28 There is a letter dated July twenty-seventh that Enryō sent from Kyoto addressed to twenty-eight school friends in Nagaoka. It is long and written in slender characters, with the last section sharing the same content as the above poem. The letter ended in an appeal to his friends for a response, saying, “I look forward to communicating by mail with you wise people so far away.” In his poetry from his time in Kyoto, we don’t see any examples similar to those from his time in Nagaoka when he was aspiring to become the “cornerstone” of a burgeoning modernity. An empty hollow had developed in Enryō’s heart. Classes at the teachers college began in September and consisted of the three subjects of True School doctrinal principles, Western studies, and mathematics. Western studies was a course that Enryō had already taken in Nagaoka. Judging from his poems from that time it appears that despite the unease he felt about life at the head temple he passed his days without incident. He writes as follows. sound out and the night is already growing dark. Winter is deep-ening, the wind is strong, the moonlight is crisp, and the barking of the dogs echoes out coldly. The years of my journey are now drawing to a close, and even though I am pining for the coun-tryside, my dream has not yet been fulfilled. Shall I raise up the lamp wick [to brighten it] and try reading some letters? The holdings of the head temple also included related offices (where devotees from all over Japan stayed), ceremonial goods stores, and shops—making it very large. One monk was heard saying, “If you As I sit alone in my study in the evening, the bells and drums
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