Jijoden 自叙伝, Sai On's Autobiography
Original title: Sai-uji Gushichan ueekata Bunjaku anbun 蔡氏具志頭親方文若案文
Original language = Japanese sōrōbun
There are still a few loose ends I need to clean up, mainly confirming some of the dates and adding some notes. Here is the 98-99% finished version:
When my father Sai Taku was seventeen, he and my mother Yōshi, sixteen, were married. When Sai Taku was twenty-one and Yōshi was twenty, she gave birth to a daughter. Thereafter, because until age 30 she bore no child, Yōshi said that since there was no male heir to carry on the blood line that my father should take a concubine for the sake of obtaining a male heir and preserving the family lineage. Sai Taku replied that fortunately, we have a daughter. My view is that because Kuniyoshi Peichin’s second son Shūsai is intelligent and sincere, if we were to make a betrothal pact such that Kuniyoshi Shūsai would marry into our household as Nakachi Peichin, we would have a wise adopted son. Then we would have no need for anxiety about an heir. Yōshi, however, did not agree. She repeated her plea several tens of times that my father take in a concubine with the hope of producing a make heir. Then because some ten years passed without her becoming pregnant, he though that they must surely resign themselves to the will of heaven (tenmei 天命). But his wife remained steadfast in her view, and urged him repeatedly. Owing to his wife’s uncanny steadfastness of purpose, my father finally agreed that to set his wife’s heart at ease he would take a concubine. Then, if there was still no male heir, it would still be possible to adopt a wise son.
As a result, Yōshi was overjoyed, and she sought to make arrangements such that Tamatsu, daughter of Kamiya Peichin of Shitahaku Village [Kochinda Magiri], enter the household as a concubine. She discussed the matter with Kamiya Peichin and his wife, who rejected the idea, raising concerns about the ultimate fate of someone who becomes a concubine. After all, it is common for the main wife to resent a concubine bitterly and to be filled with jealousy. Yōshi promised directly that such a thing would not come to pass and asked what she could possibly be worried about? Two or three more such assurances put them at ease, and Tamatsu entered Sai Taku’s household.
When Sai Taku was thirty-seven, in 庚申年, a son was born, and Yōshi quickly made arrangements for a nursemaid to raise him. His childhood name was Jirō, and his Chinese name was En (Yuan). When Sai Taku was thirty-nine and Yōshi was thirty-eight, in 壬戌, Yōshi also gave birth to a son. His childhood name was Kamado, and his Chinese name was On (Wen). Sai Taku thought that because Kamado was born late, there could be no gainsaying his having taken in a concubine and the resulting birth of Jirō. But since Kamado had recently been born, he thought that Jirō should become a disciple of Master Seikai of Tōryūji, to whom he made this proposal.
When Jirō was nine, however, and Kamado was seven, Sai Taku was appointed to head a tribute mission to China. Before he departed, he gave a book he had written to Jirō, which contained the names of official titles from prince to peichin and a book containing the names of such things as rice, money, vegetables, clothing, various tools, and so froth. He gave to Kamado a copy of the Three Character Classic. Therefore, after he departed for China, Yōshi surmised that her husband intended separate educations for the two boys and sought to make Jirō into a clerical official. She thought that it was fortunate that they had two sons, so that the ancestral line would continue even should one of them die young. Therefore, she had both boys study the Three Character Classic.
When Sai Taku returned, she explained her thoughts to him in detail. He said to her that, because she has the body of a woman, she is ignorant of reason (dōri). Thus, he said, there is no reason that the offspring of the main wife should be called the second son and the offspring of the belly of a concubine established as the household heir. In the midst of this conversation Yōshi said that while she understood her husband’s point, I am approaching fifty and will surely not be able to give birth again. Fortunately, because we have two male children, if one were to die early, the ancestral bloodline would continue and not die out. In this manner, the dispute between the two continued unabated and became known to all.
It was unheard of in the world for a wife to possess such a firm will, and it was remarkable that he agreed to do things her way and to see how events might turn out in the future. Therefore, in an unprecedented show of deference to Yōshi’s view, the child born of a concubine became the designated household heir, and both boys studied the same books. While Jirō displayed intelligence, Kamado did not and was unable to remember a single line he had read. He eventually was able to remember a little by reading a half line at a time twenty or thirty times over. But he would forget even this meager attainment after three or four days had passed. So his cousin Kamado (Nakaima Ueekata), the intelligent fourth son of Takara Peichin and who had learned the Four Books, became his tutor. By age fifteen, he had read through the Great Learning and the Mean. After getting his hair styled in the kata-kashira manner of adult aristocrats in the eighth month, he moved from receiving instruction in reading to receiving instruction in interpretation. But he understood not so much as a word of this academic discussion, and he passed the months uselessly as he turned sixteen.
At night, on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, many friends gathered in front of the main gate to Kumemura. In the clear sky, the moon shone with extraordinary clarity, and everyone seemed to be in a jovial mood. But I got into an argument with Kobashigawa Niya, whose family had recently purchased aristocratic rank. As we argued, Kobashigawa said that the jovial gathering here on this moonlit night was for people of aristocratic status. But you, who are not an aristocrat, have shamelessly pushed your way into this group and thus should return home at once. I became visibly angry and said that he, a marginal aristocrat [shinzanshi, 新参士], should be the one to go home. As the argument continued, Kobashigawa said that the definition of an aristocrat [shi 士] is not about the relative importance or obscurity of his family. Instead it is about lofty attainments in calligraphy and scholarship. You cannot retain a single phrase or line you have read. Even though you have forgotten the Great Learning and the Mean, because you are the child of a man of ueekata status, you wear splendid clothes. But in reality, you are no different from the son of a peasant. We have all made good progress in reading and have received the praise of our teachers. But what praise have you received? Saying this, he clapped his hands and laughed, and the others joined him.
I returned home in shame and passed the night weeping in the veranda. I did not go out from that time on, and though I spent the ninth and tenth months in deep thought, I just could not retain what I read like other people. So I asked my younger cousin Takara Kamado to undertake the task of teaching me the essence of retaining what I read. I also asked my older cousin, Interpreter Kuniyoshi, to teach me the meaning of what I read, phrase by phrase. Both agreed, and I immediately began working under their direction. The new year arrived, and I was seventeen.
That year, I poured all my energy into reading, and I also received instruction in the meaning of what I read, one or two phrases at a time. From the ninth month of that year I became more at ease with study and the lessons in interpreting the meaning began covering a half page at a time. From the age of eighteen I could freely remember and interpret four or five pages, and from the age of nineteen I could read through books I had never before seen. From age twenty I had read through the greater part of the curriculum. At twenty one, I received the yellow cap [hachimaki 八巻] and became an instructor of reading. At twenty-five I became instructor of interpretation, and at twenty-seven, in 戊子, I was appointed as one of the functionaries who remained in Fujian as part of a tribute mission to China.
The next year in the sixth month, both of the tribute ships had returned, and the Sedo-taifu [勢頭大夫] had gone on to Beijing, leaving me alone to stay at the Ryukyuan Affairs Office in Fujian. From the seventh month, the summer heat became oppressive, and until this time I had frequent chats with the head of the Lingyun凌雲 Temple on Mt. Jinji 錦鶏. The temple being quite near, when the heat eased up in the eight month I paid another visit. The head priest told me that a man from Huguang [Hunan and Hubei] had come to the temple with a friend five days earlier and was staying in the study. The priest said that he was no ordinary man, but that although he had looked him over, he couldn’t figure him out. He asked whether I might want to accompany him to see this visitor again in the hope that together we might come to understand what he was about. He is in the study presently, so we could visit him now. Fortunately, I was of the same mind, and so we went to talk with him in the study.
He seemed not to have anything particular to say. The priest introduced me as Cai [Sai], a Ryukyuan official, and the man asked about the location of Ryukyu and how many days’ journey by ship is required to get there. I answered that Ryukyu lay to the south-east and that with good winds one could get there in four or five days. He had no further questions and nothing to say. In the evening when the head priest and I returned, he said to me outside the gate that today had been our first meeting, and because we did not really talk about anything, that I should come back tomorrow. I replied that I didn’t really see anything special about the man and asked whether it would really be of any use to go to the trouble of coming back for a visit tomorrow. He insisted that it would, and hearing a tone of urgency in his voice, I agreed. Despite harboring doubts, I returned to the Lingyun temple the next day.
The head priest was happy to seem me and led me into the study. The stranger asked about the Ryukyaun king’s surname and asked whether [his court] valued the sagely classics and poetry. I relied that we possess the entire sagely corpus of books and pursue poetry and prose composition, much the same as in China. That evening upon returning, the head priest said that there had been a few things to discuss at today’s meeting, but not enough to figure this man out. So he urged me to visit again the next day. I replied that this man seems to be like the sort of teachers we bring in to assist at the Ryukyuan Affairs Office. The priest said that in his view, the man was like the wise recluses (inja 隠者) of old. Politely, he urged me to return the next day and so I did. Again I went to the Lingyun temple and we went into the study to meet the guest.
He said that the view from the temple was superb, flanked as it was by Stone Drum (Shigu 石鼓) Mountain to the east, Tiger Head (Hutou 虎頭) Mountain to the south, Flag (Qi 旗) Mountain to the west, and Lotus (Lianhua 蓮華) Mountain to the north. You should take this view as your topic and compose a verse for us. Fortunately I wrote out a verse on the spot and showed it to him. He became delighted upon seeing it and immediately hung it on the wall, reading over it several times. Seeing how easily gladdened he was by this verse I assumed that he must not be very good at composition. Upon returning with the head priest that evening, he again urged me to return the next day. Because I regarded the priest as a man of integrity, I thought that perhaps I would indeed be able to discover the man’s strong point. So the next day I again went to the Lingyun Temple and went with the priest into the study.
The man said to me that although I am twenty-eight years old and should by now be quite learned, instead I neither know nor care about wise books, whiling away the months and years vainly passing through this fleeting world [ukiyo]. It is regrettable. Hearing these words I was greatly astonished and thought them to be most unreasonable. I said that I had read through all of the many sagely writings and just yesterday I composed a poem on the scenery before your eyes. On what basis, therefore, do you say that I neither know nor care about true learning [gakumon]?
The man burst out laughing and said no matter how many compositions you pen and no matter how many books you read, it amounts to the same thing as craftwork [saiku 細工]. It is vastly different from true learning. Fortunately, you are still young and vigorous, so if you devote yourself wholeheartedly to true learning, you can still be of use to yourself, your ruler and your country. In particular, the Four Books and the Six Classics as well as other wise writings are all tools for [what the Great Learning calls] making the will sincere [sei’i, 誠意] and governing the realm [chikoku, 治国]. But you have forgotten the great utility [taiyō, 大用] of making the will sincere and governing the realm. You “work” at things like reading and composition simply for amusement. In the end, you have forgotten yourself and your country, which is actually worse than being a craftsman.
These words caused me to think, and I listened in courteous silence because he seemed to be playing the part [mitate] a venerable old sage. He again stated that my reading through books was like pursuing the dregs of words [moji no kasu], not their correct meanings. Then he called over the head priest who had a copy of the Analects that he used as a children’s reader. He took the copy of the Analects, faced me, and asked whether I had mastered this book. I said that of course I was thoroughly familiar with the Analects, having mastered the Four Books and the Six Classics. He opened the book, pointed to a passage, and asked me about the real meaning of the passage. He asked me to explain the true meaning of the term jingshi [Jp. keiji, 敬事]. I answered that, with respect to governing, jingshi meant not to be careless in performing one’s duties but to pursue them diligently. This is the meaning of “respectful service” [jinshi]. He then asked me what specific steps one might take to implement the diligent pursuit of one’s duties? He burst out laughing at my reply and asked what sort of thing I meant by “loving people” [hito o ai]? I replied that “loving people” meant to carry out the correct path, which would have the effect of nurturing the common people. He then asked about specific steps one might pursue to carrying out this “nurturing.” Hard pressed and exasperated, I could not reply. I respectfully stated that I had not yet come to know the true meaning of learning.
I said that I would be most grateful to receive his instruction and gradually learn this true meaning. He said that he had an aged mother to care for in his home village and that soon he must return there. People from throughout Fuzhou and the adjacent provinces came to ask this man about the true meaning of learning, and they came to understand the distinction between the dregs of books and true learning. I, too, in this way, just by hearing these words from the master, first realized that there was a distinction between dregs and the true meaning. It was like waking from a dream.
I told this master that thanks to his consideration, I have been able to meet him here in the temple unexpectedly, despite a doubling of the number of people coming to see him. Because I regarded our meeting as an encounter occasioned by destiny, I could not remain silent about his returning to his home province. Thus I urged him to remain several months and to teach me the essentials. I begged him with tears in my eyes, and so he agreed to stay for three months. Therefore, from the eight month through the tenth month, I learned from him the secrets of how to cultivate the self and govern the realm. At the end of the tenth month, he said that his aged mother could hardly wait any longer and that he really should return. Because of special consideration for my situation, however, he remained two more months. So for five months I applied myself to learning from the classics the way of the substantive principles and their substantive utility for humans. He transmitted to me his secret wisdom regarding both tangible and intangible matters, leaving nothing out. Additionally, he taught me in detail the distinction between the Confucian Way [judō] and heretical teachings.
On the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month, he set out for his home province. That evening, he clasped my hand and said that it was difficult to say whether he would see me again. So he left me with this fundamental principle: to advance far in learning one must start with what is near at hand; to climb to a high place, one must start from a lowly place. This, he said, was the teachings of the ancients, and I should never forget these words, setting out from that which is humble and near to advance to what is lofty and far. I replied that I have respectfully and appreciatively received your teachings and in due course I will put them into practice. I wish that I could write down your name and pay formal homage to it because while I have received input from countless others of various lands and lineages, never have I heard anything comparable to your teachings. Why is this so? I asked. He laughed and that he was a man of Huguang, and that I should remember him that way. Thus came the time to part.
As described above, I met this recluse entirely by accident, and he conveyed to me the secrets of true learning. It is my sincere belief that our meeting was the result of destiny. Moreover, there in the Lingyun Temple I learned the distinction between Confucianism and heretical teachings. Furthermore, I heard that it was not the case that Shakyamuni propagated heretical teachings, though at the time I had not yet made up my mind. Near the Ryukyuan Affairs Office was a temple called Wanshouan, which was a branch temple of Gushan Yongquan Temple. A complete set of Buddhist sutras was located there, copied from the Yongquan Temple, and I was able to look them over one-by-one. I read every key Buddhist scripture and was also able to read about conditions prevailing in India. So at a place where I would have expected no books to be available, I was able to read them easily because they had been copied and brought over from an adjacent temple. This situation, too, was an unexpected linkage [furyo no en 不慮之縁].
In the six month of Kangxi forty-nine, 庚寅, my duty as an official in Fujian came to an end. I was twenty-nine when I returned home and was appointed assistant head of Kumemura [choushiyaku, 長史役, of which there were normally two, assisted the head of Kumemura].
At age thirty, I was appointed tutor to Crown Prince Shō Kei in anticipation of his traveling to Edo after a few years. In the seventh month of my thirty-first year, King Shō Eki passed away, and it was decided that Shō Kei should forgo traveling to Edo and immediately ascend the throne. I remained as his tutor, a position with a stipend of eight koku. I also received four koku as an interpreter for tribute mission, for a total of twelve koku. I was appointed jitō of Kamiya in Katsuren Magiri, and because I lodged with the Lord of Nakagusuku (younger brother of the crown prince), I secured a residence in the village of Akahira and moved there at age thirty-three. At that age I was also appointed Seigi-taifu [Kumemura’s highest status rank].
After King Shō Kei’s enthronement, for the first time, he came to visit me. Also in attendance at the reception were my wife’s grandfather, Gushichan Ueekata, the sesshō [Prime Minister] Prince Tomigusuku, and Sanshikan member Tajima Ueekata. At age thirty-five I was appointed to travel aboard a tribute ship to China to request the king’s investiture. Commensurate with this function, in addition to my status as Seigi-taifu, I was also appointed mōshikuchiza and my jitō territory was changed to Sueyoshi in Nishibaru Magiri.
I sailed for China the next year, in the six month of 丁酉, and after both tribute ships [dropped us off and] returned to Ryukyu, we journeyed up to Beijing. We spend four or five days at the Quzhou Office [Quzhou is in southern Zhejiang, at the headwaters of the Qiantang River] to transfer to river boats. At that time, I met a Buddhist priest from India and asked him to accompany me on board the boat to explain the situation in India. Fortunately this priest had been in China for fourteen years and spoke Chinese well. We enjoyed a leisurely ride, talking and feasting. I think that this encounter, too, was an unexpected linkage [furyo no go-en, 不慮之御縁].
On the twenty-eighth day of the tenth month, we arrived in Beijing. When I presented the request for investiture to the Qing official in charge of foreign visitors, he asked us a number of questions. The port interpreter was summoned because Ryukyuan officials could not use spoken Chinese, but they were able to communicate in writing. The next morning, the sedo-taifu [head of the tribute mission] called on me for assistance, and we went to the Board of Rites office. We communicated directly in writing with the three officials on duty at the office, and gradually I wrote out answers to their questions. The Kangxi Emperor granted us an audience, and we explained that for many generations, Ryukyuan kings received investiture from Chinese imperial envoys in the form of an official state ceremony. We heard from a Qing official that the emperor granted our request.
The next year, 戊戌, on the second day of the fourth month, we were permitted to return to Fuzhou. We were late in departing, and traveling by canal day and night, we arrived at Fuzhou on the twenty-fourth day of the sixth month. We completed our usual official duties and boarded a ship for our return in the middle of the seventh month, but there were no suitable winds. It was not until the third day of the eight month that our ship departed Wuhumen [Jp. Gotoramon, the distinctive rock formation at the mouth of Fuzhou’s harbor], and we returned home on the ninth day. I reported that the petition [for investiture] had been granted.
That winter, Seigi taifu Matsudō Peichin went to China to serve as the official who welcomed the investiture envoys. I instructed the king in Chinese ritual procedures. During the sixth month of the following year, 己亥, the investiture ship arrived. From that time, we consulted and satisfactorily completed the commemoration rites for the royal ancestors and the enthronement rites for the king. I received the purple hat and a stipend of fifty koku.
From the middle of the eight month, the valuation of the goods brought by the Chinese merchants began. That value amounted to over 2,000 kanme of silver, but the Ryukyuan government had only 500 kanme on hand for buying these goods. At the start of the ninth month, the situation deteriorated and the valuation and purchase process could not continue. Starting with the imperial envoy, all of the Chinese said that being a kingdom, no matter how poor it may be, Ryukyu should be able easily to buy six or seven thousand kanme of goods. Your claim to have but 500 kanme of silver for buying foreign goods is intended to cause grief to the Chinese merchants and is heartless, they angrily said. Because of this attitude, no solution was apparent. The head valuation official, Nago Ueekata (Tei Junsoku) and the other taifu-ranked officials discussed the matter and were of the view that none of them could resolve the dispute. They thought that if only the king’s tutor Sueyoshi Ueekata (Sai On) would bring his skills to bear, the situation might be resolvable. Although he is very busy with his duties at the royal court at this time, they set out a detailed request that Sai On attend to the valuation dispute, and the Sanshikan also agreed with this idea.
So Sueyoshi Ueekata Sai On went to Kumemura and took the lead in dealing with this difficult problem. He consulted with the sessei, members of the Sanshikan, and the various taifu. He explained to the investiture envoy that the situation was continuing to deteriorate and because there have been mistakes in understanding verbal communication from, Sueyoshi Ueekata asked that all inquiries be communicated through writing. Furthermore, all replies from the Ryukyuan side would also be in writing. He agreed to this procedure. Thereafter, the Ryukyuan side made numerous overtures, each time answering many questions about each specific point of contention. Nevertheless, things did not work out well on these occasions, and the investiture envoy pressed his case with vigor.
One day, while he was riding on horseback from Naha and passing through [Kumemura] about four or five hundred Chinese surrounded Sueyoshi Ueekata. They threatened that if I did not agree to their valuation terms surely great harm would befall me. They said that if I did not agree to their demands that they would hold me hostage for days on end. Nevertheless, Sueyoshi Ueekata betrayed no signs of fear. The Chinese mob carried him inside the grounds of the Tenpi Shrine and again threatened him with harm should the Ryukyuan government refuse to purchase the goods that the merchants had brought with them. Their aim was to demand the purchase of goods worth 2000 kanme of silver.
Sueyoshi Ueekata said in reply that today it is likely that many people misunderstood each other because of problems with each other’s spoken language. Your side has been able to make any inquiry it wishes of the Ryukyuan government via writing, and I have answered those inquiries in writing. Still, even though our discussions became more difficult despite our having brought writing materials, I explained that there was absolutely no silver other than the 500 kanme the government has set aside. I dealt with their questions one by one, in writing, and by the end of the ninth hour in the evening, they had agreed to a valuation of 500 kanme to the next morning.
During this time, the members of the Sanshikan went into hiding at Kongōzan Temple, so I went there and explained the matter to them in detail. They then summoned a number of valuation officials so that the process might start early the next morning. But while these officials acknowledged the importance of re-starting the valuation process, they all refused to participate on the grounds of being busy with other matters. The sessei and Sanshikan censured these officials for unreasonable dereliction in the performance of essential duties, and when they heard that Sueyoshi Ueekata would be present at the valuation office each day, they agreed to do the work.
From the next day, the Chinese merchants gathered at the valuation office in turns, and all sides conducted business in a courteous and proper manner. Sueyoshi Ueekata was there for about five days, and thereafter the valuation officials alone conducted the work effectively. Nevertheless, difficulty again arose as the Chinese merchants faced the prospect of having to return home with over 1000 kanme of unsold goods. The investiture envoy urged the sessei and Sanshikan, and everyone else to figure out some way to raise money to lessen the financial harm to the merchants of having to return with so many unsold goods. After all concerned discussed the matter, we decided to collect hairpins from the entire population and each household gathered together this copper and silver utensils. Converted to silver coins, these items enabled us to buy an additional hundred kanme of goods. In this way, a year passed with the investiture ship in port. On the sixteenth day of the second month of the following year, 庚子, they set sail for home.
Because of my work as described above, at age 39, I was appointed sanshikan-zashiki [status equivalent to a member of the Sanshikan; in this case, also marking Sai On as the person who would fill the next available opening in the sanshikan]. At age forty, my stipend was increased thirty koku for a total of eight koku. At forty-two I was granted a palanquin.
From that time on, I began working on correcting the Chūzan seifu, which contained numerous errors. By consulting the sets of veritable records [jitsuroku] given to me by Investiture Envoy Xu Laoye (Xu Baoguang) I was able to revise and correct the entire text of the Chūzan seifu.
At the age of forty-seven, I became a member of the Sanshikan, and I was also appointed jitō of Gushichan Magiri and received the commensurate stipend.
At the new year when I became seventy, King Shō Kei unexpectedly passed away. Knowing that the investiture process would soon begin, I wondered whether in my old age I had sufficient energy to deal with the arrival of the investiture ships. Therefore, because of old age, I petitioned for permission to retire from worldly affairs. The petition was transmitted to Satsuma [O-kunimoto, 御国許], with a reply that I while I could retire from formal office, I should refrain from a complete withdrawal from public affairs. Thus I retired from office and received the purple hat embroidered with a five-color floating pattern and the services of two police officers and four red-capped officials to assist me. I also received a stipend of twenty koku of rice to sustain me in my old age and the leisure time to preserve my health.
When I was seventy-three, the king formally came of age, and it was my honor to place the crown on his head, which I humbly and thankfully did. At age seventy-five, 丙子, the investiture ship arrived. Swept by bad winds and unfavorable tides, it crashed against a reef near Kumejima and suffered damage. Fortunately the investiture envoy and the entire crew made it ashore safely. One fast boat was sent to inquire about their safety and to take them from Kumejima. Also, the royal government sent three ships, with the members of the Sanshikan at their heads, formally to welcome the Chinese envoys and convey them to port. They entered Naha on the eighth day of the seventh month. Because of unfavorable winds, the military escort ship returned to China. The memorial service for the deceased king was held on the twenty-seventh day of the seventh month, and the investiture ceremony for the new king was successfully completed on the twenty-first day of the eighth month.
The valuation process started after the ceremonies with translated discussion proceeding step by step. The Ryukyuan side has informed the Chinese merchants that it had only 300 kanme with which to buy goods. However, considering the serious damage to the ship off Kumejima and the losses suffered by the Chinese crew, the government conveyed an additional 250 kanme to the Chinese crew as an expression of sympathy, who were well pleased. The military escort vessel that returned to China arrived back in Okinawa on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, but it had encountered disaster on the high seas and suffered severe losses. Therefore the government sent 263 kan of silver and 650 me of silver as an expression of sympathy, of which two kanme were thrown in the sea in memory of the two Chinese sailors who drowned. On the twenty-ninth day of the first month of the following year, the both investiture envoys sailed back to China.
Thus I requested permission to withdraw entirely from public life. As a household inheritance, the position of jitō of Gushichan Magiri went to my heir, Hamagawa Ueekata, along with the stipend of 200 koku. And the same emoluments were granted to his descendants. Thus I finish my account with sincere gratitude and in comfortable retirement.