Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Ito Noe

I

Deep worries seized Toshiko that night as well.
Even after entering the scheduled lesson, as Mr. Y read along, her eyes would follow the lines, but a dark shadow in her mind covered the spaces between them and between the characters, preventing anything from truly entering.
The harder she tried to drive them away, the more unpleasant scenes and images spread through her consciousness.
Words she wished never to recall kept seeping to the surface of her awareness, one after another.
Despite her efforts to concentrate there, Mr. Y’s careful explanations merely skimmed across the text’s surface.

When the lesson ended, hot tea was brought to the desk as usual.
The child was sleeping innocently on Toshiko's lap.
Even the cheerful smiles of Mr. and Mrs. Y brought no brightness to Toshiko that night.
While gazing at the flickering coal flame in the small stove and maintaining her stiff smile, she firmly suppressed the hot tears that threatened to overflow at any moment—tears born of deep pity for her wretched self.

Outside, it had begun to snow at some point.
All the houses along the street had already closed their doors, and no light leaked out from anywhere.
Only the streetlamp cast a quiet, late-night light hazily through the thickly falling snow.
Even as she waited for the tram, exchanging few words with Mr. Y who had insisted on accompanying her to the stop, Toshiko’s eyes remained filled with tears.
When she thought that she still had to return to that house, it felt pathetic.
Even the house she had come to think she might not return to as things were—she absolutely had to trudge back to it through this late-night snow.

"If only my parents’ home were nearby at a time like this—" Parents’ home—even that brought Toshiko nothing but painful memories when she recalled it.
Her parents were over three hundred miles to the west, and she had lived without any contact from them for a long time now.
This too was because she herself had rebelled and left them behind.
Even while fully aware of her parents’ confusion, anger, and grief—solely to assert herself unwaveringly—she had stubbornly pushed these aside, and after making a second runaway, neither party had exchanged a single letter thereafter.
In this life among complete strangers, Toshiko found herself persecuted and beset by hardships.
But all of this was something she had resolved herself to from the beginning.
Even if she bit her lip until it bled, she believed she had to endure those hardships.
That harsh life of hers had already continued for two years.
Lately, every time Toshiko reflected on her life, she had to discover far too many unforeseen miscalculations there.
Moreover, she endured these strange, varied "relationships" with unexpected others who served as fodder for merciless selfishness—connections that lately often reminded her of people bound by those inconsiderate "relationships" called family.
Yet for Toshiko, being forced to remember by such boundaries remained one of the painful things.
Even so, now that she found herself compelled by the wretchedness of having to return with a stubborn heart and cold feelings to his unwelcoming house of strangers—truly loathsome as it was—she still wished for at least one house where she could knock without hesitation, be it midnight or any hour.

At last, with a noise loud enough to threaten the quiet slumber of late night, the tram came barreling straight ahead. Snow blew directly against the driver’s black coat, his hood, and the tram’s body alike, turning them all pure white. The inside of the tram was nearly empty. All the seated passengers were men with tired-looking faces. Some were even snoring in their sleep. Toshiko quietly sat down in a corner of it. The tram immediately accelerated at breakneck speed, with such force that it seemed about to jolt the few passengers off their seats. Toshiko involuntarily twisted her neck to look over her shoulder. On her back, from within the baby carrier, shawl, and deep inside the hat, she could clearly hear the child’s warm-sounding, regular breathing. Relieved, Toshiko turned forward again. Then, brushing off the snow that had piled in the folds of the umbrella she’d been holding absentmindedly, she looked up to find they were already nearing Yotsuya Mitsuke.

When Toshiko transferred at Yotsuya Mitsuke, she tried to distance herself from the unpleasant thoughts once more and took out the half-read book from her handbag.
But when she reached Suidobashi and stood there in the blizzard that had grown even fiercer, she was dragged back into her endlessly expanding thoughts. The piercing wind drove the snow relentlessly against her from both front and side.
At her feet, soundlessly, snow kept piling up one after another in the blink of an eye.

"I want to go somewhere just like this!"

While staring fixedly at the faint light shining on the soft white ground, she thought with a feeling she herself couldn’t comprehend—whether she was agitated or calm.

"Anywhere. Anywhere would do."

Even standing here late at night like this, she didn’t want to return to the house that had tormented her when she left earlier that evening. From the depths of her being, Toshiko thought this. But when she recalled the child sleeping innocently on her back, hot tears welled up spontaneously in Toshiko’s eyes.

"If it were just me," she thought.
"But—"

For a child who knew nothing—there had to be a warm bed.
She wanted to take them down from her cramped back and quickly lay them on bedding where they could stretch freely.
Yet even this single comfort—the only bed this pitiful mother could provide—existed nowhere but within those walls.
Hot tears spilled from Toshiko’s eyes.

The long-awaited tram finally arrived.
In the driving snow, she folded her umbrella and quietly shook the snow from her geta before boarding.
With her tear-stained face lowered, Toshiko entered alone carrying her child on her back, drawing every eye in the carriage at once.
Yet the seats remained more than half empty, maintaining the hushed stillness proper to a late-night tram.

She found herself stranded again in the blizzard at Kasumigaoka.
After standing for twenty minutes against a section of the long artillery arsenal wall, the cold had seeped into her very bones.

II

The grueling endurance of numerous trials forced upon her to become a traditional family's housewife; the ceaseless labor commandeered by a single child—these were entirely unforeseen miscalculations for Toshiko.

She, who should have been solely a faithful self-devotee, had unwittingly become deeply confined within another's household through her own carelessness. She had to affirm all the customs and personal entanglements of that household. And on top of that, she had to bear the burden of a child through heedless love. For Toshiko—young, untutored, and needing to grow—these two burdens possessed a nature that crushed every sprout of individuality she held. She herself had been quite clearly aware of this. Yet had she truly maintained that awareness with constant strength and let it torment her, she would inevitably have had to escape those burdens. However, along with that awareness, she also clung to resignation—the conviction that escape remained impossible. She even considered fleeing from those burdens a cowardly sin. Though Toshiko persistently claimed that “resignation” constituted a sin for any faithful self-devotee, when confronted with contradictions in her actual life, she could only resolve matters through that very resignation. She had no choice but to entrust everything to “fate”—that supreme will.

However, Toshiko never considered her own "resignation" to be resignation at all.
To this end, she had devised corresponding justifications herself.
She maintained this conviction—that no matter how onerous a burden she might be forced to bear, she would never let it make her neglect herself—and moreover, that this burden was never imposed by others but was something she must shoulder through her own will; these formed her rationale.
Particularly where her child was concerned, the weight scarcely felt like a burden at all.

From the mere state of living—barely breathing and demanding food—to witnessing human-like intelligence steadily awaken and observing the body grow remarkably day by day, an indescribable, infinite love welled up within her.
The emotion that she would spare nothing for this little one was ceaselessly renewed.
What she gave her child expanded without limit.

However, even still, she never forgot her own life.
No matter what burdens she was made to bear, she never did such things as forget or abandon herself.
That was also, each time she reflected on herself, the sole pride that served as justification.

Bearing burdens imposed by others to gain others' satisfaction while eagerly trying to remain a faithful devotee of self—if this had been someone else’s situation, Toshiko would have been the first to mock it.
But now, she herself was engrossed in those very eager thoughts.

Her primary burden was service to the man’s family.
Interacting daily with his mother, younger siblings, and their spouses—people of that sort—her body and spirit were wasting away.
Moreover, she had various circumstances that made her feel even more inferior to those people than usual.

According to the family members’ reckoning, Toshiko had made the man—their breadwinner—lose his position.
And she had robbed them of their livelihood’s stability.
They never voiced direct reproach, but precisely for that reason, Toshiko found herself tormented through even more maliciously veiled barbs.

In reality, the man’s unemployment was indeed not without its origins in Toshiko’s actions.
However, more than that, he had long grown weary of that job.
He had wanted to seize an opportunity to quit his teaching position and switch to another job.
This was something the family members had also known.
However, the job wasn’t found as quickly as he had hoped.
And inevitably, hardship struck.
For Toshiko, a multitude of painful hardships bore down on her day after day.

The man who had worked for his family since youth was—if only in his bodily freedom—how carefree he had become. A little hardship meant nothing to him. He entrusted all matters to Toshiko—now positioned where she had to manage them—and lived his days in carefree idleness. Needless to say, this was a tremendous loss for the family members. They persistently pressed him to find employment. In such situations, Toshiko was always painfully caught in the middle. Instead of defending the man, she had to shoulder his burdens toward the family members.

A single hesitation pressed all of Toshiko's thoughts further inward. Her efforts to avoid unpleasant clashes with her mother-in-law—who insisted on upholding the household's personal obligations and customs to the last—and her strong-willed sister-in-law were anything but ordinary. Though elderly, her mother-in-law remained relatively reasonable and mild-mannered. Yet even she stubbornly clung to many wasteful practices concerning family ties. As their hardships worsened, complaints piled up before Toshiko one after another. The sister-in-law was truly an assertive, tactless woman. Against her, Toshiko stood no chance. Logic held no sway. At times, even Mother became unyieldingly confrontational with her. While attuned to these women's moods and silently enduring every insult or unreasonable barb, Toshiko had gradually grown accustomed to it all.

However, she never once averted her gaze from herself to others.
She would sometimes shed bitter tears alone over her own resigned compliance, pitying those very feelings of hers, while at other times grew impatient with her own lack of resolve.
Yet in most cases, she felt a faint pride in how her rebellious self—strong-willed and defiant—managed to endure among such family members.
This was compounded by how societal criticism toward the women gathering around contributors of the journal she worked on outside home had grown quite intense at that time.
Most of this criticism stemmed from trivial outward actions.
Moreover, these outlandish acts drawing censure were largely things unknown to them.
Whenever Toshiko heard such varied reproaches, she grew so vehemently indignant that those nearby laughed at her.
And extending this outrage toward society itself to her domestic situation, she came to regard the forced resigned compliance as something she willingly embraced—even taking pride in it.

But there were often times when she thought of it all as foolish and trivial.
Especially unbearable were those moments when any retreat on her part became an opening for others to boldly encroach further.
At such times—though not unaware of her suffering—the man who could have reined things in with a single word persistently feigned ignorance.
Toshiko understood his position.
He seemed perpetually convinced that taking any side would only breed trouble, better to remain silent.
Yet resentment would surge through her: if he truly comprehended her resolve to study earnestly and nurture her potential, surely he might offer some protection when forced concessions threatened to crush her beneath mounting burdens.
But she always swallowed these feelings.
Only once had she voiced this grievance to him.
He had dismissed it outright.
"You should manage your own affairs however you see fit." To Toshiko, this sufficed.
Yes—no matter what occurred, one mustn't rely on others.
Her troubles were hers alone to resolve.
This truth she reflexively embraced as absolute.
Yet simultaneously, his selfishness—using such logic to distance himself from nuisances—cast some indefinable shadow over her mind.
The nature of this shadow eluded her.
Though accepting his words as truth, she found no ease in their acceptance.
Some stubborn resistance lingered against embracing them whole.
The effort to reconcile this bred within her a vague, rootless sorrow.
And from that sorrow rose rebellion—a vow never again to speak such words to him.

III

Continuing this kind of life forever was utterly foolish.

She increasingly came to think this way more often. When she considered the terrible disadvantage of meekly enduring the various domestic persecutions that pressed down upon her in layers, she strove to somehow regain her footing and rescue herself. But once she realized that it—no matter what—could not be matched by a modicum of effort, she came to think there was no choice left but to flee that household.

However, by the time such feelings began to take root, she had become a mother. The birth of a single child brought temporary calm to the household. The child became the object of its mother's boundless love. And it was also an object of Toshiko’s love. The dark house suddenly grew lively and bright with the arrival of that small being. Everyone’s attention and interest came to focus solely on that one child. The cloud of unpleasantness lifted—for the time being.

Everyone lived their days in joy.
Toshiko, especially, could not fathom how grateful she was that the house had brightened because of this little one.
But that this very fact laid the foundation for Toshiko’s even greater anguish was something even she herself had not noticed at all.
The child not only constrained Toshiko’s relationship with the man but also further complicated matters with the other family members.

As the days passed, the child continued to grow.
And Toshiko, utterly inexperienced with children, had no choice but to follow Mother’s instructions in everything.
Even when she occasionally brought up some knowledge she had about childcare, each attempt was rebuffed under the shield of “experience.”
If she tried to eliminate even a small fraction of the many inefficiencies and inconveniences by deviating from Mother’s customary ways, Mother would turn confrontational and furious.
Mother interpreted Toshiko’s efforts to reduce wasted effort and time spent on the child as an unkind reluctance—a sign that she found the child burdensome.
Then, defiantly, she would coddle and protectively shield the child.
The result was that everything became no small burden for Toshiko.
The child was passed from hand to hand and lap to lap by the adults all day long.
Every member of the household had to devote themselves entirely to the child.
Above all, Toshiko could not be away from the child even for an hour.

Furthermore, adding to Toshiko’s suffering was how, as the child grew, complaints about their economic hardship had intensified due to the mother’s irrepressible vanity—her desire to display as much showiness as possible even in a single kimono. Moreover, by this time, Toshiko could only think that the man had utterly no intention of seeking employment himself.

"I must somehow devise a way for at least myself to work actively."

Thinking this way, Toshiko searched for work she could do—one thing or another.
However, the mother was completely opposed to whoever held the child working outside.
The more Toshiko showed such resolve, the more she berated her son.
And when it came to childcare, she merely gave meddlesome instructions while her actual assistance amounted to little more than keeping watch.
When Toshiko went out even for unavoidable errands, that half-day absence became an immense burden for the mother.

Gradually, Toshiko came to realize she had been bound for the child's sake.
The child was unbearably dear.
Yet being ceaselessly occupied by the child from dawn till dusk left her agonizingly aware of having no spare moments whatsoever.
She grew frantic to somehow carve out at least some time for reading.
If this continued, she might have to utterly extinguish her very self just to raise one child.
Such an outcome would be catastrophic.
All this suffering aimed to preserve herself—what purpose would destroying that serve?
With this resolve, she diligently pursued the reading and language studies she had originally intended.
But whenever the mother saw her reading while putting the child to sleep, nursing it, or even occasionally with a book open while minding a simmering pot, she invariably pulled a face as if witnessing some idle amusement.

“When I raised children back then, I never had peace—not even during meals.”

She repeated this like a mantra.
The mother brightened only when worn out from endless labor—for both child and household.
Indeed, had one chosen chores over reading during those stolen moments, there were mountains of work exactly as Mother described.

However, Toshiko possessed a world beyond that of the mothers who believed a woman's role ended with managing household matters and tending to children.
She never found those duties distasteful to fulfill—indeed, she could perform them with due interest—but she couldn't resign herself to ending things there.

When she stepped even a single step outside the house, she keenly felt from the depths of her heart her own shabbiness and spinelessness.
She was filled with an urgent sense that she couldn’t afford to remain idle.
Her friends H, N, S, and then Y—everyone was studying diligently.
And when she thought that she—the youngest, most ignorant and incapable—was idling at home, unable to do anything, she felt an indescribable sense of wretchedness and worthlessness.
She envied those who could study freely without any burdens.
Her life, so full of constraints, was cursed.
Yet what could she do when there was no escaping it now?
When she truly thought about it, she could not bear it.

But in any case, she resolved that no matter how her family might criticize her or subject her to their petty complaints, she would not abandon her studies.
Even if she couldn't manage proper, structured study, she wanted to cultivate at least enough linguistic ability to comprehend ordinary texts.

IV

At that time, Toshiko took over all the magazine work from her friend H.
She ended up assuming responsibility for the magazine after H confided his resolve to quit—he couldn’t study while handling the work—and while she regretted abandoning what he had painstakingly maintained, she also secretly intended to use this job to carve out study time from her work hours.
When she visited Mrs.Y—one of the magazine’s contributors—Mr.Y invited her by explaining he planned to read a substantial sociology book for his wife’s sake; if she wished to study, she could come about twice weekly, leading her to make regular visits.
As obtaining the book proved difficult, Mr.Y deliberately had several pages of each week’s assigned portion typed out and sent over.
While truly grateful for this kindness from her heart, Toshiko strove not to let such study opportunities slip away.

However, Toshiko having taken on work outside the home was felt by the family members as a great inconvenience that had befallen them.
By this time, the child required even more attention than before, but Mr. and Mrs.W—a kind couple—came nearly every day to look after them.
They even handled tasks like washing soiled laundry and cleaning.
As for the sister-in-law and others, there was no particular increase in heavy burdens.
Even so, this time, various criticisms rained down upon Toshiko’s work for making such people provide unnecessary assistance and having them come and go daily.
In particular, fierce resentment was vehemently directed at her going out as far as other places to read books—such things were not for a homemaker with children to do.
Toshiko thought she had no choice but to maintain an utterly indifferent attitude toward such matters.

That night, Toshiko’s anguish was indeed tied to those very matters.
The mother, as usual, repeatedly insisted that a woman with a child should not constantly go out.
And increasingly, as she listed one unresolved household matter after another, she finally pushed it to the point of declaring that everything was due to the man’s indolence.
To put it bluntly through the mother’s words, it was said that because he was idling about, the man’s authority as master of the house was being trampled.
And so, because the man was being trampled, and because Toshiko herself wished to act so willfully, it came to pass that she was shouldering even all matters outside the household herself.
The two were subjected to the mother’s incessant complaints and vile insults that night.
And what the mother said, boiled down, was a demand to her son: to confine her within the household, limit her work to domestic matters alone, mold her into a daughter-in-law suited to his convenience—and for him to quickly find some occupation.
However, in trying to pour out all at once—both her usual thoughts and unbearable grievances—without any order, everything descended into utter chaos.

Toshiko listened to this in silence.
She could both understand and sympathize with the mother’s feelings.
No matter how vilely she was cursed or what spiteful things were said to her, she didn’t feel particularly angry.
However, she felt even more strongly than usual that she simply could not endure living with these family members.
The more she thought about how she could never become the daughter-in-law the mother desired—even if the man were to find some means of income—and the more she considered the mother’s conviction that things would inevitably go her way, the more the prospect of their prolonged shadow struggle ahead darkened Toshiko’s heart.

Toshiko left home carrying the child on her back, partly because remaining seated would subject her to endless repetitions of the same matter, and partly because entrusting the child's care felt too troublesome on this evening when she was to visit Mr. Y's place. When she recalled the mother's words along the way, she found herself unable to summon the same calm sympathy she had mustered earlier toward those self-absorbed, pity-seeking—or rather malice-filled—arguments. The many discomforts she had silently endured now swarmed through her mind like storm clouds, each one stoking her hatred with renewed clarity as they surfaced. All at once, these memories roused her unbridled emotions until they surged forth uncontrollably. At this moment, Toshiko felt an inexpressible hatred toward her family members. She was tormented simultaneously by all the suppressed emotions she didn't know how to handle.

However, once those emotions subsided, all that remained was a profound anguish over the unchangeable facts and a bottomless sorrow toward them.

If only I were to separate from him, those relationships would be neatly resolved.
Truly, they would be resolved without any fuss.
That much was clear.
But could I leave him now?
I still loved him. I still respected him.
And if I left that house now, he alone would suffer.
It couldn’t be helped if people saw me as somewhat unfaithful.
But to have him—a fool, a spineless man deceived by someone like me—be reviled by his own mother’s tongue was unbearable.
Yet even that wasn’t entirely unendurable.
There had been times when I’d resolved to do it.
But now there was the child.
The child existed.
What should I do about this?
Ah—must I endure doing everything possible for the child after all?
In the past, I’d thought—even declared—that using “for the child’s sake” as an excuse was spineless. Must I now mouth those very words myself?
It can’t be helped. It can’t be helped.
Toshiko desperately tried to shut her eyes.
Immediately beneath that effort, deep remorse welled up.
I resented my own carelessness for being dragged into this family life.

Even when she tried not to think about it, her youth filled her with regret.
The frustration of her own weakness—always striving to live freely by her own will alone, only to be trapped anew each time—gnawed at her.
What should I become? Ah! Truly, I want to live without heeding anything.
Why can’t I fulfill even this single wish?

A house that awaited with so much awkwardness and cold hostility!
The house she had thought—Should she not return? Should she flee?
While making her way back there, Toshiko remained deeply absorbed in thought.

V

Above her head, lush green leaves grew thickly together, blocking the scorching midsummer sunlight.
In the meadow five or six meters ahead, only young low oak and chestnut trees grew—not enough to cast shade—and over the deep verdant thicket of grass that stood much taller than elsewhere, the blazing sun poured down without restraint, making the blades glisten each time they swayed.
Toshiko sat with her eyes fixed on the book, the cold wind from the forest depths at her back and the glimmer of grass blades on her lowered forehead.
It was:

“Evangelism is not a ‘business,’ as some people imagine.”
"For no one would engage in a 'business' where they might work with the diligence of a slave and die with the honor of a beggar."
"The motives of those engaged in such a profession must differ from ordinary business."
“Deeper than display—stronger than interests—”

It was the biography of Emma Goldman that opened with those words.
Toshiko, drawn in by the author’s rhythmic yet fervent prose, read on eagerly.
It primarily depicted the remarkable half-life of Emma Goldman—how she had fought through numerous obstacles and hardships from her days as a young immigrant factory worker to becoming a prominent anarchist who now stood out in American public life.

There, it clearly depicted how all the unjust oppression of authority had sought to destroy her, and how even her comrades—whose understanding had been obstructed—had torn at her very soul.
And yet, she overcame all of these, and as a renowned evangelist continued her arduous work with unwavering spirit, extraordinary energy, and courage few could possess.
Toshiko found herself drawn to her indomitable spirit that refused to yield to any hardship, and to the passionate love for truth that burned ever brighter with each trial she faced.
At the same time, she could not help but abhor the despicable means employed by the authorities persecuting her.
Moreover, precisely in situations where deep understanding and camaraderie were most needed, she could not suppress her contempt for those foolish comrades who had stooped to the same level as the vulgar masses.

“The representative of revolutionary thought stands between two fires.”
On one hand, there is persecution by current authorities that holds him accountable for every action stemming from social conditions.
On the other hand, there is the lack of understanding from comrades under him who frequently judge all his activities from a narrow perspective.
Thus, the leader often finds himself completely isolated amidst the very crowd that surrounds him.
Even his closest friends rarely understand how deeply he feels the pangs of solitude.
"That is the tragedy of one who stands conspicuous in the public eye."

The author had also written this before depicting her lifetime of suffering.
Toshiko found herself compelled to feel profound empathy with each and every phrase.

She was born in 1869 in Russia’s Kovno region and was raised until the age of seven in a place called Karand.
Both parents were Jewish, and her father served as a government official there.
From the age of seven to thirteen, she was raised at her grandmother’s home in Königsberg, East Prussia.
At that time, young Emma became completely immersed in the German atmosphere.
What she loved to read were Maruritto’s sentimental romances.
She was also a great admirer of his Queen Louise.
But before long, her important first turning point arrived.
In 1882, her parents took her with them and moved to St. Petersburg.

There, Emma discovered a completely different world.

At that time, a great storm was raging across all of Russia.
A life-and-death struggle between autocracy and the intellectual class surged throughout the country.
In 1881, Alexander II was assassinated.
And in 1882, when she arrived in Petersburg, Sofia Perovskaya, Zhelyabov, Grinevitsky, Rysakov, Mikhailov, and the other brave souls who had executed that tyrant had already entered immortal Valhalla.
The world had never before witnessed such a fight for freedom.
The names of the Nihilist martyrs were on everyone’s lips.
And thousands of young followers plunged into that struggle.
Revolutionary sentiment permeated every class throughout all of Russia.
As her study of the Russian language progressed, the young Emma also drew closer to the evangelists of revolutionary thought and their new ideology.
Maruritto’s position was swiftly usurped by Nekrasov and Chernyshevsky.
And she became such a blazing enthusiast that she resolved to devote her entire life to the fight for freedom.

However, her conservative parents could not comprehend this new ideology.
Soul-rending family conflicts continued to be waged.
And she finally resolved to make a living on her own.
And following the example of many others who had entered “among the people,” she too became a factory girl at a corset manufacturing plant.
Had she remained in Russia as she was, she too might have ended up buried beneath Siberian snow like so many others.
However, for her sake, yet another new phase unfolded.
When she turned seventeen, she left Russia behind with her sister Helen, yearning for America—that vast, free nation, that new world of radiant light.

However, her idealistic concept of America was quickly shattered. In this republic—this land of freedom and equality without Tsars, Cossacks, or chinovniks—she found several rulers where there should have been none. The Cossacks were replaced by police wielding heavy clubs; the chinovniks by even crueler factory slave drivers. There she found work in a factory far more regimented, restrictive, and comfortless—harsher by far than its Russian counterparts. She nearly suffocated in that prison-like existence within its dark, frigid atmosphere. Yet for her sake, still more crucial scenes continued unfolding one after another.

The many social facts unfolding before young Emma—facts that guided her ever closer to the right path—gripped Toshiko’s heart even more profoundly.
Regarding 1880s Russia and its revolutionary movement of that time, Toshiko found herself so captivated by these accounts that she wanted to learn about every single episode without exception.
Emma witnessed that movement and directly underwent its baptism.
Moreover, many favorable circumstances that would mold her into a self-aware propagator continued to unfold before her.
With a feeling verging on heartfelt envy, Toshiko read on about the young Goldman and the environment surrounding her—about Goldman being guided by the vivid realities of that milieu.
All these facts, which excited Toshiko merely through reading about them, had been favorable trials for Goldman.

VI

The people engaged in the 1880s revolutionary movement—the movement in which Emma Goldman received her baptism in St. Petersburg—had almost no knowledge of the social ideas emerging in Western Europe and America at that time.
Their ultimate goal was the destruction of autocracy, and their means was the education of the people.
To those people, even the names of socialism and anarchism were unknown.

When Goldman arrived in America, it was precisely the same kind of social and political upheaval as when she had reached Petersburg. Workers rebelled against their working conditions. The roar of struggle between strikers and police reverberated throughout the country. And the culmination of that struggle became the great solidarity strike against the Haarvstaa Company in Chicago, became the massacre of the strikers, became the execution of the workers' leaders. However, no one attempted to know the truth of these events.

Like most American workers, Emma Goldman watched the Chicago incident with intense excitement and anxiety.
She, too, could not believe that the leaders of the common people were to be killed.
November 11, 1887, taught her something entirely different.
She could expect no mercy whatsoever from the ruling classes and acknowledged that there was no difference beyond name between Russian Tsarism and American capitalist politics.
Her entire being was enraged at that evil.
And she resolved to make a solemn vow within herself—to unite with the revolutionary commoner class and devote her entire soul to liberating them from wage slavery.

She began immersing herself in socialist-anarchist literature with tremendous zeal and became closely acquainted with workers who shared the same ideological leanings.
And before long, through John Most’s *Freedom*, she gained self-awareness as an anarchist and began studying anarchist philosophy under America’s leading intellectuals.

Then she started standing at anarchist gathering podiums, and it was not long before her oratorical skills were recognized.
Having fallen ill and temporarily returned to her sister in Rochester, Emma came to New York when she was twenty years old.
And without much difficulty, she grew close with John Most.
Furthermore, her friendship with Alexander Berkman—which would assume even greater significance for her—also began during this period.
Together with these comrades, she flourished as an agitator with fiery zeal and eloquence while continuing her laborious work.
At the same time, she befriended Russian revolutionary exiles whose inspiration proved far from insignificant.
It was around this time that she met Robert Reitzel, through whom Emma became familiar with modern literature’s first-rate authors.

Her wholehearted, fiery zeal for her cause knew no rest.
Before long, as she began remarkable activities as a prominent anarchist, various persecutions descended upon her.
She fought bravely and boldly.
Her enthusiasm, courage, and vigor feared nothing at all.
Yet soon came the time of terrifying trials.

In 1892, a great solidarity strike erupted in Pittsburgh.
Deeply moved to his core by the state of the workers—who had been brutally trampled through the Homestead struggle, the defeat at Pinkerton, and the deployment of the National Guard—Alexander Berkman resolved to stake his life on demonstrating to America’s wage slaves how closely practical anarchists stood alongside workers in action.
He attempted to strike down Frick, the enemy of Pittsburgh’s workers.
However, this ended in failure, and he—at twenty-two years old—was sentenced to twenty-two years of imprisonment.

The persecution Emma Goldman suffered due to this incident was immense.
Alongside the persecution she endured nine years later when Leon Czolgosz assassinated President McKinley, it tore at her soul.
The base slander in capitalist press and police brutality scarcely wounded her.
Yet attacks from their own comrades proved unbearable.
Almost none comprehended Berkman’s deed.
Persecution of fellow ideologues grew so fierce it stifled understanding.
At every gathering—public or private—condemnations rained down.
She faced universal censure for championing Berkman’s revolutionary act.
Homelessness forced her to endure nights in parks.
The youth who’d stood with her and Berkman reached such despair he tried suicide.

The persecution she suffered from the McKinley assassination incident was of the same nature.
It was even harsher than the Berkman incident.
Her explanation of the incident only served to further intensify the persecution.
She was indeed driven out everywhere like a wild beast.
Such persecution by society and her comrades’ lack of understanding hindered her evangelism to such an extent.

However, having overcome those persecutions, she continued her movement without pause.
No persecution could block her path forward.
The more difficulties she encountered, the brighter her passion burned.
Even if there were cases where she was forced into temporary retreat, as after the Berkman and Czolgosz incidents, she never spent those times idly.
Those times were her precious hours of intellectual cultivation and moments of preparation to return to the battlefield.

Thus she fought for her cause for over twenty years.
In time she became a powerful element in America's social and political life.
And her truth - having endured every form of unlawful persecution - gradually came to be recognized from intellectual circles to ordinary citizens.

VII

Toshiko had long understood, at least somewhat, how much of a rebellion it meant against the current social system—to pick up the vital “Justice” that had been utterly abandoned by the selfish hearts of many people.
But for Toshiko, who remained particularly ignorant of such social realities, all the shameless, despicable means of persecution that the government of the Great Republic had employed against a single agitator were astonishing beyond measure.
Regarding these newly learned facts, Toshiko could not help but feel a different kind of heartfelt hatred—one that burned more intensely than what she felt toward the old Russian autocracy that had buried countless people in Siberian snow.

However, what struck Toshiko’s heart even more powerfully than that was Goldman’s own courage above all else.
It was a blazing passion.
It was her unrestrained attitude of advancing toward her convictions without heed to anything.
With each page she turned, how radiantly must Goldman’s noble bearing have shone in Toshiko’s eyes when contrasted against her enemies’ vile methods?
Toshiko quietly surveyed their surroundings.

Here too, all "Justice" had ceased to be requited. All people had been sleeping deeply for hundreds of years—no, far longer—in lives steeped in falsehood and mired in tradition and superstition. Even when a handful of socialists tried to engage with the movement, their fledgling efforts could achieve nothing. Even we who had begun asserting women's self-awareness by seizing upon the slightest slackening of binding constraints could accomplish nothing satisfactory. And it was even considered that the inevitable clash between old and new ideas becoming a truly significant social reality would still require considerable time.

While thinking such thoughts, Toshiko could not help but feel the shabbiness of their lives compared to Goldman's splendid existence.

"A way of life worth living" had been Toshiko's most crucial wish regarding her own "life." To live grandly and strongly, unburdened by anything—this remained the sole desire that never left her mind. How vividly had Goldman demonstrated that ideal existence? Truly, if one could obtain such a raison d'être, who could measure the preciousness of "a beggar's honor"? For that "honor," why would anyone hesitate to expend even a slave's diligence?

But when on earth would such a time come upon Japan?
As she thought this, Toshiko suddenly felt hollow.
And she could not help but keenly contemplate the disparities spanning between each individual human life.

The circle that Toshiko and the others had formed around their organizational journal *S* had become a target of criticism and attacks from society as something that destroyed the beautiful traditions of conventional Japanese women.
They vehemently fought against that criticism.
But how significant was that?
Their entire work consisted solely of partially publishing minor assertions in the pages of *S*.
Even their gatherings for discussion were limited to the minor events of their small lives.
And so, they wore what they were given, ate what they were given, lived in the rooms they were given, and worked toward their small self-fulfillment.
They had almost no actual engagement with social life.
One of the attacks directed at the *S* journal was that it constituted the frivolous pastime of so-called curious young ladies.
Their lives were indeed so small that it was no wonder they were perceived that way.
They preached women’s self-awareness while being mindful of the weaknesses in their own lives.
But that was by no means a frivolous pastime.
They were all earnest.
But they, still doubting their own strength, were truly afraid to recklessly collide with various social realities.
However, if one were to ask whether even a single one of the customs they were striving to eliminate could be utterly uprooted while ignoring the current social system, they would have no choice but to answer “No.”
But in reality, they neither wished to touch upon that point as much as possible nor could they afford to do so; they could get by without addressing it.

But even within that circle, only Toshiko found herself in different circumstances. She had once willingly broken free from traditional constraints, but she had eventually entered another’s household of her own accord and come to live once more within those conventions. She found it pitiable that even enduring the pain—pain so intense it reminded her of when she first escaped those constraints—she still couldn’t make every corner of her life her own. She simply thought it was due to the same force of tradition deeply hidden within herself. And she believed there was no way to remove it except through the power of rational cultivation. However, her life had to be made far more complicated in its dealings with others than those of her friends. And behind the will and emotions of others, there loomed imposingly the vast backdrop called society—something her small self-awareness alone could never confront. When she thought of that, she was assailed by a despair so profound she could do nothing. Even if I alone were to put up a bit of resistance, what would that vast society do? she thought. But even so, she couldn’t bring herself to discard the "Justice" she held in her hands. "In short, everyone must become self-aware." While thinking this, she earnestly continued striving for self-fulfillment. But each time, she secretly believed that someday she would surely regain her footing and confront that great force.

But now, the attitude Goldman had shown Toshiko was entirely different.
She could not overlook society’s systematic evils or their deceptions.
She raged against the social structures that warped human hearts into coldness.
And she took that hatred for falsehood and sin and hurled herself against them.
She truly had no space left to consider anything else.
She threw her entire being—body and soul—into confronting those lies and crimes, both to give life to her true self and for the sake of the countless oppressed.
There, her whole existence had become fire, blazing with a heat that would not rest until it reduced everything to ashes.
Toshiko’s head swam when she thought of it.
Driven by an urge to cast everything aside and leap into such a life of tension right then, she felt she could no longer stay still.

When she, lost in such recollections, returned home with her head bowed and a completely downcast face, the snow had already enveloped everything in pure white.

After putting the child into bed, she lay down on her pillow just like that, but her eyes remained sadly open alongside unconsolable heart’s troubles.
Gazing endlessly at the lamplight’s subdued glow, she continued to think, vividly recalling the profound emotion she had felt a year earlier when reading Goldman’s biography.

That, especially since the troubles of her heart had deepened recently, would repeatedly rise up and cast her into gloom.
And as she reflected on her present circumstances—now grown even more complex than a year before—the more she endeavored to resign herself, the deeper her yearning for that profound emotion became, until she stood clearly aware of it herself.

[『乞食の名誉』 (Beggar’s Honor), Shueikaku, May 28, 1920]