like the weed in a creek,” and then put her hand on her mouth deprecatingly. On this he would remark, “How knowing you are! Where did you learn such things?” He would then call for a koto , and saying “The worst of the soh-koto is that its middle chord should break so easily,” would arrange it for a Hiâjiâ tune, and when he had struck a few chords on it, would offer it to her, asking her to play, and would presently accompany her with his flute. They would then play some difficult air, perhaps Hosoroguseri, a very ugly name, but a very lively tune, and she would keep very good time, and display her skill. The lamp would be presently brought in, and they would look over some pictures together. In due time, the carriage would be announced. Perhaps it might be added, “It is coming on to rain.” Upon hearing this, she would, perhaps, put her pictures aside, and become downcast. He would then smooth her wavy hair, and say, “Are you sorry when I am not here?” To this question she would indicate her feelings by slightly nodding an affirmative, and she would lean on his knee and begin to doze.
He would then say, “I shall not go out to-night.” The servant having brought in supper, would tell her that Genji was not going out that evening. Then she would manifest the greatest delight, and would partake of the supper. And thus it came to pass that he often disappointed one who was expecting him.
The way that Genji neglected his bride gradually became known to the public—nay, to the Emperor himself, who sometimes admonished him, telling him that his father-in-law always took great interest in him and great care from his earliest childhood, and saying that he hoped that he would surely not forget all these benefits, and that it was strange to be unkind to his daughter. But when these remarks were made to Genji, he answered nothing.