Japanese Literature | Page 9

evening.
How painfully must these have sounded to the Emperor!
"Moonlight is gone, and darkness reigns E'en in the realms 'above the
clouds,' Ah! how can light, or tranquil peace, Shine o'er that lone and
lowly home!"
Thus thought the Emperor, and he did not retire until "the lamps were
trimmed to the end!" The sound of the night watch of the right

guard[15] was now heard. It was five o'clock in the morning. So, to
avoid notice, he withdrew to his bedroom, but calm slumber hardly
visited his eyes. This now became a common occurrence.
When he rose in the morning he would reflect on the time gone by
when "they knew not even that the casement was bright." But now, too,
he would neglect "Morning Court." His appetite failed him. The
delicacies of the so-called "great table" had no temptation for him. Men
pitied him much. "There must have been some divine mystery that
predetermined the course of their love," said they, "for in matters in
which she is concerned he is powerless to reason, and wisdom deserts
him. The welfare of the State ceases to interest him." And now people
actually began to quote instances that had occurred in a foreign Court.
Weeks and months had elapsed, and the son of Kiri-Tsubo was again at
the Palace. In the spring of the following year the first Prince was
proclaimed heir-apparent to the throne. Had the Emperor consulted his
private feelings, he would have substituted the younger Prince for the
elder one. But this was not possible, and, especially for this
reason:--There was no influential party to support him, and, moreover,
public opinion would also have been strongly opposed to such a
measure, which, if effected by arbitrary power, would have become a
source of danger. The Emperor, therefore, betrayed no such desire, and
repressed all outward appearance of it. And now the public expressed
its satisfaction at the self-restraint of the Emperor, and the mother of
the first Prince felt at ease.
In this year, the mother of Kiri-Tsubo departed this life. She may not
improbably have longed to follow her daughter at an earlier period; and
the only regret to which she gave utterance, was that she was forced to
leave her grandson, whom she had so tenderly loved.
From this time the young Prince took up his residence in the Imperial
palace; and next year, at the age of seven, he began to learn to read and
write under the personal superintendence of the Emperor. He now
began to take him into the private apartments, among others, of the
Koki-den, saying, "The mother is gone! now at least, let the child be
received with better feeling." And if even stony-hearted warriors, or

bitter enemies, if any such there were, smiled when they saw the boy,
the mother of the heir-apparent, too, could not entirely exclude him
from her sympathies. This lady had two daughters, and they found in
their half-brother a pleasant playmate. Every one was pleased to greet
him, and there was already a winning coquetry in his manners, which
amused people, and made them like to play with him. We need not
allude to his studies in detail, but on musical instruments, such as the
flute and the koto,[16] he also showed great proficiency.
About this time there arrived an embassy from Corea, and among them
was an excellent physiognomist. When the Emperor heard of this, he
wished to have the Prince examined by him. It was, however, contrary
to the warnings of the Emperor Wuda, to call in foreigners to the Palace.
The Prince was, therefore, disguised as the son of one Udaiben, his
instructor, with whom he was sent to the Kôro-Kwan, where foreign
embassies are entertained.
When the physiognomist saw him, he was amazed, and, turning his
own head from side to side, seemed at first to be unable to comprehend
the lines of his features, and then said, "His physiognomy argues that
he might ascend to the highest position in the State, but, in that case,
his reign will be disturbed, and many misfortunes will ensue. If,
however, his position should only be that of a great personage in the
country, his fortune may be different."
This Udaiben was a clever scholar. He had with the Corean pleasant
conversations, and they also interchanged with one another some
Chinese poems, in one of which the Corean said what great pleasure it
had given him to have seen before his departure, which was now
imminent, a youth of such remarkable promise. The Coreans made
some valuable presents to the Prince, who had also composed a few
lines, and to them, too, many costly gifts were offered from the
Imperial treasures.
In spite of all the precautions which were taken to keep all this