“Stop, my lord!” cried Takumi-no-Kami, and, drawing his dirk, he flung it at the insolent nobleman’s head. Then a great tumult arose. His court cap had saved from death Kotsuki-no-Suke, and he fled from the spot, whilst Takumi-no-Kami was arrested, and to divert the disgrace of being beheaded, hastily performed hari-kiri; his goods and castle were confiscated and his retainers became Ronin (literally “Wave Men”), cast adrift to follow their fortunes, roving at will.
The vendetta, sworn to and carried out by these forty-seven faithful servants, is the sequel of the story. Oishi Kuranosuki, the chief of the Ronin, planned the scheme of revenge. To put Kotsuki-no-Suke off his guard, the band dispersed, many of them under the disguise of workmen taking service in the yashiki of their enemy in order to become familiar with the interior of the fortification.
Meanwhile Kuranosuki, to further mislead his enemies, plunged into a life of wild dissipation, until Kotsuki-no-Suke, hearing of his excesses, relaxed his own vigilance, only keeping half the guard he had at first appointed. The wife and friends of Kuranosuki were greatly grieved at his loose conduct, for he took nobody into his confidence. Even a man from Satsuma, seeing him lying drunk in the open street, dared to kick his body, muttering, “Faithless beast, thou givest thyself up to women and wine, thou art unworthy of the name of a Samurai.”
But Kuranosuki endured the contumely, biding his time, and at last, in the winter of the following year, when the ground was white with snow, the carefully planned assault was successfully attempted. The castle of Kotsuki-no-Suke was taken, but what was the consternation of the brave Ronin, when, after a prolonged search, they failed to discover their victim! In despair, they were about to despatch themselves, in accordance with their severe code of honour, when Kuranosuki, pushing aside a hanging picture, discovered a secret courtyard. There, hidden behind some sacks of charcoal, they found their enemy, and dragged him out, trembling with cold and terror, clad in his costly nightrobe of embroidered white satin. Then humbly kneeling, Oishi Kuranosuki thus addressed him: “My lord, we beseech you to perform Seppuku (happy despatch). I shall have the honour to act as your lordship’s second, and when, with all humility, I shall have received your lordship’s head, it is my intention to lay it as an offering upon the grave of our master, Asano-Takumi-no-Kami.” Unfortunately, the carefully planned programme of the Ronin failed to recommend itself to Kotsuki-no-Suke, and he declined their polite invitation to disembowel himself, whereupon Kuranosuki at one stroke cut off the craven head, with the blade used by his master in taking his own life.
So in solemn procession the Forty-seven Ronin, bearing their enemy’s head, approached the Temple of Sengakuji, where they were met by the abbot of the monastery, who led them to their master’s tomb. There, after washing in water, they laid it, thus accomplishing the vendetta; then praying for decent burial and for masses, they took their own lives.
Thus ended the tragic story, and visitors to the temple are still shown the receipt given by the retainers of the son of Kotsuki-no-Suke for the head of their lord’s father, returned to them by the priest of Sengakuji. Surely it is one of the weirdest relics to take in one’s hand, this memorandum, the simple wording of which but adds to its horror:
Item—One head.
Item—One paper parcel, and then the signatures of the two retainers beneath.
Another manuscript is also shown, in which the Ronin addressed their departed lord, laying it upon his tomb. It is translated thus by Mitford:
“The fifteenth year of Genroku, the twelfth month, and fifteenth day. We have come this day to do homage here, forty-seven men in all, from Oishi Kuranosuki, down to the foot soldier, Terasaka Kichiyemon, all cheerfully about to lay down our lives on your behalf. We reverently announce this to the honoured spirit of our dead master. On the fourteenth day of the third month of last year our honoured master was pleased to attack Kira-Kotsuki-no-Suke, for what reason we know not. Our honoured master put an end to his own life, but Kotsuki-no-Suke lived. Although we fear that after the decree issued by the Government, this plot of ours will be displeasing to our master, still we who have eaten of your food could not without blushing repeat the verse, ‘Thou shalt not live under the same heaven nor tread the same earth with the enemy of thy father or lord,’ nor could we have dared to leave hell and present ourselves before you in paradise, unless we had carried out the vengeance which you began. Every day that we waited seemed as three autumns to us. Verily we have trodden the snow for one day, nay for two days, and have tasted food but once. The old and decrepit, the sick and ailing, have come forth gladly to lay down their lives. Having taken counsel together last night, we have escorted my lord, Kotsuki-no-Suke, hither to your tomb. This dirk by which our honoured lord set great store last year, and entrusted to our care, we now bring back. If your noble spirit be now present before this tomb, we pray you as a sign to take the dirk, and striking the head of your enemy with it a second time to dispel your hatred forever. This is the respectful statement of forty-seven men.”