Travels on the Eastern Seaboard was finally completed in 1822, twelve years after the initial episode. Its success was such that it continued for eight volumes and was followed by a sequel called More Travels (Zoku hizakurige), in which Yaji and Kita travel to the Konpira, Miyajima, Kiso, and Zenkōji temple. The popular narrative was imitated even before it was finished and long afterward. In the Meiji period, for example, Kanagaki Robun (1829–1894) even wrote Travels to the West (Seiyō dōchū hizakurige, 1870).
Following a short introduction, the first episode comes from book 4, which describes the journey from Arai, in present-day Shizuoka Prefecture, to Kuwana, on the northeast coast of what is now Mie Prefecture. The episode, which may have been inspired by the kyōgen play Fox Grave (Kitsunezuka), in which the Tarōkaja mistakes his master for a fox, takes place at Goyu, near present-day Nagoya City. The reader should remember that in Japan it was widely believed that foxes have the power to change their shape and deceive gullible human beings. The next episode, concerning the fake Ikku, is from book 5, on the way from Kuwana to Ise.
Journey’s Start (from the beginning of book 1)
. . . Now is the time to visit all the celebrated places in the country and fill our heads with what we have seen, so that when we become old and bald, we shall have something to talk about over our teacups. Let us accept the invitation of these bosom friends and go with them on their long, long journey. Let us join this dissipated Yajirobei and his hanger-on Kitahachi, with their money kept warm in the loincloths around their navels; with their light footgear and their many layers of ointment, which will keep their feet from getting sore for thousands of miles; and their cotton robes dappled like the flesh of a clam. Let us go with them through foot-worn Yamato, welcomed by the divine wind that blows from the Grand Shrine of Ise, with the flowers of the capital and the plum blossoms of Naniwa at the end of our journey.
Portraits of Yaji (right) and Kita (left), with their travel gear and luggage, from the preface to the 1814 edition of Travels on the Eastern Seaboard. A Chinese-style description of each character by a disciple of Jippensha Ikku is given at the top, coupled with a complementary haiku encircling the face. Text for Yaji: “From the beginning, a lazy good-for-nothing; he has the face of a clown; his heart is like that of a sexy kabuki actor, and he speaks a lot, but he’s always off the mark,” by Gohensha Hanku. “A man overblown at the waist carrying a blowfish!” by Ikka. Text for Kita: “First he was a boy actor selling sexual favors, but he couldn’t get many customers because of his short height and vulgar looks; no matter what he tries his hand at, he ends up with nothing; impetuous and thinking only of the moment, he dives into things,” by Gusha Ittoku. “The willow bending lithely in the wind, as if to say the pine and the bamboo are too upright,” by Ittō. (From SNKBZ 81, Tōkaidōchū hizakurige, by permission of Shōgakukan)
Changed into a Fox (from the first part of book 4)
The sun was now reaching the horizon, and it would soon be twilight. They quickened their pace, but their feet were getting tired.
“How slow you are, Yaji,” said Kita.
“I’m awfully tired,” replied Yaji.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Kita. “We stopped at a dreadful place last night, so I’ll go on ahead to Akasaka and look for a good inn. As you’re tired, you can come on slowly behind, and I’ll send someone from the inn to meet you.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Yaji, “but mind you pick out a good inn—one where there’s a nice girl.”
“Trust me,” said Kita. Leaving Yaji, he went on ahead.
Yaji trudged on, but by the time he got to Goyu, night had already fallen. The inn girls, with their faces painted up as though they were wearing masks, caught hold of his sleeves and tried to stop him, but he pulled himself away. At the end of the town he went into a small teahouse to take a short rest. The old woman who kept the teahouse welcomed him.
“It’s only a little way to Akasaka, isn’t it?” he asked.
“It’s about a mile,” said the old woman. “But if you’re traveling alone, you’d better stop here, as there’s a wicked old fox lives in the pinewood you have to pass, and he’s bewitched a lot of travelers.”
“That’s bad,” said Yaji, “but I can’t stop here. My friend’s gone on ahead and he’ll be waiting for me. I’ll be all right.”
He paid the old woman and started off again. When he left the teahouse it was already dark, and soon it got darker and darker and he began to feel nervous. Still he went on, though taking the precaution to rub some spit on his eyebrows.1 Just then he heard the bark of a fox a long way off. “There it’s barking,” he thought. “Come over here and show yourself, you beast. I’ll soon beat you to death.” Boasting to keep up his courage, he went on.
Meanwhile, Kita had gone on ahead as fast as he could until he came to the very place where he had been told a wicked fox lived and, afraid that the fox would bewitch him, he decided to wait there for Yaji so that they could go on together. He was sitting by the side of the road enjoying a smoke when Yaji came along.
“Hallo, is that you Yaji?” he called.
“Hallo!” replied Yaji. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going on ahead to arrange rooms at an inn,” said Kita, “but I heard that a wicked old fox lived here, so I thought I would wait for you so that we could go on together.”
Now Yaji got the idea that the fox had changed itself into Kita to deceive him. “Don’t talk nonsense,” he said boldly. “That’s not the reason at all.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Kita. “I brought some rice cakes, as I thought we might get hungry. Have some?”
“Hold your tongue,” said Yaji. “Do you think I’m going to eat that filth?”
“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed Kita. “Don’t you know me?”
“Know you, indeed!” replied Yaji. “You’re just like Kita, just his shape, you devil.” He struck Kita with his stick and made him howl.
“Ow! Ow! That hurts,” yelled Kita. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? I’m going to beat you to death.” Catching Kita off his guard, Yaji then knocked him down and began to jump on him.
“Oh, oh, oh!” roared Kita.
A scenic view, with the Kabuto Mountains of Goyu in the distance (right) and the main street of Akasaka in the foreground, in present-day Aichi Prefecture. The distance between Goyu and Akasaka was among the shortest between major stops on the Eastern Seaboard Highway, and the two places became acclaimed amusement centers. Text: “Goyu Kabutoyama: Behind my head, the mist shrouds Kabutoyama like the neck plates dangling from my helmet,” by Tatsunami Shizumaru of Suifu. “The Sleeve Port of Akasaka: Mist on the sleeves of Goddess Saohime look like the lavender patterns of spring,” by Hon’ya Yasune of Oku Aizu. From the 1805 edition. (From SNKBZ 81, Tōkaidōchū hizakurige, by permission of Shōgakukan)
“Well, if it hurts,” said Yaji, “why don’t you change into your proper form?”
“What are you feeling my behind for?” roared Kita.
“Put out your tail,” replied Yaji. “If you don’t, this is what I’ll do.” He seized Kita’s hands and, twisting them behind his back, tied them with a towel. Kita was so surprised that he let himself be tied up.
“Now,” said Yaji, “get up and walk.” He pushed Kita along until they came to Akasaka. As it was late, there were no innkeepers in the road to greet the travelers and no girls waiting at the doors of the inns. Yaji wandered about in the hope that he would meet the inn servant that was to be sent to meet him.
“Yaji,” pleaded Kita, “do let me loose. Think how bad it would look if anyone saw me.”
“Shut up, you beast,” said Yaji. “I wonder where the inn is?”
“How could anybody take a room for us at an inn if I’m here?” asked Kita.
“Are you still talking, you beast?” said Yaji.
Just then they met an inn servant. “Are you gentlemen stopping at this stage?” he inquired.
; “Have you come to meet us?” asked Yaji.
“Yes,” said the man.
“There,” said Yaji. “What do you think of that, you cheat?” Here he gave Kita a whack with his stick.
“Ow!” yelled Kita. “What are you doing?”
“Are there any others with you?” inquired the man, looking surprised.
“No, no,” said Yaji. “I’m alone.”
“Oh, then it’s a mistake,” said the servant. “I understand that I am to meet a party of ten.”
He went off hurriedly. Then an innkeeper called to them from the front of his inn. “Won’t you stop at my house tonight, gentlemen?” he asked, as he came running out and caught hold of them.
“No, no,” said Yaji. “My companion went on ahead, and he must be here somewhere.”
“That’s me,” said Kita.
“What an obstinate brute you are,” scolded Yaji. “Put out your tail. Wait a bit. There’s a dog. Here, doggie, doggie, get him, get him. Aha, the dog doesn’t seem to mind. Perhaps he isn’t a fox after all. Are you really Kita?”
“Of course I am,” said Kita. “I call it a cruel joke you’ve had with me.”
“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed Yaji. “Then we’ll stop at your place after all,” he added, turning to the innkeeper. Feeling sorry for Kita, he then untied him.
“Please come in,” said the landlord. “Here, bring some hot water. Is the room ready?”
“What a time I’ve had,” groaned Kita as he washed his feet.
The maid took their baggage and ushered them into a room.
“I’m very sorry, Kita,” said Yaji. “I really took you for a fox.”
“You made a fool of me, all right,” growled Kita. “I’m pretty sore.”
“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed Yaji. “But I don’t know; he may be a fox after all. Somehow I’ve got kind of a strange feeling. Here, landlord, landlord.” He started bawling for the landlord and clapping his hands.
“Did you call, sir?” asked the landlord.
“Look here, there’s something strange about this,” said Yaji. “Where am I?”
“At Akasaka, sir,” replied the landlord.
“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed Kita. “What’s the matter with you, Yaji?”
“Are you still trying to bewitch me?” said Yaji, beginning to wet his eyebrows again. “Landlord, isn’t this a graveyard?”
“Eh?” said the landlord. “What did you say, sir?”
“Ho-ho-ho!” laughed Kita. “How funny you are.”
Just then the maid came in from the kitchen. “Would you like to take a bath, sirs?” she inquired.
“There, Yaji,” said Kita. “You go and take a bath. It’ll calm you down.”
“I suppose you think you’ll lead me into some dirty water, you beast,” replied Yaji. “You can’t catch me that way.”
“No, no,” said the landlord. “The bath is filled with pure springwater and is quite clean, sir. Please try it.”
The landlord went off to the kitchen, and the maid brought in some tea. “If you feel lonely,” she said, “I’ll call some courtesans.”
“Fool!” said Yaji. “Do you think you’re going to catch me embracing a stone image?”
“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed the girl. “What strange things you say!”
“Well, I’ll go first then,” said Kita. He went off to the bathroom, and while he was gone, the landlord came in again.
“I’ve got something to tell you, sir,” he said. “I’m having a little celebration in my house tonight, and it would please me if you would join us in a bottle of wine.” As he spoke, a dish of savories and a bottle of saké were brought in from the kitchen.
“Oh, please don’t go to any trouble for us,” said Yaji. “What’s the occasion?”
“Well,” said the landlord. “The truth is that my young nephew is getting married tonight. We’re just going to hold the marriage ceremony, so I’m afraid it’ll be a bit noisy.”
He went off busily to the kitchen just as Kita came back from the bath. “What’s that he said?” asked Kita.
“There’s a marriage ceremony here tonight,” said Yaji. “I’m getting more bewitched every minute. I’m not going to any of your springwater baths.”
“Try and control yourself, and don’t be so nervous,” said Kita.
“No, no,” said Yaji. “You won’t catch me off my guard. For all I know, this food they’ve brought in may be dirt, although it looks so nice.”
“Yes,” said Kita. “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you. Just watch me while I eat. I won’t be angry. Excuse me for not standing on ceremony.” He helped himself to the saké and gulped it down.
“It makes me feel quite bad to see you,” said Yaji, with a look of disgust on his face.
“Don’t be so nervous,” said Kita. “Try a cup.”
“No, no,” said Yaji. “I know it’s some filth—horse’s piss or something. Let’s smell it. It smells all right. I can’t stand this; I must have some.” He poured himself a cup and drank it down.
“Yes, it’s saké all right,” he said, smacking his lips. “What have they got to eat? I don’t like the look of those eggs. I’ll try a prawn. Yes, it’s a prawn all right,” he added after he had bitten into it. Thus he began to eat and drink.
Meanwhile there were sounds of preparations from the kitchen, where there was great bustle and confusion. It appeared that the wedding feast was already beginning. Now they could hear the sound of chanting:
Still are the waves on the four seas;
The world is at peace. The soft winds blow,
Not rustling the branches. In such an age
Blessed are the pines that meet to grow old together.2
“Yan-ya!” cried Kita joining in the chant.
“What a noise!” said Yaji.
“They can be as noisy as they like, as far as I’m concerned,” said Kita. “Aren’t you going to let go of that wine cup? Just hand it to me, would you? If you think it’s horse dung or piss, I’ll take the risk and drink it all myself. Ha-ha-ha!”
“I really thought I was bewitched,” said Yaji, “but now I know I wasn’t. What a time I’ve had!”
“It doesn’t compare with my being tied up and beaten,” said Kita.
Just then the supper was brought in, and as the door opened, they could hear the sound of another chant:
Through ages unchanging, from generation to generation,
Like pine tree and plum, may they flourish together;
Like two tender seedlings may they grow both together,
Until old age shall find them happily joined. Rejoice! Rejoice!
He has taken a bride from the best in the world.
This was followed by the clapping of hands and the sound of talking and laughing. Soon the maid came in and asked whether she should lay out the beds.
“You might as well,” said Yaji.
“Is the marriage ceremony over?” asked Kita. “I suppose the bride is very beautiful.”
“Yes,” said the maid. “The bridegroom’s a handsome fellow, and the bride’s very beautiful too. Unfortunately, they have to sleep in the next room, where everybody will be able to hear their love talk.”
“What a nuisance!” said Yaji.
“Awful!” said Kita.
“Have a good rest,” said the maid.
She went off, leaving them to get into bed, and soon they heard the sound of the door being opened in the next room. Apparently the bride and bride-groom were going to bed. Then they heard whispers and other movements, from which they judged it was not the first time that the couple had tasted the delights of love. The sounds kept Yaji and Kita from going to sleep.
“This is awful,” said Yaji.
“We’ve come to the wrong inn again,” said Kita. “They don’t mind us. How loving she is, the little beast.”
“They’ve stopped talking,” said Yaji. “Now’s the time.” He crawled softly out of bed and listened to what they were doing. Then he stood up and peeped through the cra
cks in the sliding door. Kita also crawled out of bed.
“I say, Yaji,” he whispered. “Is the bride beautiful? Just let me have a peep.”
“Don’t make a noise,” said Yaji. “It’s the critical moment.”
“Eh?” said Kita. “Just let me look. Move away a little.”
But Yaji was peeping through the crack like a man in a dream, and what with Kita shoving him and his own obstinacy, they managed between them to push the sliding door out of its grooves, and it fell suddenly forward into the next room with Yaji and Kita on top of it. This startled the newly married couple.
“Oh, oh!” shouted the bridegroom. “What’s that? The door’s fallen out of its grooves.” Jumping up, he overturned the lamp and plunged the room into darkness. Yaji had already fled back into his own room and jumped into bed, but Kita was not quite so quick and got caught by the bridegroom.
“Excuse me,” said Kita. “I was going out to do something and mistook the door of my room. Really the maid is very careless, putting the lamp in the middle of the floor. I’m sorry you tripped over it. But I really must go if you’d just let go of me.”
“Such outrageous conduct!” said the bridegroom. “Everything’s covered with oil. Here, San, San, get up.”
The maid came out of the kitchen with a lamp and put things to rights, and Kita, looking exceedingly foolish, put the door back into its grooves and went very dejectedly to bed. Then as the night deepened, all was still in the inn except for the snores of the travelers.
The False Ikku (from the second part of book 4)
Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600–1900 Page 104