A GENTLEMAN
IN PRISON
The Story of TOKICHI ISHII
Written in Tokyo Prison
TRANSLATED BY CAROLINE MACDONALD AND
WITH A FOREWORD BY JOHN KELMAN, D.D.
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
TOKICHI ISHII
Taken in Tokyo Prison
A GENTLEMAN
IN PRISON
WITH
THE CONFESSIONS OF TOKICHI ISHII
WRITTEN IN TOKYO PRISON
TRANSLATED BY
CAROLINE MACDONALD
WITH A FOREWORD BY
JOHN KELMAN, D.D.
NEW ^SW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1922,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TO ALL
IN EVERY LAND
WHO HAVE NEVER HAD A CHANCE
THIS STORY IS
DEDICATED
FOREWORD
By REV. JOHN KELMAN, D.D.
It was on the Empress of Russia, in the early sum-
mer of 1920, that a certain group met. They were
a mixed crowd, English, American and Oriental, gath-
ered for ten days to scatter over many eastern lands —
Japan and the further coast of China, the Malay
Peninsula, the Philippine Islands — even of India, and
in some cases eventually Europe. The winds blow
cold upon that trip all the year round, with a touch
of the northern ice in them : and the long chain of the
Aleutian Islands, snow-clad volcanic peaks, strung
like beads for a necklace on the Arctic, are surely the
austerest jewels of the Seven Seas. So the passengers
are much engaged in indoor occupations, and meet
in groups in sheltered places for employments con-
genial to their desires. For our part we gathered
round a little woman of Scottish Canadian blood, who
told us the strangest story in all the world. That
story is the present volume.
Miss Caroline Macdonald is carrying on a quite
unique work in the prisons of Tokyo. The first visitor
I met in her home in Kojimachi was a modest and
quiet-eyed elderly man, who talked with shrewd intel-
ligence upon many subjects; he had served twenty-
seven years in jail for murder. Soon after him en-
tered Mr. Arima, the Christian governor of one of
Fvin
FOREWORD
the great long-sentence prisons in Japan,' whose ac-
quaintance readers will make before long. The tale
Miss Macdonald told us, of which this book is a
translation from the Japanese, is indeed one of the
world's great stories. There is in it something of
the glamor of The Arabian Nights, and something
of the naked hellishness of Poe's Tales of Mystery.
There is also the most realistic vision I have ever seen
of Jesus Christ finding one of the lost. You see, as
you read, the matchless tenderness of His eyes and
the almighty power of the gentlest hands that ever
drew a lost soul out of misery into peace.
For the title of the book I alone am responsible, and
although I am not satisfied with it, yet on the whole
it is the most expressive that I could find. It is a true
title, for Ishii was one of God's aristocrats. Even in
his unregenerate days one notes the generous largeness
of his nature, the instinctive diligence of his spirit and
the honorable pride that finds it difficult to accept a
favor. He is nervously high strung, quick and pas-
sionate, sensitive alike to kindness and to injury.
Upon this delicate instrument life plays its violent
music, handling the strings harshly and jangling the
melody. There are two men here and the struggle
between them is desperate. The bad man is bad with
a vengeance, but the good man is entirely and instinc-
tively a gentleman, and able, both in his own case and
that of others, to see quite clearly that the world must
be governed and that the lawless man has no real place
in the scheme of things. In our title there is also a
subtle hint of escape. No true gentleman will remain
long in prison. He will find release, either within or
[viii]
FOREWORD
without the gates, making stone walls and iron bars a
hermitage while others know them only as a cage, and
in God's strange way eventually returning to his native
freedom.
Besides its main purpose the book has other inter-
ests. Here you will find many a quaint and vivid
expression revealing in a flash the picturesque
chamber of imagery which is the mind of the Japanese.
Thus when Ishii reads the phrase that brought to him
salvation, he is stabbed to the heart "as if pierced bx a
five-inch nail" : and again, talking of his grumbling
-over food, he remarks that he did not then understand
"that one food is as good as another after it has gone
three inches past the throat."
He is an inveterate moralizer. He cannot see the
prison bath or watch the officers practising upon a
bicycle without the suggestion of scriptural emblems
worthy of Bunyan or of Quarles. He moralizes
chiefly at his own expense, upholding the authority of
the state as against the rights and pleasures of the
individual, and he does it with such a calm and dis-
passionate air of impersonality that you have to force
yourself continually to realize that he is writing against
time — a race with the gallows. Moralizing may be
dull work, but not when it is done in successions of
inimitable pictures sketched in the artistic style of old
Japan, all line-work, little filling in, and no background.
Again the moralizing will give you many hints for
prison reform, applicable to other lands as well as to
his own. There is an astonishing amount of heart
as well as intelligence manifest in the existing prison
system as he describes it. Nothing could be quainter
[ix]
FOREWORD
than the fact that he has added to this book of death-
bed spiritual confessions an appendix instructing
Japanese policemen what to do and what not to do if
they wish to catch a runaway criminal.
There is much here for the student of literary style.
Ishii had actually to relearn the art of writing, and he
had no time to learn how to express himself. Yet his
very ignorance gives an unconscious literary touch to
all he writes. His broken sentences, his abrupt and
unelaborated periods, give a singular naivete to the
whole book. There is no after-thought, but only the
sincerity of the untaught, which indeed imparts to the
whole composition that "flavor" which his friend, the
Judge, commends. The story is curiously free from
vanity or even self -consciousness. Indeed the naivete
is quite incredible. As page after page he leads you
through the horrors and the tender beauties of his
soul, you feel that you are listening to the prattle of
a child ; but it is a child who has been in hell and who
is now looking through a chink opened to him alone
into the calm splendors of the Heavenly City.
Perhaps the most striking aspect of the book for
many readers will be its psychology. One can imagine
the glee with which Professor William James would
have seized upon it and given it world-wide fame.
The prison psychology is especially interesting, and
there is matter here for serious thought for the re-
former. Nor is it merely a mine of morbid psychol-
ogy disclosing the innermost springs of motive, and the
baffling contradictions of impulse, which dwell in the
heart of a quite phenomenal criminal. It discloses a
true psychologist, full of curiosity about himself and
w
FOREWORD
bewildered by the masterless passions of his amazing-
soul. At his worst he retains, as we have already said,
the pride and honor of a gentleman, and in the su-
preme test insists on dying to save an innocent man.
Cruel as a tiger, he yet responds to any kindness shown
him like a charming little child. In the midst of a
career of systematic and outrageous vice he sometimes
acts in a spirit which many of the elect might envy.
I cannot vouch for his theology in all its details;
he had but a short time to study it. Old Japanese
ideals enter quite naturally, and astonish the Christian
reader: as when, in telling the story of the Free
Lances, he takes it as a matter of course that, if the
priest had done his duty and obtained their pardon,
they would at once have committed hara-kiri like hon-
orable men. Yet there is a grasp of essential Chris-
tianity which must quicken the faith of the saints.
Like St. Paul, he is persuaded that he is the chief of
sinners, and reiterates the conviction that no man was
ever so vile as he. He believes with equal vehemence
in his own redemption, and immortality to him is a
surer certainty than time. So absolute is this belief
that we are startled to find him bent on cultivating
his mind during the few days that are left to him, in
order that he may be intellectually fitted to take up the
new life in heaven when his hour shall come. In his
view of the end, there is all the exhilaration which we
find among the early Christians in the days of the
amphitheatre. His condemnation is God's greatest
benefit to him, eagerly sought for and received with
overflowing thankfulness.
Most touching of all and most arresting is his fre-
[xi]
FOREWORD
quently repeated estimate of the faith and character
of Christians. No Christian, he tells us, is ever afraid
of death. Christians, as he conceives them, are people
who always live up to the highest principles of Christ,
and whose thought and conduct are ever worthy of
His loftiest ideals. The only Christians he had ever
known were the two women who told him of Jesus
in his cell.
JOHN KELMAN.
November nf 1921.
PREFACE
By CAROLINE MACDONALD
The original manuscript of the story told hereafter,
was put into my hands in the month of August, 1918,
by a man awaiting the execution of the death sentence
in Tokyo prison. Two weeks later he was put to death.
Following the advice of a number of my Japanese
friends who read the manuscript, the story was pub-
lished, almost exactly as it was written, and the first
Japanese edition appeared on Christmas Day, 1918.
A prison official who had charge of the man during
his imprisonment and up to the time of his death,
afterwards suggested to me that the story be translated
into English, so that a tale of great human interest
might be released for others than Japanese people. His
reasons for the request were illuminating. He said :
"Much is said nowadays about the difficulties of
mutual understanding between the East and the West.
Ideals are different, customs are different, the back-
ground of life and history is different, and we face an
impasse. Educated people, it is said, may approximate
in thought and outlook, but for the people at large the
case is hopeless. And while this is being said, we have
had in this very prison an example to the contrary.
A man, uneducated, steeped in crime, condemned to
death for murder, waiting daily for the unescapable
end to which his crimes have brought him, is touched
[xiii]
PREFACE
by one of another nation, and a woman at that, with
traditions and history and education as different from
his as night is from day; but the universal message of
the love of God flashes across the gulf of human
differences and the man's soul responds. I want your
people also to know this story, because it illustrates
from real life, and beyond the shadow of doubting,
the fact that underneath all the superficial differences
that separate us, we are one in the depths of suffering
and sorrow and sinning, and in the heights of love
and sympathy and God."
If the story carries with it this message it will have
done its work, and will have fulfilled the poor fellow's
own pathetic hopes that in those last moments before
his death, he might accomplish a task that would help
someone, when hitherto in all his life he had done
nothing but hinder.
The case itself was an amazing one in all its ramifica-
tions, the most extraordinary one, it is said, that ever
passed through the Japanese courts. A geisha was
murdered near Tokyo, and her lover was charged with
the murder, and arrested. He confessed to the crime
in the police station, but at the public trial, denied the
charge, alleging that torture had been used by the police
to extort the confession. There was strong circum-
stantial evidence against him, however, for he was the
last one seen with the girl before her murder, and it
was known that they had quarrelled. He was con-
victed and sentenced to be hanged.
Before the sentence was carried out, however, a
[xiv]
PREFACE
notorious criminal, Ishii by name, was arrested for
a petty offence committed in Tokyo and thrown into
the police cells. Seven or eight other men in the same
cell were discussing the underworld of Tokyo, and they
mentioned that a certain man had been convicted of
the murder of a geisha called Oharu and condemned to
death. Upon hearing this, Ishii confessed that it was
he and not the man already condemned who had com-
mitted the crime. The confession created a great
sensation. The other man was let out on parole and
a new trial instituted. The court failed to find the
slightest circumstantial evidence, however, to connect
Ishii with the crime, and acquitted him in spite of his
confession. The man himself protested against the
acquittal, the public procurator appealed against the
verdict, and the case was reopened in the appeal court.
The trial dragged on in the courts and gained great
notoriety. Newspapers were filled with the details of
its extraordinary ramifications. A man confesses to
a crime, later denies it, but is sentenced to death on
circumstantial evidence. Another man appears, con-
fesses to the same crime, but is acquitted despite his
confession. During the appeal trial, however, evidence
was adduced which confirmed Ishii's confession to its
minutest detail, and he was sentenced to death. As he
says himself in his writing, he was thus able to make
some amends for his sins and at the same time to save
an innocent man from death.
He was a man forty-seven years of age, with prac-
tically no education, but with a remarkably clear mind.
He had lived a life of crime, as his own story will tell,
but marked as he was by the ravages of sin, his eye was
[xv]
PREFACE
clear and his purpose steady during his trial. I saw
him often during those days, and on the morning after
the death sentence had been given, he said to me very
quietly, "It was God's own judgment and I am satis-
fied."
During the days of waiting he took up his pen to
write down the circumstances which led him into crime,
and the story of his repentance. He worked night and
day until his task was finished, for he did not know
when the end might come. I saw him for the last time
just a few days before his execution and his face was
radiant; but of that day and of the end I shall write
when the man has told his own story. The sequel is
merely the translation of the manuscript I received
from him through the prison authorities, and is re-
produced, as far as possible, with the same straightfor-
ward simplicity as the original. I have not hesitated
to depart on occasions from the literal translation, but
I think I have not departed from the spirit.
CAROLINE MACDONALD.
Tokyo,
August 17, 1920.
[xvi]
NOTE
Mr. Fujiya Suzuki, M.P., the lawyer Ishii speaks of
so affectionately in his story, has contributed an in-
teresting preface to the Japanese edition. A rough
translation is here given.
When I read Ishii's story I could not but recall
Victor Hugo's story, "Les Miserables." Jean Valjean
at the age of twenty-five was put in prison for five
years for a petty crime, but through successive at-
tempts to escape, his imprisonment dragged on for
nineteen years. When he was released he went to the
home of Bishop Myriel and in spite of the Bishop's
kindness stole his silver plate. The forgiveness of the
Bishop melted his heart, and the words, "I have bought
your soul of you," made him a new man.
This shows the influence of character.
Now Ishii was a far worse man than Valjean ever
was. Stealing, burglary, prison breaking, murder, —
all these crimes he had to his credit. He was in prison
more than ten times and for more than twenty years.
He was indeed, as has been said, an unequalled, incom-
parable scoundrel. But this man, through the influence
of Miss Macdonald, suddenly softened, as the snow
melts in the morning sun, repented of his crimes and
became a changed man.
This also is the influence of character,
[xvii]
NOTE
If anyone praises the virtues of the Bishop, he must
surely also praise the virtues of Miss Macdonald. The
Bishop Myriel was an old man, Miss Macdonald was
a frail woman.
Ishii was a far more dangerous villain than Jean
Valjean ever was, so it may be said that the power of
Miss Macdonald's influence was much greater than the
Bishop's.
"Les Miserables" is a novel. Bishop Myriel is in all
probability a mere figment of the author's brain.
Ishii's story is true and Miss Macdonald is by no means
a creation of the imagination.
The time came when Valjean voluntarily gave him-
self up to the Arras court in order to save another man.
"This man is not Valjean. I am the real Valjean."
Ishii also on his own initiative gave himself up to the
court and saved Komori, who was already as good as
nine-tenths' dead. "Komori is not the criminal," he
said, "I am the real murderer."
If we say that Valjean was a good man, I do not
think it is going too far to call Ishii a saint.
The Arras court thought Valjean was mad when he
made his confession, and in Ishii's case also the court
was mistaken, and in the first trial acquitted him in
spite of his confession and in opposition to his desires.
Sometimes we speak of unappreciated favors, and this
was surely one in reality.
As the Arras court was saved on the verge of a very
serious blunder, so the courts of Japan, carried on as
they are in the name of His Imperial Majesty, barely
escaped making a very great error, which would have
compromised seriously their whole jurisdiction.
[xviii]
NOTE
Although Jean Valjean suffered much, he was com-
forted by the kind ministrations of the warm-hearted
Cosette and he died in comfort. Ishii died on the
gallows.
Both men repented under similar circumstances, but
their manner of death was very different. I wonder
if there can be some hidden significance in it all.
Ishii is dead but his spirit will live on through this
little book.
[xixj
CONTENTS
PAGB
FOREWORD BY REV. JOHN KELMAN, D.D. . . vii
PREFACE BY CAROLINE MACDONALD . . . xiii
NOTE BY MR. FUJIYA SUZUKI, M.P xvu
PART ONE: CONFESSIONS
I MOTIVE IN WRITING »9
II MY FAMILY AND UPBRINGING 30
III GAMBLING 33
IV MY WRONGDOING INCREASES 35
V PRISON • 36
VI ESCAPE FROM PRISON 3»
VII IN THE CLUTCHES OF THE POLICE AGAIN . . 40
VIII ELEVEN YEARS IN PRISON 4*
IX FROM BAD TO WORSE 44
X A CHRISTIAN OFFICIAL 45
XI A LETTER FROM A CHILD 47
XII A LETTER FROM AN ACCOMPLICE .... 50
XIII MY MONEY STOLEN 5*
XIV I FIND MY WIFE 53
XV I GO TO KOMPIRA SHRINE 54
XVI THE MURDER OF OHARU, THE GEISHA ... 58
XVII THE YOKOHAMA MURDER 60
XVIII I STEAL WEAPONS TO COMMIT FURTHER CRIMES 63
XIX FLIGHT TO OSAKA 65
XX FIRST CRIME IN TOKYO 67
[xxi]
CONTENTS
PAGE
XXI CONFESSION OF OHARU'S MURDER .... 69
XXII MEMORIES AND REFLECTIONS 71
XXIII AFTER DEATH? . 73
XXIV A NEW YEAR'S GIFT IN PRISON 75
XXV A VISIT FROM MISS WEST 76
XXVI FIRST IMPRESSIONS 77
XXVII "FATHER, FORGIVE THEM!" 79
XXVIII GIFTS OF THE PRISON HOUSE 81
XXIX CRUCIFIXION 83
XXX THE OHARU TRIAL 86
XXXI PRISON CHAPLAINS 87
XXXII HAUNTED 89
XXXIII THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN MEN .... 91
XXXIV MY HYMN 94
XXXV WHY THE POLICE DO NOT CATCH CRIMINALS . 98
PART TWO: A DIARY OF IMPRESSIONS
I THANKSGIVING FOR ILLNESS 103
II THE KINDNESS OF A JAILOR 104
III MERCIES 106
IV CONCERNING LAWYERS 107
V LESSONS LEARNED FROM SUFFERING ... 109
VI A SPARROW TEACHES A LESSON . . . . no
VII THE STORY OF THE MINER 112
VIII THE TRUE HEART OF A CHILD 113
IX THOSE TWO FRIENDS OF MINE 114
X PARADOXES 116
XI BICYCLES 119
XII THE HAUNTED WELL 121
XIII ABOUT REPENTANCE ........ 124
[xxii]
CONTENTS
PAGE
XIV THE FORTY-SEVEN LOYAL FREE LANCES . . 126
XV THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM 132
XVI EARTHQUAKES '34
XVII A TALK WITH JAILORS AND POLICEMEN . . 137
XVIII THE PRISON BATH 141
XIX ABOUT JUDGES 142
XX RECOLLECTIONS U4
XXI THE KINDNESS OF OFFICIALS 146
XXII THE PITIFUL LITTLE ANTS 148
XXIII THE WRITINGS OF AN UNEDUCATED MAN . 149
XXIV "THY STAFF IT COMFORTS ME" 151
XXV THE HEART OF A CHRISTIAN 15*
XXVI A JUDGE AND A CHIEF WARDER i$7
NOTES TAKEN FROM CAROLINE MACDONALD'S
JOURNAL 159
[xxiii]
ILLUSTRATIONS
TOKICHI ISHII Frontispiece
PAGE
MR. SHIROSUKE ARIMA 92
MR. FUJIYA SUZUKI, M.P 108
MR. KEISHO FUJI! 144
THE GRAVE OF TOKICHI ISHII 161
REVERSE SIDE OF MARKER OVER GRAVE OF TOKICHI
ISHII 161
PART ONE: CONFESSIONS
A GENTLEMAN
IN PRISON
i.
MOTIVE IN WRITING.
I wish to tell how my heart was changed through the
power of Jesus Christ. But first of all I must make an
explanation. When I was a child my parents were
poor and I attended school for only two years. Since
that time, which is more than thirty years ago, I have
scarcely had a pen in my hand, until I take it up now
to write this story of my life. It is impossible for an
ignorant fellow like myself to write in any but the
simplest way; so I shall only attempt to set down
simply and truthfully the things that happened to me
from my childhood up to the present time, and to tell
how I came to believe in the great unmeasureable
power and deep mercy of Christ, after I got into
prison. In order to do this, I shall have to expose
my shame and confess without reserve all my wicked-
ness. But I shall be content if in the future some
villain like myself shall be helped by the story of how
I was saved through God's leading and the efforts of
Miss West and Miss Macdonald, the two ladies who
visited me in prison.
[29]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
II.
MY FAMILY AND UPBRINGING.
At one time my father was purveyor to the feudal
lord of Hikone, but he was a very heavy drinker, and
often drank more than two quarts of sake a day. He
finally failed in business, left Hikone and moved with
his family to Nagoya. My mother was the daughter of
a Shinto priest at the Atsuta shrine at Nagoya.* I was
the youngest of three children, but the other two died
when I was quite young.
We lived very comfortably until I was four or five
years old, but by that time my father had squandered
everything on drink, and my mother was greatly dis-
tressed over household matters. She was devoted to
me and often went without the necessities of life her-
self in order to provide for me, her only child.
When I was ten years of age I left school and my
mother told me of her troubles. "I do not know what
to do about your father," she said, "and I want you to
help me. When he leaves home in the morning you
must follow him wherever he goes and keep him from
drinking." I did as she told me. Little ten-year-old
child that I was, I followed my father about, and
would pluck at his sleeve when he was passing a saloon.
"Do come home with me," I would beg, "Mother is
so worried about you." My efforts were usually in
vain, and he was often picked out of the gutter and
* The shrine where the sword, one of the three ancient imperial treasures,
is kept.
[30]
MY FAMILY AND UPBRINGING
brought home by the neighbors long after midnight.
My mother was very proud and felt keenly the family
disgrace. Things went from bad to worse and for
more than a year we were in very great distress.
Then another misfortune befell the family. My
mother was taken ill with a very bad fever when I was
just eleven years old. My father took us both to the
house of an aunt and then disappeared, and left us to
shift for ourselves. My aunt was very poor and my
mother was worried beyond words at being deserted
in this way. We could not even afford to have a doctor
for her.
Just at this time an epidemic of cholera broke out
and the police were taking every precaution possible
where fever patients were concerned. Because of this,
however, rich and poor alike were trying to hide their
sick folks from the police, for it was thought that the
patients who were taken to the isolation hospital were
dosed with a very strong drug that killed them off at
once. In my childish heart I was afraid that my mother
also would be taken to the fatal hospital, and I felt
that somehow or other I must get her cured myself.
You can imagine my delight when a neighbour told me
one day of a concoction made by boiling earthworms
that would surely cure Mother if she drank it.
As my aunt was very poor I had to do something
to help to support the family, even though I was only
eleven years of age. So I shouldered a pole with
buckets attached to each end, walked two or three miles
into the country, bought some sawdust (which we
burn for a mosquito smudge), filled my buckets with
it, trudged back and peddled the stuff from house to
[31]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
house. With what little money I got I helped to keep
the family and buy medicine for Mother. I won the
reputation amongst the neighbours of being a very filial
child. My mother finally got well, and that without
having been seen even once by a doctor.
[32]
GAMBLING
III.
GAMBLING
A little later my father returned and the three of
us began life together again. Unfortunately everyone
gambled in the neighbourhood where we lived, even
children not more than twelve or thirteen years of
age. Up to this time I had never been known to do
a mischievous thing, but it was easy to learn bad ways
in that neighbourhood and I was soon gambling with
the rest of them. I then began to need money: the
little my parents gave me was not enough, and I began
to steal.
This was the beginning of my life of crime. As I
look back now I realise keenly how easily a child is
influenced by bad friends and surroundings.
My parents soon discovered my wrongdoing, and
thinking it was no longer good for me to be at home,
they hired me out to a china ware manufacturer in a
place called Seto, about fifteen miles from Nagoya.
I could not stand the restrictions of a strange house,
however, for I had always had my own way at home,
so I ran away and found other work. I got dissatis-
fied again and at last returned home. I tried one place
after another but did not stick to anything. My parents
were helpless and let me do as I pleased.
I finally began to wander about peddling chinaware,
and spent the money I made in gambling. For a time
I was very lucky, but gradually I used up all my money
and found myself in a sorry plight.
[33]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
The advice of my parents and friends made no more
impression on me than the wind blowing in a horse's
ear, and I went on caring only for the excitement of
the moment. I began to drink, to quarrel with my com-
panions, and to frequent houses of ill-fame. I became
utterly useless for anything and finally gave up all
attempts to earn an honest living.
19*1
I
MY WRONGDOING INCREASES
IV.
MY WRONGDOING INCREASES.
Just at this time a great earthquake swept over
Gifu and Aichi prefectures, and after it was over the
lumber merchants were very busy selling timber to
repair the damage. I set out to get a job and found
work at a large well-known firm. Every day customers
came in large numbers to do business and the amount
of material handled was very great. I sized up the
timber on hand, consulted with a pal I had picked up,
and got away with considerable quantities without its
being noticed. We squandered the money on prosti-
tutes, drink and gambling. At first we stole only a
little at a time, but gradually got more daring, think-
ing we would never be found out. At last we made
away with several hundred yens' worth of stuff at one
time, but the fates were against us and we were caught.
Our master dismissed us, but was lenient and did not
notify the police. It would have been well had I
learned my lesson then, but instead, my companion and
I continued in our evil ways.
I was subsequently caught, however, and found my-
self in the police station for the first time in my life.
I was scared to death. I was alone in my cell the first
night and that frightened me still more. I was rest-
less and did not sleep a wink the whole night. I kept
praying, "O God, please send me back home again."
(This God was not Christ; I did not know Christ
then.) I whispered to myself that if God would only
let me go back home I would never do wrong again.
[35]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
V.
PRISON.
My prayer was not answered, for I was sent to
prison to await my trial. While awaiting trial, first
offenders and others are put together in the same cells
and have a chance to talk to one another. One fellow
who had been in prison before, said to me, * 'Don't
worry about a petty little crime like yours; cheer up!"
Under such encouragement I soon forgot all about the
terrors of the police station. I was just nineteen years
of age at this time.
I want to tell you some of my thoughts during this
first prison experience. Up to this time I had thought
that a prison must be a fearful place, but now that I
was in, I found that the reality was much less dreadful
than I had supposed ; and there seemed, after all, to be
nothing to worry over. The officials were very lenient
to first offenders and I felt no special discomfort. The
fear of prison was taken away, and this accounts for
my subsequent downfalls. Had I been a man of educa-
tion I might have appreciated the leniency of the offi-
cials towards me, but being an ignorant fellow, I
merely thought a prison was not so bad a place after all.
One must remember another thing. Wherever your
eye turns in prison, whether to the right or to the left,
you see nothing but the brick-coloured uniforms of the
inmates and you have no special feeling of shame when
all are alike in the same condition. Men in prison are a
community of knaves, and have no need to stand on
[36]
PRISON
ceremony with one another, nor feel apologetic among
those around them. Rather do we openly discuss
among ourselves what we shall do when we get out,
and arrange to commit crime together. The fact of
the matter is that a prison is simply a school for learn-
ing crime. We are not supposed to talk among our-
selves, but rules are not very strictly enforced with first
offenders, and the result is that foundations are often
laid for future crime while a man is awaiting trial for
his first offence. We come to look on crime as our
business, and so long as we get all we want for our-
selves, we do not care how other people suffer. This is
a terrible state of mind to reach, for one goes on from
crime to crime, until, as in my own case, some awful
deed is committed.
I think that special attention should be given to the
care of first offenders. If they do not repent, the
result is a villain like myself, vicious to the core, with
crimes that cannot be blotted out.
[37]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
VI.
ESCAPE FROM PRISON.
By the time I had been four times in prison I was
already a confirmed criminal. In a prison community
our claim to distinction is according to the extent of
our crimes. The greater the crime the greater the
honour, and men brag openly of the depredations they
have committed. If a new man appears who has com-
mitted only a petty crime he has no standing whatever
in the prison community. Under such influence I de-
termined early in my career to commit a really big
crime, and qualify for distinction in prison society.
With these thoughts in mind, it was not to be ex-
pected that I should settle down to work out the four
years that were now ahead of me. I began to lay
plans for escaping. I managed to improvise a cover-
ing out of some oilcloth I had gotten from an accom-
plice in the tailoring department, and one rainy day
I wrapped it about me and escaped through an emer-
gency exit.
Almost immediately I committed a theft, and with
the money I stole, made my way to Tokyo, went to a
friend's house, and loafed around for about a week.
I then rented a house in Oshiage in Honjo ward and
set up a small hardware shop. One day I was arrested
on suspicion, as I could not explain why I had so much
money in my possession when my business did not seem
to warrant it, and I was detained for ten days in the
police station on the charge of using an assumed name.
[38]
ESCAPE FROM PRISON
I finally said I had got the money by gambling, and I
was not questioned further when the ten days were
up. This experience taught me to be suspicious of all
the people who came to the shop, as I thought they
might be detectives or policemen. I became so worried
that I could not sleep at night.
[39]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
VII.
IN THE CLUTCHES OF THE POLICE AGAIN.
This state of things could not last forever, and
within three months I was in the police station again.
That first night in the police cells I slept as I had not
slept since I escaped from prison. What I had dreaded
had come to pass; my terror was gone and I was free
from care.
I got five months in prison and should have known
enough by this time to have behaved myself, but
about forty days before my time was up I had a fight
with one of the inmates and six months were added
to my sentence. During this time my father died and
my old mother was left alone. Well did I know that
she was awaiting the return of her wayward son,
counting off the days on her fingers until I should
come back to her repentant, and yet I cared nothing
for her suffering, and continued in my wrongdoing.
Surely there was never a more ungrateful son than I !
When I came out I was just twenty-nine years of
age.; I returned home, and later, without consulting
my mother, ransomed a prostitute and made her my
wife. I straightened up, however, and started watch-
making, a trade I had learned in prison; and my
mother, my wife and I lived together happily for nearly
three years, although we had very little to live on.
During my days of wrongdoing I had never known
what true happiness meant, even when I had plenty to
[40]
IN THE CLUTCHES OF THE POLICE AGAIN
eat and drink, because there was no real peace in my
heart.
All went well for a time, until one day a man I had
known in prison came to see me, and by way of cele-
brating the occasion we took a drink together and then
another, and another, until finally the lure* of the old
life returned upon me and I started in on a course of
crime again. My wife discovered what was going on
and advised me to get away from Nagoya and move
to Tokyo. At this time my mother was seventy-two
years of age. I took my wife's advice, moved up to
Tokyo with my family and rented a small house in Asa-
kusa ward. This was in April, 1902. My wife began
selling small wares, and I wandered about looking for
work. I finally opened a bakeshop in Iriyamachi in
Shitaya ward, but I knew nothing of the business and
soon failed. Then one day I met an old pal in Asakusa
ward and fell into temptation once more. Had I been
really repentant I need not have fallen again, but the
temptation came just when I had failed in business and
was discouraged. Of course my repentance was only
superficial.
•Literally: "Rust appeared on the iron again."
[41]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
VIII.
ELEVEN YEARS IN PRISON
I now abandoned my wife and aged mother, com-
mitted a burglary, was caught and sent to prison for
eleven years. As I had given a false name, my fam-
ily had no way of tracing my whereabouts. What dis-
tress they must have endured on my account ! I have
no words to express the enormity of my unfilial con-
duct. I learned long afterwards, when I returned from
prison, that my wife and mother went back to their
old home in Nagoya, where my mother shortly after-
wards died brokenhearted on account of her wayward
son. This prison where I spent eleven years was in
Chiba, a province bordering on Tokyo.
I wish to say something about my prison life during
these years. I was not at all repentant, and determined
to break prison and escape. After a great deal of
trouble I got hold of a nail about an inch and a half
long, sharpened it on the edge of a piece of earthenware,
and made a gimlet with three turns in it. After twenty
days' work I managed to bore a hole with it and break
a lock. Three of us had planned to escape together, but
the first to start out was caught by an official and our
attempt came to nothing. This should have taught me
a lesson, but instead I kept racking my brains to find
some other means of escape. At last I succeeded in
making a saw about three inches and a half long,
smuggled it into my cell, and began to cut the bars of
my window. When I had got the bars almost sawn
[42]
ELEVEN YEARS IN PRISON
through, the plot was discovered and I was severely
punished. I was hand-cuffed, my feet were chained
together, and I was kept in that condition day and
night for some time. This cruel treatment was, how-
ever, no more than I deserved.
When I had tried to escape six months before, the
officials had been very lenient with me, so I had only
myself to blame for the severe treatment I received
this time. Had I been an ordinary mortal I should
surely have repented and apologised to the officials, but
I only got more desperate and paid no attention to any-
thing that was said to me. I was being constantly
punished for breaking rules. I thought all restraint
was cruelty and was filled with hate against everyone.
I could not even live in peace with the other inmates,
but quarrelled and fought with them. Finally I was
put into solitary confinement.
[43]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
IX.
FROM BAD TO WORSE.
My solitary confinement had the effect of making
me still more stubborn and unmanageable. I cursed my
jailors, fought with them, smashed the furniture in my
cell, and altogether acted like a madman. I was spoken
of by the officials as an amazing scoundrel. One day
I complained because I was being watched constantly.
As I think of this today I realise how unreasonable it
was to grumble about this, when I was constantly de-
ceiving the officials and breaking rules. Needless to
say, I was being punished all the time. Out of my
eleven years' imprisonment I was at least half the time
in solitary confinement, and I do not remember how
many times I was punished otherwise.
The most severe form of punishment I endured, how-
ever, was to be deprived for ten days at a stretch, of
the privilege of working. I was put into a cell all by
myself, was not let out even for exercise, nor permitted
to read nor to leave the cell day or night. Then be-
sides all this I was not allowed to do any work. To any-
one who has never gone through such an experience it
may seem strange to think of enforced idleness as a
punishment ; but it is a fearful experience to be obliged
to sit still for ten long days at a stretch without doing
anything whatever. While working, the mind is active
and one does not notice suffering. I was otherwise
punished by being put on short rations and kept in a
dark room, but these forms of punishment I did not
mind at all.
[44]
A CHRISTIAN OFFICIAL
X.
A CHRISTIAN OFFICIAL
One day when I had been in prison about seven years
I got angry with an official for reprimanding me, and
attacked him. For this I was gagged, my hands bound
tightly behind me, and my body suspended so that my
toes barely reached the ground. Through all this I
remained stubborn and refused to say I was sorry for
what I had done. Shall I call this just pure stubborn-
ness, or was I an exceptionally hardened fellow?
During this period, which was about 1911, the vice-
governor of the prison was said to be a Christian and
had the reputation of being very kind. This I found to
be true. One day while I was still enduring the terrible
punishment I have described he came to my cell; and
when he saw the plight I was in, he sent away the
official in charge, untied the rope by which I was sus-
pended, and let me down. He took the towel that was
hanging at my belt and wiped the perspiration from my
face. Before I knew it, the tears were rolling down
my cheeks. That any one should treat a hardened
criminal like myself with such kindness was more than
I could bear, and from that time forward I was a com-
pletely changed man.
What a curious thing a man's heart is ! In my per-
verse days I thought everyone, official and inmate
alike, was against me, but when I myself changed,
everyone else seemed to change also, and to grow kind
[45]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
and considerate. After this, I received nothing but
kindness from the officials.
Three years before my time was up, I received a
good conduct badge from the prison governor, and
made up my mind to reform when I was released. I
decided to use the money I should receive from my
prison work to start me up in some honest business.
When I was finally freed I received about eighty yen.
I may say that I received nothing for my first seven
years' work.
[46]
A LETTER FROM A CHILD
XI.
A LETTER FROM A CHILD
Before I tell how it fared with me after I left prison,
I want to go back and tell something about another con-
vict who was in the same cell with me before I re-
pented of my wrong-doing. The man was serving a
nine years' sentence for burglary, and we were working
out our time together. We were great pals and always
consulted with each other about our prison escapades.
One day the man was looking very unhappy, and tears
were standing in his eyes. I was astonished, for I had
never known him to be moved by anything, not even
by the kind talks of the prison chaplain. I had never
before seen even a suspicion of tears in his eyes, and
I thought his present mood very strange. "What is
wrong with you?" I asked him, but for some time he
said nothing. I urged him further, and finally he said,
"Brother, listen to me. Out in the world I have a wife,
and a boy just nine years of age. I have just received
a letter from the boy written in his childish hand, and I
am finding out now for the first time what it means to
to the little fellow to have his father in prison. He
tells me that when any dispute arises at school, he is
at once taunted by his schoolmates with the fact that
his father is a thief and is in jail. He says he is so
ashamed that as soon as school is over he hurries home,
and never leaves the house again. When I read the
letter, I was ashamed from the bottom of my heart."
I was not specially touched by this story and merely
[47]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
said, "Are children such precious things as all that?"
The man turned on me. "I may be a wicked man
myself, but I want my boy to be good."
His tale did not touch me then, for I had no child
of my own and my heart was still bad; but as I think
about it today, I am overcome with emotion. What a
wonderful thing is the love of a parent ! What pain he
will endure to bring a wayward child to repentance,
even one as wicked as myself. Such love cannot be
compared to anything in the world. When I look back
and think that this man, a villain like myself, who
had never been known to shed a tear, should be struck
to the bottom of his heart by a mere letter from his
little child; I cannot but think that the letters received
from wife and family in prison must have far more
influence on a man than the cleverest talks a prison
chaplain can possibly give. According to the prison
regulations a convict cannot receive a letter even from
his own family, oftener than once in two months. I
suppose nothing can be done to alter this, but it does
seem to me that if home letters were given to the in-
mate at once, even the worst villain would behave bet-
ter and perhaps find some incentive to reform. As a
matter of fact, I myself saw this very thing happen
before my own eyes. Feeling is not very deep in the
heart of a criminal, and in my own case it was very
shallow. This being so, if he does not receive letters
from his family oftener than once in two months, his
memories of home are bound to weaken, and he will be
less likely to behave himself in prison. If the thought
of wife and child is constantly in his heart I am quite
sure he will not break prison rules.
[48]
A LETTER FROM A CHILD
The man I spoke of reformed after receiving his
child's letter; but the many punishments he had suf-
fered for his former misdemeanours had already weak-
ened his body, and he died while still in prison. If he
had behaved himself from the very first he might have
returned to his family once more. Of course he was
himself entirely to blame, for his death was the result
of his own misbehaviour ; but at the same time the suf-
fering of his wife and child must have been very great.
I weep tears of sympathy as I think of it now. I do
not know where the man lived, but his name was Heisa-
buro Sasaki,
[49]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XII.
A LETTER FROM AN ACCOMPLICE
I shall now tell the cause of my next downfall, that
it may serve to warn some other man in prison against
the temptation into which I fell. Up to the day of my
release I was resolved to reform. When I was leav-
ing the prison I was given four or five letters that an
old pal of mine had sent, but which had not been given
to me until then. The real name was not signed but I
knew at once from whom they came. I had intended to
return to my home at once, but after reading the let-
ters I decided to go to see this friend first. This re-
solve led to my downfall. Of course I see now that the
real cause was my own weak will, but the truth remains
that the letters made me take my first false step.
If these letters had been destroyed by the officials
and not given to me at all, I might have gone straight
home and not have fallen into the old ways again. If
it is dangerous to let a man read letters from his pal
while he is in prison, it is surely not less dangerous to
give them to him when he is leaving. I do not say
these things to grumble, but for the consideration of
those who have such matters in charge.
I went to Tokyo and saw this friend, and we talked
about the days we had been together in prison, and of
the things that had happened after he left. He told
me the whereabouts of another pal who had been a
former accomplice, and I thought I would drop in on
him also, and then go straight back to my own home in
Nagoya.
[50]
A LETTER FROM AN ACCOMPLICE
This man, whose name was Sekiguchi, had been in
the same workshop with me in Chiba prison. I went
to his house in Honjo ward and found that he kept a
laundry. He had a wife and child and two employes
living in the house. We talked an hour or more about
our life together in prison, and then my friend turned
to me and said, "Ishii San*, where are you thinking
of going now?" I told him I had made up my mind
to behave myself and go back to my own home at once.
"I am glad to hear that you have reformed and that
you are going home," said he, "but it is raining now
and getting late, so you had better stop with me over
night and start on your journey in the morning." I
consented, and that night we went out and had a drink
together. Sekiguchi said to me, "Ishii San, if you
have made up your mind to reform, it really makes
no difference whether you stay in Tokyo or go back to
your own home. If you decide to stay in Tokyo you
can count on me to do what I can to help you."
I was easily persuaded, and within a week he had
found a house in Fukagawa ward for me at a rent of
six yen a month, and I set up a small cake shop. This
happened about the end of October, 1914. I managed
to make from about seventy sen to one yen f a day at
this business. During the next four months Sekiguchi
and I met often, drank together, talked of the old times,
and before long we began to hatch new plots. I would
not consent, however, to commit any crimes within
the city, for I did not wish to bring trouble on Seki-
guchi's wife and child.
* San — a term of friendly courtesy.
t Sen — a coin of the value of about half a cent: 100 sen = i yen.
[51]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XIII.
MY MONEY STOLEN
One day I was robbed of my money. In a fit of
anger over the robbery I sold out my little shop and
decided to leave Tokyo and return at once to my home
in Nagoya. As I look back now, I think how foolish
I was to be so furious at being robbed, when all the
time I was robbing people myself. I should have
known that others would feel the same way about me.
I told Sekiguchi about my decision to go home, and
he said, "Well, of course, if you are bound to go, I
can't stop you; but if you happen to get your hands
on anything down in the country, send it on to me. Only
don't let my wife know anything about it." I as-
sented in words, but I had really no intention of con-
tinuing my wrongdoing after I returned home.
I arrived in Nagoya about the third or fourth of
February, 1915, and went at once to the old neighbour-
hood where I had lived thirteen or fourteen years be-
fore, but found everything changed, and no one who
knew anything about my wife. I stayed at a hotel that
night and in the evening visited Osu Kannon, the fam-
ily temple. Later I got drunk, and in my drunkenness
squandered half the money I possessed. Sake is called
"lunatic's water" and it does seem to be that very
thing! That a man over forty years of age as I was
then, should spend his money on drink and rioting is
too disgusting to think about.
[52]
I FIND MY WIFE
XIV.
I FIND MY WIFE
The next day I discovered where my wife li /ed, but
when I went to see her, I found that she belonged to
another man. She had not heard anything of me after
I had been put into prison eleven years before, and she
naturally thought I was either dead or had forsaken
her. She had married again about three years before I
turned up. She was very much astonished to see me,
and she told me some of the things that had happened
during my absence, and especially about my mother's
death. Her husband was not at home that day, and
as she did not expect him back at night she asked me
to stay with her as she had much more to tell me. I
refused, however, because I had caused her enough
trouble already, without breaking up her second home,
as I surely would have done had I stayed in the house
while her husband was absent. She belonged to him
and not to me, t for I had basely forsaken her for more
than eleven years. My wife was now mine no longer,
and my mother was dead, so there was no one left in
all the world who would ever give me a thought.
While I was in prison I believed in a god called
Kompira Sama. I decided to take a journey to Shi-
koku and worship at the shrine there. What made me
wish to go? Had some sort of superstition got hold of
me? At any rate as I journeyed along on my way, I
committed all kinds of crimes. I wonder how the true
God would look on worship offered under such cir-
cumstances !
[53]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XV.
I GO TO KOMPIRA SHRINE.
I passed through Ise on my way from Nagoya and
got as far as Kyoto. By this time I had less than five
yen left in my pocket and I began to feel a little lonely.
I then remembered that Sekiguchi had told me of a
friend of his that lived in Osaka, so I made my way
over there, and found the man living in a certain
hotel.
I put up at the same place, but within a week my
money was all gone, and I had to give up my idea for
the time being of going to Kompira Shrine. I was
weak willed, and wicked thoughts soon rose in my
heart again. I then recalled that Sekiguchi had sug-
gested that if I picked up anything on my journeys I
might send it on to him. I got hold of some stuff, sent
it by freight to Tokyo and marked it "to be called
for." I did not send the goods to his house in case
the theft should be discovered by the neighbours, and
his wife implicated, for I did not wish to cause trouble
to her. I plunged into my old ways again, and sent
everything I stole to Tokyo.
Not long after arriving in Osaka I committed a bur-
glary, assaulted the inmates, and stole about thirty yen.
It would have been difficult to account for having so
much money on me when I had no visible means of
support; so I laid in a small stock of cakes, carried
them with me and made a pretence of being a peddling
confectioner. I then set out from Osaka. Along the
[54]
I GO TO KOMPIRA SHRINE
way I deposited a little money now and then in the post
office savings bank, and took care to have the pass-
book always with me. In this way I hoped to allay any
suspicions the police might have of me, for the pass-
book would show that I was an honest man and saving
money.
I wandered from place to place, and at last reached
Okayama where I committed two burglaries. But there
the judgment of Heaven fell upon me. My feet gave
out and I was compelled to rest for a few days. I
started on again, however, and gradually made my way
to Amagi where I put up at a house where only filthy
beggars stayed. I did not mind this myself, but when
I went to the public bath I was refused admittance on
account of it. This led to a quarrel with the owner
and his wife, which resulted in my being arrested and
taken to the police station. Being an old hand I knew
I must first of all establish confidence, and so I showed
my post office passbook to the police. The scheme suc-
ceeded and I was let off.
But I must tell you here what thoughts were in my
heart at this time. Although I had escaped the police,
I still was very angry at the bath-house man and his
wife for daring to refuse me admittance when I had
money to pay, and I vowed then and there to return
some day and kill off the whole bath-house family. I
tremble now when I think of my determination to mur-
der a whole family simply because they had annoyed
me.
After this, I took a small steamer and went from
Tanoguchi to Shikoku, stopped one night at Maru-
game, and from there went on to Kompira Shrine,
[55]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
which I had originally set out to visit. I worshipped
there, and then made my way back to Osaka by way
of Takamatsu. Here I started my criminal ways
once more. I sold my cake shop outfit and decided
to return to Tokyo to see Sekiguchi. When I got as
far as Kyoto, however, I fell into the hands of a de-
tective and was examined. I showed my passbook and
got off without any trouble. I was again held up by
the police at Yokkaichi, but managed to deceive them
also in the same way. I then went to Kuwana in Ise,
and that very night a terrible storm occurred. This
seemed to offer a good chance for committing some
depredation. About midnight I stole out very quietly,
but soon realised that someone was following me. I
suddenly heard a loud voice calling, "Stop, stop!" It
goes without saying that I did not stop, but made my
escape as quickly as I could. I plunged into another
path, succeeded in committing the crime I had planned
to do, waited around till morning and returned by train
to Nagoya. This happened on the twentieth of April,
On the twenty-third, I went back to Tokyo and
found Sekiguchi in great distress. He had been gam-
bling and had either sold or pawned all the stuff I had
stolen and sent up to him from the country ; he had dis-
missed his last employe, had run into debt, and could
scarcely support his family. It was difficult for him
to confess to me that he had been gambling, and he sim-
ply told me that business had not been good. I knew
of course that he was lying, and that he had lost his
money by gambling, but I pretended to believe him.
[56]
I GO TO KOMPIRA SHRINE
One day, however, he said to me, "Ishii San, to tell you
the truth, I am very hard up. Can't we do something
to help matters out?" I felt sorry for him and
promised to do what I couldA
[57]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XVI.
THE MURDER OF OHARU, THE GEISHA
On the morning of the twenty-ninth of April I went
to Yokohama by street car thinking to try my hand
at something there. Somehow or other I did not feel
in the mood for doing anything desperate, and I wan-
dered about the town for a while and then started to
walk back along the Tokaido railroad. About ten
o'clock at night I got as far as Suzugamori, a suburb
of Tokyo, and sat down to rest in front of a teahouse,
which was closed for the night. Just at that moment a
young woman twenty- four or twenty-five years of age
came in sight, walking along by herself. I was sud-
denly seized with an overmastering passion, and when
I had taken a quick glance about to see that no one
was in sight, I sprang up and seized hold of her. The
girl gave a loud scream and shouted, "Murder! Mur-
der !" To stop her cries I snatched the towel that hung
at my belt, twisted it around her neck and dragged her
forward a few feet. To make sure she would not
raise her voice again, I kept tightening the towel, and
finally she ceased to breathe. I then looked into the
girl's kimono sleeve and found a purse containing
about thirty-six yen and a small book which I took
possession of, and escaped from the place. As I look
back now I realise how awful the fascination of
lust is !
More than this! What shall I say of myself as I
realise that because of my escape, suspicion was
[58]
THE MURDER OF OHARU, THE GEISHA
fastened on her lover, who was supposed to have killed
her in a fit of jealousy? Shall I not call myself the
worst villain that ever lived ? As I look back upon the
self who committed that awful crime, my present self
recoils in horror, and the hair of my body stands up on
end at the thought of my terrible sins. How awful
it was! The blame fell on the innocent Komori, the
girl's lover, who was confined in prison for many
months for the crime I had committed. (As a matter
of fact, however, I did not know this until some time
later.)
On the morning of the thirtieth, I returned to Tokyo
to Sekiguchi's house and loafed about for four or five
days as if nothing had happened. About the seventh
of May I started out again on my wanderings, went
to Nagoya and committed a burglary with assault.
Before leaving the house I tied the hands and feet of
my victims and left them in that condition. How heart-
less and unfeeling I was !
About the middle of May I returned again to Tokyo.
I began to think, however, that if I fooled about much
longer and did nothing, I might be suspected by the
neighbourhood. So I made a pretence of doing busi-
ness, but charged about ten per cent less than the cost
price in order to gain the good will of the people round
about.
[59]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XVII.
THE YOKOHAMA MURDFR.
About the fourteenth or fifteenth of June I began to
wander again, and this time took the train from
Shinagawa to Yokohama, thinking to commit some
robbery. On the night of the eighteenth I broke into
a certain house, bound the inmates, and tried by threats
to force the wife to tell me where their money was.
At this the man began to shout, "Thief ! thief !" where-
upon, as I knew it would be the end of me if the neigh-
bourhood heard, I seized a towel that was hanging in
the room, and twisted it around his neck. The wife,
seeing me do this, summoned up her strength and
shouted with all her might, "Murder! murder!" At
this I seized a narrow obi * that was hanging in the
room and strangled her also.
Just then I heard a voice from a neighbouring house,
and taking time only to seize the woman's gold watch
which was lying near, I made my escape. As I think
of this today I realise what an awful villain I was.
Had I been just an ordinary bad man, I should prob-
ably have fled when the man shouted for help, but I
simply courted danger. When the wife saw her hus-
band killed before her eyes, what an awful horror it
must have been ! Anyone would have shouted for help
as she did. And yet for doing that I killed her. As I
think back on this today, I wonder if the woman's hate
could have been appeased even if my body had been
cut in pieces.
* A Japanese woman's girdle.
[60]
THE YOKOHAMA MURDER
After leaving the house I walked along the Tokaido
railroad for a while, broke into another house, stole
some things, and sent them to Sekiguchi. Later on I
went to Motoyoshiwara, stole again and sent this stuff
to Tokyo. At Iwabuchi I was walking along about
midnight, thinking to do something, when a policeman
suddenly appeared and stopped me. There seemed no
way of escape, so I went along with the policeman,
taking advantage of the darkness, however, to drop
my dagger by the side of the road. When I was ex-
amined at the police station, I showed my passbook
and as usual was let off. I retraced my steps, picked
up the dagger I had dropped by the roadside, and
walked on. As the night was very dark I stumbled
and fell headlong into a river thirteen or fourteen feet
below me. I broke a rib, but managed to crawl out
as far as a strawstack in a nearby field; and lay there
for three days and three nights unable to move, and
without anything to eat or drink. I thought I should
die, but I finally recovered, although I was not able to
commit any more crimes for some time.
After this I gradually made my way to Hamamatsu
and there put up at a cheap lodging house. When I
had been there about a week I came across a woman,
abandoned by her husband, with an eleven-year-old
child. She was in great straits and had sold not only
her own clothes to pay for her lodgings, but those of
the child also. Hardened sinner though I was, I felt
sorry for her and gave her money to pay her debts. I
stayed on for three or four days longer, and during
that time I showed her the book I had found in the
sleeve of the geisha I murdered in Suzugamori. Dur-
[61]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
ing my trial this woman was found and brought up
from Hamamatsu to testify in court that she had seen
this book in my possession. This witness, presented
at a time when my confession was not believed, served
as evidence that I had committed the crime at Suzuga-
mori. I gave the woman enough money to set up a
little soap shop, and with that I left her.
By this time I had recovered sufficiently to go back
to my evil ways again, but just as I was ready to start
off I was stopped by a detective. I showed my pass-
book and also a letter of sympathy I had received from
Sekiguchi on account of my accident, and I got off once
more without any trouble..
[62]
I STEAL WEAPONS
XVIII.
I STEAL WEAPONS TO COMMIT FURTHER CRIMES.
I visited Inari shrine, and while there noticed a
sword shop directly in front of the temple gate, so I
broke into the shop that night and stole a sword about
three feet long and a dagger nearly a foot long. One
night about the end of July, I went to Toyohashi, and
about two in the morning I was standing in front of
a coal shop in a certain street, having a look at the
place with the thought of breaking in if I could. Sud-
denly I heard a loud voice call, "Robber ! robber !" and
an attempt was made by a band of policemen to seize
me. I drew the sword and began to fight with might
and main. After about fifteen minutes I wounded one
of the policemen seriously, but managed to escape with
only a slight wound myself. I had a notion, however,
that the place was probably surrounded by a cordon
of police, and I made toward the river Toyogawa which
was not far away. This river was about one hundred
and eighty feet wide, and although deep was not very
swift. I drew my clothes up over my head to keep
them as dry as possible, and swam across.
What shall I say of this evil self of mine? Knowing
full well the unspeakable suffering and distress I was
causing, I still went on. Shall I call it stupidity or
mere heartlessness ? Words fail to describe what an
abandoned fellow I was.
Later I made my way to Okazaki, went to a moun-
tain near by, hid my dagger, and later on went by day-
[63]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
light to the spot to get it. I suddenly ran into two men
who looked like detectives. They asked me what busi-
ness had brought me to the place, and I made a random
reply: "Oh, I work at the menagerie in Nagoya, and
yesterday I carelessly let a hawk escape and am look-
ing for it." This reply seemed to satisfy the men and
they let me go.
That same evening about nine o'clock I started again
for the mountain to get my dagger. Three or four
men suddenly sprang on me, and with loud voices
shouted, ".We have something to say to you." The
sudden onslaught took my breath away and I drew
a knife I had on me and began to fight wildly. I
wounded one of them and then made my escape before
assistance could be summoned from the neighbourhood.
I rushed towards the Tonosamagawa, a river about
sixty feet wide, swam across, ran about five miles in
the darkness, and by dawn arrived at a place called
Koromo, where I caught the stage for Nagoya, which
was about fifteen miles distant.
One of the passengers was a Koromo police official
who was going to Nagoya on business, and I overheard
him telling a fellow passenger about the crime I had
committed at Toyohashi. Of course I gave no sign
that I heard the conversation, but I was greatly alarmed
and felt the journey of fifteen miles a very long one.
Now an ordinary person would feel unusually secure
while travelling in the same coach with a police offi-
cial, and the fact that I was nearly scared to death
under those circumstances, is a revelation, as I think
of it now, of the guilty conscience that I had.
[64]
FLIGHT TO OSAKA
XIX.
FLIGHT TO OSAKA.
We arrived in Nagoya towards evening. I stayed
there over night, and early in the morning started out
to commit some new crime. As I was passing the gate
of the Nishihonganji temple I noticed four or five beg-
gars sitting together in very earnest conversation. I
had no special intention of listening, but could not help
overhearing, and I learned that they were talking about
the crimes I had just committed in Toyohashi and
Okazaki. I made some casual inquiries of them, and
was told that two or three days before, robberies had
been committed at both Toyohashi and Okazaki, that
two policemen had been injured, and that the robber
had escaped. The thief was supposed to be in Nagoya,
and the police in searching for him had been bothering
these very beggars.
Under these circumstances Nagoya seemed a rather
dangerous place for me, especially as I had no visible
means of support. So I bought a scissors-grinder's
outfit, and set out with it along the Tokaido railroad
towards the west. I journeyed on, passing through
Kyoto to Osaka, where I remained about ten days. I
here recalled the insult I had received from the bath-
house man and his wife at Amagi, and as the place
was near by, I decided to go over and wreak vengeance
on them as I had planned. What an awful heart I
had!
I want to tell here how the police came to know
[65]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
that I had hidden a dagger in the mountain near
Okazaki, and so had lain in wait for me. That very
day a farmer of the neighbourhood had found it in
the rice straw where I had hidden it and notified the
police at once. The police had the dagger already in
their possession and were guarding the place when I
encountered them.
I shall now go on with my story. I left Osaka and
got as far as Kobe when once more the judgment of
Heaven fell upon me. My eyes gave out and I became
almost blind, so that for some time I could do no more
mischief. Nevertheless I was determined that some-
how or other I was going to get to that bath-house,
and I set out, although I could scarcely see. I got as
far as a place called Akashi, when my eyes got very
much worse and I could go no further. I got some eye
medicine, but it did me no good, so I decided to go
back to Tokyo. I sent a letter to Sekiguchi asking
him to send me five yen, and towards the end of Octo-
ber I returned by train to Tokyo.
The condition of Sekiguchi' s home was unspeakable
in its misery. Not only had he pawned the stolen
goods I had sent him from the country, but the very
clothes of his wife and child were gone. There was
not a single change of clothing in the house. My eyes
were still weak and I could not go out and steal any-
thing for them, so I sold all the spare clothing I had
and gave them the money to help them out. I went to
the Mitsui Charity Hospital for treatment, and by the
beginning of November I was fairly well again.
[66]
FIRST CRIME IN TOKYO
XX.
FIRST CRIME IN TOKYO.
One day Sekiguchi said to me, "Ishii San, I am des-
perate! I cannot pay this month's bills, and I must
get money somehow. Let us start out and see what we
can do in Tokyo." Now my eyes were still troubling
me, and besides, I hesitated to do anything in Tokyo
for fear the results would recoil on Sekiguchi's inno-
cent wife and child. Also I had never committed a
crime within the city and I was unwilling to begin.
I agreed to help Sekiguchi provided it were outside
the city, but he assured me there was not the slightest
danger of getting caught. I could not very well go
alone into the country with my eyes in their present
state, and as I saw the suffering of the family every day
before my very eyes, I finally agreed to help Sekiguchi
inside the city. In so doing I only added sorrow to his
wife and child, and as I look back now, I feel a very
deep compassion for them.
One night Sekiguchi and I went together to Fuka-
gawa ward and attempted to enter a certain house.
The servant was aroused, however, and began to throw
things at us until we were obliged to flee. I was so
angry that I determined to return some day and burn
the house down. Looking back now I cannot but
think what a mean wretch I was ! The servant, mind-
ful only of his duty to his master, surely showed a
[67]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
loyal spirit in protecting his master's belongings from
the thieves who broke into the house, and yet I had
no other feeling than hate for him. What a fool I
was!
[68]
CONFESSION OF OHARU'S MURDER
XXI.
CONFESSION OF OHARU'S MURDER.
After this it was not safe for either of us to go
back to Sekiguchi's house, and on the eighth of Decem-
ber we decided to start off together for the country.
But the wrath of Heaven overtook us. That evening
when we returned to our lodgings, five policemen were
waiting for us. Caught unawares, we were soon
arrested and taken to the police station. We were
arrested on suspicion for our attempted burglary in
Fukagawa ward; but as there was no special evidence
against us, I thought I could easily deceive the authori-
ties as I had so often done before, and get free again.
I was put into a police cell with seven or eight other
men who were talking among themselves about some
murders that had been committed around Tokyo. This
and that murderer had been arrested, they said, and
among them they mentioned a man named Komori
who was being tried for the murder of a geisha at
Suzugamori. When I heard this, I said to myself,
"How can they be trying Komori for this murder,
when it was I who did it?" For a moment I doubted
my own ears, but upon inquiry found that the men
knew the facts, and that it was actually true that an
innocent man was being tried for the Oharu murder.
I began to think. When I was arrested and sen-
tenced for my crimes I hated policemen and detectives,
judges and procurators, and was always dissatisfied
with the sentences I received, in spite of the fact that,
[69]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
I really committed the crimes. Everyone who com-
mits crime has the same feeling. What then must be
the feeling and the suffering of this innocent Komori
as he lay in prison for months, accused of a crime he
did not commit? What about his family and rela-
tives ? I cannot express by word of mouth, nor in any
shape or form, the agony that must have been theirs.
I kept on thinking. After all, a human being must die
once any way, and so I decided to confess my guilt, and
save the innocent Komori.
Three or four days after I had confessed the mur-
der, but while I was still in the police station, a man
from Okazaki was put into the same cell with me. I
asked him when he had been last in Okazaki, and when
he said he had been there in July, I inquired if any-
thing had happened about that time. He replied that
nothing special had occurred except that there had
been a robbery in Toyohashi, and a policeman had been
killed. A fight between a robber and the police had
also taken place at Okazaki about the same time; an-
other policeman had been killed, and the robber had
escaped. Until I heard this I did not know that I had
killed the policemen. I thought I had only wounded
them. I decided that I might as well make a clean
breast of all my crimes, which I did at once.
I was transferred from the police station to the
prison where I am now writing this story, on the thir-
tieth of December, 1915. As I look back now, I see
that all this was the working of God's providence. Of
course at the time I knew nothing of God's heart, but
I firmly believe now that God had already fathomed
the depths of mine.
[70]
MEMORIES AND REFLECTIONS
XXII.
MEMORIES AND REFLECTIONS.
Up to this point I have given in outline the story
of my life from my childhood on through my life of
crime; but just here I wish to go back and tell some-
thing of the life I lived before I was put into Chiba
prison in 1904. The crimes that were found out were
only a small fraction of the depredations I actually
committed, and at the time I considered myself very
fortunate to escape the law. As I look back now I
see that there was not such another sinner in all the
world. From the time I was nineteen years of age I
looked upon other people's belongings as if they were
my own, and I took their property, not once or twice,
but times without number.
I have endured at times untold misery and distress.
Once when I was chased by detectives I escaped to the
mountains where I hid for eight days, with nothing
whatever to eat, and only water to drink. In the depths
of winter I have spent snowy nights out in the open
fields. I have been nearly devoured by mosquitoes in
the hot summer nights. I have endured privations and
hardships of all kinds. As I think back now, I see that
there is nothing so futile as crime. Had I expended the
same amount of energy and endured the same hard-
ships for the sake of making an honest living I might
have made a success of my life. How useless it was
to suffer so for the sake of crime! I have not only
endured untold hardships myself, but I have caused
[71]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
suffering to others, and in the end nothing remains that
I can call my own. I have not a single possession left
me but my evil deeds and my crimes, and from these I
shall never be able to separate myself.
I wish to add that the policemen I injured at Toyo-
hashi and Okazaki did not dieA
AFTER DEATH?
XXIII.
AFTER DEATH?
Let me now tell how I came to believe from the bot-
tom of my heart in the teachings of Jesus Christ, after
I got into prison. I want to tell everything just as it
happened, without concealment and without decora-
tion. People of learning who read this story may find
much in it that does not seem consistent, but I ask such
people to try to sympathise with the efforts of an un-
educated fellow to reveal his heart just as it is.
At the end of December, 1915, I was removed from
the police station to Tokyo prison. In order to atone
for my sins I had confessed everything, and I felt that
my life was already ended. Day by day I sat alone
in my cell with no one to talk to, and with nothing to
do. One night when everyone was asleep, and the
prison was silent, I suddenly wakened and began to
think of all the unmentionable sins I had ever com-
mitted. To be sure I had given myself up to die when
I confessed my sins, but now in the darkness I began
to think of what would happen if I should die just as
I was. Where should I go? Was there such a thing
as a soul? I did not know, but if there were, must
mine not go to Hell? Surely this was a dark future
for me, and as I thought of it I was filled with an
anguish I could scarcely bear. In the days of my
strength, when I was concerned only with lust and
[73]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
money, such thoughts never entered my head; but
now with certain death staring me in the face, my
agony was heavier than I could bear. I solemnly affirm
that I speak the truth when I say this4
[74]
A NEW YEAR'S GIFT IN PRISON
XXIV.
A NEW YEAR'S GIFT IN PRISON.
The year 1915 closed and the first day of the New
Year opened. Early in the morning a special New
Year's meal * was brought to me instead of the ordi-
nary prison fare, and I was told that two ladies by the
names of Miss West and Miss Macdonald had sent it
to me. Who could these two persons be, I wondered.
I had never seen nor heard of them before. There
was no reason why I should receive anything from
people I did not know, and I told the official that I
could not accept the gift. The official said that these
ladies were Christian missionaries, and had sent the
food out of kindness and sympathy, and so I need not
hesitate to accept it. As I look back now I cannot but
think how perverse is the heart of a wicked man ! It
cannot be described either by word or by parable.
When I was out in the world I robbed people with-
out compunction, but now when something is offered
to me freely, I naively refuse it. What kind of fool-
ish perversion can this be?
The food was sent to me during the first three days
of the New Year. A few days later a New Testament
and two or three other Christian books were received
from the same source, but I put them up on the shelf
and did not even look into them.
* During the first three days of the New Year, which are universally
celebrated in Japan, everyone, even down to the poorest, eats a certain kind
of rice food, called mochi, specially prepared for the occasion.
[75]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XXV.
A VISIT FROM MISS WEST.
One day a person by the name of Miss West came
purposely to visit me, and talked to me about Jesus
Christ. I shall tell you exactly what I thought at that
time. When I was out in the world I had not listened
seriously even to talks about my own religion, and so
naturally I had never wanted to hear about Christian-
ity. Although I thought it was very kind of Miss West
to come to talk to me, I did not pay much attention to
what she said. Of course I behaved with decorum as
the occasion demanded. These visits continued from
time to times
[76]
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
XXVI.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
One day I got tired of sitting by myself with noth-
ing to do, and just for the sake of putting in the time,
I took the New Testament down from the shelf, and,
with no intention of seriously looking into it, I glanced
at the beginning and then at the middle. I was
casually turning over the leaves when I came across a
place that looked rather interesting and I began to
read : —
And it came to pass, when the time was come that
he should be received up, he steadfastly set his face to
go to Jerusalem, and sent messengers before his face;
and they went, and entered into a village of the
Samaritans, to make ready for him. And they did
not receive him, because his face was as though he
would go to Jerusalem. And when his disciples James
and John saw this, they said, Lord, wilt thou that we
command fire to come down from heaven, and consume
them, even as Elias did? But he turned and rebuked
them, and said, Ye know not what manner of spirit
ye are of. For the son of man is not come to destroy
men's lives, but to save them.
I laid the book down thinking that these were surely
the words of some one who wanted to teach men the
path of virtue, but otherwise I was not specially moved
by them. Later on I picked up the book again and read
these words:
[77]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sin-
ners for to hear him. And the Pharisees and scribes
murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and
eateth with them. And he spake this parable unto
them, saying, What man of you, having an hundred
sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety
and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is
lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he
layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he
cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neigh-
bours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have
found my sheep that was lost! I say unto you, that
likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that
repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just per-
sons which need no repentance.
Still I was not sufficiently impressed to have any
special belief in what I was reading. I simply thought
these were words that any preacher might use. I put
the New Testament on the shelf again and did not
read any more for some time. A little later, when I
was tired of doing nothing, I took the book down once
more and began to read. This time I read how Jesus
was handed over to Pilate by his enemies, was tried
unjustly and put to death by crucifixion.
As I read this I began to think. This person they
called Jesus was evidently a man who at any rate tried
to lead others into the path of virtue, and it seemed an
inhuman thing to crucify him simply because he had
different religious opinions from others. Even I,
hardened criminal that I was, thought it a shame that
his enemies should have treated him in this way.
[78]
"FATHER, FORGIVE THEM!"
XXVII.
"FATHER, FORGIVE THEM!"
I went on, and my attention was next taken by these
words : And Jesus said, Father, forgive them, for they
know not what they do. I stopped : I was stabbed to
the heart, as if pierced by a five-inch nail. What did
the verse reveal to me ? Shall I call it the love of the
heart of Christ? Shall I call it His compassion? I do
not know what to call it. I only know that with an
unspeakably grateful heart, I believed. Through this
simple sentence I was led into the whole of Chris-
tianity.
This is how I thought it out: — I suppose a man's
greatest enemy is the one who seeks to take his life
from him. There is surely no greater enemy than this.
Now at the very moment when Jesus' life was being
taken from him, he prayed for his enemies to the God
of Heaven. Father, forgive them for they know not
'what they do. What else could I believe but that he
was indeed the son of God ? I argued that an ordinary
man is filled with anger and hatred and every other
spiteful passion on the slightest provocation. Jesus,
on the other hand, prayed for his enemies at the very
moment his life was being taken, — that life which was
so precious that nothing could take its place. Was an
act like this possible for an ordinary man? I do not
think so. Then we cannot but say that he was God.
Again, chaplains and pastors, and those who see men
die, agree that the last words a man utters come from
[79]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
the depths of his soul, and that he does not die with lies
upon his lips. Jesus' last words were, Father, forgive
them for they know not what they do, and so I cannot
but believe that they reveal his true heart.
[80]
GIFTS OF THE PRISON HOUSE
XXVIII.
GIFTS OF THE PRISON HOUSE.
I want to tell you what divine favours were given me
after I became a believer in Christ. First I received
the imperishable and everlasting salvation of that most
important part of man, his soul. As it is written:
Ferity, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my
word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath ever-
lasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but
is passed from death unto life. And again : Him that
cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out. If we be-
lieve these words then we know that God has not for-
saken us but has saved our souls forever.
It was only after I got into prison that I came to
believe that man really has a soul, and I shall tell you
how I came to see this. In the prison yard chrysan-
themums have been planted to please the eyes of the
inmates. When the season comes they bear beautiful
flowers, but in the winter they are nipped by the frost,
and wither. Our outer eye tells us that the flowers are
dead, but this is not the real truth. When the season
returns the buds sprout once more and the beautiful
flowers bloom again. And so I cannot but believe that
if God in his mercy does not allow even the flowers to
die, there surely is a soul in man which He intends
shall live forever.
I shall now speak of a second favour which I have
received from God. When I was free I travelled about
west and east out in the world, and saw and heard.
[81]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
many things, and had varied experiences. Today I
am sitting in my prison cell with no liberty to come and
go, and yet I am far more contented than in the days
of my freedom. In prison, with only poor, coarse food
to eat, I am more thankful than I ever was out in the
world when I could get whatever food I wanted. In
this prison cell, only nine by six feet in size, I am
happier than if I were living in the largest house I ever
saw in the outer world. Whatever agony is in my
heart I can now overcome. No matter what discom-
forts I endure there is only gladness in my heart. The
joy of each day is very great. These things are all
due to the grace and divine favour of Jesus Christ.
I wish to speak now of the greatest favour of all, —
the power of Christ, which cannot be measured by any
of our standards. I have been more than twenty years
in prison since I was nineteen years of age, and during
that time I have known what it meant to endure suf-
fering, although I have had some pleasant times as
well. I have passed through all sorts of experiences,
and have been urged often to repent of my sins. In
spite of this, however, I did not repent, but on the con-
trary became more and more hardened. And then by
the power of that one word of Christ's, Father, for-
give them, for they know not what they do, my un-
speakably hardened heart was changed, and I repented
of all my crimes. Such power is not in man.
[821
CRUCIFIXION
XXIX.
CRUCIFIXION.
I want to speak for a moment about some thoughts
I have concerning crucifixion. Even in Japan there
was once a man, by the name of Sogoro Sakura,* who
endured crucifixion for the sake of others. He is said
to have given his life to save the people of a certain
small district of Chiba province. I saw the story
played once at a theatre, and even I, heartless fellow
that I was, pitied him and thought it was a cruel thing
to have put him to death. The people of Chiba have
erected a shrine and have made him into a kind of god.
As I think this story over very carefully today, it
seems to me that if a man is worshipped today as a
* The story of Sogoro Sakura is one of the most famous in all the
annals of Japan. The outline, as told in Mitford's Tales of Old Japan,
is as follows: A certain feudal lord taxed his farmers so outrageously
that the chiefs of one hundred and thirty-six Tillages held council and
petitioned against the oppression. Neither the local officials nor the
lord himself, paid any attention to the grievance; and so in despair one of
the village chiefs, Sogoro by name, determined to risk his life in an
attempt to get the petition into the hands of the Shpgun, who was the
head of all the feudal lords and the chief executive of the nation.
Accordingly, as the Shogun was proceeding one day in his litter, to
worship at the tombs of his ancestors, Sogoro sprang forward from his
hiding place, broke through the escort, and handed the petition directly
to the Shogun. He was arrested and sentenced to death, along with his
wife and his three little sons, for the crime of appealing to the Shogun
over the head of his own feudal chief. The unjust taxes were, however,
remitted.
The day of execution came on the ninth day of the second month
of the year 1644. The children were beheaded before their parents'
eyes, and then Sogoro and his wife were bound to two crosses and
speared to death. They both died bravely, sustaining each other with
the thought that their death was not in vain, as the taxes had been
remitted. Sogoro, however, with his last breath cursed his lord for
having punished his wife and children as well as himself, and said,
"Let my lord fence himself in with iron walls, yet shall my spirit burst
through them, and crush his bones, as a reward for this deed." When
he was dead, his head turned and faced the castle, and afterwards his
ghost and that of his wife haunted the feudal house, and wrought
terrible havoc. The lord's wife died of horror at the awful sights she
saw in the night, and the lord himself was well-nigh crazed. Finally
a shrine was built and Sogoro was deified. The ghosts then ceased to
wander, and peace reigned once more in the castle.
[83]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
god because long ago he gave his life for a few people
in a small community ; how much more must we think
of Christ who gave himself for the sake of the whole
world? To be sure I am not saying these things to
lessen the reputation of Sogoro Sakura. What I think
of him is this, — he gave his life in a most chivalrous
way, and he was undoubtedly much nobler than the
ordinary man ; but I cannot think that his sacrifice was
the deed of a god. He gave his life to save the bodies
of men, but he could not save their souls.
As I saw the story on the stage, Sogoro, when he
was being crucified, turned to his executioners, who
were the retainers of the feudal lord who had ordered
his death, and said, "Though my body dies, I shall still
be revenged upon you." With these words on his lips
he died. Afterwards, it is said, his ghost haunted the
feudal lord and his retainers and harassed them ex-
ceedingly. This spirit is quite characteristic of human
nature.
Christ, on the other hand, came to save men's souls
as well as their bodies. Sogoro suffered the death
penalty for a breach of the law of that day, but he
left a curse behind. Jesus broke no law, but his sinless
body was crucified because of the hatred of his ene-
mies. I also believe that Jesus understood beforehand
that his death was to be a ransom for sinners that they
might be saved. Therefore there was no hate in his
heart even when he was being crucified; and he left
behind him only words of compassion, and died with
a peaceful heart. If Japanese people make a god out
of Sogoro, why do they not believe in Jesus Christ
[84]
CRUCIFIXION
who died with such a heart of love? It seems a very
strange thing.
As I know the life of Sogoro only as I saw it on
the stage, I may have been mistaken in some of the
details of the story.
[85]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XXX.
THE OHARU TRIAL.
My trial for the murder of Oharu dragged on for
many long days and months, and I was finally acquitted
in the first court on account of some mistake. I was
greatly disheartened about this for a time, for I knew
that if I were acquitted, the innocent Komori would
suffer the penalty of the crime. I was so distressed
about it that I could not sleep at nights.
By this time, however, I had faith in God, and so
I reasoned it out in this way. The case will never be
settled by man's power, so I must pray day and night
unceasingly that it be settled by the power of God. The
lawyer I had during this first trial was not satisfac-
tory, but during the appeal * I had a new lawyer, Mn
Suzuki, who was very sympathetic. Also I knew that
Miss Macdonald and Miss West were praying for me,
and I believe God used their prayers to pierce through
the heart of the judge; for in the appeal court I re-
ceived the fair impartial judgment of God. This was
not through man's power, but as I firmly believe, the
power of God.
* According to Japanese criminal law, the procurator as well as the
defendant can appeal against a judgment in the lower court. In the
case of Ishii, the procurator appealed against the acquittal and secured
in the appeal court the verdict of a death sentence.
[86]
PRISON CHAPLAINS
XXXI.
PRISON CHAPLAINS.
While the trial in Tokyo was still in progress, I was
sent to Yokohama to stand my trial for the murder I
had committed there. Two or three days before Miss
Macdonald came to visit me there, two of the prison
chaplains sent for me to ask about my birth place and
the religious sect to which I belonged. I said that my
parents had belonged to the Shin sect of Buddhism.
"Then of course you belong to the same sect?" asked
one of the priests.
"No," I replied, "my religion is different; I believe
in Christianity."
"Tell me," said the chaplain, "why have you turned
to the Christian God?"
"From the most sincere motives," I replied.
The chaplain went on, "But Christianity is, after
all, nothing but morals. Now Buddha receives you
with love and mercy, and so there is more reason to
be thankful to him than to Christ."
"That may be quite true," I replied, "but it is also
true that there are love and mercy in Christ as well.
What you have just said may be true, but if I had
experienced the love and benevolence which you say
are in the heart of Buddha, I should not have commit-
ted the crimes I have done. But with neither love nor
mercy in my own heart I have experienced the love
and mercy of Christ, and so now I turn to the Chris-
tian God." The two priests laughed and ended the
[87]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
conversation without saying anything further. As I
think this over, I am reminded of the proverb, "Draw-
ing water to your own rice field," * and I think it very
aptly describes their attitude in this talk.
A little later on I was called to the office of the head
chaplain and asked again about my birthplace and reli-
gion. I replied as before that I was a Christian. The
priest then asked me, "Has your heart been changed
by Christianity?" and I said that it had. And then,
as might be expected of one in his position, he said,
"Then your religion is an admirable thing. There is
nothing better than the teaching that changes a man's
heart." Now it seems to me that this chaplain was
a man to be very greatly respected.
* Arguing to put the other in the wrong.
[88]
HAUNTED
XXXII.
HAUNTED.
I wish to speak for a moment about the aw fulness
of sin. As I sat in my prison cell I was taken up -with
many things during the day, and was not troubled very
much about my sins, but when night came and every-
one else was asleep, I would waken and begin to think
about all the terrible things I had done. This was
before I came to believe in Christ. It was all very
terrible.
One night one of my victims, with a very pale face,
suddenly appeared by my pillow and called me by
name, and then began to stroke my face. Awful
criminal though I was, I was terrified, but when I
opened my eyes I found it was only a dream. The
apparition, however, appeared plainly before my eyes.
Even after I was fully awake my hair stood on end
with fright, and I could sleep no more that night. It
was an awful experience. After I came to believe in
Christ this thing never happened again; although even
now when I think of it, the hair of my body stands
on end.
Another night when everyone but myself was
asleep, I suddenly heard a dreadful groan from a
nearby cell; and during the night it was repeated sev-
eral times. It was so fearsome that it terrified even
me. Such sounds continued every night for some time,
and I came to the conclusion that the man who was
groaning was a murderer like myself; and that the
[89]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
ghost of his victim had come to terrify him. He had
probably not repented of his sins and so was being
haunted. He must have suffered during the day as
well, for I had suffered agony both day and night
before I received the teachings of Christ. I knew his
distress would soon cease, however, if, like me, he
would cling to God's hand; and I felt sorry that there
was no one to help him.
[90]
THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN MEN
XXXIII.
THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN MEN.
It is commonly said that as men's faces are different,
so men's hearts are different also; and I had cause
recently to realise how very great the difference is,
between one man and another.
On the eighth day of April, 1918, about three o'clock
in the afternoon, I was sitting in my cell reading, when
suddenly two officials appeared at the door. One was
an officer of this prison, but the other was unknown
to me, and so I merely bowed respectfully when they
entered. I was then told that the strange official was
Governor Arima of Kosuge prison. He began to talk
to me. "Ishii San," he said, "I hear you have become
a believer in Christ?" I replied that I had, and he
said, "Then you believe that you have been saved by
Christ?" I told him without reserve what I had come
to believe about the love and mercy of Christ. The
governor continued, "Christ's wonderful power be-
longs not only to past days, but is just as truly here
in this very cell now, as it ever was long ago. The
change that Christ has made in your heart is as great
a miracle as anything that ever happened." He talked
to me in a way I could easily understand ; and when he
was leaving, he took off his glove, grasped me by the
hand and bade me good-bye with the gentlest and kind-
est words. I was so touched that I could not keep
back my tears of gratitude, and for some time after
[91]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
he left I could not raise my head. That night I did
not sleep a wink.*
Such is the difference among men. Here am I, look-
ing like an ordinary man, it is true, but having the heart
of a beast. There is Governor Arima, a man of high
rank and office, deliberately taking off his glove and
grasping the hand of an utterly worthless and aban-
doned criminal like myself; and thereby showing his
heart of compassion. What a contrast !
My lawyer in Yokohama, Mr. Fujita by name, once
grasped me by the hand when he parted from me. One
of my lawyers in Tokyo, Mr. Suzuki, has also the same
kind heart. They have shown their sympathy in many
ways. They did my legal work for me without any
charge whatever, and time and again sent special food
to the prison for me. Dead or alive, I shall never for-
get their good will.
Between the heart of a man just moderately good
and my own there is a very great difference. How
much greater then is the contrast between myself and
* Mr. Arima himself, in the preface to the Japanese edition, describes
this same visit as follows: "One day I went to see Ishii in his cell and
found him sitting bolt upright and looking very serious. My first glance
showed him to be a very powerfully built fellow, with heavy bushy eye-
brows and a large flat nose; and I could not help thinking that if his
heart were as rough as his exterior, one would have every right to
fear him. But his eyes told a different story. They shone with a quiet,
beautiful light, his cheeks were clear and healthy looking and his spirit
was brimming over with gentleness. My heart went out to him with a
great tenderness.
"As I knew I should never see him again in this world's life, I spoke
a few words of encouragement to him, and at parting pledged myself to
meet him in the next world. As I made the promise I involuntarily put
out my hand and grasped his. His joy was beyond words to describe.
"The day he was taken out to die he left with the Buddhist chaplain a
letter which he had begun to write to me but had not finished. In it he
expressed his appreciation of my visit and said that his soul would never
forget my kindness even when his body was dead. He was especially moved
by the handshake. 'I have lived a life of crime for more than twenty
years,' he wrote, 'but never in all that time did I hear of a prison
governor expressing his sympathy towards a criminal by actually taking
off his glove and grasping him by the hand. My joy can be expressed
only by the tears of gratitude which I shed.' "
[92]
MR. SHIROSUKK ARIMA
Governor of Kosugre Prison, Tokyo
THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN MEN
the man who actively tries to bring happiness to oth-
ers ! The contrast is as great as between the west and
the east, or as between heaven and earth.
As I think it all out now I see that I am worse than
a beast. The cat and the dog are of some use to man.
The wild animal of the mountain is useful when he
is dead for his fur and flesh if for nothing else. I
have been not only of no use to anyone, but have done
untold harm. Dead or alive, I am of no value what-
ever. I can compare myself to nothing but a tubercu-
losis germ ; I have been but a plague to people. I feel
ashamed to show my face. If there were only a hole
somewhere I should like to crawl in and hide myself.
Nevertheless, when I realise that I have lived until
today to receive the gracious love of God, there is noth-
ing but joy in my heart. Whatever happens to me in
the future, I desire only to do the will of Jesus Christ.
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XXXIV.
MY HYMN.
As I face the end of my life I have a word to say.
At the very time when my soul was lost in darkness
because of my crimes, and when the ceaseless tortures
of Hell were about to come upon me, I came in touch
with Jesus Christ through the leading of the two
friends I have mentioned ; and so entered into the City
of God, where the soul cannot perish. My daily joy
is indescribable. That I should receive such gracious
leading from people I had never met before is some-
thing I can never forget. I want to express here my
most sincere thanksgiving to them.
The following words are so full of the heart of
compassion and so well describe my own life of today
that I wish to set them down in this place : —
Just as I am, without one plea
But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come.
Just as I am, and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come.
Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come.
[94]
MY HYMN
Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind,
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come.
Just as I am — Thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down —
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come.
Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come.
Just as I am, of that free love,
The breadth, length, depth and height to prove,
Here for a season, then above,
O Lamb of God, I come.
(Then follows a poem of his own making, the first
syllable of each line corresponding to the successive
syllables of the Japanese alphabet, which are forty-eight
in number. — Translator's note.)
At last my sins are revealed
And I sit here in prison.
My heart is filled with pain and sorrow,
And day by day I suffer without rest.
Is there a God? I cry,
But there is no answer,
And I am sunk in anguish.
Soon will the righteous judgment come upon me,
For my sins are fearful
Beyond comparison.
I am resolved to accept my doom,
But when the day of parting comes,
I must leave all I have behind me,
[95]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
And there is nothing in the after world
To trust for peace of soul.
There is no day when I forget my agony.
Asleep or awake
My hand gropes
But reaches nowhere,
And I am almost mad.
My life has no meaning,
And my fear grows more and more
As I recall my sins.
What will the next world do to me?
My body is torn in pieces at the thought.
My pain and anguish
Grow greater every day
And I am sick with suffering.
Is there no wiping out of sins?
If there is a God who thinks of pity
I cry to Him in my anguish.
"Listen to the prayer of my soul,
Take me to the Heavenly City
Where my soul shall not perish;
Make me to meet my beloved father and mother 1"
Then joy is revealed to me.
"Behold! Christ is here; be not afraid!
You shall see your father and your mother,
And you shall be with them
In the City of God.
You shall not die
But you shall live in glory,
And every day and all the days
You shall be glad.
You shall taste the joys
Your heart desires.
The pleasures that are beyond the world,"
Today I have entered into the City.
[96]
MY HYMN
My name is defiled,
My body dies in prison,
But my soul purified
Today returns to the City of God.
I have written this poem here in prison to explain
how I came to trust my fear and anguish to Christ
and was rescued by His love. I ask you to be lenient
with its faults..
[97]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XXXV.
WHY THE POLICE DO NOT CATCH CRIMINALS.
I wish now to write down some of the reasons why
the police fail so often to catch experienced criminals
like myself. I am writing this so that the officers of
the law, whose duty it is to safeguard society, may be
the better able to get hold of notorious criminals; and
also that the criminals themselves may be brought to
repentance as quickly as possible. First of all, I wish
to make an explanation. In speaking about my various
escapes I do so not to blame the police, but merely to
put them on their guard for the future.
I was able to escape from the police both at Toyo-
hashi and Okazaki because they themselves gave me
warning of their approach. The police shout out after
a man, "Thief, thief!" or "Hi, Hi!" and then attempt
to close in for a hand-to-hand encounter. In this way
a man has time to prepare himself for the attack. I
have managed to escape times without number for this
very reason.
A new hand at crime may be easily frightened and
caught by this method, but an experienced fellow like
myself is not at all alarmed. He simply summons up
his courage, gets his dagger or knife ready, and when
the onslaught comes he is prepared to defend himself.
He fights desperately and usually wounds his oppo-
nents and escapes. If this were merely a theatrical
performance it might be very interesting, but when it
is for the purpose of actually catching dangerous
[98]
WHY POLICE DO NOT CATCH CRIMINALS
criminals it is rather crude. I have encountered po-
licemen at night time after time, when I had corn-
mitted some depredation. After leaving Chiba prison
I had as many as eight or nine encounters, and I
always escaped them. When they follow up a suspi-
cious looking character they always call out in a very
loud official tone, "Hi! Hi!" "Thief, Thief!" "Stop!
Stop !" and so announce their coming. Even an ordi-
nary thief does not stop, but soon makes good his
escape. You may be sure that a desperate robber or
a murderer will not stop. So far as the criminal is
concerned, these methods merely inform him that the
police are coming. They amount to nothing more nor
less than that.
So far, I have told you how I was able to escape
from the clutches of the police, but now I wish to ex-
plain how I might have been caught. Knowing that
I was a real criminal, the police should have quietly
stolen a march on me, and shouted for help after they
had grappled with me. In all probability I should have
been caught, and that without injuries being inflicted
on them. It must be kept in mind that every desperate
criminal carries a weapon of some kind, and the secret
of catching him is to get him unawares. If they are
already upon him before he has time to draw his knife
from its sheath, he can be secured, although some in-
jury may of course be inflicted in the struggle. There
are also other possible methods. A policeman might
disguise himself as an ordinary man, walk up to a
suspected criminal on the road at night, and make some
casual remark about the weather or the neighbourhood,
while he is preparing to seize him. He would prol>
[99]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
ably get the man unawares, provided he took precau-
tions to guard himself from an unexpected attack.
For the sake of the future I want to tell how I man-
aged to carry a sword two feet long and keep it suc-
cessfully hidden. You will remember that when I
was wandering about the country I carried a cake
pedlar's outfit with me. In the under part of the
stand I carried, I scooped out a groove just long enough
and deep enough to hold the sword, and over this I
fitted a false bottom, which entirely hid the sword after
it was inserted. As for the short dagger that I car-
ried in the day time, I bound it firmly against the inner
side of my leg, and wore over it the tight trouser worn
by labouring men, so that neither the sword nor the
dagger was noticed by the police when I was examined.
[100]
PART TWO: A DIARY OF
IMPRESSIONS
THANKSGIVING FOR ILLNESS
THANKSGIVING FOR ILLNESS.
May 26, 1918.
I have been very ill since morning with a high fever
'and have been suffering a great deal of pain. The
warder in charge has been very kind, and could not
have done more for me had I been his own child. This
is the first time in my life that I have ever had an ill-
ness of this kind.
May 27.
I have been taken with fever and chills, and am a
good deal worse today. Miss Macdonald came pur-
posely to see me, but unfortunately at that very time
my temperature was so high that I was unable to re-
ceive her visit, although I greatly desired to hear her
gracious teaching. It was probably my lack of faith
that made it impossible to overcome my illness, so that
I was deprived of seeing Miss Macdonald. It was no
doubt God's reproof to me, and I must learn to fear
and honour Him more. This illness has brought me
much nearer God, and I am very grateful.
[103]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
II.
THE KINDNESS OF A JAILOR.
May 28.
This morning early, while I was still in bed, a
warder by the name of Wakana, who had charge of
me for nearly two years, but whose work is now else-
where, came to inquire for me. He has always been
very kind to me, and today he came purposely to see
me because he heard I was ill. In the afternoon the
vice-governor opened my cell door and very kindly
inquired for me.
During the night I was in such pain that I did not
sleep a wink. I kept my eyes closed but my heart was
not asleep, and I knew everything that was going on.
About two o'clock in the morning, the night-warder,
Kajiwara by name, thrust his hand through the hole
in the door and quietly felt my head to see if I was still
feverish. Without wakening me, as he thought, he
was trying to find out if my fever was abating. I was
very much touched by his thought fulness.
May 29.
The vice-governor came again and inquired for me
with very kind words. Every day different officials
visit me and the warder in charge comes time and
again to attend to me. The principal keeper and a
chief warder by the name of Wada, have also come
to see me today, and the vice-governor looked in a
second time. He has come three times in less than
[104,]
THE KINDNESS OF A JAILOR
a week, and I take it that the governor's thoughtful-
ness also is expressed by these visits. I cannot say
in words how much all this kindness touches me. The
chief chaplain,* who was recently transferred from
Kosuge prison to this place, comes from time to time
to see me, although he knows that I am a believer in
Christ. During my illness he has visited me twice,
and has been very kind. I am most grateful, but I
want to say here that no matter who comes and speaks
kindly to me, I shall never believe in anyone but
Christ.
* All prison chaplains in Japan are Buddhist priests belonging to the
Shin sect.
[105]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
III.
MERCIES.
While I have been ill, I could not help wondering
who would have come to see me had I been ill in the
world outside. That anyone like myself, a criminal
of the deepest dye, should be treated as kindly as I am,
touches me so deeply that I cannot help weeping tears
of gratitude. If this had been in ancient times, what
would have become of me ? Even with the same death
penalty, I should have been cruelly exposed to the
public gaze, and have been either beheaded or put to
death by crucifixion, or in some other inhuman way.
But I am thankful that now no show is made of an
execution. This is one of the mercies that belong to
the present age, for which I am profoundly grateful.
Had I lived in days gone by,
What would have been my end?
How thankful I ought to be
For the mercies of today ! *
During my illness, my lawyer from Yokohama, Mr,
Fujita by name, has come purposely to enquire for
me. Before my Yokohama trial took place he visited
me at the prison four different times and did every-
thing for me without any fee. Even after the trial
was over, he called on me twice, and since I have been
back in Tokyo prison, he has come twice to see me here.
As long as I live I shall remember this kindness. Yes,
and after I die I shall not forget it.
* A short Japanese poem of thirty-three syllables composed by himself.
[106]
CONCERNING LAWYERS
IV.
CONCERNING LAWYERS.
June 2.
I am very happy today because my fever has prac-
tically gone, and I feel quite well. My very kind
Tokyo lawyer, Mr. Suzuki, who had charge of my
case when it went to the appeal court, was here today.
He enquired very sympathetically about my illness,
and I feel very grateful to him.
Out in the world I was not at all the sort of person
who could have associated with a man like Mr. Suzuki ;
and I wept tears of gratitude to think he would come
time after time to see me in prison and express his
sympathy for me. He even sent food to me at various
times, sometimes twice daily, and again three times a
day during one period.
There are no doubt many kinds of lawyers in Tokyo,
different in outward appearance, and also different in
heart. Even with the same case in hand, different law-
yers would, I suppose, act very differently. For exam-
ple, the lawyer who had charge of my case in the first
court did not come even once to the prison to see me,
either before or during the trial. I suppose that is
quite usual. A lawyer called by the court to defend
a man receives practically nothing for his services;
and when there is no money in it, he cannot be expected
to take time to find out whether an innocent man is
going to be hanged or not. It even costs something to
come to prison to visit the accused. I suppose this is
[107]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
the way in which an ordinary man would look on it.
Had I been able to pay this lawyer well, he would no
doubt have come quite willingly scores of times. As
the proverb says : "Even Hell yields to money."
What about my lawyer in the appeal trial ? Without
caring that he got nothing for his trouble, Mr. Suzuki
thoroughly investigated my case for more than a year ;
and took infinite pains not only to prevent an innocent
man from being hanged, but also to save my soul
through getting the facts revealed. On this account
I received a perfectly fair trial and sentence in the
appeal court, which was the only thing I desired.
It is unnecessary to speak here of the joy that must
have come to Komori and his family on account of his
acquittal, which was made possible through my con-
demnation.
This is all due to the fact that God dwelt in this
lawyer's heart, which was filled with love. The dif-
ference between these lawyers simply shows the con-
trast between the hearts in which the love of God
dwells and the hearts of others. Where God's love has
not entered, an ordinary man hates bad people. I sup-
pose that was the case with my first lawyer. Where
Christ's love is, there men will be kind to others. His
love does not turn away from the deeper sin, but only
yearns the more over it,
[108]
MR. FUJI Y A SUZUKI, M. P.
The lawyer to whom Ishii refers constantly, who conducted his
defence during the Appeal Court, and who was so unfailingly
kind to Ishii while he was in prison.
LESSONS LEARNED FROM SUFFERING
V.
LESSONS LEARNED FROM SUFFERING.
June 3.
I am quite recovered from my illness, and today
the first thing I did was to read over the hymn I like
so well, "Just as I am> without one plea," and then give
thanks to God.
I have learned so much from my recent illness that
I wish to write down some of my impressions. Since
I have been able to remember anything, I do not re-
call ever having been ill in bed as long as three days
at a time, and I have known nothing of suffering due
to illness. On this account I have been very unkind
to sick persons, not only to those who had no con-
nection with me, but even to my own wife. Sometimes
when she had a headache and said she could not get
up, I thought it was nonsense to stay in bed for such
a little thing, and would pull the bedclothes away from
her and compel her to rise. This I have done over and
over again. She often wept at my cruelty, but I had
not the slightest sympathy. I had never been ill my-
self and could not sympathise with the suffering of
others.
However, through God's discipline I have myself
felt what suffering means; and I count this sickness
of mine one of God's mercies towards me, so that I
have nothing but thankfulness in my heart.
[109]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
VI.
A SPARROW TEACHES A LESSON.
June 9.
Today being Sunday we were obliged to clean up
our cells, and as I was working away at mine I heard
outside my window a loud "chirp, chirp, chirp!" of a
bird; and looking out, I saw a whole flock of sparrows
gathered together on the limb of a tree. They stretched
out their little necks as if looking at something below
them, and were making a great chatter. I thought this
was rather strange, and looked out to see what could
be the matter. Apparently a cat or a dog had appeared
beneath the tree, and the first little bird to see it had
instantly chirped a warning to his comrades. Then
I understood that the sparrow had called out, "An
enemy, an enemy, an enemy!"
I was greatly impressed with this. The little spar-
row put me to shame, as I saw that even the birds
warn one another of impending danger, and mutually
protect themselves. What have I ever done to care
for my kind?
It is said that man is the crown of creation, but what
have I ever done in all my life to be so regarded? To
be sure I have the face and shape of a man, and I am
clothed with the skin of a human being, but in reality
I am inferior to a sparrow. The sparrow seeks to
protect his kind, but I have done nothing but cause
[110]
A SPARROW TEACHES A LESSON
untold trouble to mine. So long as I have had pleas-
ure myself I have not minded the sorrows of others,
and have been absolutely selfish. I have nothing to
say for myself.
tin]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
VII.
THE STORY OF THE MINER.
June 12.
I was reading today a story in a book called, "From
Death to Life," and I found it so interesting that I read
it over and over again. It fitted my own experience
so well that I wish to copy it down here.
The story in brief is this: — A very rough miner
was found in a dying condition away off by himself
in a one-roomed cabin in the mountains. A lady
brought him food and tried to tell him about the love
of God, but he cursed her to her face. After attempt-
ing for some time to help him, she decided not to go
near him again; and that night when she was praying
with her children she omitted the miner's name from
her prayer. Her little boy Charlie said to her, "Have
you given the bad man up, Mother ? God hasn't given
him up, has He ?"
This set the mother thinking, and she decided to try
again. She took a little neighbour girl with her, and
went to the door of the cabin once more. The man
cursed as usual, but hearing the child's voice, he re-
called a little girl of his own who had died, and asked
her to come into the cabin. The child knelt down and
prayed a simple prayer which touched the rough miner
and brought him to repentance.
[112]
THE TRUE HEART OF A CHILD
VIII.
THE TRUE HEART OF A CHILD.
As I read this story I was struck by the thought that
the Spirit of Christ lived in the hearts of the two little
children. The mother had given up the wicked miner
in despair, but little Charlie's words, "God has not
given him up?" were a rebuke. In these few words is
contained the heart of faith. Look at the little girl's
prayer by the bedside of the sick man ! "Lord Jesus !
This poor man is ill; he has lost his little girl and is
very sad. I am so sorry for him and he's sorry too,
and I want you to help him. Amen." The words are
few but they reveal an unshaken faith. I feel as if
the incident had taken place before my very eyes.
The real faith of the woman's little son gave her
courage to try once more to soften the rough man's
heart, with the result that he repented.
Jesus said : Ferity I say unto you, Whosoever shall
not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall
in no wise enter therein. This means that we must
receive the love of God with the same simplicity and
truthfulness as a little child.
I began to pray : "Lord Jesus Christ ! By thy great
power, make my heart like a little child's, and help me
to believe that all power dwells in Thee. Amen."
[113]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
IX.
THOSE TWO FRIENDS OF MINE.
Now I want to say something about how the mother
led the miner to know Christ. He was unspeakably
bad, but was finally brought to repentance by the
earnestness of the mother. This struck me as if I
had been pierced by a five-inch nail.
Now my heart was very much worse than that of
the miner. How did it happen that so bad a man as
I came to believe in Jesus' heart of love, and was saved
from destruction by clinging to His holy hand? As
the miner was led through the woman who went to see
him, so was my soul led to God by the two friends who
visited me. The man in the story was sick and dying,
and although I have no bodily sickness, my days are
also numbered, and I too must soon face death. With
hearts of love, these two friends led me out of the
path of destruction into the way of Christ.
How long did they toil for me ! The woman in the
story spent weeks on the miner, but that was nothing
in comparison to the time and energy my two friends
spent on me. I did not even believe in my father's
religion, and still less did I know anything about
Christianity. One of our proverbs says, "You hate
what you have not tasted," and this was how I felt
about Christianity. For more than two long years
they took turns in coming to visit me, minding neither
the snow of winter nor the heat of summer. I do
not remember how many scores of times they came.
[114]
THOSE TWO FRIENDS OF MINE
They were determined to save me from destruction,
and with earnestness and kindness they led me. A
prison is not a very pleasant place even to hear about,
but they actually came to the prison to visit me. Like
the miner, I could not understand at first, but at last,
through the zeal of these two friends, I came to be-
lieve. I cannot begin to express the hundredth part
of the gratitude I feel for the good will they showed
me. They are the parents of my new life, and I can
never forget.
"Lord Jesus Christ! As I have repented of my
sins before God through Thy power, so may many
other sinners also be brought to repentance through,
the leading of those two friends of mine. Amen."
[us]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
X.
PARADOXES.
June 1 6.
Today being Sunday, I was reading my New Testa^
ment and came across these words: —
As deceivers, and yet true;
As unknown, and yet well known;
As dying, and behold, we live;
As chastened, and not killed;
As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing;
As poor, yet making many rich;
As having nothing, and yet possessing all things.
Some time ago Miss West brought these words to me
as a message from Miss Macdonald, and I cannot but
think how very appropriate they are to my own case.
For example, — As deceivers, and yet true. These
words describe my first trial. I revealed everything
at court because I had repented, but I was not believed
either by the judge or by the lawyers. They all said
that Ishii was trying to deceive people. I seemed a
deceiver, but I really told the truth.
As unknown, and yet well known. These words
apply to my second trial. I could not make it known
myself that I had committed the crime, but in the end
it was shown by other evidence than my own confes-
sion that I was really guilty.
As dying, and behold, we live. People will say that
[116]
PARADOXES
Ishii is practically dead already because he has received
a death sentence. But this is not true. Though I seem
to others to be already dead, I am really alive in Christ.
As chastened, and not killed. Many will think that
Ishii is enduring great suffering in prison and that
before long he will be put to death. But this is not
true either; my soul cannot be put to death by anyone
but God, and I shall never die, because I am in the
hands of Christ. I have received no chastening from
others, and although my present life seems one of
great torture, God will not let me die.
As sorrowing, yet always rejoicing. People will
say that I must have a very sorrowful heart because
I am daily awaiting the execution of the death sen-
tence. This is not the case. I feel neither sorrow nor
distress nor any pain. Locked in a prison cell six feet
by nine in size, I am infinitely happier than I was in
the days of my sinning when I did not know God.
Day and night without ceasing for a moment I am
talking with Jesus Christ.
As poor, yet making many rich. This certainly does
not apply to the evil life I led before I repented. But
perhaps in the future, someone out in the world may
hear that the most desperate villain that ever lived
repented of his sins and was saved by the power of
Christ, and so may come to repent also. Then it may
be, that though I am poor myself, I shall be able to
make many rich.
As having nothing, and yet possessing all things.
Looked at from another person's standpoint, I surely
seem to possess nothing. But as a matter of fact God
has given me far more than I need for my daily life.
[117]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
In the days before I knew God, nothing in the world
seemed to be good enough for me. In the winter
time, when one should be thankful for any clothes at
all, I was forever dissatisfied. I always wanted better
clothes than I had, and grumbled to my wife because
they were not better. I am ashamed to confess it now,
but the fact of the matter is that so long as I had my
own way, I did not care what happened to other people.
I felt no shame whatever, and only cared for outward
appearances. I should have been satisfied with my
daily food, provided it was sufficient to nourish me, but
I always grumbled, and scolded my wife because she
did not provide something better. I did not understand
then that one food is as good as another after it has
gone three inches past the throat. Even when I had
a home of my own, I was envious of every house I saw
that was the least bit better than mine. I wanted
money but would not work for it, and so committed
crime. But what about today? The ordinary man in
prison suffers day and night and weeps in his misery;
but I do not feel any discomforts at all, and my heart
overflows with happiness. As I said before, other
people may think that I possess nothing, but as a mat-
ter of fact I have everything. Earthly things disappear
with the using, but I really own the things that I have
received from God. Much as I may use them they do
not disappear, for there is no end to them.
In what I have said here, I am not referring to
physical life and death. The problem of this world's
life and death never occurs to me now. The only thing
that concerns me is the life and death of the soul.
[118]
BICYCLES
XI.
BICYCLES.
June 1 8.
Today I learned a lesson from a bicycle. I have
never ridden one myself, but, as I have seen people
hurrying to and fro on them, I have often thought
what convenient things they are. It was only recently,
however, that I realised how difficult it is to learn to
ride. Lately I have been watching some of the warders
practising in the prison yard, as they do whenever the
weather is fine.
Today I learned that before a person is able to make
his way through the crowds and reach his destination
without accident, he must practise with great diligence ;
and in the same way I see that I must put untold labour
into my own task if I am ever to reach the place for
which I have started.
Also if one firmly believes that he can learn to ride
if he practises and does not mind the trouble it takes,
he will be able to accomplish his task in the end. He
will succeed if he has faith. That is the point. I
learned from the parable of the bicycle that no one can
attain his end unless he puts infinite toil into the
adventure.
But even if we do make progress, the life span of this
world is not more than forty or fifty years. I have
come to see, therefore, that the goal towards which
we must set our faces is the eternal life of the soul, and
not merely the short life of this world. I am resolved
[1191
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
to mount the bicycle which will carry me thither. It is
none other than the love of Christ. Through this any
one may reach the destination of the Kingdom of
Heaven. As Jesus said, Him that cometh to me, I
will in no wise cast out.
I also believe that neither with a bicycle nor in our
soul's progress can we accomplish everything at a
single bound. If we give up practising when we think
we have become a bit expert, suddenly some unfore-
seen thing happens; we hurriedly mount and start off,
but before we know it an accident occurs and we have
plunged headlong into the moat,* bicycle and all. And
so with our faith in Christ. Once believing, we must
not think we have accomplished everything, but we
must go on practising our faith till the very end of our
earthly life.
• Many of the cities of Japan are surrounded and intersected by
moats, a relic of old feudal days.
[120]
THE HAUNTED WELL
XII.
THE HAUNTED WELL,
June 20.
I was taking my daily walk in the prison yard today
when I noticed an old well by the side of the path, and
it at once reminded me of a very silly superstition I
heard about thirty-five years ago when I was a child
at home. It shows, however, the love of a father for
his child, and so I shall tell the story.
In my native city of Nagoya was a street called
Nishiwaki Machi where I lived with my father and
my mother when I was about ten years old. About a
mile from my home was a temple called Yakushiji, at
the back of which was an old well. There was no
thoroughfare past the well, but it could be reached
easily.
Now about this time it was said that a ghost haunted
the rear of the temple and every night at midnight
terrible groans were heard. People called it the
"groaning ghost," and after nightfall no woman or
child dared pass near the place. Everyone from far
and near talked about the ghost and there was a great
clatter about it. Some people set out to find out just
where the groans came from, and they discovered that
they issued from the old well. One day in broad day-
light a number of people gathered there and peeped
in, but the well was so deep and dark that they could
not see the bottom. They lit a lantern and let it down,
but even then they could see nothing. The well had
[121]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
not been used for a long time and was filled with rub-
bish up to the water line. Seeing this, some super-
stitious person suggested that the god of the well had
been insulted and that his curse rested upon it. It
was agreed that the temple priests should be asked to
pray that the curse be removed, and every day at noon
the people assembled at the well for council. The
groaning, however, continued at midnight as usual.
One day, a little friend of mine said to me, "Let's
go and take a look at the haunted well." I was glad
enough to look at any frightful object, so we went off
together and peeped in. As we were leaning over the
railing that surrounded the well, it suddenly gave way
and my nine-year-old friend, Yasujiro by name, tum-
bled in. The alarm was given, and the people of the
neighbourhood hurried to the spot and raised a great
fuss, but no one made the slightest effort to rescue the
child. Suddenly someone rushed off to tell the boy's
father, who came at once, fixed up a ladder long enough
to reach to the bottom, let it down and descended with
a lantern in his hand. The child was found in a faint-
ing condition, but no serious harm had been done.
The people then inquired if there was not something
unusual about the appearance of the well, and the
father went down a second time to investigate. A black
cat was discovered, all skin and bone and more dead
than alive, huddled on a ledge far down. In this way
the cause of the ridiculous superstition was unearthed.
At that time every person in the neighbourhood from
my father down was superstitious. Of course it is
perfectly natural that people who do not believe in one
true God will believe in a god of the well, a god of this
[122]
THE HAUNTED WELL
and that, and countless other gods. Before I got into
prison I also believed there were many gods, but today
I consider such a belief exceedingly foolish.
As I recall this story, I am greatly moved by the
love of the father for the son. When the child fell into
the well, mountains of people gathered at the spot, but
no one made the slightest effort to rescue him for fear
of the ghost. But the father thought only of the dan-
ger to his child, and went down into the darkness and
saved him. Such a heart of love touches me very
deeply, as I think of the joy both of the father and of
the son. The same joy is in my heart as was in the
child's when he was restored to his father. Through
the love of the father the child was saved from the
depths of the old well, as I was saved from the depths
of my sins. No earthly father, however, can save his
child from sin, no matter how much he may desire to
do so ; no matter how much trouble he may take. This
can only be done by the loving hand of Christ, who
alone can give imperishable life. For God so loved the
world that He gave His only begotten Son, that who-
soever believeth on Him should not perish, but have
everlasting life. Because of these words I believe that
for every sinner, who has not already fallen into Hell,
there is salvation.
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XIII.
ABOUT REPENTANCE.
June 22.
I was reading in a book today that a deathbed re-
pentance has no value whatever. Also someone said
to me not long ago, "Ishii San, your repentance has
come very late. It would have been well had you re-
pented sooner." This greatly disturbed me, when I
heard it twice, and for a while I wondered if it were
really true. Without doubt I had been a notoriously
bad man out in the world ; I had caused infinite trouble
to others and I had lived an utterly selfish life. And
now when I have done all the harm I can and the end
is near, I turn to God and beseech Him to save me
from my past sins. Have I repented too late ?
Upon further thought, however, I have come to see
that there are two kinds of deathbed repentance, and
that there is a very great difference between them.
Under certain circumstances a deathbed repentance
may be too late, but it need .not always be so. There
are those who have heard of the love of God from
childhood, but who neither believe nor practise what
they hear. They put God out of their minds and live
entirely for themselves. When such men come to die,
God may not hear, however much they call upon Him.
On the other hand, there are some who have never
heard whether there be a true God, or a Christ of love;
and not knowing, they sin. But if these repent when
they hear that there is a God of pity who yearns for
ABOUT REPENTANCE
them in proportion to their wrongdoing, then Christ,
I believe, will take their sins upon Himself, and for-
give us even if repentance comes only as we die.
/ say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in Heaven
over one sinner that repenteth, more than over nmety
and nine just persons who need no repentance. To be
sure I have repented very late, but I could not have
repented at all if I had never heard Christ's teachings
from the two friends who visited me. Then I cer-
tainly would have lost my soul, with no chance to
retrieve myself, no matter with what gnashing of teeth
I had repented. I am grateful indeed for the leading
which brought me in touch with the merciful hand of
Jesus Christ.
So I am convinced that all may be saved, — old or
young, man or woman, — who will set themselves every
day and every hour to live out the lessons they learn.
And I do not believe that even a deathbed repentance
is too late.
[1*5]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XIV.
THE FORTY-SEVEN LOYAL FREE LANCES.
When I first got into prison and was awaiting my
trial I asked the governor to give me work to do; but
recently I have given it up. My case was settled on
the third of April, and the end may come tomorrow;
so I want to spend all the time I have left, in learning
about God and goodness and the true way of man.
I cared nothing about these things when I was out in
the world, and for that reason was but a demon in
human form. I was, however, born a human being,
and although I may be executed tomorrow, I want to
die knowing at least what I can about the teachings
of God, and the true path of man, and the way to do
justly. So I am spending every morning studying the
Bible, and in the afternoon I read other books which
will help to cultivate my mind.
In the days of my sinning, when I did not have a
pin's head of loyalty or filial piety or justice or kind-
ness in me, nevertheless I liked to hear tales of loyalty
and filial piety and justice at the theatre or from pro-
fessional story-tellers. This is a very curious thing
when one thinks about it. One would suppose that
when I was doing evil all the time myself, I would
enjoy seeing wickedness acted on the stage; but this
was not at all the case, for I disliked it very much.
Even now I cannot understand myself. Mencius said,
"Man is by nature good," and perhaps it is true, but
I do not know. However, be that as it may, I went
[126]
THE FORTY-SEVEN LOYAL FREE LANCES
to hear these things merely for momentary pleasure,
and not at all to improve myself.
Among the books I have read recently that have
impressed me is one called 'The Forty-Seven Loyal
Free Lances." The centre and whole point of the
story is loyalty, and the outline is as follows : —
Lord Asano, through the hatred of his enemy, Lord
Kira, was condemned to death and obliged to commit
suicide; and his lands and castle were confiscated.
Forty-seven of his retainers swore to avenge the death
of their lord, and to see neither wife nor child, father
nor mother, until they carried out their revenge and
presented Lord Kira's head at the grave of their dead
master.
They endured untold privations and distresses, but
finally fulfilled their duty. They then gave themselves
up to the authorities and were handed over to various
feudal lords for safe custody. They were condemned
to death for the crime of killing Lord Kira, and exe-
cuted.
In connection with this story is an incident which
has a bearing on religion. According to the law of
that time there was one person who had power to peti-
tion the Shogun * for these men's lives. That man
was a priest, but I cannot understand the kind of reli-
gion he had when he did not make use of his power
to get these loyal men pardoned. I shall tell this part
of the story and then express my thoughts about it.
No one wanted these very loyal retainers to be put
to death. Even the Shogun' s Government was anxious
* In feudal days, the chief executive of the nation, acting on behalf of
the Emperor, who at that time did not assume direct control of the state.,
[127]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
to save them if possible, and many eminent people
hoped that clemency would be granted to the men who
had shown such exceptional devotion to their lord.
It was rumoured that the Shogun himself desired to
pardon them, and the people leapt for joy at the news,
for everyone took it as a personal matter.
But the law could not be changed and its processes
ignored on account of merely personal feelings, for the
world must be governed. So the men were condemned
to death, and the Shogun was obliged to confirm the
verdict.
There was one hope, however. A certain priest of
imperial lineage at Nikko might petition the Shogun,
and he was the only one in the land who had this power.
At the New Year's season this royal priest came to
Tokyo to pay a visit to the Shogun, and in the midst
of a conversation the latter very significantly remarked,
"It is a distressing thing to govern the state. I suppose
the news about the retainers of Lord Asano has reached
even your ears. Such loyalty and devotion touches me
deeply and I fain would save them, but alas ! justice
allows no way." The Shogun in this way suggested
that the royal priest might intercede. The priest, how-
ever, merely said, "I sympathise greatly with your dis-
tress," and then retired.
When the Shogun's wife heard this, she herself sent
a messenger to the priest, and asked him directly to
petition for the lives of the knights. The priest sighed
deeply. "I do not remember ever being so distressed
in all my life as when the Shogun spoke to me about
these men. I sympathise most deeply with him, and
being a priest, I also desire greatly to save these men
[1*8]
THE FORTY-SEVEN LOYAL FREE LANCES
from death. But among these forty odd men are some
hotblooded youths, who, if their lives were spared now,
might in the future do something to stain the good
reputation they have already made for themselves. For
this reason it would seem more in accordance with the
mercy of Amida to let the law take its course. There-
fore, drinking tears as I do so, I must shut my eyes;
both for the sake of the nation and for the men them-
selves." The law took its course and a few days later
the loyal retainers were put to death.
I want to say now what I think about the royal
priest's refusal to petition for the lives of these men.
I fail to see how the mercy of Amida was shown.
When this royal priest by a word might have spared
their lives, and yet refused to do so for the sake of a
remote possibility that they might defile their names, —
I cannot understand how he could say he was being
merciful. This may be the way of Buddhism, but if
it is, then, even though it be the religion of my ances-
tors, I cannot believe so merciless a thing. I could
understand the story if the positions of the priest and
the Shogun were reversed, and the priest had begged
the Shogun to pardon the men. But when the Shogun
made the request, and the priest refused and claimed
that by so doing he was showing forth the mercy of
Amida, — that I cannot understand. He should have
given them a chance to live on and make their fame
still greater.
But it may be said by some who do not understand
the true heart of these retainers, that they probably
would have gone wrong later if they had lived. I do
not believe such a thing would have been possible,
[129]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
Even had they been pardoned they would not have
returned to their families and spent the remainder of
their lives in pleasure. These loyal men did not have
such cowardly and rotten souls as that ! Had they been
pardoned I believe they would have gone at once to
the grave of their dead lord, and there taken their own
lives and followed their master into the next world.
This was, I believe, their intention to do, as soon as
they had accomplished their revenge. What a praise-
worthy end it would have been! My ignorant mind
cannot find words to describe the glory of it; but if
we can imagine the fragrance of the plum added to the
beauty of the cherry blossom, we shall have some faint
idea of the loveliness of such a deed. But instead of
this, they were put to death as criminals, these forty-
seven loyal knights.
Why then did they give themselves up to the gov-
ernment instead of taking their own lives when their
revenge was accomplished? Some may say that they
hoped to get their punishment mitigated. They were
not cowards of that kind. Not one, not even half a
one among them could have been so effeminate as that !
Then the reason why they did not take their own lives
was because it would have caused confusion to the
state. The killing of Lord Kira was an act of ven-
geance, and as such was a deed of loyalty worthy of
the retainers of their master; but it was also a crime
against the laws of the land. It was but right that
they should hand themselves over to the government
to await its decision; and in so doing they showed the
true Japanese spirit in a manner entirely worthy of
them.
[130]
THE FORTY-SEVEN LOYAL FREE LANCES
I have tried to show here that there is a very great
difference between the mercy of Buddhism and that of
Christianity. Now I want to say something about what
I think is the meaning of Christ's mercy. If the royal
priest had been a Christian, he would have asked on
his own initiative for the lives of these men, and not
have allowed them to be put to death. Then, of their
own accord, they could have followed their master to
the next world, and have left a still more glorious
name behind them. I do not believe that when Jesus
gave his life for people who sinned, he was concerned
with the fear that they might fall again at some remote
future time. He could not think so, because he loved
people like his own children, and could not condemn
them to a cruel death before his very eyes.
But Christ gives us not only physical life, but also
the eternal life of the soul. That there is anywhere
such love for the children of men is a matter for deep
thankfulness. For God so loved the world that He
gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth
on him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XV.
THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM.
June 24, Monday.
Miss West came to see me today and I was even
more pleased than usual with her visit, as I had not
seen either of my friends for some time. When Miss
Macdonald came on the twenty-seventh of May, I was
ill and could not see her. A few days ago I wrote
begging one of them to visit me, and Miss West came
in response to my letter. She asked me to remember
especially the words of the twenty-third Psalm, and in
order to do so I am writing them down rather than
merely reading them over a number of times.
The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul;
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
For His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk
Through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil,
For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me..
Thou preparest a table before me
In the presence of my enemies:
Thou anointest my head with oil;
[132]
THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM
My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy
Shall follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
These words correspond so closely to my own experi-
ence that I write them with deep gratitude in my heart.
I was so grateful for Miss West's visit that I
prayed after she left me: "Lord Jesus, I thank Thee
from the bottom of my heart that Thou hast answered
all the prayers I have ever made to Thee. In the com-
ing days when enemies attack my soul from all quar-
ters, lend me Thy power to conquer them all. Amen."
[133]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XVI.
EARTHQUAKES.
June 26.
Last night about eleven o'clock an earthquake oc-
curred, the most severe for some time. The prison was
badly shaken, being a wooden structure and two stories
high. It reminded me of the great earthquake which
occurred in Gifu and Aichi provinces in 1891, when I
was about seventeen years of age. Never in all my
recollection has there been such another catastrophe.
I shall describe some of the things I saw at that time.
A little south of Nagoya at Atsuta was a weaving
factory, where more than a thousand men and women
were employed, who went back and forth every day to
their work. As the earthquake occurred about six
o'clock in the morning, just after the day and night
shifts had exchanged, the night shift escaped; but with
the exception of a few late comers, the entire day shift
were instantly killed. The scene was so pitiful I could
scarcely bear to look upon it. Bodies were crushed
under the debris of brick and stone of which the fac-
tory had been built ; and even the parents and relatives
of the dead could not identify their own folk except
by bits of clothing found here and there among the
ruins.
Two or three days later I went to the city of Gifu,
and the devastation there was more awful than tongue
or pen can describe. The stench of burning bodies was
almost more than I could bear. Buildings had fallen,
[134]
EARTHQUAKES
fires had broken out, and the whole town was prac-
tically destroyed. Thousands were unable to escape,
and had been burned alive.
The main street had been torn asunder and a great
jagged tear, two or three feet wide, had been made,
through which dirty water was running, so that people
could not get across the road. With the exception of
the prison, and a very small part of the town, every-
thing was burnt to the ground.
Adjoining Nagoya was a place called Kasamatsu
where everything, including the police station and the
village office, was destroyed, and the whole site looked
like an open field. People had tried to escape and had
been burned to death; parents were left and children
gone; children left and parents gone; in some cases
whole families were wiped out. It was indeed a dread-
ful sight. At Ogaki the earthquake occurred at the
time of morning prayers at one of the temples. The
structure fell in and all the worshippers were killed.
A certain hamlet lay between two mountains, both of
which caved in on it. The only thing left above ground
was the roof of the temple, and all else, houses and
people alike, were completely submerged. I went to the
village of Taketomi, about five miles from Gifu City,
and found the whole place turned into a pond.
The damage was all done on the first day of the
earthquake, but for a month smaller shocks were felt
every day. The people of Nagoya were terrified, and
instead of returning to their homes, they built tempo-
rary huts in the bamboo thickets outside the city and
remained in refuge there.
After this experience I was afraid of nothing so
[135]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
much as earthquakes; and this fear continued until I
learned to know God. Through His power I am not
in the least afraid of them any more. As a matter of
fact, no true Christian feels anxiety about anything
that happens from without, however great the calamity
may be. Christians do not fear even death, which to
ordinary people is the most fearsome thing in all the
world. They fear only God, and nothing else can make
them afraid. This I have learned from my own experi-
ence.
[186]
A TALK WITH JAILORS AND POLICEMEN
XVII.
A TALK WITH JAILORS AND POLICEMEN.
I am reminded here of another earthquake vThich
occurred while I was in Yokohama prison. One day
as I sat in my cell reading, a rather severe earthquake
took place. It was unusually long, and made a good
deal of noise. I heard the sound of commotion in the
other cells, which showed that the inmates were
alarmed. I scarcely noticed the noise myself, and kept
on quietly reading. The warder in charge made his
rounds while the earthquake was going on, and after-
wards stopped at my cell and said : "Ishii San, are you
deaf?"
"Not in the least," I replied, and then he asked me.
"Did you know there was an earthquake just now?"
"Oh, yes," I answered.
"Then how was it," he asked me, "that you sat quiet-
ly reading as if you didn't know that an earthquake
was shaking the place?"
I answered, "When I was out in the world there was
nothing I feared so much as earthquakes. Since I have
come to believe in Chrsit I have not the slightest fear.
Not only that, but I am not afraid of any outside
thing. This is due not to the power of my own will,
but to the power of Christ."
"Then," said the warder, "there must be some real
power in Christianity. How do you get admitted to
this religion? Can you get in by paying money?"
"No," I replied, "You only need to believe from the
[137]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
bottom of your heart in the words of Jesus Christ and
you can get in."
He went on: "Ishii San, how long have you be-
lieved in Christ?" I told him that it was after I was
put in prison and received books from my two friends
who visited me many times.
"Did you know those people before you got into
prison?" he asked, and when I answered "No," he said :
"Well, of course, Tokyo is a large city and you may
find people there who will send books to persons whom
they have never seen before, but I can assure you I
have never heard of such a thing as that in Yoko-
hama."
When my trial in Yokohama was over I was sent
back to Tokyo prison under a police guard, and while
I was waiting in the police station, one of the offi-
cials asked me some questions about Christianity. I
was explaining as well as I could, when another police-
man said to me : "There are many different religions
in the world, but it seems to me that you who believe
in Christianity do not much care what happens to your
lives."
I at once replied to this: "No Christian holds his
life lightly, nor throws it away recklessly. But you
must keep in mind that I am a man under sentence of
death for crimes against the law, and my life is not
mine to give or keep. I can not complain therefore
even if my life is taken today. But I do not fear to
die, for my soul shall not be destroyed. But this is
true not only of me but of all Christians, that they do
not fear, even if they are ill or endure distress or suffer
greatly. They quietly leave everything in the hands of
[138]
A TALK WITH JAILORS AND POLICEMEN
God, and even while they suffer, they rejoice and wait
patiently until they recover. On the other hand, those
who are not Christians make a great fuss about any
little illness, and immediately call for the doctor or
medicine or temple prayers. And when the doctor
comes his diagnosis is wrong and another doctor must
be called, and so they fret and worry. And when they
recover they exaggerate the suffering they have en-
dured. There are many such people in the world.
Through such and many other differences in people
the power of Christ is revealed. When Paul was being
sent to Rome, a great storm occurred while he was on
board ship, and for several weeks they were tossed
about, and in great danger. With the exception of
Paul himself, they all lost courage and became like
dead men. Paul was not afraid because Christ was
with him. When I tell you that Christians fear noth-
ing but God, I want you to understand that I am not
just pretending, for it is really true. Here are Christ's
own unshakeable words: And be not afraid of them
who kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but
rather fear Him who is able to destroy both body and
soul in hell.
As I was speaking in this way, one of the policemen
standing by, said: "Perhaps it is true then, that the
teachings of Christ are the foundation for the path of
men."
During the hour and a half I was in the police station
a large number of policemen and detectives gathered
round to hear what I had to say.
July 3-
Mr. Suzuki, my lawyer, came to see me today and
[139]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
enquired very kindly after me. He brought some
writing paper and food to me, which I received after
he left. I wanted to write a letter of thanks to him,
but somehow or other I did not know how to express
my feelings. Instead of being disgusted with a worth-
less fellow like myself he has come to see me, time
after time, and whenever he comes, he brings me food.
His visits alone would abundantly reveal his thoughts
for me, but he does so much besides. I cannot ex-
press my appreciation in words, I can only weep tears
of gratitude and thank God4
[140]
THE PRISON BATH
XVIII.
THE PRISON BATH.
July 4.
While I was in the bath today I understood in a new
way how God's mercy and love come to us.
In this prison there are very good bath facilities
for the inmates, who are allowed to bathe twice a week.
Several scores of tubs are arranged very conveniently
and are filled with cold water. From a steam boiler
some distance away, pipes are laid to the baths, and
the water is heated when the steam is let in by turning
a tap. Now no matter how much steam may be in
the pipes, the water remains cold unless the man in the
bath turns on the tap which lets the steam in.
I saw that this is exactly the way in which God's
salvation works. Through the steam of God's love,
our cold and unaffectionate hearts are warmed, but we
ourselves must open the tap to let the love in. No
matter how abundant God's love may be, we shall re-
main cold forever if we keep the tap closed.
[141]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XIX.
ABOUT JUDGES.
July 7.
Today as I was reading in the twenty-third chapter
of Luke about Jesus' trial and death, I started thinking
about judges, and had reason to thank God for some of
the blessings that have come to me. When I was out
in the world living a selfish and wicked life, I con-
sidered judges and procurators, policemen and prison
officials my greatest enemies. This is the feeling of
everyone who commits crime. In those days I did
not care how much harm I did to others. I did not
even think I was doing wrong, and only dreaded getting
caught. I hated the procurators who prosecuted me,
and the judges who sentenced me. I hated the prison
officials who disciplined me, although I was constantly
breaking rules. This is always the way with criminals.
But when once I repented of my sins, and believed the
teachings of Christ, my enemies became my benefac-
tors. This was all due to the change in my own heart,
for as a matter of fact, the judges and jailors remained
the same. This illustrates the difference between be-
lieving and not believing in Christ. Jesus had no hate
in his heart for his enemies, and no follower of His
can hate another person.
The following experience will show that my feelings
really did change towards those I formerly considered
my enemies. It is an unheard of thing for a procurator
who urges the judge to pronounce a death sentence on
ABOUT JUDGES
a criminal, to visit the condemned man afterwards in
prison. And yet this is what Mr. Ohira, the public
prosecutor at my appeal trial, actually did. Had he
not been perfectly sure that I had no resentment
towards him, he would not have dreamed of coming to
see me. This shows, I think, that my heart has en-
tirely changed towards those whom otherwise I should
have hated.
[148]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XX.
RECOLLECTIONS.
July 8.
Today I recalled some of the good and evil in my
past life, and I want to put down my thoughts. It is
twenty-seven or twenty-eight years ago since I began
to go in bad ways, and I cannot even now forget some
of those early crimes I committed and the way I caused
trouble to others. When I think back on these things I
am greatly distressed. However, once in a while I did
try to do some small kindnesses and as I recall them
now I am greatly comforted.
In thinking over the life that men lead together in
this world, and the various kinds of work they do, it
seems to me that the greatest happiness and pleasure
come from bringing wicked men to repentance, and
guiding them to the holy hand of God. The joy of the
repentant one also is very great. The guidance of my
two friends has given me a gladness which a million yen
of money could not do. Money disappears with the
using, and its use is limited to this world. It is abso-
lutely worthless when the soul is separated from the
body.
It is different with the gifts of God. They do not de-
crease as we use them, but they grow as we spend them.
Their use is not limited to this world, for they can be
used endlessly. What wonderful gifts they are ! The
gifts that have been given me I can always use, what-
ever the time and whatever the place. As it is summer
[144]
•
MR. KEISHO FUJII
Buddhist Priest and Head Chaplain of Tokyo Prison
RECOLLECTIONS
now the days are long, and I am sure the other prison-
ers find the time hanging heavily on their hands ; they
probably also feel distressed by the heat. It is not so
with me. No matter how long the day is, it seems
short to me, and I am always glad of a little more time.
I do not mind the heat at all. This is one of God's gra-
cious gifts to me.
The vice-governor of the prison came again to see
me today, and as usual enquired very kindly for me. I
am so grateful for all the kindness I receive that I
want to express what is in my mind, but I find that the
words will not come. They stick in my throat and I
can only weep tears of gratitude. I cannot write one-
tenth of what I feel. But what I do say comes from the
bottom of my heart.
[1451
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XXI.
THE KINDNESS OF OFFICIALS.
July 9.
Today the chief warder came to my cell and brought
with him another official newly come to the prison.
Every day different warders come to see me, and they
could not treat me more kindly if I were their own
child.
I am pondering over this very earnestly. When
some unexpected sorrow comes to one's family, people
are usually willing to help, and will do a good deal
for a time. But even one's own relations often grow
weary, and cease to be kind if the trouble is long drawn
out.
On the other hand, the officials in this prison, for
the past two or three years, have been unfailingly kind
to me, a man who has done nothing but harm in the
world, and who is a condemned criminal. I cannot
believe that such kindness would have been possible
had I remained the worthless fellow that I was before
I received the grace of God. All this has come to me
because I am daily guarded by the loving Christ, and
I can only thank Him from the bottom of my heart.
I have spoken of this mercy that has followed me
for long days and months, because I am hoping that
some time people out in the world may read what I
have written, and will realise how even an abandoned
criminal like myself, whose very name brought terror
to all who heard it, received untold kindness from the
[146]
THE KINDNESS OF OFFICIALS
prison officials because he had entered into God's sal-
vation.
I wish everyone to know that I spend my days in
happiness because of the love of God which passes our
power to measure. Christ's love really does mean that
there is eternal salvation for even the most abandoned,
if he repents and believes*
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XXII.
THE PITIFUL LITTLE ANTS.
July 12.
I was outside today getting my exercise as usual,
when I noticed something that made me see in a new
way that there is power in God. I saw four or five
ants seeking diligently for food. I have heard that
ants are very shrewd insects : they lay by their winter
food in summer and then maintain themselves under-
ground during the winter. I have no doubt they are
clever little beasts, but as we look at them with the
eyes of men there is something very pitiful about them.
As they search for their food they have not sense
enough to know whether the place they crawl about
in is safe for them or not, and they are often trodden
under foot. They know how to seek for food, but
they cannot protect themselves from danger.
And so I thought about ourselves in the same way.
Above, God is watching us day and night without ceas-
ing ; here we are below, taken up with the pleasures of
the body, with eye and heart lost in the greed of the
world, and not knowing the places where our souls may
be crushed under foot. Surely from God's stand-
point we are pitiful creatures. This I have come to
understand.
Just as the little ants would be protected if some
kind person would pick them up, and set them away in
a safe place, so we are protected by Christ if we cling
to Him.
[148]
THE WRITING OF AN UNEDUCATED MAN
XXIII.
THE WRITING OF AN UNEDUCATED MAN.
July 13.
Today a judge, together with the chief warder, vis-
ited me in my cell. "I hear you are busy writing," said
the judge. "What is it about?" I told him that since
I had got into prison I had learned to know the love
of Christ, and that I was writing about this and the
kindness I was receiving from the officials. "But, as
you see, I am an uneducated man, and I cannot express
all the things that are in my heart. I can write only
very simply."
"Ah, but that's what gives flavour to writing," said
the judge. "When a literary man writes, he embellishes
and ornaments until the flavour is all gone. The simple
style of an uneducated man is much the best, and I
want you to continue to write in your own way." *
I told the chief warder who had come with the judge
that I was very anxious to write and thank Mr. Suzuki,
my lawyer, for all his kindness and the trouble and ex-
pense I had cost him; but that I did not know how to
express myself properly. The chief warder said, "Mr.
Suzuki has been indeed extraordinarily kind, and he is
* The chaplain tells the following story: "One day when I went to see
Ishii I found him sitting up straight and studying very diligently with
a dictionary; not seeming in the least aware that his life might be cut
off at any moment. 'You seem to think,' I said to him, 'that it is worth
while even now to read and study, and I should like to know just what
your purpose is.'
"He replied, 'For the very reason that I have not studied until now,
I have not understood the path men ought to walk, and I have wandered
far away. I regret this so much that even now I want to know enough
to be able at least to let people know the cause of my mistakes.' "
[149]
x ,:. \ N IN
L Butewryooeiswrysyin
ptfhetk with you because you have reformed, and
only thMOcsnctessj^b your good behjiYiour^ With-
out knowing h, I foond mysdf dieddii^ tears.
H50]
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TTfTT.
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-
I T: -
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
XXV.
THE HEART OF A CHRISTIAN.
An unbeliever cannot understand the true heart of a
Christian, for he takes his own heart as the standard
when he judges others. On the other hand, a Chris-
tian can thoroughly understand another person's heart,
for he can discern things through the power of Christ.
There is a saying of Christ's which is very applicable to
non-Christians: For John came neither eating nor
drinking, and they say, He hath a devil. The Son of
man came eating and drinking, and they say, Behold
a man, gluttonous, and a winebibber, a friend of publi-
cans and sinners. But wisdom is justified of her chil-
dren. To my mind, these words show a deep knowl-
edge of the real heart of the unbeliever. My own
case illustrates them very well.
When, through Christianity, I learned that there is
both power and love in God, I repented of all my sins,
confessed them before God, and told the whole truth at
the court in order to make some reparation for my
sins. But no one who was not a Christian believed
in my sincerity. "Ishii is crazy," people said, or "He
does not speak soberly." This corresponds to the
words of Christ which I have quoted.
If, on the other hand, I had not disclosed the facts
and had obstinately refused even in the face of evi-
dence to admit that I was guilty, people would have
said, "What an obstinate fellow Ishii is! What an
[152]
THE HEART OF A CHRISTIAN
unheard-of villain !" They surely would have called me
a monstrous fellow. All of which goes to show that
an unbeliever cannot understand the heart of a Chris-
tian.
July 15-
Today the Festival of the Dead is being celebrated in
all the provinces of Japan, and their spirits are being
worshipped everywhere. Grown-up people and chil-
dren alike are spending three days in doing honour to
their ancestors.
Until I was twelve or thirteen years of age, I had
no wrong in my heart and spent my days happily at
home. Then I always looked forward to both New
Year's Day and the Festival of the Dead, and used to
count off the days on my fingers until they came. I
celebrated those days with great delight.
By the time I was seventeen or eighteen years old,
however, wickedness was already lodged in my heart,
and I no longer found any pleasure in these festivals.
There were many reasons for this : first because my
heart was bad, second because my parents rebuked me
and I felt uncomfortable, and third because I was al-
ways expecting to be found out. I was frightened at
everything. I was afraid of everyone who looked at
me. I kept wondering whether this person were a de-
tective or that one a policeman, and whether they were
coming to arrest me ; so that I did not have a moment's
peace of mind. There was no longer any joy in my
heart. I would use the money I stole to buy grand
clothes for myself, thinking I would be happy when
[153]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
people admired me, but never a bit of real happiness did
I feel.
But having received the love of Christ since get-
ting into prison I am joyous from the depths of my
heart, not only on these festival days, but every day,
and all this I attribute to the mercy of God.
July 18.
Today the head chaplain came to my cell and made
enquiries about the state of my mind. He knows that
I am a believer in Christ, but he still comes once every
week or two to talk to me. Being a Buddhist himself,
you would naturally think he would talk about Buddh-
ism; but never once has he done so. He has never
suggested that it would be well for me to believe in
Buddhism. He simply encourages me to believe more
deeply in Christianity. Not only that, but he has lent
me Christian books to read. I have a very great admi-
ration for this chaplain. Now, for the sake of his
own cause, an ordinary man would likely speak evil
of Christianity, and try to persuade me to study Buddh-
ism, but this chaplain does nothing of the kind. I
have a deep respect for him.
During our conversation today he told me that he
had been enquiring of the other men condemned to
death with what feelings they spend their days. They
told him that every morning when the dawn comes
they wonder if today will bring the end; and when an
official appears they think that he has come to take
them out to death. They wait in agony till nine o'clock
has passed, and then if no summons comes, they know
they have escaped death for one more day. But the
[154]
THE HEART OF A CHRISTIAN
next morning brings the same fear with it, and the days
pass one by one, in distress and agony.
He then turned to me and said: "For most people
the day dawns in happiness; but for these poor fel-
lows who have sinned, the morning brings nothing but
fear and despair. I feel so sorry for them. What are
your feelings as you face these things?"
"I too am very sorry for these men," I replied, "but
I do not feel at all as they do. This I owe to the power
of Christ."
"Then do you want to die as soon as possible?" he
asked me, but I answered, "No."
"What then do you think about it all?" he asked.
I replied, "During these days I am not giving any
thought whatever to the life or death of the body;
the problem does not so much as enter my head. I have
resolved to accept the will of Heaven, and I have left
everything in God's hands. There is not the slightest
distress in my mind. When morning breaks I welcome
the day with gladness."
"It is well to have your mind so firmly fixed," said
the chaplain, "but tell me how you came to have such
faith." I told him I had read many books, and he
said, "But the various ideals of men enter so largely
into books that it is difficult to make them a foundation
for faith."
Upon hearing this, I reached out for my New Testa-
ment which was near by, and said to him, "But in this
book the words of Christ are written, and through them
I know that He is here in this very cell. Although I
cannot see Him with my outward eye, I talk with Him
every day,"
[155]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
"It is good to have such faith," said the chaplain.
"I want you to enter in more and more deeply."*
Since this conversation I cannot but think of those
poor fellows who, like myself, are facing death, but who
are buried under the agony of the thought of it. Here
am I, on the other hand, with no distress of any kind
whatever, and I spend the days with gladness because
of Christ's love and mercy. It is indeed terrible to be
so distressed on account of the life of the body, and I
pity them from the depths of my soul. Oh! that I
might see those men and tell them, that they also may
receive the love of Christ and be at peace! But I
cannot do this, and I can only ask that my two friends
when they read what I have written, will understand my
desire, and will themselves lead these men to Christ.
But I can pray for them.
* The chaplain thoroughly understood Ishii's genuine repentance, but he
asked him the following question one day to test him: "Now that you have
repented and are no longer the Ishii you were, but are an entirely
different person, I am not the only one who would like to see you get
another chance. What do you feel about it? Do you want another
chance ?"
"No, no! Such a thought has never come to me. I have only one
desire now and that is to go to God. I long for that alone both day and
night. I ought to accept all the responsibility that comes to me on account
of the laws of the land: but God will not forsake me when the times comes,
because of Christ's Cross; and although my body will perish, my soul
shall enter into the mercy of pardon."
[156]
A JUDGE AND CHIEF WARDER
XXVI.
A JUDGE AND CHIEF WARDER.
July 24.
A judge, together with one of the chief warders,
came to my cell to visit me today. The judge intro-
duced himself and told me that although he had had
no connection with my trial, he had had with that
of Komori. He had come to ^the prison on business
and wanted to talk with me.
"You have become a Christian, I hear," he said.
"Does someone come to teach you?" I said that Miss
West and Miss Macdonald came at times and that they
sent me books. I told him I did not understand the
Bible very well until I read Christ's prayer for his
enemies on the Cross : Father, forgive them, for they
know not what they do. "There can be no greater love
than this," I said, "that a man should pray for his
enemies at the very moment when they are taking his
life."
"An ordinary man in your circumstances," remarked
the judge, "would have fallen already into the depths
of despair, but through God's power you seem con-
tented with your lot, and it is well. Do not forget your
faith, but go on to even better things." He then left
me and I was much moved by his kind words.
Since coming to prison a number of such men have
come to see me and I am very grateful for all their
kindness, which is all due to the mercy of Christ's
love.
[157]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
The official who came with the judge today, Mr.
Wada by name, was the chief warder of Chiba prison in
1905 when I was there, and he was very kind to me.
When I left the prison I resolved on that account to
reform and live a new life; and I felt that if I did not,
I could never look Mr. Wada in the face again. And
now years after, when I am put into Tokyo prison, I
find to my astonishment that Mr. Wada is an official
here. I was both surprised and ashamed to see him;
for I felt that anyone who had repaid his kindness as I
have done is really not a human being at all. "He is a
beast who forgets favours." It is but natural to hate a
man who forgets past kindnesses, but Mr. Wada has
not changed in the least towards me. He treats me
in exactly the same way as he did in Chiba prison, so
that I scarcely feel deprived of my freedom. I am so
ashamed that I should like to crawl into a hole if I could
find one ; and yet this kindness and consideration is all
due to Christ's mercy, and I can only thank God over
and over again for all His gifts to me.
The manuscript ends here, his last writing being
July twenty- fourth, 1918.
on
[1581
FROM CAROLINE MACDONALD'S JOURNAL
NOTES TAKEN FROM CAROLINE
MACDONALD'S JOURNAL.
August 8, 1918.
I saw him just two weeks after his writing was
finished, and as it happened, for the last time. The
day of doom is not publicly fixed in Japan, and neither
he nor I knew that it would be the last time; but we
both knew it might be, and we faced the issue. "I do
not know when it will come," he said, "perhaps to-
morrow, perhaps the day after ; but I have finished my
writing and my task is done. I am just waiting now
to lay down this body of sin and go to Him." His
face, marred and sin-stained as it was, was lit up with
a radiance not of this world as he spoke of his going.
What did we talk about? What can one say to a
man who is going to be hanged tomorrow, or the next
day, or the day after ? I read to him parts of the hun-
dred-and-sixteenth psalm, words penned centuries ago;
but as I stood there in a tiny cubby hole and talked to
him across a passage way and through a wire screen, it
seemed impossible to believe that they were not written
for the very thing we faced there in the prison house.
"I love the Lord because he heareth my voice and my
supplication. — Th-e cords of death compassed me, . the
[159]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
pains of Sheol gat hold upon me; I found trouble and
sorrow. Then called I upon the name of the Lord:
O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul. — The Lord
pre serve th the foolish3' (the stupid, the dull, as the
Japanese version has it) ; and as I read those words he
interrupted to say, "Yes, that's exactly like me ! Fool-
ish, dull, stupid, and he has preserved me." I read on.
"I was brought low and he saved me. Return unto
thy rest, 0 my soul, for the Lord hath dealt boun-
tifully with thee." I looked at him, and his eyes were
glowing with joy. What had God done to this man,
who for all I knew as I stood there might be hanged to-
morrow, that he should think that God had dealt boun-
tifully with him? The psalm itself answered, "He hath
delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears,
and my feet from falling."
Then came these words, "Precious in the sight of the
Lord is the death of his saints" "Precious is the death
of his saints." I stopped reading and looked across at
him. Nothing was left him now but death, whereby
to glorify God: and there suddenly flashed into my
mind and on to my tongue, other words, penned cen-
turies later than the psalmist's and again centuries re-
moved from us. "No man liveth unto himself, and
no man dieth unto himself. For whether we live, we
live unto the Lord: whether we die, we die unto the
Lord: whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the
Lord's" I said to him, "You will remember that?" I
did not say when he should remember. There was no
need to do that. There was but one spot for him on
the horizon of this world's future. He lowered his
head for a moment and closed his eyes, and when he
[160]
TT 1 i
The 7 Chinese Characters read thus from
top to bottom:
The
Ishi
i
To
Kichi
\ This character always
- tombstone
Tokichi's
Grave
This inscription was written by the
Temple Priest
The Reverse Side
God
is
lyove
laterally (>od Love Is
This was written by the Prison Official who
first suggested translating the book and
who took Miss MacDonald to find the grave.
The Temple Priest standing in the back-
ground.
THE GRAVE OF TOKICHI ISHII IN THE "POTTER'S FIELD
IN THE TEMPLE OF THE KING OF HEAVEN TENNOJI
FROM CAROLINE MACDONALD'S JOURNAL
looked up, there shone in his face that radiant light
that was the wonder of prison officials and others who
saw him, and he said, "I understand. Yes, I shall re-
member."
August 1 8, 1918.
Ten days later, the following official letter came to
me from the prison chaplain, and I knew he had re-
membered.
"This morning, the seventeenth of August, at nine
o'clock, Tokichi Ishii was executed at Tokyo prison.
He faced death rejoicing greatly in the grace of God,
and with steadiness and quietness of heart. His last
message was that you be told of today's event, and I
am writing in his stead to let you know of his going
and to thank you for your many kindnesses to him.
He has left his books and manuscripts for you and you
will receive them at the prison office. His last words,
which are in the form of a poem, he asked me to send
to you. They are as follows :
'My name is defiled,
My body dies in prison,
But my soul purified
Today returns to the City of God.' "
[161]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
So with the Lord : He takes and He refuses,
Finds him ambassadors whom men deny.
Wise men nor mighty for His saints he chooses;
No, such as John, or Gideon, or I.
[162]
FROM CAROLINE MACDONALD'S JOURNAL
The story of his passing was told us afterwards by
the Buddhist chaplain who was with him.
"Many who die on the scaffold face death with a firm
resolution to win a good name for themselves at the
end, and not to be a laughing stock to the world. But
Ishii's fortitude was far different from that. He had
not the slightest appearance of desiring to win a good
name or of merely enduring the inevitable. With
humility and great earnestness, he seemed to see noth-
ing but the glory of the heavenly world to which he was
returning, when he had cast off the heavy load of his
sins ; just as one turns with great yearning to his own
native home. Among the officials who stood by and
saw the clear colour of his face and the courage with
which he bore himself, there was no one but involun-
tarily paid him respect and honour. On the very
scaffold, when in a moment his life was to disappear
like a dewdrop, he uttered those last words of his : 'My
soul, purified, today returns to the City of God !' "
[163]
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON
A few days later, I was called to the prison office,
and was told that something remained to be given to
me. A document was produced, to which I was asked
to affix my name and thumbprint, just beside Ishii's
name and thumbprint, where he had signed his will,
and left to me all his worldly possessions. There was
then handed over to me all that he had died possessed
of, — one sen, a single copper coin, worth a farthing. It
was my first and only legacy, and I shall keep it as a
reminder of the days that are gone, and as a token of
the "glory that shall follow."
THE END.
[164]
HV 6248 .17 A313 1922
SMC
ISHII, TOKICHI,
18717-1918
A GENTLEMAN IN PRISON,
WITH THE CONFESSIONS OF
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