Read it through once
After the various feasts of congratulation were over things became very quiet at Court. Rain set in, and one night when a dank wind was blowing through the tips of the sedges, Tō no Chūjō, finding himself quite at leisure, went to call upon his mother, and sending for Lady Kumoi asked her to play to them on her zithern. Princess Ōmiya herself performed excellently on several instruments and had taught all she knew to her granddaughter. ‘The lute,’ said Tō no Chūjō, ‘seems to be the one instrument which women can never master successfully; yet it is the very one that I long to hear properly played. It seems as though the real art of playing were now entirely lost. True, there is Prince So-and-so, and Genji....’ And he began to enumerate the few living persons whom he considered to have any inkling of this art. ‘Among women-players I believe the best is that girl whom Prince Genji has settled in the country near Ōi. They say that she inherits her method of playing straight from the Emperor Engi, from whom it was handed on to her father. But considering that she has lived by herself in the depths of the country for years on end, it is indeed extraordinary that she should have attained to any great degree of skill. Genji has constantly spoken to me of her playing and, according to him, it is absolutely unsurpassed. Progress in music more than in any other subject depends upon securing a variety of companions with whom to study and rehearse. For any one living in isolation to obtain mastery over an instrument is most unusual and must imply a prodigious talent.’ He then tried to persuade the old princess to play a little. ‘I am terribly stiff in the fingers,’ she said; ‘I can’t manage the “stopping” at all.’ But she played very nicely. ‘The Lady of Akashi,’ said Tō no Chūjō presently, ‘must, as I have said, be exceptionally gifted; but she has also had great luck. To have given my cousin Genji a daughter when he had waited for one so long was a singular stroke of good fortune. She seems moreover to be a curiously self-effacing and obliging person; for I hear that she has resigned all claim to the child and allows her betters to bring it up as though it were their own.’ And he told the whole story, so far as the facts were known to him. ‘Women,’ he went on, ‘are odd creatures; it is no use trying to advance them in the world unless they have exactly the right temperament.’ After naming several examples, he referred to the failure of his own daughter. Lady Chūjō: ‘She is by no means bad looking,’ he said, ‘and she has had every possible advantage. Yet now she has managed things so badly that she is thrust aside in favour of some one[71] who seemed to have no chance at all. I sometimes feel that it is quite useless to make these family plans. I hope indeed that I shall be able to do better for this little lady[72]; and there did at one time seem to be a chance that so soon as the Crown Prince[73] was almost old enough for his Initiation I might be able to do something for her in that direction. But now I hear that the little girl from Akashi is being spoken of as the future Empress Presumptive, and if that is so I fear that no one else has any chance.’ ‘How can you say such a thing?’ asked the Princess indignantly. ‘You have far too low an opinion of your own family. The late Minister, your father, always believed firmly that we should one day have the credit of supplying a partner to the Throne, and he took immense pains to get this child of yours accepted in the Imperial Household at the earliest possible moment. If only he were alive, things would never have gone wrong like this.’ It was evident, from what she went on to say, that she felt very indignant at Genji’s conduct in the matter.