The Curse of Koshiu: A Chronicle of Old Japan. Wingfield Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ what a cycle is this; what a hard and rugged stage in the long journey! What are we to think, when injustice rules paramount? – when we see in this life how many are punished for their virtues, as a set-off to the peculiar manner in which others are rewarded for their vices?

      On a certain morning, which must now occupy us, our stately lily was lying disconsolate. Acutely suffering, and much perturbed in mind, power of judging and weighing all agog, O'Tei crouched on the mat of her favourite summer-house, watching the swaying waves, yet seeing nothing; on her finely-chiselled features a grey pallor.

      As a rule, the misery through which her bearers carried her was chary of complaint, for the poor folk had room in their sorrowing hearts for pity for their solitary lady; but on this morning she had come on such a scene of anguish that she stopped her kago and alighted. The housewife was tearing her dishevelled hair, and wringing hands, and writhing her tortured body, while a young family stood grouped around in varied attitudes of woe. What could this mean? The house was of the better kind; there was rice in the brazen pot; unless she was mistaken, it was the dwelling of one of the elders.

      Yes. It was the dwelling of an elder-was-who never would dwell there more-was dead now, probably. He had dared to go to Kiŷoto, and make one of a set of insolent varlets who had presumed to waylay their lord, despite of warnings, and, with brow in dust, present a written prayer. His lord had resented the impertinence, had incarcerated him and his audacious fellows, with a view to making an example of such wretches by an end of exquisite torment. For him it was not so bad, for he would shuffle out of yet another life-one more of that dreary series so many of which have yet to be endured before we reach Nirvana. But what of his wife and family without the breadwinner? Like a faithful spouse, she had borne many children; how now was she to fill their mouths? Would the dear and noble lady vouchsafe to lend a hand, and implore her husband's clemency?

      O'Tei turned deathly pale, and, catching her breath painfully, leant against the screen. She would indeed have fallen, if one of the kago-bearers had not presumed to catch and hold her in his arms. Her lord! How long was it ago that she had disdainfully given up all hope of influencing him? She was weak and wrong. It was a crime-she saw it now-but too late-too late! That separating thicket had grown so dense, that there was no hewing a passage through it. If the harrowed wife of the victim was suffering, how much more the sensitive young chatelaine, whose nerves were so highly strung! The man, if he perished, was a martyr in the cause of right. Each new delinquency of the Hojo was a fresh hammer-stroke on his wife's heart.

      Out of his sight, O'Tei strove to forget his wickedness, the full measure of which she had learned to guess by this time. On her frequent visits to the temple she prayed with sweat of agony for his reformation, for the repentance of him who, alas! was bone of her bone for life. She was his-part and parcel of himself-and yet she saw, with a sickening horror and sense of self-upbraiding, that he grew worse and worse-more cruel and more reckless, – while she, with folded hands, looked on. In a vague, terror-stricken way she wondered what grisly phantom lurked behind the veil, what vengeance would fall from heaven. And might not this moral descent be in some sort her own doing, in that, while interference might have been of service, she had been too hurt and proud to attempt to stay his course? If he had no conscience, she had enough for both. Oh, for a dose of Tomoyé's spirit, – of the unbending pluck of the militant grandam concerning whom the samurai were always trolling ditties.

      But no! – the warriors were right-she unfitted for her station. Her burthen-the sooner the better-might crush and kill her. She quailed at the thought of ever seeing again the tyrant in whom there were no bowels of compassion, and who seemed to take delight in augmenting the calamities of his fellows.

      Herself as grey as a corpse, she bent down and kissed the writhing woman, and without a word (how could she console her?), with parched lips and catching breath, swung away to her garden on the mountain. What was she to do? What could she do? If, by giving over her own tender body to the pincers of the torturers, she could assuage the growing trouble of the people, how gladly would she bare her breast. But no-she was condemned to sit and watch, with idle hands and dread forebodings, a horror-stricken spectator of her husband's deepening sin, and the lingering anguish of his victims.

      What was she to do? What could she do? If madness might be wooed, it would bring oblivion and relief. Who would have thought that a delicate and tender girl, so little used to suffering, could bear such pain and live? As she lay upon the mat, she revolved that unanswerable question which worries a good many of us. What could she have done in a previous phase of existence to make the present one so exceedingly painful? To lie thus in dumb pain was intolerable: action of some kind was imperative. She would go to the temple and pray, and ask the advice of Masago.

      Turning towards the other hill, she was astonished to see on the top of the long flight of steps a man-by his dress apparently a noble-who slowly descended, and mounting a horse, trotted in the direction of the summer-house. Her heart gave a great bound, then seemed to stand still. Could it be? Yes! it was Sampei-returned home at last-and he was coming here!

      Yes, it was the victorious Sampei, who, having duly visited his mother, was coming to see his sister. For she was really his sister now; and he had heard from the Abbess an account of the condition of things, which, though guarded, pleased him little. When far away, he had received the news of the marriage, he had been amazed, and laughed; annoyed somewhat, he scarcely knew why. To think that the destined husband should be his own brother! And then he had felt grave doubts as to the success of the union; and then, light and débonnaire, and occupied with much cheerful splitting of skulls, he had put the subject from him. He was no marrying man-not he. His sword was his true love; to others he had not the smallest intention of being true. To cull the most fragrant flowers while the sun was shining-as many and as various as possible-and get others when they were faded, was his soldierly but scarcely moral code of ethics. And yet, while gaily slaughtering the Coreans, he had time now and then to hope that all was right at home, and that his white fawn was happy; and it was gruesome now on his return to discover that she was wretched instead of happy, – his half-suspected previsions justified.

      He flung his bridle to his betto, and striding with the firm and springy step of buoyant youth through the plantation of cherries and maples, stood still to take in the scene. And a pretty picture it was that his vision lighted on. An awning of fine blue linen, broidered with deer, in memory of beloved Nara, cast a shadow upon the mats of the summer-house, which were further shaded by a natural cascade of wisteria. Around the raised platform were tall camellias in full blow, scarlet and white; and within, the carved but unvarnished woodwork showed its grain like the pattern on watered silk. A low gilt screen, painted with chrysanthemums, divided the floor in two, in the front part of which was a firebox in finest bronze, representing a dragon coiled round a blossom of the lotus. A long flat koto, with thirteen strings, encrusted with gold and ebony, stood close by; and on the yellow matting, half raised expectantly, reclined the young mistress of the hermitage. The eyes of Sampei moistened with unaccustomed tears, and a knot rose in his throat as he contemplated his old ally. She was matured-fairer than of yore, paler and thinner, and more delicately beautiful; but there was that about her that seemed too ethereal, stamped with predestined misfortune. He seemed to be aware of a something, reflected in light from the glow of another world. The roundness of youth was gone. The arch wayward tricks of irresponsible maidenhood had given place to a reserved and haughty dignity that was unnaturally still. The eyes were unduly large, and, surrounded with bistre circles, glistened with feverish lustre. Sampei's affectionate gaze could mark all this, though the winsome face was brightened now with the radiance of a glad surprise.

      Sampei, bluff and careless though he generally was, could not but trace with sinking of the heart the line of precocious sorrow ploughed large and deep upon it. The coils of massive hair appeared heavier and more sombre by contrast with the ivory whiteness of the skin, slightly relieved as they were by a bunch of fresh red blossoms, which the loving hand of a tirewoman had tucked under the comb.

      In accordance with the exigencies of her rank, she wore СКАЧАТЬ