The departure of the Saigû, the daughter of the Lady of Rokjiâ, for her destination in the Temple of Ise, which was postponed from time to time, owing to different circumstances, was at length arranged to take place in September. This definite arrangement delighted the Saigû, to whom the uncertainty of the event had been somewhat tiresome. Her mother also made up her mind to accompany her to the temple. Although there was no precedent for the mother of the Saigû accompanying her daughter, this lady made up her mind to do so, because she would not allow her young daughter to go alone.
In a suburban field the “field palace” was built.1 It was of wood, and surrounded by a fence of newly cut branches of trees. In front stood a huge torii2 of logs, and within the compound were the quarters of the Kandzkasa.3 Here the Saigû took up her residence, where her mother also accompanied her. When the sixteenth of September, which was fixed for the departure, arrived, the ceremony of her last consecration was duly performed on the banks of the River Katzra, whence the sacred virgin went to the Imperial Palace to have the farewell audience with the Emperor. She was accompanied by her mother. The father of the latter had been a great personage of State, and she had been married to a Royal Prince at sixteen, when there had been every possibility of her coming to the Court in a position far superior to what she now enjoyed. She was, however, bereaved of him at the age of twenty; and now at thirty she comes to take leave at her departure for a far-off province with her only daughter. The Saigû was about fourteen years of age, was extremely delicate and fair to look upon, and when presented to the Emperor he was struck by the charms of her youthful appearance.
Numerous carriages were ranged at the front of eight State departments to see her off in state, besides many others along the road, full of spectators.
Late in the afternoon her party left the palace, and turned away from Nijiâ round to the highway of Tâin, and passed by the mansion of Genji, who witnessed their passing, and sent the following to the lady-mother with a twig of Sakaki (divine tree):—
“Bravely you quit this scene, 'tis true;
But though you dauntless fly so far,
Your sleeve may yet be wet with dew,
Before you cross Suzukah.”4
The answer to this was sent to him from beyond the barrier of Ausaka (meeting-path) in the following form:—
“Whether my sleeve be wet or not,
In the waters of the Suzukah,
Who will care? Too soon forgot
Will Ise be that lies so far.”
And thus the Lady of Rokjiâ and her daughter disappear for some time from our scenes in the capital.
It was about this time that the ex-Emperor was indisposed for some time, and in October his state became precarious. The anxiety of the public was general, and the Emperor went to visit him. Notwithstanding his weakness, the former gave him every injunction, first about the Heir-apparent, then about Genji, and said:—
“Regard him as your adviser, both in large and small matters, without reserve, and not otherwise than if I were still alive. He is not incapable of sharing in the administration of public affairs, notwithstanding his youth. He has a physiognomy which argues great qualities, and for this reason, I made him remain in an ordinary position, without creating him a Royal Prince, with the object that he should be able to take part in public affairs. Do not misconstrue these ideas.”
There were some more injunctions given of like nature relating to public matters, and the Emperor sorrowfully and repeatedly assured him that he would not neglect them. Such, however, are not subjects which we women are supposed to understand, and even thus much that I have mentioned is given not without some apprehension.
A few days after the visit of the Emperor the Heir-apparent was brought before his dying father. There had been some idea that he should be brought on the day when the Emperor paid his visit, but it was postponed to avoid any possible confusion. The boy Prince was apparently more pleased at seeing his father than concerned at his illness. To him the ex-Emperor told many things, but he was too young to heed them. Genji was also present, and the ex-Emperor explained to him in what way he should serve the Government, and how he should look after this young Prince. When their interview concluded it was already merging towards the evening, and the young Prince returned to the palace.
The Royal mother of the reigning Emperor (formerly Kokiden-Niogo) would also have visited the ex-Emperor but for her repugnance to encounter the Princess Wistaria, who never left his side.
In the course of a few days the strength of the Emperor began to decline, and at last he quietly and peacefully passed away.
And now the Court went into general mourning, and Genji, being one of the principal mourners, put on a dress of Wistaria cloth;5 so frequently did misfortune fall on him in the course of a few years, and his cares became really great.
The funeral and the weekly requiems were performed with all due pomp and ceremony, and when the forty-ninth day had passed, all the private household of his late majesty dispersed in the midst of the dreary weather of the latter part of December to their own homes; the Princess Wistaria retiring to her own residence in Sanjiâ, accompanied by her brother, Prince Hiâbkiâ.
True, it is that his late Majesty had been for some time off the throne, but his authority had by no means diminished on that account. But his death now altered the state of things, and the ascendancy of the family of Udaijin became assured. The people in general entertained great fear that infelicitous changes would take place in public affairs, and among these Genji and the Princess Wistaria were the most disturbed by such anxieties.
The new year came in, but nothing joyful or exciting accompanied its presence—the world was still.
Genji kept himself to his mansion. In those days, when his father was still in power, his courtyard was filled with the carriages of visitors, especially when the days of the appointments were approaching; but now this was changed, and his household secretaries had but little to occupy them.