Pathway to Japanese Literature

Alongside the reputation that “Mr. Nakahei will surely achieve greatness,” the whispered criticism that “Mr. Nakahei is unmanly” had spread throughout Kiyotake Village. Nakahei’s father owned a residential plot of approximately two tan and eight se in Kiyotake Village, Miyazaki District, Hyūga Province, where he had built three houses and resided. As for assets, he owned fields and paddies a short distance from the residential plot, and while for years teaching Chinese studies to local children at home, he had never ceased farming. However, Nakahei’s father went to Edo for training at age thirty-eight, and after one year—returning home at forty—he gradually came to be employed by the Obi Domain, so now he has tenant farmers cultivate most of his fields and paddies.

Nakahei was the second son. When his elder brother Bunji was nine and he himself six, their father left them behind and departed for Edo. After their father returned from Edo and the brothers had grown taller, both would go out to work in the fields each morning with books tucked in their clothes. While others took tobacco breaks, the two immersed themselves in reading. It was around the time his father was first appointed as a domain scholar. When seventeen- or eighteen-year-old Bunji and fourteen- or fifteen-year-old Nakahei made their daily trip to the fields, those they met on the road would all compare them as if by prior arrangement, whispering to companions when in company. For Bunji—tall, fair-skinned, with handsome features—and Nakahei—short, dark-complexioned, and one-eyed—made a strikingly ill-matched pair. The smallpox that struck both brothers simultaneously had been mild for the elder but severe for the younger, leaving him deeply pockmarked and his right eye blinded. That Nakahei should suffer this same affliction—his father having also lost an eye to smallpox in childhood—spoke only to coincidence’s cruelty.

Nakahei found it painful to walk with his elder brother. So each morning, he would finish his meal slightly early and leave one step ahead; each evening, he would stay behind a little longer to work before attempting to return one step later. Yet those he encountered still looked his way and whispered ceaselessly among themselves. But that was not all. Compared to when he walked with his elder brother, the attitudes of those he met grew far bolder—their whispers louder than usual, with some even calling out.

“Look at that! “Today the monkey’s going alone!” “How strange—the monkey’s reading books!” “What’s that? “They say the monkey reads better than its handler!” “Mr. Monkey. “Where’s your handler today?”

In this place of narrow paths where people encountered were mostly acquaintances, Nakahei tried walking alone and made two realizations. The first was that he had been standing under his brother’s protection all this time without having realized it. The second—astonishingly—was that both he and his brother had been given nicknames: while he, in his ugliness, was called a monkey, even his brother had come to be referred to as a monkey handler. Nakahei kept these realizations hidden in his heart and told no one, but from then on he no longer tried to go separately from his brother to the fields.

Before Nakahei, his frail elder brother Bunji died. Bunji died when Nakahei had gone to Osaka for training and was attending Shinozaki Shochiku’s school. Nakahei departed Kiyotake Village in the spring at twenty-one, having received ten ryō in gold from his father. Upon arriving at the storehouse complex in Tosaabori Sanchōme, Osaka, he rented a room in a tenement and began cooking for himself. For frugality’s sake, he boiled soybeans with salt and soy sauce to make a side dish for his meals—what those at the storehouse complex came to call “Nakahei beans.” When neighbors in the same tenement grew concerned his health would fail under such conditions and suggested he drink sake, Nakahei compliantly began purchasing one go each day. Come evening, he would tie the one-go flask with a paper cord and hang it above the lamp’s flame. As he read books borrowed from Shinozaki’s school by lamplight into midnight stillness, steam would billow from the flask’s mouth—its base warmed by the lamp’s heat. Nakahei would then set aside his scroll, savor the flask’s sake, and retire. A year later at twenty-three, his elder brother Bunji back home died. Though less scholarly than his younger brother, this keen-witted youth—perpetually ill—succumbed at twenty-six. Upon receiving word of this death, Nakahei promptly left Osaka to return home.

After that, Nakahei went to Edo at twenty-six, enrolled under Koga Toan, and entered Shoheiko Academy. For Nakahei, who sought to delve into the original meanings of the classics without relying on later commentaries, Matsuzaki Kendo held greater appeal than Koga Toan—yet to enter Shoheiko Academy, he had no choice but to enroll under either Hayashi or Koga. The pockmarked, one-eyed, short-statured country scholar could not escape being ridiculed by his classmates there as well. Even so, Nakahei remained indifferent and silent, immersing himself in reading alone. On the pillar at his side was pasted a half-sheet of paper bearing writing. When friends who had come to mock him read it, they found: "For now hides its voice the cuckoo of Shinobu-ga-Oka—when will it proclaim its name beyond the clouds?" “Well now, that’s quite the ambition you’ve got there!” the friends laughed as they left, though inwardly they felt vaguely unsettled. This was a vestige of his brief study of Japanese literature before devoting himself entirely to Chinese studies at nineteen—by deliberately mimicking waka in an unorthodox style, he answered his classmates’ mockery.

While still in Edo, Nakahei was appointed as the domain lord’s scholarly attendant at twenty-eight. When the domain lord returned to his domain the following year, he accompanied him back.

Since this year’s New Year, construction had been underway on the domain’s academy being established in Nakano, Kiyotake Village. Once completed, both sixty-one-year-old Father Sōshū-ō and twenty-nine-year-old Nakahei-san—who had returned last year from Edo accompanying the domain lord—were expected to stand together at the lectern as father and son. It was then that Sōshū-ō proposed finding a bride for his son. However, this proved no easy matter. For even those hometown folk who praised Nakahei-san—saying “He’ll surely rise to greatness”—upon hearing of his return from Edo and enrollment at Shoheiko Academy could not help but whisper behind his back, “Nakahei-san is unmanly,” when seeing his pockmarked face, single eye, and short stature.

Sōshū-ō was a man who had endured many hardships, having even pursued studies in Edo. Nakahei had completed his scholarly training and would turn thirty the following year, so he truly wished to secure a bride for him—but he was fully aware of how difficult this selection would prove. Though not as short as Nakahei, the old man—who himself bore smallpox scars and had one eye—had his share of bitter experiences with the opposite sex. Since even he himself had found it impossible to arrange a marriage through meetings with unknown girls, he knew it would be all the more impossible for Nakahei, who shared his flaws and was moreover short of stature. Nakahei’s bride would have to be chosen from among girls long acquainted with his temperament. The old man weighed these matters through the lens of his own experience. Those regarded as young and beautiful—once their lack of wisdom became apparent through prolonged association—would find their allure fading from memory. Moreover, upon reaching thirty or forty, such deficiency of wisdom would etch itself upon their features until none could recognize them as the beauties they once were. Conversely, even those with flawed features—if they possessed talent—would have their ugliness forgotten through continued acquaintance. Furthermore, advancing years might allow intellect to refine even their countenances into comeliness. Were one to observe Nakahei’s face as he spoke, his single black eye glinting keenly, he might indeed appear a man of substance. This could not stem solely from parental partiality. How I wish he might wed a woman capable of discerning true worth, the old man thought. He had methodically envisioned these considerations.

The old man methodically envisioned one unmarried daughter after another among the relatives who exchanged glances during the Five Seasonal Festivals and annual memorial services. The most eye-catching among them was a nineteen-year-old girl named Yae, whose father had served as a resident retainer in Edo and fathered her with a woman from that city. She applied Edo-style makeup, used Edo dialect, and had been rigorously trained in dance by her mother. Even if he were to attempt securing her hand, she seemed unlikely to consent—nor was this match desirable. Though he searched his mind for a girl modest in appearance, noble in spirit, and somewhat literate, unfortunately not a single girl of that sort could be found. Every one of them was utterly ordinary.

After wavering here and there, the old man’s choice finally settled on the daughter of Kawazoe, who was close at hand. The Kawazoe family resided in Ōaza Imaizumi, Koaza Oka of the same Kiyotake Village—the parental home of the old man’s wife—where Nakahei had two cousins. The younger sister Sashio was sixteen, making her too young to be a bride for Nakahei, who was thirty. Moreover, she was a child reputed to be a beauty, and among the young men they called her “Komachi of Oka.” She seemed rather mismatched with Nakahei. As for the elder sister Toyo, she was already twenty, and as a bride taken late, the age difference was not so extreme as to be considered too great. Toyo’s looks were average. While her nature had no particularly outstanding qualities, she was unusually cheerful for a woman and spoke her mind freely. Her thoughts were utterly straightforward, with no trace of reservation. Her mother said, “Her lack of shame is troubling,” but this was precisely what appealed to the old man.

The old man had settled on this decision but found himself perplexed about how to initiate the marriage proposal. To the girls who always received his words with reverent deference, he naturally could not broach the matter directly. With Sashio’s parents deceased, the Kawazoe household now consisted only of junior relatives; were he to raise such a proposal carelessly, they might well be disconcerted. Between unrelated parties, introducing such matters often led to strained relations afterward if negotiations failed—if only temporarily. Among relatives, even greater caution became necessary in these affairs.

There was Nakahei’s elder sister, known as Madam Nagakura. The old man confided his intentions to her. “Had it been to become the bride of my deceased elder brother, she would have come without hesitation, but—” Madam Nagakura began, then paused slightly. Madam Nagakura had not been viewing Toyo-san from that perspective. However, having been entrusted by Father and considering it, she could think of no other daughter suitable to be her brother’s bride, nor did it seem likely that Toyo-san would refuse the proposal. Thus, Madam Nagakura finally took on the role of messenger.

At the Kawazoe household, preparations for the Doll Festival were underway. In the back room, various labeled boxes had been pulled out and scattered about. From among these, Toyo was taking out one item after another—the imperial dolls and five musicians—removing their cotton wrappings and Yoshino paper covers to arrange them properly when her younger sister Sashio kept reaching out to interfere. “Just leave it to me, will you?” Toyo-san scolded her younger sister. Sliding open the shoji there, Madam Nagakura peered in. In her hand, she held a branch of red peach blossoms she had brought as a gift. “My, you’re in the thick of preparations.”

Toyo-san had taken out the old man and old woman dolls and was inserting a broom and rake into their hands when she paused to look at the peach blossoms. “Have your peach trees already bloomed so much?” “The ones here still have much smaller buds.”

“Since I hurried when going out, I only brought a small branch I had cut.” “If you need many for arranging, just send someone to fetch however much you require.” With these words Madam Nagakura handed over the peach branch. Toyo accepted it and said to her sister “Leave this place exactly as it is,” then took the peach branch and went to the kitchen.

Madam Nagakura followed from behind. Toyo-san took a pail down from the kitchen shelf, carried it out to the nearby well, drew up a bucket of water, and threw the peach branch into it. Every one of her movements was thoroughly efficient. Madam Nagakura, who had come bearing this mission, couldn’t suppress a smile as she thought this woman would prove immediately useful as her brother’s bride. Toyo-san, who had kicked off her geta and stepped up into the kitchen, was drying her hands on a towel hanging from a pole on the wall. Madam Nagakura sidled up beside her.

“The Yasui family has decided that Nakahei will take a bride.” Without preamble, Madam Nagakura blurted out the main subject.

“My, where from?” “A bride?” “Yes.” “As for that bride—” She broke off, fixed her gaze on Toyo-san’s face, then continued: “You.” Toyo-san was silent with a look of astonished dismay, but after a moment, her face was graced with a smile. “You must be lying.”

“It’s true,” “I came specifically to discuss this matter,” “and I intend to formally inform your mother now.” Toyo released the towel from her hands, letting them fall slack at her sides as she turned to face Madam Nagakura. Every trace of smile vanished from her face. “While I deeply respect Master Nakahei,” she stated with glacial clarity, “I could never accept him as my husband.” The stark finality of Toyo’s refusal left Madam Nagakura no opening to press further. Yet having undertaken this weighty commission, she felt compelled to report the failed negotiation to the girls’ mother. After tersely recounting her unsuccessful direct appeal to Madam Kawazoe, she drank the ceremonial white sake served in its faceted glass cup and made her farewells.

Because Madam Kawazoe favored Nakahei, she deeply regretted this failed marriage proposal and, wanting to properly admonish Toyo, requested that the Yasui family keep the latter’s rash reply undisclosed. Thus Madam Nagakura agreed to temporarily withhold delivering Toyo-san’s response as her formal report, but since she found it impossible to believe Toyo-san would reconsider, she departed after leaving the words: “Please refrain from pressing the matter insistently.”

Madam Nagakura had left the Kawazoe gate and was perhaps two or three blocks down the road when Otokichi, a servant employed by the Kawazoe family, came running up from behind. He came bearing a message: they suddenly had something to discuss and wished her to return despite the inconvenience.

Madam Nagakura was taken aback. She simply could not believe that Toyo-san had so abruptly changed her mind. What could this be about? With this thought, she returned to Kawazoe with Otokichi. “I apologize for making you come all the way back when you were just leaving.” “The truth is, something unforeseen has occurred.” Madam Kawazoe, who had been waiting, spoke before the returning guest could take her seat.

“Yes.” Madam Nagakura watched the mistress’s face. “This concerns Mr. Nakahei’s marriage proposal.” “I consider it a match beyond what one could wish for, so I summoned Toyo and discussed the matter, but she persists in refusing.” “When this occurred, Sashio heard of it from her sister and came to me—appearing to have something to say yet remaining silent.” “When I inquired what troubled her, she asked, ‘Might I not go to the Yasui household instead?’” “Thinking she might not fully comprehend what becoming a bride entails, I pressed her with questions—whereupon she declared resolutely: ‘If they would but accept me, I wish to go.’” “Though dreadfully presumptuous of us—and uncertain of their intentions—I felt compelled to consult you first.” She spoke with palpable hesitation.

Madam Nagakura was even more taken aback. When recounting this matter, her father had said, “Sashio is too young.” He had also remarked, “Their statuses are too mismatched.” Yet it had long been understood that he did not dislike Ms. Sashio. The father had likely considered social compatibility and hoped for Ms. Toyo—older and of average appearance. Moreover, were the young and beautiful Ms. Sashio to come, there would be no deficiency. Still, how remarkable that the reserved and quiet Ms. Sashio had voiced such a thing to her mother. “In any case,” Madam Nagakura deliberated and declared, “after consulting both his father and brother—if possible—I should like to fulfill Ms. Sashio’s wish.” “My, is that so?” “Though his father proposed Ms. Toyo,” Madam Kawazoe replied, “upon reflection, I cannot deem Ms. Sashio unsuitable.” “I shall visit them at once to make the proposal.” “But that timid Ms. Sashio—how extraordinary that she spoke thus to you.”

“That is correct.” “I was truly astonished.” “Even if one believes they understand everything a child is thinking, it’s a grave mistake.” “If you would be so kind as to inform Father, I shall have the person summoned here and hear her out.” Having said this, the mother called her younger daughter. Ms. Sashio timidly slid open the sliding door and entered. The mother said: “Now then—about what you mentioned earlier—if Mr. Nakahei were to accept someone like you, you would certainly go through with it?”

Ms. Sashio blushed crimson up to her ears, said “Yes,” and lowered her already bowed head even further. Just as Madam Nagakura had found it unexpected, so too had Venerable Sōshū. However, the one who found it most unexpected was Nakahei, the groom. The people were all both puzzled and pleased, but the young men in the neighborhood were both puzzled and envious. And they all whispered in unison, “The Komachi of Oka is marrying into the monkey’s household.” Before long, the rumor spread throughout Kiyotake Village, and there was no one who did not find it puzzling. This was pure puzzlement, unmingled with joy or envy.

The wedding was arranged through the matchmaking of the Nagakura couple and concluded before the peach blossoms had scattered. And thus Ms. Sashio—who until now had been praised solely for her beauty and regarded as doll-like—like a moth breaking free from its cocoon, shed her reserved and timid demeanor, splendidly establishing herself as a wife of standing in a house frequented by crowds of young student-scholars. In October, when the Meikyodo Hall of the academy was completed and relatives and old acquaintances gathered at the Yasui family’s celebratory banquet, before the beautiful and resolute young wife, the guests’ heads naturally lowered. She was entirely different in character from brides of society who are mocked by others.

The following year, Nakahei turned thirty, Ms. Sashio seventeen, and their eldest daughter Sumako was born. In July of the year after an intervening year had passed, the domain school came to be relocated to Obi. In the year following that, Venerable Sōshū—who had reached sixty-five—was appointed president of Shuntokudo in Obi, while Nakahei—now thirty-three—served as assistant instructor under him.

Kiyotake's house came to be occupied by a neighbor named Yuge, and the Yasui family received substitute land in Kamo, Obi.

At age thirty-five, Nakahei accompanied the domain lord to Edo once again and returned the following year.

This marked the first time Ms. Sashio kept vigil over their empty home during his extended absence. Venerable Sōshū succumbed to a stroke at sixty-nine. This occurred the year after Nakahei returned from his second journey to Edo. At thirty-eight, Nakahei departed for Edo a third time, leaving twenty-five-year-old Ms. Sashio to maintain their household once more. The following year saw him ascend to head scholar at Shoheiko Academy. Soon after, the domain residence in Soto-Sakurada appointed him chief guard of its main station. The subsequent year found him briefly returning home before resolving to resettle permanently in Edo. Now he pledged to summon Ms. Sashio once establishing residence there. He had determined to resign his domain post and found an academy for teaching.

Around this time, Nakahei's scholarly achievements were finally gaining recognition in society, and he had acquired an eminent friend like Shionoya Tōin. When the two walked together—though neither presented an impressive masculine figure—Shionoya's considerable height nevertheless drew taunts like "Shionoya of ten feet reclined on clouds; Yasui of three feet vanished in grass." Even in Edo, the frugal Nakahei maintained an austere lifestyle. When first arriving as a newcomer before entering Shoheiko Academy's dormitory, he stayed at the domain's lower residence in Sendagaya, then at the upper residence in Soto-Sakurada, or at Konchi-in within Zōjō-ji's precincts—always cooking his own meals. After firmly resolving to relocate, he temporarily stayed in Sendagaya again until a fire at the lower residence compelled him to buy a house for sale in Gobancho with twenty-nine ryō.

It was when he had moved from Gobancho to a rented house in Kamibancho that he summoned and welcomed Ms. Sashio. This was the so-called Three Strategies Academy: on the ground floor were two or three rooms of three-tatami and four-and-a-half-tatami sizes, while the upper floor was a study bearing the plaque “Bamboo Mountain Studio.” The name “Bamboo Mountain Studio” originated from when they had relocated to Edo, having uprooted tiger-striped bamboo from Kariya in Tano Village of their home province. Nakahei was forty-one this year; Ms. Sashio was twenty-eight. Following their eldest daughter Sumako, they had three girls in total—second daughter Mihoko and third daughter Tōbaiko—but when Mihoko passed away prematurely due to a transient illness, Ms. Sashio arrived at the Three Strategies Academy bringing eleven-year-old Sumako and five-year-old Tōbaiko.

At that time, Nakahei and his wife were not employing even a single maid. Ms. Sashio cooked the rice, and Sumako went out shopping. Sumako’s thick Hyuga accent proved incomprehensible to the merchants, so she often returned dejectedly without completing her errands. Ms. Sashio worked without a care for her appearance. And yet, nowhere could one find a trace of the “Komachi of Oka” she was once called.

Around this time, a man named Kuroki Magouemon came to see Nakahei. He was originally a fisherman from Obi’s outer coast but had been specially summoned to become a foot soldier due to his expertise in product studies. After Ms. Sashio had served tea and withdrawn to the kitchen, Magouemon—wearing a face that was both cunning and comical—asked Nakahei: “Professor.” “Might that be your esteemed wife?” “Yes. She is my wife.” Nakahei answered composedly.

“Ah.” “Did your esteemed wife study?” “No, “she hasn’t engaged in what you might call scholarly pursuits.” “If that is so, then your esteemed wife possesses discernment surpassing even your scholarship.”

“Why?”

“But seeing that someone of such beauty has come to be the Professor’s wife...” Nakahei couldn’t help but let out a derisive laugh. And amused by Magouemon’s presumptuous flattery, he had him play a round of his signature zaru-go before sending him home.

The year Ms. Sashio left the province, Nakahei moved to Ogawamachi, and the following year he bought a house outside Ushigome Mitsuke. The price was a mere ten ryo. The eight-tatami room had a tokonoma alcove and an engawa veranda; additionally, there was one four-and-a-half-tatami room, one two-tatami room, and a few wooden-floored areas. Nakahei set up a desk in the eight-tatami room and read surrounded by books piled like mountains around him. Around this time Kashimaya Seibei of Reiganjima would borrow out his collection of books. Despite being a scholar of encyclopedic breadth Nakahei harbored no compulsion to amass books. Through frugality and lack of extravagance they avoided livelihood hardships yet lacked sufficient funds to purchase books abundantly. He would borrow books to read through them copy out excerpts then return them. His attendance at Shinozaki’s academy in Osaka had been not for learning from Shinozaki but rather borrowing books. His lodging at Konchi-in in Shiba too had been for rummaging through the library. That year their third daughter Tōbaiko died of sudden illness while their fourth daughter Utako was born.

The following year, when the domain lord assumed the position of court petitioner and appointed Nakahei to the role of dispute mediator, he declined on account of his poor eyesight. Having read books exclusively by dim lamplight, his vision had indeed deteriorated.

Two years later, Nakahei moved to Azabu Nagasaka Ura-dōri. He had brought an old house from Ushigome and had it built there. Immediately after moving there, Nakahei embarked on an observation tour to Matsushima. His travel attire consisted of a light blue checkered cotton split-sleeve haori over matching hakama trousers, silver-mounted long and short swords at his waist, a sedge hat on his head, and straw sandals on his feet. When he returned from his journey, Ms. Sashio—now thirty-one—gave birth to their first son. This was Munazō—the prodigy who later grew into a handsome man bearing uncanny resemblance to the “Komachi of Oka,” and who declared his intent to govern the realm using the Twenty-Nine Chapters of the Book of Documents. Regrettably, he died of violent diarrhea in the summer of the year he turned twenty-two.

After one year had passed, Nakahei and his wife temporarily lived in the tenement of the main residence before moving to Banchō Sodefuri-zaka. That winter, Ms. Sashio gave birth to her second son Kensuke at thirty-three. However, due to her scant breast milk, they sent him to be fostered by the village headman’s household in Zōshigaya. Kensuke grew into a man of striking features resembling his father’s. Later adopting the name Antō Ekisai, he practiced medicine in two locations—Tōgane and Chiba—while teaching Chinese studies on the side until his chronic liver condition led him to take his own life in Chiba. He was twenty-eight years old. His grave lies at Dainichi Temple in Chiba Town.

When American ships came to Uraga and the nation entered a time of great turmoil, Nakahei was forty-eight and Ms. Sashio was thirty-five. Nakahei, known throughout the land as the great Confucian scholar Master Sekiken, was at every turn nearly swept into the whirlpool of the times but narrowly escaped. The Obi Domain appointed Nakahei to the position of consultant. Nakahei presented coastal defense strategies. This was when he was forty-nine. At age fifty-four, he associated with Fujita Tōko and came to be known by Lord Keizan of Mito. At age fifty-five, due to Perry’s arrival at Uraga, he advocated for the expulsion of foreigners and port closure. In this year, displeased with the domain governance, he resigned. However, he was merely relieved of his position as consultant and attained the status of domain official, with the nature of his duties remaining unchanged from before. At age fifty-seven, he proposed a theory for developing Ezo. At age sixty-three, he requested retirement from the domain lord. It was the year Elder Statesman Ii met his demise at Sakurada Mitsuke and Lord Keizan passed away.

At age fifty-one, the household moved to Hayabusa-chō, suffered a fire the following year, sold the remaining earthen storehouses and fittings to relocate to Banchō, and at age fifty-nine, moved to Zenkokuji-dani in Kōjimachi. It was during his time in Banchō that he wrote a notice stating he would not discuss border affairs and posted it on the second floor.

Ms. Sashio recovered from a moderately severe illness at age forty-five, but from the year-end of her fiftieth year she took to her bed again and passed away on the fourth day of the New Year when she turned fifty-one. It was the year Nakahei turned sixty-four. There remained two sons with short-lived fates—Munazō and Kensuke—and two daughters: Sumako, who had married Tanaka Tetsunosuke, son of the Akizuki family’s retainer, only for the union to end in divorce, and later through Shiotsuya’s mediation wed Nakamura Sōtarō, a patriot from Shimabara in Hizen Province under the alias Kitaura Tarō; and the sickly fourth daughter Utako. After her later husband died in prison, Sumako returned to the Yasui family with her two children, Oito and Kotaro. Utako followed her mother in death seven months later at the age of twenty-three.

What kind of woman was Ms. Sashio? Clad in coarse garments over her beautiful skin, she spent her life serving the frugal Nakahei. In Kobuse, approximately two ri from Hoshikura in Agata Village of Obi, there lived a man named Yasui Rinpei of the same clan, whose wife Ms. Oshina kept a cotton-striped lined kimono as a memento of Sashio. Ms. Sashio likely seldom wore silk garments at all. Ms. Sashio served her husband without ever shirking hardship. And she demanded nothing in return for that service. She was not merely resigned to coarse clothing alone. She never once expressed a wish to dwell in grand mansions nor use fine furnishings; she neither hungered for delicacies nor longed to behold wondrous sights.

No one could believe that Ms. Sashio was so foolish as to be incapable of understanding luxury. Nor could anyone believe that she was so serenely detached as to desire nothing at all—materially or spiritually. Ms. Sashio indeed harbored an extraordinary aspiration, before which all things must have seemed as worthless as dust.

What did Ms. Sashio desire? The wise people of the world would likely say she desired her husband’s success. I who write this cannot deny that. However, if one were to say that just as merchants invest capital and seek profit, Ms. Sashio provided her husband with toil and patience only to pass away before receiving any recompense, I, in my dullness, cannot agree to that.

Ms. Sashio must surely have harbored some aspiration for the future. And until she closed her eyes in death, the gaze of her beautiful eyes remained fixed on some distant, faraway place—perhaps she lacked even the leisure to perceive her own death as a misfortune. Perhaps she had not clearly identified what exactly the object of that aspiration was.

Six months after Ms. Sashio’s death, Nakahei, at age sixty-four, was summoned to Edo Castle. Two months later, he had an audience with the Tokugawa shogun and was appointed to the yōnin seat, then promoted to ryōban jōseki the following year. Because Nakahei had become a direct retainer of the shogunate, the domain summoned Kensuke. Subsequently, because Kensuke also became an official dispatched from Shoheiko Academy, the domain’s succession was established through their eldest daughter Ito—born to Nakamura and Sumako in Ansei 4—by taking a son-in-law named Takahashi Keizaburo. However, this couple died young. It was this house that Kotaro, born later to Sumako, would inherit. At sixty-six, Nakahei was appointed magistrate of Mutsu Hanawa Domain (63,900 *koku*), but citing illness, he declined the post and entered *kobushin* status.

At age sixty-five, he moved his residence to Shitaya Toshimachi; at sixty-seven, he temporarily resided in the domain’s upper residence before purchasing a house along the moat outside Hanzo Gate in Kōjimachi 1-chome and relocating there. The Kaigakurō—where he viewed the moon with strategist Kumoi Ryūyū—was situated on this house’s second floor.

In the tumultuous year of Edo under the aftermath of the shogunate’s collapse, Nakahei officially retired at seventy. Soon after, as the Kaigakurō had burned down in the spreading fire, he temporarily took up residence in the domain’s upper and lower mansions. Amid the city’s turmoil, Takahashi Zenbei, a farmer from Ryōke Village in Ōji, hid in his younger brother Masakichi’s house. Sumako had gone to Obi three years prior, so Kensuke’s wife Shukuko from the Amano family and Chigiku, whom Shukuko had given birth to in August of the previous year, came to Nakahei’s hideout. Shukuko, who had been in poor health after childbirth, died at nineteen six months after arriving at the hideout. She died without meeting her husband, who was in Shimousa.

Nakahei remained at the hideout until winter and then moved to the Hikone Domain’s Yoyogi residence. This was due to his connection with the Hikone Domain, which had published his *Commentary on the Zuo Zhuan*. The following year, at seventy-one, he moved to his former domain’s Sakurada residence, and at seventy-three, he relocated again to Dote Sanbanchō.

Nakahei passed away on September 23rd at the age of seventy-eight.

The ten-year-old granddaughter Chigiku, born to Kensuke and Shukuko, succeeded to the household. After Chigiku’s premature death, Kotaro’s second son Saburo succeeded to the household.

April, Taishō 3 (1914)