This was quite a shocking discovery for me. Having grown up thinking that many people with the Watanabe surname would be connected somewhere along the line, and given that our family crest was the “Mitsuboshi Ichimonji” (three stars in a row), commonly seen among Watanabe families, this was surprising.
So, I tried to find information on the period when my ancestors used the surname “Mori” while working at the Kyoto Machibugyō. The internet was a great help, and I found a potentially perfect source called the Kyoto Bukan — a directory of Edo period Kyoto government officials.
I called the Kyoto City Historical Archives right away, but unfortunately, they told me that the Kyoto Bukan does not cover the Kyōhō era. My ancestor left the Kyoto Machibugyō in Kyōhō 7 (1722), but the directory starts from Hōreki 9 (1759), about 30 years later. Although 30 years seems a small gap when looking over 300 years, it’s a significant limitation in reality.
Just as I was feeling disappointed, the staff at the archives told me about a collection of essays called Okina-gusa, written by a Kyoto Machibugyō yoriki (assistant official) named Kanazawa Dokoku. This work apparently contains a kind of roster of names from the Machibugyō around the Kyōhō period.
Okina-gusa is famous partly because one of its stories inspired Mori Ōgai’s “Takasebune.” Since it was written by an official at the time, I was hopeful. However, when I checked Kanazawa Dokoku’s lifespan—1710 to 1795—I realized that he was only 12 years old when my ancestor left the post in 1722. So this source is close but likely not very useful.
Since this part is long, I’ll skip the details, but in summary, these materials gave interesting insights into the lifestyles of the time and seem worth reading thoroughly if time permits. However, sadly, I found no information on my ancestors.
By the way, speaking of the Kyōhō era, there was the “Kyōhō Reforms.” While browsing the internet, I got sidetracked reading about these reforms. Then I discovered an important detail:
As part of the reforms, jurisdiction over trials in Settsu, Kawachi, Izumi, and Harima provinces, previously under the Kyoto Machibugyō, was transferred to the Osaka Machibugyō—and this happened precisely in Kyōhō 7, the same year my ancestor left office.
This suggests that rather than being dismissed due to misconduct, my ancestor was likely laid off due to these reforms. Then, four years later, a vacancy opened in the Hikone domain, where he was subsequently hired. In modern terms, it might be described as a “layoff.”
Of course, this is speculation.
At this point, I feel it’s becoming difficult to trace the roots any further. Even if I found my ancestor’s name in ancient documents, from the perspective of my original goal—to visit my ancestors’ graves—it would be nearly impossible to locate the burial sites of those who used the surname “Mori” before the Kyōhō era. Their graves may have become unmarked, or they may be considered muenbotoke (graves without descendants). Or if my ancestors were a branch family, the main family might still be maintaining the graves.
Still, compared to just recently not knowing even about my great-grandfather, I think I’ve made significant progress. Being able to understand this much about my humble ancestors is a great achievement.