On the 2nd day of the 1st month of the 11th year of Meiji (2nd January, 1878) after an interval of four years, fire broke out in the house of Nakamura Ch�bei (Iseroku) Yedo-ch� it-ch�-me, but it was extinguished after consuming the building in which it originated. The cause of fire was kerosene oil.
On the 23rd day of the 1st month of the 24th year of Meiji (23rd January, 1891), after an interval of seventeen years, fire broke out in the house of Kobayashi Kyūtar� (“Kobayashi-r��) No. 19, Ky�machi ni-ch�-me, and at Sumi-ch�; forty-six houses were completely, and five partially, burnt. At Ky�machi ni-ch�-me thirteen houses were completely, and two partially, burnt. At Yedo-ch� ni-ch�-me two houses were completely, and nine partially, destroyed.
On the 4th day of the 4th month of the 26th year of Meiji (13th April, 1893) at 7.30 p.m. fire broke out in the third story of Irita Yoshitar� (“Baiman-r��) No. 31, Ageya-ch�, and some forty-five houses were completely, and nine partially, burnt at Ageya-ch�, Yedo-ch� it-ch�-me, and Ky�machi it-ch�-me.
The latest destructive conflagration in the Yoshiwara occurred at 4.30 a.m. on March 15th, 1896. It was started at the rear of the tea-houses Shin Kirihan and Kanetama-ya (which were situated on the border of Yedo-ch� ni-ch�-me and Sumi-ch�) and quickly spread to Yedo-ch� ni-ch�-me, Naka-no-ch�, Sumi-ch�, and even to the outside of the Ō-mon. Altogether 139 houses were destroyed. In this fire a yūjo named Koiginu, 24 years of age, belonging to the “Kawachi-r�� (Sumi-ch�) was burnt to death, her way of escape having been cut off by smoke.
A man-servant of the “Tanaka-r�� was also asphyxiated to death on this occasion.
Furi-sodé Kwaji.
(The Great Fire of Meireki.)
The following interesting legend is an almost literal translation of a popular Japanese tradition.
It seems that on the 18th day of the 1st month of the 3rd year of Meireki (2nd March, 1657), a fire broke out in the Honiny�-ji (temple) at Maru-yama in Hongo, which raged through the City of Edo during three days and three nights, burning everything before it. The number of persons who were burnt to death was over 108,000 souls, and tradition says that from ancient times to the present day no fire has broken out which can be even compared to this conflagration, and indeed that it is impossible to express in words the extent of this terrible and sad calamity. On enquiring about the origin of the fire, it appears that at the end of the Spring in the 2nd year of Meireki, when the cherry blossoms were blooming, the daughter of a certain Hatamoto who resided in the neighbourhood of Banch�, was taken in company with some neighbours to see the flowers at Ueno. At that time the young page of a certain temple was passing by the Sam-mai-bashi (bridge) at Hirok�ji in Ueno, and was seen by the young lady who was going in an opposite direction. The youthful page was a fine handsome young follow, and the girl, on glancing carelessly at him, noticed he was a youth of about sixteen or seventeen years of age, and was wearing a black haori (a kind a loose overcoat) with long sleeves (furi-sodé) on which was dyed a pattern composed of water-wheels (a favorite Japanese design). His hakama (loose trousers) were made of striped brown material, and as he walked along with his swords (the scabbards of which were decorated with a flower design) thrust straight down in his belt, he looked like the ancient pictures of Narihira, or of Minamoto-no-Mitsu-uji, when they were children, at the time of their first admittance to the rank of knighthood. Then she wondered how anyone could surpass this youth, for his lips were red as the reddest of blossoms, his eyebrows arched and beautiful, his hair black and glossy, and his head in front showed the signs of the rite of gembuku, while his front hair was parted in the fashion of those times: and altogether he looked very prepossessing with his fair complexion which laughed at the driven snow, and his fresh appearance which seemed to be striving to emulate the beauty and fragrance of the fullblown flowers. As he passed the young lady, the long sleeves of his garment brushed against her dress, her heart was spontaneously affected, and she fell in love with him after a single glance. Although they were going in opposite directions, she could not help glancing round and wondering whether it was a man or a god that she had seen, and, as she gazed after him, her first love developed like the blossoming of the buds of the cherry flowers. However, as she had persons with her, she went on with them, although she was loath to be parted from her lover. Then she went on to Ueno with her friends, but, although she looked at the cherry-blossoms and sat there amongst them on the matting laid out for the accommodation of guests, the form of the youth she had seen kept dancing before her eyes, and the laughter and gaiety of the crowds assembled became very annoying to her as she sat wrapped in gloomy thought.
That day she returned home and thought—“I wonder who he can be? I know not where he lives and I have no means of tracing him. However much I may pine for my loved one my power of will is not powerful enough to reach to him and thus fulfil my desires. I think myself that I am foolish, but although I strive to banish my thoughts as vain and silly, yet I cannot for a moment relieve my heart of its trouble.� Thus time passed wearily for her, and the days and months flew by until it had become the season of the summer rains, with its intermittent showers. Her thoughts were melancholy and she did not even have her hair dressed, but allowed it to fall dishevelled over her shoulders. She had been taken sick sometime previously, and therefore her parents were very anxious about her. One day her father, addressing her mother, said—“On thinking over the matter of our daughter’s illness very carefully, she drinks no medicine and she dislikes the doctor, and there is something about it which I cannot understand. From what I heard accidentally the other day from a neighbour, it seems that at the time of viewing the cherry-blossoms our daughter met some young gentleman at Mihashi and she cannot forget about him. I don’t know who he was, but it seems that he was a very handsome youth. I have heard that at that time she spoke about the young man to her friends, but I did not think anything about it, and yet it appears that our daughter returned home and from that time she has been moping and miserable. Lately her sickness has increased, and become very serious, and she is wasting away and looks wretched. If you will quietly sound her on the subject she will probably tell you the facts of the case.� Being thus addressed the wife spoke quietly with her daughter that evening about the matter, but she only buried her face in her pillow and made no reply. In a short time however, she thought that after all now things had come to such a pass there was no use in concealing anything further, so she told everything saying—“At the time of flower-seeing this Spring—&c., &c.,—.� Then she went on to confess the whole matter to her mother, while her eyes were streaming with tears, and as she cried and fretted in a half apologetic manner she looked very miserable and pitiful, and she finished by imploring her mother, with averted face, not to laugh at her. Then the mother drew nearer to her daughter and asked her in a low gentle voice—“Do you know the name of the young man and his residence? Have you heard something about it?� But her daughter raised her head and replied—“I had no means of knowing his name or residence. The only thing I remember is that he had on a garment on the sleeves of which there was a pattern, and I am thinking lovingly about him.� The mother nodded and said—“Well then, if I have a dress dyed with the pattern which you then saw, and place it at the side of your pillow, it may give you some comfort and relief.� On hearing this the daughter seemed very happy, and the parents enquired minutely about the pattern and the colouring of the water-wheel design, then they consulted together and calling in their regular dyer made no agreement about the price but simply hurried him up saying “Please be quick and dye this at once.� So, without any waste of time the material was very prettily dyed, and they hurried up the tailor likewise, making him work night and day until the garment was finished. They were indulgent parents and had reared their child very tenderly, so that this trouble caused their hearts to become as black as the black ko-sodé they had ordered. The pattern was composed of water-wheels in the midst of waves, and they revolved and revolved until at last they caused disaster and calamity to the world. The parents brought this garment quickly and showed it to their daughter, who, when she had seen it said “Indeed that’s it, that’s it!� and feeling as if she had ascended into Paradise, she clasped the dress in her arms and appeared like a demented creature. Then after four or five days had elapsed her illness became more and more severe, and she soon expired, still clasping the ko-sodé to her bosom: and as she thus lay in death, holding this garment in her arms, the sight was indeed a most pitiable and touching one. Well, after her death the parents had to part with their child, and the funeral took place with the usual rites in the burial ground of the “Hommy�-ji� (temple) in the district of Hongo. As to the dyed ko-sodé, as the poor girl had loved it so dearly, they put it on her coffin as a kakemuku (pall) and sent it forth to the temple. Sometime afterwards, the priests of the Hommy�-ji sold the garment to their regular second-hand clothing store, and during the ninth month of the same year this figured dress was again brought to the temple covering a coffin as a kakemuku, but the priests paid no particular attention to it, and again sold it off to the second-hand clothing store as usual. Again the identical figured garb was sent in as a kakemuku (pall) from a certain parishioner at daybreak on the 18th day of the 1st month of the 3rd year of Meireki (2nd March, 1657), and as this was the third time the same garment had been sent into this temple, it attracted the eyes of the nassh� (the priest who transacts the business of the monastery) and bans� (assistant priest) who thought—“How miraculous! There must be something mysterious in this event, and it is certainly no mere chance-work that this ko-sodé (long-sleeved garment) should have come round three times in succession to our temple�—and they told the Father Superior of their impressions. The Father Superior, after pondering the matter for a short time, said—“It is indeed a very important case. It is exceedingly mysterious that the garment should have passed through the hands of our parishioners not once but twice and thrice, and it is more mysterious that the deceased persons have all been young girls. I will myself interrogate the seshu (person who orders everything relating to the funeral) about the matter.� Thus, prior to the funeral service, he interviewed the seshu, and enquired about the history of the ko-sodé (long sleeved garment). The seshu answered—“I am deeply ashamed by reason of your enquiries in that way, but our daughter went out one day to the neighborhood of Asakusa on certain business, when she saw this garment hung up in the shop of a certain cast-off-clothing dealer, and she was importunately anxious to get it. We bought it according to her earnest desire, and from that very night she was taken ill with a raging fever and not only that, but she talked deliriously like a lunatic, tightly embracing the garment the while. All my family together endeavoured very hard to take the garment away, but she would not allow it to be removed. Since then she became thinner and thinner and finally expired.� The priest nodded to the speaker and then related in detail all about the mysterious garment, and how it had come into the temple twice before as a kakemuku (pall) from two of their parishioners. The seshu (person ordering the funeral) on hearing this story was struck with terror and said—“Then, if you should sell this ko-sodé again this time, the same calamity will fall upon another unfortunate individual. This is not my wish, and I think it will be proper to put it on the fire and burn it up after the funeral ceremony is finished.� The Father Superior nodded several times and replied—“Indeed that is the wisest course,—yes—yes.� Then after the funeral ceremony was over, and the people all gone, the priests brought out a brazier of three feet square in order to burn the garment, and crumpling up the ko-sodé they cast it on the fire, all chanting the prayer in chorus “Oh let the souls of the three women quickly enter into Paradise. We adore thee Oh blossom of doctrine!—thou salvation bringing book of the wonderful Law!� Immediately after they had flung the garment into the flames a sudden whirlwind arose which came sweeping from the North, blowing up sand and dust to such an extent that in an instant the sky was entirely blotted out by a cloud of grit and dust, which threatened to envelope the whole universe with a darkness as black as a raven’s wing. The people in the temple looked at each other in horror, saying in their agitation that this was no chance event, when suddenly at that very moment, the burning garment spread out and was carried by the wind high up into the inner side of the lofty ceiling of the main chapel. The bystanders had no time to exclaim more than “Oh!� before the main chapel and the priests’ dwelling were one mass of flame, and the fire was burning up furiously until it became at length the origin of a great disaster. Such was the origin of what is known as the furi-sodé-kwaji (Long-sleeved garment fire) of Hongo, Maruyama, Hommy�ji (temple), which consumed nearly the whole city and which still remains upon the lips of the people to the present day.