Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Hosoki Kōi is Tsutō.
He is Settsu no Kuniya Tōjirō.
The first time I heard the name Tsutō had nothing to do with Kōi.
It concerned Kōi's father Ryūchi.
The title of Settsu no Kuniya Tōjirō has been borne by two generations.

In my boyhood, I devoured books from rental libraries.
This was an age when rental booksellers shouldered stacks of volumes like portable book chests.
These books fell mainly into three categories: yomihon literary chapbooks, shohon didactic texts, and ninjōbon sentimental novels.
Yomihon included works by Kyōden and Bakin; ninjōbon featured writings like those of Shunsui and Kinsui; while shohon corresponded to what we now call kōshaku instructional material.
After exhausting such books, when I asked the bookseller, "Don't you have anything else I haven't read?" he would recommend essay collections.
Once I progressed from these to works like Ise Sadatake's treatises on ancient customs, one could say I had graduated from rental literature.
I became such a graduate.

I was first enthralled by Bakin, then came to prefer Kyōden over Bakin, and when comparing Shunsui and Kinsui, favored Shunsui from the start. It was with precisely the same feeling—later, when I had come to read German books and preferred Hauptmann over Sudermann—that I formed such preferences.

In Shunsui’s works of sentimental fiction, a character called Mr. Tsutō appears here and there as a deus ex machina. Wise and wealthy, he rescues two lovers from adversity. Generally, Mr. Tsutō lurks within people’s conversations without taking physical form. It was in *Ume-goyomi* that he, for once, took physical form as Sento. He is Tōbei from Chiba.

At that time, a connoisseur among the ogura hakama comrades informed me: “That’s Settsu no Kuniya Tōjirō—an actual person, I hear.” The term “model” had not yet come to be used in this sense.

This Tsutō Senhor was the proprietor of a sake merchant house in Shinbashi Yamashiro-chō. Based on his location, he was called Master of Yamashiro Riverbank, and also simply Master of the Riverbank. His family name was Minamoto, his clan Hosoki, and his family crest the holly; however, as his shop’s noren curtain bore a triangular scale pattern beneath a single character, he adopted the name Ichirindō, signed as Ryūchi when composing scholarly works, went by Senshu for haiku composition, used Tōkōen or Tsurunomon Hinagame for kyōka verses, and later adopted Gensen.

Ryūchi called his father Ihei.
Ihei had been his grandfather’s chief clerk before being adopted by the grandfather after demonstrating his capabilities.
It was this Ihei who rebuilt Settsu no Kuniya’s shop in storehouse style.
It was this Ihei who expanded the rear warehouse, acquired additional land parcels, and established Settsu no Kuniya as Yamashiro Riverbank’s preeminent wealthy household.

When Ihei approached seventy years of age, he transferred the shop to Ryūchi and retired to live on the back second floor of their Yamashiro Riverbank residence.
Even in retirement, he would collect discarded straw sandals during walks, wash them in water, sun-dry them, cut them into pieces himself, and distribute these to the plasterers regularly visiting the house.
Yet Ihei was no miser.
One year during a memorial service for Akō’s Forty-Seven Rōnin at Shiba Sengakuji Temple, an elderly man in cotton robes paid homage at the gravesites, donated one hundred ryō gold to the temple office, and left without identifying himself.
When suspicious monks had him followed, the old man disappeared beneath Settsu no Kuniya’s indigo noren curtain at Yamashiro Riverbank.

II

After inheriting the household, Ryūchi closed the sake shop and made supplying two or three daimyo his exclusive business.
These were ancestral client households—primarily three: the Kaga Chūjō house in Hongō Fifth District; the Uesugi Jijū house on Sakurada Hori Street; and the Matsudaira Shōshō house in Sakurada Kasumigaseki.
The Maeda of Kaga resided in Kanazawa; the Uesugi in Yonezawa; and the Asano-Matsudaira held Hiroshima Castle.

In Bunsei's early years while Ryūchi remained at home—his parents Ihei and wife still living—a certain daughter-in-law came to join them.
Ryūchi sent several clerks under Kinbei to handle affairs at various households; on third-day memorial services he personally visited each residence to pay respects.
The Kaga house stood at Hizen no Kami Narihiro Kyō's era's end, just before transitioning to Nariyasu Kyō.
The Uesugi house belonged to Danjōdaibu Sadada's time; the Asano house to Aki no Kami Nariakira's.

Father Ihei likely never wrote anything beyond account books and ledger entries.
However，Ryūchi studied penmanship under Hata Seichi.
In comic poetry（kyōka），he became a disciple of Yayoi-an Hinamaru I，adopting the name Hinagame；in later years，he went by Momo no Hon Tsururo and Gensen.
He also practiced comic linked verse（haikai）under the name Senshu.

Father Ihei likely never set foot in the pleasure quarters.
Yet Ryūchi frequented theaters and brothels.
Whenever he attended performances at Nakamura-za，Ichimura-za，and Morita-za，he summoned nameboard-ranked actors to teahouses and made them toast with sake.
His brothel visits spanned Fukagawa，Yoshiwara，Shinagawa，and Naitō Shinjuku.
In Fukagawa，his companion was an aged courtesan called Yamamoto no Kanhachi；
in Yoshiwara，the courtesan Akashi of Kuki Manjiya.

When Ryūchi went out for pleasure, his entourage consisted of Fukagawa's idlers. The principal members were Sakuraga Yukijirō, Toba-ya Kosanjō, Tasumi Kazutō, Kenkombō Ryōsai, Iwakubo Hokkei, Onomaru Kokane, Takeuchi, Sanjiku, Kisai, and others. Yukijirō later moved to Yoshiwara and became known as the second Yoshitaka. Kazutō was a Kato-bushi recitation master; Ryōsai a comic storyteller; Hokkei a ukiyo-e artist who left the Kano school to join Hokusai's studio; Takeuchi a physician; and Sanjiku and Kisai masseurs.

Ryūchi had the ceremonial money wrapped in thick ceremonial paper, tied with decorative cords, and piled high on large lacquered trays to be presented.

Ryūchi did not partake of even a single drop.
Even when he took the cup in hand, he merely pretended to drink.
Moreover, he had never once stayed overnight at a brothel.

Tamenaga Shunsui—from the time when he was still called Misasagi and went by Somanjin—had been acquainted with Ryūchi and accompanied him in these entertainments.
The fact that Ryūchi came to have his name recorded in works of sentimental fiction stems from this.

Ryūchi did not shun having his name disseminated in this fashion.
But that was not all.
Ryūchi himself authored a booklet titled *Tsukuni Meisho*, had it printed, and distributed it among friends.
This work metaphorically portrayed his pleasure-seeking entourage as famous landmarks, incorporating illustrations by Hokkei.

In Bunsei 5, Ryūchi's wife bore a son.
This child became Settsu no Kuniya's heir and received the childhood name Kono-suke.
As Bunsei 5 corresponded to the Year of the Horse, following popular custom, they derived his name by taking seven from this zodiac sequence.
The man later known as Kōi Sanjin—who as second-generation Tsutō drove the proverb of surpassing one's master into disreputable realms—was this same Kono-suke.

III

The time when I first heard the name Kōi seems to have differed little in timing from when I learned of Tsutō through ninjōbon. No—perhaps they were simultaneous. How many times since then this name must have reached my ears and eyes—yet I constantly failed to take it deeply to heart, no sooner heard than forgotten. And during that time, I had confused Ryūchi and Kōi as father and son.

Then came a time when the name Kōi took up permanent residence in my memory. That dates back to when I entered the house in Dangozaka where I now live.

This house had connections to Kōi, and it was my then-living father who discovered it.
My father had practiced medicine in Senju but gave it up intending to live with me.
Day after day he went about searching for a house.
It was during this time that Father noticed this residence for its fine prospect.

From Dangozaka's heights southward ran a stony path resembling a mountain trail leading to Nezu Gongen Shrine's rear gate.
This was called Yabushita Road.
At that time, what people termed Yabushita dwellings clustered near Nezu Shrine along only this road's eastern flank.
By contrast near Dangozaka stood no houses east of the way where it traversed a cliff's edge.
The predecessor of our home had been a shingle-roofed cottage facing this cliff across that narrow path.

The top of the cliff formed part of the hill range stretching from Mukōoka to Ōji. Beyond the fields and paddies below the cliff lay Ueno Hill across the way. Standing before that small house and gazing out, one would see Ueno Hill's edge to the right, while between this boundary and Mukōoka, the land suddenly opened into an expanse of dwellings reaching toward the distant horizon. From the upper floor of my present home, white sails moving above Hamarikyu's groves in Shinagawa Bay appear within this same vista.

Father took notice of this small house and frequently went up to the cliff to look at it.
The small house had a window facing the cliff, and inside the window there was always a shaven-headed old woman.
"A beautiful nun," Father said.

Father examined cadastral maps and learned that the beautiful nun's house stood within the precincts of Seson-in Temple.
Seson-in Temple has now lost more than half of its former precincts and is confined to the western corner.

Father invited me and went up to the cliff to show me.
I had long been aware of both this cliff and this small house, but I had not yet paid them as much heed as Father had.
The view was fine.
The house was one that might be termed a hermitage in the city.
And inside the bamboo lattice window was a beautiful nun.
The nun must have been over fifty.
If one could call even an old woman a beauty, then I would say this nun was a beauty.

After obtaining my consent, Father decided to attempt to purchase this house and inquire as to who its owner was.
At the base of Dangozaka, there was at that time a nursery called Senjuen.
Father was acquainted with the proprietor of Senjuen, so he inquired about the nun’s house.

Senjuen said this:
“The small house on the cliff is the property of the old woman who now lives there.”
“The old woman was called Takagi Gin and was a dependent of someone named Kogura.”
“Kogura was a pawnbroker who, after retiring, had become part of Kōi Sanjin’s entourage, but he passed away in that house.”
“The old woman said she would probably not begrudge selling that house.”

IV

With Senjuen acting as intermediary, the negotiations to purchase the small house on the cliff were settled with unexpected ease.
Takagi Gin’s property was originally a fairly large corner lot, but she first sold only the corner section; what remained was a hook-shaped parcel extending from the side with the small house facing the cliff toward the part fronting Dangozaka Hill’s street.
In the part facing that street, there were two small townhouses.
One—both the land and house being Takagi’s—had been turned into a rental property; the other was a house built by foreman Ishida on Takagi’s land where he lived.
Gin moved to this rental property after the transaction was completed.

Father closed up the large house in Senju and moved to the small house on the cliff.
The house in Senju was the Okada family’s residence, which served as a rest stop for the Tokugawa shogun when he went falconing, and it had facilities nearly resembling those of a small hospital.
Father entered the small house and said, “I feel as if I’ve become lighter.”
Thereto, I came from my rented house in Ōta-no-hara and joined him.

The small house had three rooms with a kitchen attached.
The three rooms were six-tatami, three-tatami, and four-and-a-half-tatami in size, with the four-and-a-half-tatami room built in tea-ceremony style.
Later, this tea-ceremony room became the place where Father met his end.

In the three-tatami room adjacent to the tea room stood two fusuma panels covered with waste paper.
The discarded pages comprised a haikai travelogue where text and illustrations were equally balanced.
At the scroll's beginning appeared a half-length portrait of Kōi Sanjin.
Though it was a rough sketch, one could discern that he had been a round-faced, portly man.

The small house on the cliff had become derelict after Father's death and was demolished as beyond repair.
The waste-paper-covered fusuma panels too had completely peeled away.
Reflecting now, this appears to have been the draft of a travelogue Kōi wrote at thirty-eight during his summer journey through Enoshima and Kamakura in Ansei 6 (1859).

The site of the small house on the cliff had now become mostly vacant land. In the fourth year of Taishō, when Mother said she wanted a room built instead of holding a celebration for her seventieth birthday, I followed her instructions and ordered a carpenter to prepare an estimate for a four-and-a-half-mat room. Before long, Mother fell seriously ill. I hurried the construction work, aiming to complete the room while she was still alive. In March of the fifth year, the room was completed with only the middle coat of plaster applied to the walls. Mother happily moved her bedroom there but soon passed away. The room I now use as my study is this one, its walls remaining in their middle coat. The area that was once the kitchen of the small house on the cliff forms the site of this room.

From the time I moved with my parents to the small house on the cliff, I had firmly remembered the name Kōi. By then, I had already learned that this house’s former owner Kogura later took the name Koreami. Kōi received many Ami-gō religious titles from the Yugyō Shōnin priest of Shōjōkō Temple in Fujisawa, Kōza District, Sagami Province. He first adopted the name Jūami for himself, then transferred this title to Kawatake Kisui and took the name Baiami. Later, he changed it again to Hōami, distributing the remaining Ami-gō titles among his entourage. Koreami is said to have been one of these.

Kōi passed away on September 10, 1870.
In the following fourth year, relatives held his first death anniversary on September 10.
Later, the members of the entourage set October 10 as the date, gathered at Kogura Koreami’s house to conduct Buddhist rites, and then visited Kōi’s grave at Komagome Gangyō Temple.
The location of this memorial service was none other than the small house on the cliff.

V

Kōi’s son Kōinosuke studied the classics under Hokuseiro during his youth and learned penmanship from Matsumoto Tōsai.
When Kōinosuke was fourteen, Hokuseiro had already reached seventy and was living retired in Takegawa-cho Nishi Ura-machi.
It is said that once Kōinosuke had barely learned to recognize characters, he devoted himself chiefly to inquiring into the Way of Laozi and Zhuangzi.
Tōsai was a man who gained renown for his Dong Qichang-style calligraphy and resided in Honmoku Shiohigashi.

From Kōinosuke’s birth until his coming of age, there were remarkably few facts that chronicled the intervening years. In Bunsei 6 (1823), Shin Seichi, the teacher of Father Ryūchi, passed away at sixty-one years of age. This was when Kōinosuke was just two years old. On July 29 of Bunsei 8 (1825), the wife of Grandfather Ihei passed away. Her posthumous Buddhist name was Rinshōin Sōyo Gekki Daishi. This was when Kōinosuke was four years old. In Bunsei 11 (1828), Ryūchi’s friend Somanjin took the literary name Kyōkuntei Shunsui. This was when Kōinosuke was seven years old (1828).

Father Ryūchi’s friends during this period included, in addition to Shunsui, Ryōsai, and Hokkei, also Katsuta Moromochi.
Succeeding Kawaguchi Shimō of Chigusaya—a kyōka poet in Suwa-chō—he came to be called Nisei Chigusaya.
The master of Ichikotsu-bushi was Miyako Ikansai.
Later, this man established a separate school, changed his name to Uji Shibun, and resided in Ike-no-hashi.
At that time, Ryūchi had Kitakubo Hokkei create impromptu paintings, had Katsuta Moromochi judge kyōka poems, and took along Shunsui, Ryōsai, and others to frequent the pleasure quarters.

From around the time Kōinosuke turned seventeen in Tenpō 9 (1838), he began frequenting restaurants and boat houses, became acquainted with geishas, and then took to visiting the brothels of Naitō Shinjuku and Shinagawa.

Around Tenpō 12 (1841), it seems Ryūchi and Kōi, father and son, encountered crises in quick succession.
The wife of Ryūchi who had borne Kōinosuke and his sister was divorced around this time.
Kōinosuke’s sister served in the inner chambers of Lord Uesugi Danjō no Daisuke Naoyoshi on Soto-Sakurada Hori-dōri.
Ryūchi then took Sumi—elder sister of Toba-ya Murobe Seikichi of Takegawa-chō from the branch family of Murobe Seizaemon (one of the ten retainers residing at Sanjūgenbori)—as his second wife, while simultaneously establishing a separate residence in Sannō-chō where he installed a concubine.

Before much time had passed, Ryūchi was on the verge of facing criminal punishment but narrowly escaped.
This was because he had created and published a brothel guidebook and distributed it among acquaintances, which came to the attention of the town magistrate.
Fortunately, Tanaka Heishirō, the village headman of Kaga-chō, learned of this and secretly informed Ryūchi.
Ryūchi suddenly distributed money to various officials to cover up the matter, dismissed his concubine, sold his separate residence, and ceased his visits to the pleasure quarters.
It was during this period that the house of Hyakushima Kōtō, a blind man of Uchiyamachō, came to be used as a pleasure quarters where Moromochi and others were gathered.

Kōinosuke was entrusted to his stepmother’s parental home, the Toba-ya, in late December of that year.
This was due to debts incurred at the teahouses in Shinjuku and Shinagawa.
Kōinosuke was twenty years old at the time.

However, while Ryūchi ceased his visits to the pleasure quarters, Kōinosuke did not.
From around March of Tenpō 13 (1842), Kōinosuke of the Gobutsuki-dai began taking the apprentice Kenkichi with him when leaving Toba-ya to visit his calligraphy teacher Matsumoto and kyōka master Umeya Kakuju, among others. However, on the return journey, he would send Kenkichi back ahead of him and stop by theaters and brothels himself.
Kenkichi was nicknamed Tobae Kozō.
Presumably, he acquired this nickname both from being an apprentice at Toba-ya and due to his peculiar appearance.
That is, he would later be known as Kanagaki Robun.

The theater was the Kawarasaki-za in Kobiki-chō.
The favored actor was Ichikawa Danjūrō VIII.
He visited playwright Katsugenzo in his room and formed a connection.
Katsugenzo would later be known as Kawatake Shinshichi.

The brothels were mainly Shimazaki Minatoya and Dozō Sagami in Shinagawa, while the teahouses were Ōnoya Manjigata.
Osen of Minatoya had been his longest-standing acquaintance.

The entourage consisted of Kawarasaki-za playwright Iwai Shigyoku; Takedaya Bahei, proprietor of the theater-affiliated teahouse; Shinagawa hōkan entertainers Tonomoto Notayū and Noshi Tayū; Sakuraga Zenjibō; haikai poet Maki Otsuha; sumo wrestler Seitōgo; and others.
Shigyoku would later become Harufuji, the iemoto of the Shōden school; Otsuha would later become Fuyuei.

VI

Though Ryūchi’s celebratory gifts adorned with ceremonial cords made for a splendid display, the expenses involved never grew excessively large.
In contrast, Kōinosuke devised various inventive ideas for the gifts he gave others and paid no heed to their cost.
The costs for paper cases and tobacco cases paid to bag shops such as Maruri, Marugami, and Yamadaya were enormous.
Before long, it became the season for changing clothes.
Kōinosuke had someone bring a summer haori and a lined garment to the pleasure quarters, changed into them, and then distributed the discarded old garments—a Chinese twill lined haori, a silk-woven padded robe, Ryukyu tsumugi underclothes, and a chirimen silk underrobe—to the hōkan entertainers and geisha via lottery.

Ryūchi, having learned that Kōinosuke’s debauchery was growing increasingly rampant and that Mr. Mimura had been neglecting to intervene, resolved to personally restrain him. It was mid-June. While Kōinosuke was at Minatoya in Shinagawa, Ryūchi came rushing to Ōnoya and sent word for Kōinosuke to come at once due to urgent business.

Fearing his father, Kōinosuke leapt from Minatoya’s lower guest room into the garden and tried to flee by wading through the coastal shallows, but he was spotted and captured by the retainers.

Ryūchi seized Kōinosuke and took him back, entrusting him to the steward Sahee stationed at their property in Sachō. He then attempted to initiate disownment proceedings. However, through the clerks' intervention, Kōinosuke returned to Yamashiro Riverbank and came under his father’s supervision.

Fortunately, Ryūchi did not attempt to restrain his son through hypocrisy. In his own modest diversions, he had Kōinosuke attend him, teaching by example to maintain dignity even amidst carousing in wine and women.

Kōinosuke's attitude underwent a complete transformation at this point. This occurred when Kōinosuke turned twenty-one.

The Seventh Danjūrō, whom Ryūchi patronized, was exiled from Edo on June 22 of that year, and Ryūchi’s close friend Tamenaga Shunsui died in prison on July 13 of the same year. This too likely served as an indirect medium through which the father and son at Yamashiro Riverbank came to understand the taboos.

From this point until Ansei 3 (1856), there were few events worth recording. To briefly note a few matters: First, in Tenpō 14 [1843], the Kawarasaki-za theater relocated to Saruwaka-chō alongside the Nakamura-za and Ichimura-za theaters—which had moved earlier—and Katsugenzo became the lead playwright Shiba Shinsuke. This was because they had been located in Shiba Udagawa-chō. The name Kawatake Shinshichi came into use some time later when he assumed it upon the recommendation of the third Sakurada Jisuke. On June 27 of Kaei 1 (1848), Kōinosuke’s grandfather Ihei passed away at over seventy years of age. The posthumous Buddhist name was Hanyo Hōju Tokushō Zenshi. The grave lies within Gangyō Temple’s ancestral burial grounds. Ryūchi’s teacher Seirō also passed away that year at eighty-three. Juami Donchō too died in the same year. Juami and the Ryūchi father and son were likely acquainted, but details of their relationship remain unclear. However, Kōinosuke later received the title of Juami from Shōjōkō Temple, thereby indirectly succeeding to Mashiya’s Ami-gō lineage. In Kaei 3 [1850], Ryūchi’s friend Moromochi left the Miyako-ha school and adopted the name Uji Shibun. In Ansei 1 (1854), the Eighth Danjūrō—whom both Ryūchi and his son had patronized—committed seppuku. Ansei 2 became known as the year of earthquakes. Edo’s pleasure quarters suffered unprecedented decline; hōkan entertainers reportedly sold tempura at roadside stalls while town geisha peddled oden and warmed sake beneath reed screens. Even Yamashiro Riverbank’s rain and dew could scarcely nourish such desolation.

In the summer of Ansei 3 (1856), Ryūchi fell ill.
He passed away on September 20th.
The posthumous Buddhist name was Hakuyo Ungai Ryūchi Zenshi.
He was also buried at Gangyō Temple.
The clerks, concerned for young master Kōinosuke’s future, summoned his brother-in-law Settsu no Kuniya Isaburō—who ran a bookshop in Ōsaka-chō—and attempted to have him inherit the household headship.
Kōinosuke’s elder sister had left the inner chambers of the Uesugi family, taken a husband, and established a branch family.
However, Kōinosuke’s stepmother Sumi of the Mimura family refused the clerks’ proposal, declaring that if she allowed Kōinosuke—who had rightful claim—to suffer the misfortune of disinheritance, she would be seen by society as having failed in her protective duties.
Kōinosuke finally inherited the main family at Yamashiro Riverbank.
He was thirty-five years old at the time.
Incidentally, it should be mentioned that Ryūchi’s kyōka teacher, the first Yayoi-an Hinamaro, passed away in the same year and month as Ryūchi.

VII

Kōinosuke, who had succeeded his father Ryūchi to become the second Tōjirō, observed a period of restraint out of consideration for his stepmother Sumi Mimura and other relatives, as well as senior clerks like Kinbee and their many subordinates. However, around the time the forty-ninth-day memorial offerings were completed, he began frequenting the pleasure quarters and gradually grew accustomed to disregarding others' opinions.
He had taken in his wife while she was still residing with her family, and they already had two children.
Her family was Enshūya Taemon of Fukagawa Kiba.
However, both the wife and the father-in-law could only stand by and watch helplessly.

Just as nobles would often recruit literary figures to amplify their prestige and adorn their dignity, Tōjirō associated with haikai poets, kyōka satirists, kyōgen playwrights, calligraphers, engravers, and painters—treating most of them much like hōkan entertainers.
Father Ryūchi would often compose kyōka comic verse, while Tōjirō, in contrast, devoted himself primarily to haikai poetry.
The gatherings where he assembled his friends were held at places like Umeya in Hasegawa-chō and Kashiwatei in Yorozuchō.

During his Kōinosuke period, Tōjirō went by the pseudonym Kōkaku and occasionally signed as Rikatsu; after inheriting the household, he received the appellation Umenomoto from Seki Izan, was granted the character Shin by Shin Eiki, adopted the name Kōi, and also signed as Kōi using the characters for "good," "exchange," and "filial piety."
When composing kyōka, he occasionally signed as Nanoya.

In theaters, Kōi patronized Kawarasaki Gonjūrō.
This actor would later become the ninth Danjūrō.
Kōi organized his circle of proteges into a group called the Arashio Association, having Katagata Moromochi draft its written bylaws.
The Ninth's eventual success owed much to Kōi's support.
Moreover, after the Eighth's ritual suicide, when Gonjūrō's biological father—the Seventh Danjūrō known as Elder Jukai—returned to Edo, Kōi took him under his wing as well.
Beyond this theatrical dynasty, other actors who basked in Kōi's beneficence included Ichikawa Kodanji, Nakamura Kōzō, Ichikawa Beigorō, and Matsumoto Kunigorō.

The brothels Kōi frequented were initially Tamaya Yamasaburō in Yoshiwara Edo-chō Itchōme, and later Inemotōrō in Sumichō. At Tamaya there was Koimurasaki; at Inemoto, Nisei Koina. When frequenting Tamaya, the hikite teahouses were initially Ōmiya Hanshirō and later Ōsakaya Chūbei; when visiting Inemoto, it was Tsuruhiko of Nakanomachi.

Kōi’s entourage were nearly too numerous to count. Among them, there were those who thought that including this group among the entourage might perhaps be unduly harsh. However, distinguishing and discussing them was also no easy task.

Among haikai poets were Torigoe Tōsai, Harada Umenen, Maki Tōei, and Nomura Shuichi, in addition to the previously mentioned Izan and Eiki. Umenen later assumed the title of sixth-generation Setsuchūan. The lineage is said to follow this sequence: Ransetsu, Ritō, Ryōta, Kanrai, Taizan, Umenen. Shuichi, commonly known as Shinzō, bore the poetic name Kakuhōan.

The kyōka poets included Katagata Moromochi and his son Fukutarō—the latter nicknamed Aburaya Tokuri—alongside Murota Kakuju and Ishibashi Shinkoku. In Ichikotsu-bushi performances, Fukutarō eventually inherited his father’s mantle to become the second Shibun. Kakuju operated under the name Umeya; his civilian identity was Matahē, proprietor of a rendezvous teahouse in Hasegawa-chō. Shinkoku went by the common name Shichibē.

Among kyōgen playwrights were Kawatake Shinshichi and Segawa Nyogō.
Shinshichi was originally Shiba Shinsuke.

Among engravers was a certain Ishikuro.
Among painters—though some perhaps should not be numbered among the entourage—were Matsumoto Kōzan, Kanō Ansen, Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, Shibata Zeshin, Torii Kiyomitsu, Tsuji Kasetsu, Fukushima Rinshun, and Shihō Baiken.
Among hired scribes was Miyagi Gengyo.

Among merchants or retired merchants was first Ogura Aen.
He was a retired pawnbroker in Dangozaka later called Zeami.
There was Ashinan Zehotsu.
He was proprietor of Yanaka Mikawaya.
There was Ōtsuya Kompaku.
He was a retired boat-inn operator.
There was Kanaya Sennosuke’s Chikusen.
He was a rival kimono merchant in Takekawa-chō.

Among physicians was Ishikawa Hojun. He specialized in surgery. He went by the haikai pseudonym Gango.

Among rakugoka were Kenkonbō Ryōsai, Gomeirō Gyokusuke, Shunpūtei Ryūshi, and Irifune Yonezō. Gyokusuke was the name after Basei. Among kōdanshi were Nidaime Bunsya, Momokawa Enkoku, and Matsubayashi Hakuen. Enkoku would later be known as Joen.

VIII

Among professional hōkan (male entertainers), those who frequented the Yamashiro Riverbank residence at the time were Sakuragawa Yoshitaka, Ogino Chiyosaku, Miyako Chikuni, Sugano Nonko, and others.
Chikuni’s original name was Ogino Rosuke; he was later called Senchū.
He lived in Genyadana.
When Kōi next visited Yoshiwara*, those summoned included Miyako Arihisa; Gonpei and Beihachi of his entourage; Kiyomoto Senzō; Nakasuke; Sakuragawa Jūroku; and Hanayagi Meisuke—among others.
Among them, Arihisa was someone whose quick wit Kōi praised, keeping him constantly by his side.

The female entertainers of Yoshiwara—Kiwa, Gin, Haru, Tsuru, and others—were summoned from Kenban Daikokuya Shōrokugata.
Kiwa later became the wife of Hanayagi Jusuke.
Haru had already become the wife of Miyako Gonpei at that time.
Surugaya’s Tsuru was soon made Kōi’s kept woman.

While Kōi frequented Yoshiwara for some time, he took Koimurasaki of Tamaya as his mistress.
A poem card said to have been written by Koimurasaki—bearing the verse *“A vow tied within a violet maidenhair cord—may it bind us for a thousand generations”*—remained at Tamaya.
The legal wife was sent back to Kiba due to her poor relations with Koimurasaki.
Koimurasaki became a household servant with wife-like status, later changing her name to Fusa.
This occurred before Kakuhō—the courtesan belonging to Surugaya Toku of the hikite teahouse in Nakanomachi—was made to retire.

Kōi’s domestic life was not particularly extravagant.
Meals were ordinarily procured from Isekan in Minami-nabechō.
He favored grilled eel, with Owariya and Kitagawa being regular purveyors.
When entertaining guests, he would generally repair to Shimamura Hanshichi’s establishment in Sukiyachō.
The palanquin shop that counted Kōi among its patrons—a concern called Hōgaku in a Ginza side lane—kept two bearers daily stationed at Settsu no Kuniya for courier duties during this postaless era.

Even after Koimurasaki took up residence in his household, Kōi’s pilgrimages to Yoshiwara continued unabated.
Those steeped in revelry could never relinquish their taste for banquets aglow with ranked candles.
His next consort proved to be Wakamurasaki of that selfsame Tamaya.

One day, Kōi visited Matsumoto Kōzan at the precincts of Fukagawa Tomigaoka Hachiman Shrine and saw that Kōzan had painted pines and bamboos on a pair of golden folding screens. This was something a certain person had commissioned him to paint for presentation to Heizaemon Izumiya’s Hōshū province in Edo-machi 1-chōme.

Kōi seized these screens and left Kōzan with sweet bean paste from Takekawa-chō Tenshindō, adding twenty-five ryō of silver packaged as “cut rice cakes.” This was because such silver bundles were referred to by that term at the time. Kōzan abstained from alcohol.

Kōi wrote an account of the screen incident, had it crudely printed, and distributed copies among his close acquaintances. He then left the folding screens with Tamaya Yamazaburō. However, he compelled Yamazaburō to submit a written pledge prohibiting display of these screens in any courtesan’s alcove.

In the fourth year of Ansei, silver-chain tobacco pouches came into fashion. Kōi had Maruri make dozens of them and gave them to his entire entourage. Around this time as well, he had matching haori jackets made from antique Chinese twill and distributed them to his entire entourage.

In the spring of that year, Mr. Mimura of Takekawa-chō presented Kōi with a single painting of a carp by Ōkyo. Kōi obtained this and resolved to collect thirty-six carp paintings by Ōkyo. Dealers in calligraphy, paintings, and antiques scoured even the Kyoto-Osaka region to gather the required number of works. However, when shown to Kōzan and Shibata Korezane, the majority turned out to be forgeries. Angered, Kōi selected thirty-six contemporary painters and had them paint carps. And in November, he invited Eiki and hosted a linked verse gathering on carps. For the half-kasen distributed at that time, Torii Kiyomitsu drew the frontispiece illustration of carps, and Kōi composed a preface modeled after Shibaraku’s linked verse. The final passage reads as follows.

“If a mark exists, mark it promptly—though persimmon stems on plain robes may falter; correct the sword’s carved characters and distant waves in hand, then set your marks beneath the black-lacquered court cap. Should critics revile it, cast half aside; bearing the rod to its bitter end, this world’s parting gift is the rough act of writing—pluck the brush tip from its neck and hurl it into the inkstone’s sea. With humble reverence, I declare.”

In autumn of that year, Kawarake Shinshichi’s play *Aramoyō Lanterns: Chrysanthemum and Paulownia* was performed at the Saruwaka-chō Ichimura-za. It combined the story of the Kyōhō-era courtesan Tamagiku with that of Amiuchi Shichigorō. Kōi presented Kawarazaki Gonjūrō and Ichikawa Kodanji each with a hanging curtain, and donated costumes and props to Ichikawa Beigorō, who played the geisha O-san, and Nakamura Kōzō, who played Sakuragawa Yoshitaka. All of this was done to elevate Gonjūrō.

It was around this time that Kōi had an audience with the Yugyō Shōnin at Asakusa Nichirin Temple and received numerous *Ami-gō* titles. Kōi himself took the name *Juami*, but before long he transferred this title to Kawarake Shinshichi and changed his own to *Baiami*. In this year, Kōi was thirty-six years old.

IX

In the third month of Ansei 5, the kabuki play *Edozakura Kiyomizu Seigen* was performed at the Ichimura-za theater. The scene was set in front of the Nakanomachi hikite teahouse. Gen-no-suke’s clerk Shinzō had grabbed the lapel of Kyūroku’s haikai poet Higashisakae. This depicted Higashisakae—having committed what might be termed an evil deed and lost to Shinzō Hanakawa—on the verge of having his eyebrows shaved off under the pleasure quarter’s punitive code. Shigizō Takesuke’s courtesan attendant pulled Higashisakae and entered behind the noren curtain. Next emerged Kunigorō, Beigorō, Kohanshi, Santarō, and Shimazō’s samurai onto the hanamichi walkway, guided by courtesan attendants inward. Oshikagemura Shinbei, father of Sanjūrō’s courtesan Agemaki, appeared as a *shirozake* seller. The samurai drank *shirozake* without paying and retreated into the hanamichi. Kodanji’s Kurotegumi Sukeroku twisted a samurai’s arm, emerged from the hanamichi, and chastised them. The samurai fled back into the walkway. At this moment, Gonjūrō’s Kii no Kuniya Bunzaemon lifted the noren curtain and appeared. His attire consisted of a Chinese twill haori draped over his shoulders, a wakizashi at his side, and komageta clogs on his feet. Behind him stood Higashisakae holding a snake-eye-patterned umbrella. The musicians performed an Ikuta-ryū narrative piece. Bunzaemon summoned Sukeroku and admonished him. When the stage revolved, it revealed Agemaki’s parlor. Bunzaemon took Agemaki under his protection and married her to Sukeroku. Agemaki had been first called Eisaburō, then Baikō.

The kabuki character Bunzaemon was modeled after Kōi through borrowing the appellation "Imakibun," which had recently gained currency for addressing him in the pleasure quarters. Higashisakae represented Maki Fuyuaki. Both characters' costumes and accessories were entirely gifts from Kōi—Bunzaemon's silver-mounted wakizashi being an item Kōi had habitually worn himself. This play's author was Kawarake Shinshichi, one of Kōi's inner circle. Upon completing his portrayal of Higashisakae, Kyūroku adopted the lifelong sobriquet Tōri—the "Higashi" memorializing his theatrical role, while the "Koi" drew from Kōi's poetic alias Kōkaku.

On August 26 of that year, Ichikawa Gonjūrō wrote a pledge vowing never to be outdone by his patrons in devotion to the path of artistic mastery, had his father—the seventh Danjūrō, Old Man Jukai—append a certification, and presented it to Kōi.

The brothel Kōi frequented around this time was Inamoto, and his regular companion was Koina II.
The so-called "never-leaves-your-side" entourage member was Fuyuaki, while the most cherished hōkan entertainer was Tomiuchi.

Tomiuchi came from a family of sarasa dyers; though skilled in the entertainment arts, he remained illiterate.
He thus sought knowledge through rental books and developed particular fondness for Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
Kōi found it amusing how Tomiuchi would invoke Kongming at every turn, and bankrolled a full Kongming Festival performance for him.
This resembled how modern tycoons sponsor Nogi Festivals.
Henceforth, people dubbed Tomiuchi "Battle Drum".

Kōi was thirty-seven years old this year.
This was likely the time when his fame reached its zenith.
One member of his entourage, Katsuta Moromochi, passed away on February 22 of that year at the age of sixty-eight.
He may have been afflicted with cholera, like scholar Shibue Chūsai, calligrapher Ichikawa Beian, kyōka poet companion Rokudaen Arai Masashige, and third-generation Kiyomoto Enjudayū of the iemoto circle.
Moromochi was none other than the first Uji Shibun.

In Ansei 6, Kōi’s fortune apparently began to decline somewhat.
It appears that loans to houses like the Maeda and Uesugi had mostly been collected, and the old gold and silver stored in the household had largely been sold off.
However, Kōi’s extravagant revelries showed no signs of abating.

In this year, Kōi toured Enoshima, Kamakura, and Kanazawa.
Those who accompanied him were Tameyama, Tōsai, Eiki, Chikusen, and others.
Had the travelogue adorning Ogura Zeami’s tea room truly chronicled this excursion, two or three women would likely have joined their party.
Despite having promised to join the entourage, Tomiuchi failed to make it in time for departure; he raced to Kanagawadai in a triple-shouldered express palanquin, received five koban coins as a reward, and also obtained two coins for the palanquin bearers.

Kōi visited Shōjōkō Temple in Fujisawa en route, received nine additional Ami-gō titles from the Yugyō Shōnin, and bestowed them upon others.

X

After returning from his journey, Kōi continued frequenting Inamoto as had been his custom. His regular companion remained Koina. Yet during this period, there appeared within those same walls a daytime courtesan called Hanatori—a woman possessed of fearsome credentials. There had been an occasion when, installed as some man's mistress, she'd secretly taken a lover; when dismissal loomed, she'd extorted severance pay. Another time, having accepted advance payment to serve as a daimyo's concubine, she deliberately flooded the bedchamber to engineer her release. Her physical allure nevertheless remained undeniable.

Hanatori would flutter coquettish glances at Kōi whenever their paths crossed in the corridors. Then came an evening when Koina departed for substitute bedchamber duties, leaving Kōi mired in solitary tedium—precisely when Hanatori dispatched a junior attendant bearing summons. Thus did Kōi blunder into Hanatori's snare.

Several days later.

The night of Ōbikisugi was desolate.
Kōi kept his promise and entered Hanatori’s folding screen.
Suddenly, someone violently pulled aside the screen and rushed in.
That was Koina’s attendant Toyohana.

Kōi was taken away by Toyohana and made to sit in the parlor.
Tsuruhiko was summoned via urgent messenger.
Lured by the shrill voice of Toyohana from Tatsumori House, brazen men and women gathered in the corridor, their moistened fingertips piercing holes in the sliding door of the adjoining room.

At this time, the one who appeared as the mediating woman was the geisha Kiwa.
She took Toyohana and Tsuruhiko to the next room, negotiated a settlement requiring 100 ryō each to be paid to Koina and Hanatori, and relayed this arrangement to Kōi.
However, Kōi did not have 200 ryō in ready cash on his person.

Leaving Toyohana waiting, Kiwa rushed out to Inamoto and visited room after room where Tomiuchi, Yonehachi, Gonpei, and others who had previously received Kōi’s favors resided—making them empty their purses—but the total sum fell short of fifty ryō.
She borrowed high-interest money to cover the shortfall.

Kōi withdrew to the teahouse under cover of darkness, apologized profusely to Kiwa, and having said, “The money will be sent from the shop immediately,” had her ride in a four-man palanquin and hurry to Yamashiro Riverbank.

This occurred when Kōi was thirty-eight years old.
On March 23 of that year, Old Man Jukai—the seventh Ichikawa Danjūrō, a favored actor—passed away at his residence in Saruwaka-chō, 1-chōme.
Kōi consulted with Kakuju and distributed memorial prints.
The painting was a portrait depicting Rennyobō in costume, executed by Toyokuni.
Among Kōi’s memorial verses was one that read: “Looking back at spring’s form—a shrimp’s discarded shell.”

In the summer of Bunkyū 1 [1861], there was a time when Kōi maintained a temporary residence in Fukagawa.
Kōi renewed old ties by inviting Gen'yo and Robun to Shimamura Hanshichibō's residence in Sukiyachō.
For hosting duties, Tomiuchi and Yonehachi came.
After the banquet was cleared away, they moored the boat at Sayamachi Riverbank and proceeded to Inamoto in Matsui-chō.
Koina Hanatori was no longer there.
The one referred to as Third-Generation Koina was none other than Totsukuri Ukon, the former Koina.
Kōi had Gen’yo and Robun determine their partners, then took Tomiuchi and Yonehachi with him and departed.

In this year, Kōi turned forty.
While continuing his customary revelries, he had finally come to understand his fate.
"At forty—awakening to dew in the field of flowers."
The tale of Mori Kien rebuking someone at a Yamashiro Riverbank drinking party also appeared to date from around this time.

Bunkyū 2 was the year of Yamashiro Riverbank’s downfall.
Kōi transferred the shop to his stepmother, retired to receive an allowance from the business, dismissed his concubine Tsuru, and moved with his wife Fusa and son Keijirō to Saruji Temple grounds in Asakusa Umamichi.
On the gate of the desolate thatched hermitage hung a signboard bearing the name Baiami.

XI

Having moved to a humble dwelling at Saruji Temple, Kōi sought to supplement the allowance from his Yamashiro Riverbank shop solely through selling his writings. Through Kawatake Shinshichi’s introduction, he became a playwright for the Ichimura-za theater and had the name Baiami listed on playbills. Using the name Ume no Moto, he judged haikai verses. Using the name Nanoya, he judged kyōka poems. He wrote commemorative verses for shop openings upon request. These activities had not, of course, begun at this time. Bun'endō’s collection contained *Kyōka: Japan’s Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars*. Works such as *Kyōka Chōshi-bue* had already been printed as early as the sixth year of Kaei (1853). It had simply become his profession. However, this profession brought him scarcely any profit.

In contrast to this, the so-called hermitage became a gathering place for old acquaintances from the entertainment world.
Among the actors, Ichikawa Shinkurō, Dō Ichizō, Dō Kuzō, Bandō Iekitsu, and others were regular guests.
Shinkurō later became Monnosuke, and Iekitsu became the fifth Danjūrō.
Kōi had now become someone who socialized with artists and entertainers as equals and did not give monetary gifts, but the cost of the food and drink he provided for them was something his meager income from writing could scarcely cover.
It was unclear when this practice began, but guests at Kōi’s house were always served meals set on individual trays. The dishes were no more than one or two items—salted fish guts and the like—but in one corner of each tray, there invariably lay a small paper packet.
It is said that they contained nibu-kin gold coins.
Kōi was once again beset by debts and had no choice but to retreat further from his quarters at Saruji Temple.
This was the year Kōi turned forty-one.

It was the spring of Bunkyū 3.

Through the arrangements of a certain relative, Kōi retired to Shirahata Hachiman-mae in Samukawa, Chiba District, Shimōsa Province.
Samukawa was a fishing village.
Those who could read and had any knowledge of haikai numbered no more than two or three.
Kōi had a sumo ring built on the sandy beach, gathered the village children to wrestle, and gave a single Tenpō coin as a prize to those who won.

However, boats transporting fish and shellfish came and went between Samukawa and Nihonbashi.
Taking advantage of this, Kawakami Shinshichi, Eiki, Chikusen, and others sent letters to comfort Kōi.
Occasionally, they would also take advantage of passing boats to visit him themselves.
At that time, these people were apparently impressed to see O-Fusa, in her deep purple cotton kimono with a tasuki sash tied around her sleeves, diligently bustling about her work.
"Holding a needle, the courtesan has aged—moon in the rain" was a verse born of Kōi’s real experience.

One day, as the weather was fine and the sea calm, Kōi went out to the beach.
There, a single boat arrived, and from within emerged a great number of Edo sumo wrestlers.
When Kōi looked at their faces with curiosity, there were also acquaintances of komusubi rank and above among them.
The sumo wrestlers, upon recognizing Kōi, nodded to one another, drew near, and prostrated themselves on the sand.
“Well, well! Master of the Riverbank—how splendid to find you in good spirits. Are you gracing us with your presence here?”
“Please do come and watch the opening day.”
The local people who had gone out to greet the sumo wrestlers all stared in astonishment, their eyes widening.
“It seems the retired master of Settsu no Kuniya is a great man—the sumo wrestlers prostrated themselves before him,” they whispered among themselves.
Kōi presented the sumo wrestlers with a basket of delicacies, and for this he practiced frugality for over a month.

Kōi lived in Samukawa from Bunkyū 3 [1863] to Keiō 2 [1866]—a span of four years.
This period covered ages forty-two to forty-five.
During these years, in Genji 1 [1864], Umeya Kakuju passed away.
In Keiō 1 [1865], Tsujihana Yuki died.
Yuki was the man who originated the practice of kyōka poetry gatherings.

In Keiō 2 [1866], Kōi returned to Yamashiro Riverbank. Now a retired head from a shop where the family business no longer thrived, even among his old friends, few came to visit. Around this time, there was a man named Gotō Shin’ichi in Shinbori whose nickname “Shinbori Kozō” was chanted in the pleasure districts and who prided himself on extravagant revelry. Upon hearing of Kōi’s return to the capital, Gotō resolved to host a banquet for him as his senior. After consulting with Okada Ryūgin in Kiba, he rallied Kōi’s former entourage—Yoshitoshi, Umetoshi, Shigyoku, Chikusen—and invited Kōi to a restaurant in Shinbashi. Kōi, as “the great one who had fallen,” took no pleasure in exposing himself at this gathering but endured and acquiesced to Gotō’s request.

XII

The hosts—Gotō and the others—summoned Matsunoya Kazan, a popular hōkan of the time, to enliven this banquet.
Kazan was a man who had made his name through naked dancing.
He danced completely naked, not even wearing a loincloth.
Not only that, but while remaining completely naked, he did things that are difficult to commit to paper.
The hosts had summoned him primarily to ride the current and stir up excitement, but among them, Shigyoku alone had long disapproved of Kazan’s conduct; he lay in wait, resolved to teach him a lesson should he commit any indecent acts before his very eyes.

Yoshitoshi discerned Shigyoku's intent and informed Kazan of this.
Kazan sought aid from Chagō.
Chagō was a gang boss who held sway over the Shinbashi area and whom Kazan revered as his superior.

Chagō accepted Kazan’s request.
The banquet’s location was within his own territory.
The one who was about to go there alone and face humiliation was his subordinate.
He could not refuse this request.
However, by what means should he rescue this?
Chagō, having thought this through, adopted the simplest method of buying them off.
To all members of Gotō’s entourage, Chagō’s congratulatory envelopes were distributed.

Shigyoku threw down the envelope on the seat and scolded Chagō.
Even Gotō’s painstakingly arranged event had its spirit crushed by this dreary turn of events, and the guests soon dispersed.

Fearing that repercussions might extend to Gotō, Kōi summoned Shigyoku to his house the following day and admonished him.
He tried to make Shigyoku apologize to Chagō for the offense.
However, Shigyoku would not listen.
Using talents and skills to flatter is the duty of male entertainers.
To equate them with those who abandon decency and covet money—this was not something they would dare to do.
The reason Shigyoku excluded Kazan was that the fault lay with Kazan.
The reason Shigyoku refused the congratulatory gift was that the fault lay with Chagō.
Shigyoku firmly held to this view and did not waver.

Kōi, finding himself with no alternative, entrusted someone to mediate reconciliation between Gotō and Chagō. The two reportedly met at the Urisatei tea house in Kubo-chō and performed what’s known as a hand-clasping ceremony. This occurred when Kōi was forty-five years old. Gotō later changed his name to Shōkichi and worked as a rice broker.

In Keiō 3 [1867], the shadow picture collection *Kumanaki Kage* commemorating Tsujihana Yuki's third death anniversary was published, with Kōi himself composing its preface. Within the volume's shadow portrait of Kōi lay pasted a poem card bearing the verse *Hari Motte* quoted earlier. The copy I examined forms part of Bun'endō's collection.

In Meiji's inaugural year [1868], the Yamashiro Riverbank shop was shuttered. At that time, Kōi's brother-in-law—who went by Hosoki Isaburō—had established a bookstore in Sannōchō, now known as Sōjūrōchō. Taking Fusa and Keijirō with him, Kōi moved into this Isaburō's residence. He was then forty-seven years old.

In September of Meiji 3, Kōi fell ill and closed his eyes forever on the tenth day.
He was forty-nine years old.
His posthumous Buddhist name was Baigakōi Koji.
He was buried in the ancestral burial grounds at Gangyō Temple.
Among his posthumous manuscripts:

Withered in winter—was it you, plum blossoms?

Red plum blossoms—snow adorns them well, yet moderation prevails.

Mere drifting duckweed too—the passing days and months.

Month’s end—

Having grown leeks that might be stolen—the waning moon.

The semblance of things awaited remains—fleas and mosquitoes.

In costly water spits sand—this clam

Amidst never alighting—the tranquil dance of leaves

Self-Portrait

To flowers I sold—

Self-Pride

The fog clears—all turn this way: the mountain’s form.

Cold River

The horse mackerel knife—dully gleaming in the cold.

Contemplations

In wabi-worn solitude—forsaking blowfish for turnip roots

Final Brushstroke

Even I have grown weary—a torn bashō leaf

It was October 10, 1871. Deliberately a month late for the first death anniversary that the relatives should have conducted, those who had once benefited from Kōi's patronage gathered at Ogura Zeami's house in Dangozaka to reminisce about old times and went together to pay respects at his tomb. Moromochi, Kakuju, Kasetsu, and Kōzan had long been dead, and the calligrapher Tōsai had died in April of the same year as Kōi. Kanō Ansen, Kawakake Shinshichi, Kikakudō Eiki, Jikusen, Shigyoku, Zenkō, and others were among this group.

The fallen leaves of this grave—old koban coins, ah... Eiki.

In order to illustrate the decline of Kōi’s pleasure-quarter companions after his passing, we list here the death years of several individuals.
Tameyama died in Meiji 11 [1878], Genryō in Meiji 13 [1880], Rinshun in Meiji 15 [1882], Tōsai in Meiji 23 [1890], Korezane in Meiji 24 [1891], Ansen and Kiyomitsu in Meiji 25 [1892], and Eiki in Meiji 37 [1904].

The biographical details of Kōi were primarily sourced from Kanagaki Robun’s *Saikō Kōi Den* (Biography of Kōi: Pleasure Quarter Chronicles).
It is said that it is now read as *Kibun Kuruwa no Hanamichi*.
I hand-copied the book that Mr. Suzuki Harura had lent me under the pretext of needing material for a novel, so as to preserve it from oblivion.

I also consulted works such as Mr. Nemoto Tohō’s *The Great Connoisseur Kōi*. However, even Mr. Nemoto must have relied on Robun’s writings, just as I did. The records pertaining to Mr. Suzuki’s documentation, the accounts from the two households of Masuda Kōen and Kubota Beisen, and Hashimoto Sogyō’s publication *On*—concerning matters of Jikusen from younger brother Junsaburō’s collection—proved beneficial for my research.

Thirteen

At Hongō’s Oiwake, turning east along the wooden fence of the First Higher School and then north at the corner brought one to the temple called Saikyōji.
Passing through Saikyōji’s gate and proceeding while keeping sight of a dormitory with paulownia flowers blooming to the right, three or four shops lined the street before another temple appeared.
This was Gangyō Temple.

Gangyō Temple’s gate faced south beyond Rojitsu, while across the road opposite the dormitory lay the cemetery’s outer enclosure.
This enclosure had originally been a sparse hedge through which passersby could glimpse tombstones of varied sizes and heights.
Now both Saikyōji and Gangyō Temple had been renovated, with Gangyō Temple’s hedge completely replaced by a sturdy stone wall.
Only two or three ancient trees remained—towering densely skyward and canopied over it—preserving vestiges of their former appearance.

One day, thinking to visit Kōi’s family grave, I entered the gate of Gangyō Temple.
Within the grove of cedar trees inside the gate, a burly man in an indigo-dyed yukata was swinging iron dumbbells, paying no heed to anyone’s arrival.
I walked along the tombstones standing in a row from the east side of the main hall to the northern rear, examining each one by one.
The sun was already beginning to sink, yet the tombstone I sought remained unfound.

Suddenly hearing a child’s laughter, I turned to look.
A woman holding a girl with a beautiful face stood still; I watched her walk around reading the inscriptions on my tombstone.

I stopped my search and asked, “Are you from the temple?”

“Yes.”
“Whose grave may I ask are you inquiring about?”
The woman’s voice and complexion were bright and clear, standing in stark contrast to the gloomy surroundings.

“It’s the one called Settsu no Kuniya.”
“Is the family name ‘Sai-ki’?”
Robun’s article had phonetic glosses reading either “Sai-ki” or “Hoso-ki,” but I had thought that “Sai-ki” was the correct reading—perhaps the typesetter had mistakenly rendered it as “Hoso-ki.”

“Then it’s written with the character for ‘thin,’ I suppose.”
This woman was literate.

“Yes.”
“Would you happen to know where it is?”

“Yes, I do know.”
“That one at the end of the path is the Settsu no Kuniya grave.”
The child being held saw me, laughed excitedly, and jumped up.

I thanked the woman and visited the tomb. I somehow felt as though I had conversed with a Protestant minister’s wife.

In the middle of the east side of the main hall lay a small path extending straight toward the stone wall. At its terminus stood the Hosoki family tomb - back against the wall and facing westward.

On the left side facing it stood a stone lantern engraved with "Tsukuniya."

The tomb was nearly square, its slightly broader stone face bearing two tiers of posthumous names carved above corresponding death dates inscribed below.

Fourteen

The tombstone of Settsu no Kuniya listed posthumous names tracing back to distant ancestors, so the Buddhist names from Kōi’s grandfather down to Kōi himself were lined up in the lower left corner.

When I had finished paying my respects and was leaving, I once again had to pass by the woman holding the child.
I asked the woman.

“Do relatives come to pay their respects?”

“Yes. There remains one who married into another household—she comes on the memorial days. I hear she’s a charcoal dealer in Shiba, and I believe she’s indeed the wife of a man named Niihara Motosaburō. The head priest knows her well, but he’s currently away. If you wish, there’s a florist living between Saikyōji Temple and here—you might try asking them.”

I thanked the woman once more and left the temple.
And stopped on the street to look around for a florist.

The townhouses between Saikyōji and Gangyō Temple were now all newly built small shops.
Sandwiched between them stood a single old small house—so dilapidated it could hardly be called a proper dwelling—with reed screens erected all around.
I saw it and recalled having once seen shikimi branches before it.

I stepped inside the reed screen. The interior had already grown nearly pitch dark. When I focused my eyes, there crouched an aged and withered old couple. I felt as though both house and inhabitants had been left behind by modernization's licking tongue. It also seemed an air of fairy tales drifted within that darkness.

“Hello,” I said, and the old man stood up to greet me.
The old woman remained crouching.

“You know about the Settsu no Kuniya grave at Gangyō Temple, don’t you?” I asked.
However, since both the old man and woman were hard of hearing, I had to gradually raise my voice and repeat myself two or three times.

The old woman in the back was first to discern my words and said, “Do you mean that Mr. Hosoki?”
I accordingly decided once to read Kōi’s family name as “Hosoki” and sent this manuscript to press.
However, when I saw that Jikusen—who had been close to Kōi—wrote it as “Sai-ki,” I again thought that “Sai-ki” must indeed be correct.

I thought to ask the woman in Shiba who was a descendant of Kōi for her name and ascertain her husband’s as well, but the two of them knew nothing at all.

The old woman said such a thing.
“I hear he was quite wealthy.”
“If only someone had left even a little money back then—they’re always saying that.”

I handed a small silver coin to the old man and requested that shikimi branches be offered at Kōi’s grave.

“Understood. Since night has already fallen, we shall see to it tomorrow morning,” answered the old man.

After that, I did not attempt to visit Gangyō Temple’s head priest and ultimately ended this manuscript without detailing the circumstances of Kōi’s descendants.
When I recently asked Mr. Takagi Kunitarō, it seems that Mr. Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, the writer, is a relative of Kōi’s.
If I may correct the errors in this manuscript with Mr. Akutagawa’s assistance, it would be most fortunate.

Fifteen

In days of yore, I wrote *Hyaku Monogatari* (A Hundred Tales) based on the anecdotes of Mr. Kashimaya Seibee.
When my text included somewhat critical remarks dismissing Kashimaya that bordered on commentary, a certain critic reproached me for my "presumption."
The precise details now escape my memory, but that critic must surely have published collections; were one to peruse them, uncovering a critique of *Hyaku Monogatari* would prove no difficult task.

Kashimaya was a "*taijin*."
For one of humble birth like myself to be unable to discern that realm was akin to a beggar being unable to fathom the dignity of an emperor.
Thus arose the reproach of presumption.

Evaluations of life are as varied as there are people.
When my father lived in Kita-Senju, there was a maidservant in the house.
Plump and fair-skinned, she was amiable, and her demeanor was also refined.
Yet each and every thing this maidservant said astonished us siblings.

The maidservant had served at the Ōmagaki in Yoshiwara from a young age and was praised for her loyalty.
She returned to her hometown in Senju after passing twenty years of age.

The maidservant regarded high-ranking courtesans as the noblest among humans.
To her, even the titled nobility—dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and barons—and the ministers and vice-ministers of the government were all uncouth patrons.
The grand buildings of the brothels and the servants and attendants within them were but instruments for flattering and adorning the courtesans, and no matter how magnificently the brothel proprietors might carry themselves and wield authority, they were merely chiefs among these rabble.

All of the maidservant’s thoughts and feelings revolved entirely around the high-ranking courtesans.
When viewed through the maidservant’s eyes, Yoshiwara was civilization; all beyond it was wilderness. Yoshiwara was splendor; all beyond it was barbarism.
That is because Yoshiwara was the abode where the courtesans dwelled.

“Yoshi, tell me a story,” said the younger brother.
Yoshi was the name of the maidservant.

“Come here now.”
“I shall tell you a story.”
Yoshi sat obediently on the kitchen’s wooden floor and drew her younger brother onto her round, ample lap.
Her voice was clear and melodious.
“Once there was a high-ranking courtesan.
“That high-ranking courtesan was cross-eyed.”
“Just then, a customer arrived.”
“That customer was pockmarked.”
“When the customer left in the morning, the high-ranking courtesan saw him off and said, ‘Your face resembles a yuzu’s pitted skin.’”
“There now, a pockmarked face does resemble a yuzu, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Then the customer said, ‘Why don’t you come when we’re both cross-eyed and four-eyed?’”
In Yoshi’s fairy tales, only the high-ranking courtesan and the customer appeared as characters.

Evaluations of life were as varied as there were people.
Buddha should be made king; demons too should be made king.
When Taijin King Kōi elevated Seibee, countless parvenus became misers and repented; when they enthroned the Courtesan King, even chaste women and heroines, wise wives and good mothers all turned into naive maidens and bowed their heads.

Just as eminent monks and learned religious leaders should be kings, so too should there be kings among novelists.
Just as erudite scholars and Confucian philosophers should be philosopher kings, so too should there be critic kings.
There should also be kings among publishers.
There should also be kings among newspaper proprietors.
Evaluations of life were as varied as there were people.

After chronicling Izawa Ranken and Shibue Chūsai, I chanced upon and documented Hosoki Kōi.
※ For one such as myself—a man of middling talents—to dare compose such writings: regardless of chosen subject or efforts to eschew critique, presumption proves unavoidable.

(September–October 1917)

―――――――――――――――――――

The aforementioned *Biography of Hosoki Kōi* was hastily drafted, so it could not avoid containing some errors.
I wish to take this opportunity to correct these errors.

In the postscript to the *Biography of Kōi*, I appended a note stating that Mr. Akutagawa Ryūnosuke was a relative of Kōi.
Fortunately, Mr. Akutagawa sent me a letter and visited me.
This was no first-time visitor.
Our correspondence had simply ceased.

Mr. Akutagawa stated:
Kōi had an older sister.
That son-in-law was the bookseller Izaemon of Sannō-chō.
And Kōi spent his twilight years in the home of this couple.

Izaemon's daughter was called Tomo.
Tomo met Mr. Akutagawa.
Mr. Ryūnosuke was the child born to Tomo.
In Mr. Ryūnosuke's short story collection *Rashōmon*, there exists a piece titled *The Hell of Solitude*.
The material for this was reportedly heard by Mr. Ryūnosuke from his mother.
This matter had been reported to me by Mr. Seijirō Kojima before Mr. Ryūnosuke visited me.

I had also written in the Biography of Kōi about an elderly woman who visited Kōi’s grave at Gangyō Temple.
And that elderly woman was said to be the wife of a man called Niihara Gensaburō.
According to Mr. Akutagawa, the elderly woman’s name was Ei.
Kōi’s legitimate son was Keisaburō, and Keisaburō’s daughter was this Ei.
The name of Ei’s husband had not been incorrect.

I wish to add a note here regarding Ei's grave visits.
This concerns the elderly shikimi sellers at Gangyō Temple.
The old couple I had questioned about Ei were now deceased.
The other day, while walking behind the First Higher School's northern grounds, I noticed the shikimi shop had been locked. I visited a nearby secondhand bookstore to inquire about the couple.
The old man had died around April, they said, and before a hundred days had passed, his wife followed him in death.
I found myself deeply moved.
Just as I was writing this, a postcard arrived from Mr. Miyazaki Toranosuke:
"Hands clasped in prayer.
Mori,
What do you suppose lies beyond what we see in the distance?
That is death.
The wisest have always acknowledged death's certainty.
December 7.
Prayers."

Next, I shall record a few miscellaneous matters I heard from Mr. Akutagawa. It is said that Kōi’s family name Hosoki is correctly pronounced "Saiki". However, since many people pronounced it "Hosoki," Mr. Hosoki himself is said to have sometimes referred to it as "Hosoki."

Mr. Akutagawa informed me of Kōi’s death poem. In accordance with what Robun recorded, I had listed and kept the verse: "Final brushwork—has even I grown weary of myself? A tattered bashō leaf." However, it seems the true death poem was "The scent of plum blossoms—/ perhaps I'll step out for a bit / to the neighbor's fence." The verse about the plum blossom’s fragrance carries a sprightly charm—this one is preferable.

In Mr. Akutagawa’s collection existed one volume of a travelogue in which Kōi’s father Ryūchi had toured Kamakura, Enoshima, and Kanagawa.
A beautifully fair-copied volume prepared for woodblock printing contained dozens of illustrations by Kunimoto, a disciple of Utagawa Kuniyoshi.

This excursion had departed from home on April 6th of Ansei 2, the Year of the Hare (1855), and returned after a five-day journey.
The beginning of the volume stated: “Kinoto no U” (Year of the Hare), “the sixth day of the same month’s beginning.”
Furthermore, within Rikuzan Tora’s seven-character ancient kyōshi appended at the end of the volume were the lines: “Throughout the four seas, *Ansei*’s Year of the Hare,” “In lined robes, each day of April brings joy...”
...and others such as: “Five days of travel on tranquil roads...”
*Kinoto no U* had been the year of the great Ansei earthquake in winter.

Inscribed within the volume were the names of the following party members: Shareō, Kunitomo, Senkaku, Sōri, Senro (Seikansai), Tsunehide, Kosanjī (Toba), Kunimoto, Tobetsune, Senka, Ryōko, and Ankō (Anma Kōsuke)—twelve individuals in total.
Shareō would be Ryūchi.
It was said that Izaemon had been among them, though his artistic name remained unspecified.
Kōi reportedly declared, “If I have to tag along with the old man, I won’t be able to show off—no thanks!” and did not go.

When the party returned, those who came out to greet them were Kōi, Gango (Ishikawa Hojun), Yobin, Ihaku, and Shūu (Gen Gen Shinjin)—five people in total.

"To the nest return parent grebes—their manifold cries."
Kōi.

The postscript had been drafted by Kōi himself.
Several haikai poets and kyōshi verses in both classical and modern styles were appended.

Upon reflection, the Year of the Hare (1855) marked the year before Ryūchi's death, when Kōi turned thirty-four.
The matters I had inquired about from Mr. Akutagawa were nearly exhausted here.

The people who told me about Kōi were not limited to Mr. Akutagawa alone. A certain acquaintance made this statement: “In the early Meiji years, there stood a geisha house called Minatoya by Imadobashi Bridge. The proprietor was a short, portly man named Kōno. His wife was a woman called Mina from the hikite teahouse Minatoya in Yoshiwara, always addressed as Mii-chan. The geisha house took its name Minatoya from that Yoshiwara establishment. Around February of Meiji 4 [1871], this house had three retainers: Kanroku, Mankichi, and Ryūhachi. I heard this Kōno was Kōi’s son.”

This account was difficult to verify for accuracy.
Moreover, I had not yet inquired with Mr. Akutagawa.
However, if Kōno was indeed Kōi’s son, wouldn’t that mean he was what became of Keisaburō?

Regarding Kōi's associates, I obtained a few reports.

Mr. Katō of Kikuan in Onomichi stated:
“The Kōi Biography mentions Kōi’s friend Nagaoki and gives his year of death as Meiji 37 [1904], but this is likely an error.”
“The present Kiichi’s father was Nagaoki, and his grandfather was also Nagaoki.”
“Kōi’s friend would be the grandfather.”
“And the one said to have died in Meiji 37 [1904] would be the father.”
“As I have not studied Saikakudō’s lineage in detail, I may have made such an error.”
Therefore, I made inquiries with the proprietor of Bun'endō in Asakusa.
Bun'endō’s reply was as follows:
“Nagaoki, who was Kōi’s friend, also maintained close associations with Ichikawa Danjūrō IX and Onoe Kikugorō V.”
“Danjūrō’s calligraphy bore an exact resemblance to Nagaoki’s.”
“This Nagaoki resided at Saikakudō within Mitsumata Shrine in Mukōjima during the early Meiji years, later moving his residence to the Maruyama area of Shiba where he passed away.”
“The date of his death was January 10, Meiji 37 [1904], at eighty-two years of age.”
“The temple was Gangyō Temple at Nihon'enoki—the same as Saikaku’s.”
According to Bun'endō’s account, there appeared to be no error in my article.
Further deliberation remained necessary.

Regarding Kōi’s other friends, the neighboring Mr. Umemoto Takashi spoke.
"The fact that Kōi’s friend A Shin’an Korehotoke was the proprietor of Yanaka Mikawaya had been recorded in the biography."
"The common name of Korehotoke was Saitō Gonzaemon," he stated.
Upon hearing this, I learned for the first time that Korehotoke was the biological father of Kariya Noriyuki.
Saitō Gonzaemon had three children.
The eldest was called Gonnosuke.
This was Fourth-Generation Kiyomoto Enjudayū.
Various texts record this man’s common name as Gennosuke, but perhaps he later changed it.
The second son was San’emon Noriyuki, the adopted son of Kariya Sanpei Haruyuki (the biological son of Yokusai Mochiyuki).
Sue inherited his father’s title and was called Gonzaemon; it is said he became proprietor of a pawnshop.

Mr. Umemoto also spoke of Kōi’s other friend Ogura Zeami.
“Zeami was of the Takagi family, and Ogura was its trade name.”
As recorded in the biography, its pawnshop was located atop Dangozaka.
“Zeami’s wife was called Gin, and their child was named Sahē.”
“Additionally, Sahē had a son, Shintarō, and a daughter, Kei.”
“However, Sahē and his children all died first, leaving the widow Gin behind.”
“She was the mistress of the house on the cliff.”
Through this, I learned that my father had purchased our current house from Zeami’s widow.

The proprietor of Bun'endō spoke about Kōi’s two other friends. It concerned Ishibashi Makoto and Shibata Korezane. “Ishibashi Makoto left behind hundreds of unpublished volumes of writings on linguistics,” he stated. “They are now housed in Mr. Matsui Kanji’s collection. Among those referred to as ‘cultured individuals,’ there exists a work titled *The Record of the Hidden Village*. This examines the historical development of unofficial pleasure quarters through scholarly inquiry.” Makoto excelled at writing in the Chinese style. His profession was that of proprietor at the magistrate office’s waystation teahouse. Shibata Korezane was a man of steadfast character. He maintained close ties with Kōi, his paintings adorning many of Kōi’s surimono prints.

There exists such an anecdote about Korezane. Once, he took his son and numerous disciples to Yoshiwara and staged an impromptu performance. He had food and drink brought to the venue and entertained his disciples. However, upon noticing one disciple disrupting the seated decorum, he bellowed and rebuked him. "He did not avoid visiting pleasure quarters and was a man unconstrained by conventions, yet within that existed a principled core."

(September–October 1917)