Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600–1900

by Shirane, Haruo, ed.

  Thus joking and laughing, they went on until they reached Ueno, where they were accosted by a man in a cloak, who was accompanied by an apprentice.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said. “Are you from Edo?”

  “Yes,” said Yaji.

  “I’ve been following you since Shiroko,” said the man, “listening to your poems, and although I am only an amateur in such matters, I must say I was quite impressed.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” said Yaji. “I made them all up on the spur of the moment.”

  “Really,” said the stranger. “I’m surprised. The other day I had a visit from Shunman Shōsadō and others from Edo.”

  “Did you really?” said Yaji. “Aha!”

  “May I ask under what name you write?” continued the stranger.

  “Oh, I’m Jippensha Ikku,” said Yaji.

  “Indeed,” said the man. “That’s a very celebrated name. Are you really Jippensha Ikku? I’m very glad to meet you. My name is Kabocha Gomajiru.3 Are you going to Ise on this journey?”

  “Yes,” said Yaji. “I came on this journey especially to write Travels on the Eastern Seaboard.”4

  “Dear me,” said Gomajiru. “That’s a strange way of writing a book. I suppose your friends in Nagoya, Yoshida, and Okazaki will come and meet you.”

  “Well, you see,” said Yaji, “as I have to call at every place on the Eastern Seaboard and as the entertainments offered to me naturally delay my journey, I thought it would be a bother to them to have to wait for me. That’s the reason why I’m traveling in common clothes just like an ordinary person, so that I can take my time and do just as I please.”

  “That must be very enjoyable,” said Gomajiru. “My house is at Kumotsu. I would be very pleased if you paid me a visit.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Yaji.

  “Truly you would be a most welcome guest,” continued Gomajiru. “I would like to introduce you to some people in the neighborhood. In any case I would like to accompany you for the next stage. How extremely fortunate it was that I met you just when I did. But here is Ogawa, which is famous for its cakes. Shall we stop?”

  “No, no,” said Yaji. “I’ve had enough cakes. Let’s go straight on.”

  Proceeding on their way, they soon reached Tsu. This is the place where the road from Kyoto meets the road to Yamada, and as a consequence the streets are very lively with people from the capital, all dressed in the same kind of clothes, riding on horses, and singing:

  Oh come, and I will show you the famous sights, the temples high,

  The hill of Otowa and where Kiyomizu and Gion tell of days gone by.

  In a pearly haze lie the cherry blossoms in full flower;

  So dark one would think it was the evening hour.

  “Look, Kita,” said Yaji. “How beautiful the girls all look.”

  “They’re Kyoto people,” said Gomajiru. “But although they all look so grand, they don’t waste their money.”

  Just then one of the men stopped Gomajiru and asked him for a light.

  “Take it from here,” said Gomajiru, and he held out the pipe that he was smoking. The Kyoto man put his pipe to it and puffed.

  “Can’t you get it?” asked Gomajiru. Still the stranger went on puffing without saying a word.

  “What’s this?” said Gomajiru. “Why, you haven’t got any tobacco in your pipe. I’ve heard of this before. You pretend you want a light, and all the time you go on smoking other people’s tobacco. That’s enough, that’s enough. There,” he added, turning to Yaji. “That’s how stingy Kyoto people are. Ha-ha-ha! Would you oblige me with another pinch of your tobacco?”

  “Well, I don’t know about Kyoto people being stingy,” said Yaji, “but I notice you’re very fond of smoking my tobacco.”

  “I didn’t bring my tobacco pouch with me,” said Gomajiru.

  “Did you forget it when you came out?” asked Yaji.

  “No, no, I didn’t forget it,” said Gomajiru. “The fact is I haven’t got a pouch, the reason being that I’m such an inveterate smoker that I found I was spending too much money on tobacco. So I gave up carrying a pouch and carry only a pipe.”

  “Is that so you can smoke other people’s tobacco?” asked Yaji.

  “Yes, certainly,” said Gomajiru.

  “So while you call Kyoto people stingy, you’re stingy yourself.”

  “Ha-ha-ha!” laughed Gomajiru. “That’s so, that’s so. But hadn’t we better walk a little faster, as it’s getting late.”

  Quickening their pace, they soon arrived at Tsukimoto, from where, they learned, there is a road to Karasu-no-miya. Then they came to Kumotsu, where Gomajiru led them to his house. This appeared to be an inn, although there were no other guests there just then. They were shown into a back room and treated with great respect, evidently because Yaji had told a lie about his name. Both he and Kita thought it all very amusing, and after taking a bath, they relaxed. Then Gomajiru came in.

  “You must be very tired,” he said. “Please make yourselves comfortable. Unfortunately, there is no fish today, so I won’t be able to give you much of a feast, but since the konnyaku here is very good, I thought you would like to try that.”

  “Please don’t go to any trouble for us,” said Yaji. “But landlord, I’d like to introduce my friend.”

  “Oh really,” said the landlord. “To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?”

  “I’m Jippensha’s best pupil,” said Kita, “by name, Ippensha Nanryo. This is my only excuse for troubling you.”

  “Not at all, not at all,” said Gomajiru. “Please make yourself at home.”

  The maid announced that the meal was ready.

  “Then you’d better have it at once,” said Gomajiru. “Please take your time.” He hurried off to the kitchen, and the maid brought in a tray and put it before Yaji.

  “Not bad, is it?” said Yaji looking at the tray.

  “Fine girl,” said Kita. “But now that you’re a poet, you’ve got to be good.”

  Then a small girl of eleven or twelve brought in another tray and put it before Kita, and they both took up their chopsticks to eat. On both their trays was a black thing, about the size of a bean cake, put on a flat saucer beside the konnyaku, which was heaped up in a bowl, and some bean paste on a small plate.

  “Whatever’s this?” said Yaji in a low voice to Kita, “this round thing on the saucer?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” said Kita. He felt it with his chopsticks, but it was so hard that he couldn’t make a dent in it. Examining it more closely, he saw that it was a stone.

  “It’s a stone,” he said.

  “What, a stone?” said Yaji. “Here, waitress, what’s this?”

  “It’s a stone, sir,” said the maid.

  “Dear me,” said Kita. “Just give me a little more soup.”

  He gave his soup bowl to the girl and waited until she had gone out.

  “What a swindle!” said Yaji. “How can we eat stones?”

  “Wait a bit,” said Kita. “There must be some way of eating it since they’ve served it to us. He said he’d give us some of the things this place is noted for, and I suppose this must be one of them.”

  “I never heard of such a thing,” said Yaji.

  “Wait a bit,” said Kita. “You know they call dumplings stones in Edo. Perhaps it’s a dumpling.”

  “Aha!” said Yaji. “That’s it, that’s it. It can’t be a real stone.”

  He poked it with his chopsticks, but still it appeared to be a real stone. Then he struck it with the bowl of his pipe, and it sounded like a stone.

  “It’s a stone all right,” he said. “I suppose it would make him angry if we asked him how we’re supposed to eat it, but it’s very strange.”

  Then Gomajiru came in.

  “Really I’m ashamed of the poor fare I have to offer you,” he said, “but please eat heartily. I’m afraid the stones have got cold. Let me change them for some hot ones.”

  At this
the two travelers became more and more puzzled as to how the stones were to be eaten, but still they didn’t like to ask for fear of offending the landlord.

  “Don’t trouble, don’t trouble,” said Yaji, trying to look as if he had been eating the stone. “One stone will be enough, although they’re very nice. In Edo, you know, they serve gravel pickled in hot pepper sauce or with boiled beans, and we also give stones to troublesome mothers-in-law as a kind of medicine. They’re my favorite food. Why, when I was living in Fuchū, we used to have stones stewed like turtles. Really, when I had eaten four or five my stomach used to get so heavy that I couldn’t stand up. I had to be tied to a stick and carried along like a suitcase when I wanted to go anywhere. Your stones are especially delicious, but I’m afraid of eating too many for fear I should inconvenience you.”

  “What’s that?” said Gomajiru. “Have you been eating the stones?”

  “What of it?” said Yaji.

  “It’s incredible,” said Gomajiru. “Why, to eat stones you would have to have terribly strong teeth. Besides, you’d burn yourself.”

  “Why?” asked Yaji.

  “Those stones are red hot,” replied Gomajiru. “They’re to put the konnyaku on so as to take out the water and improve the flavor. That is why they’re hot. They aren’t to eat.”

  “Aha! I see, I see,” said Yaji. “Now I understand.”

  “You shall see for yourselves,” said Gomajiru. He ordered the maid to change the stones for hot ones. Then Yaji and Kita put the konnyaku on the stones as he had told them, which made the konnyaku hiss, and then they ate it with the bean sauce and found it exceptionally light and well flavored. They were greatly impressed.

  “I never saw such a strange way of cooking before,” said Yaji. “The stones are all so much alike.”

  “I have a store of them,” said Gomajiru. “Shall I show you?” He went into the kitchen and brought in a box like that for soup bowls.

  “Look,” he said. “I have enough here for twenty guests.” Sure enough there were the stones inside, and written on the box was “Konnyaku stones for twenty people.”

  By this time all the poets in the neighborhood had begun to assemble at the door. “Excuse us,” they cried.

  “Dear me!” said Gomajiru. “Is that you, Master Baldhead? Please all come this way.”

  “Are you Jippensha Ikku?” said the first to enter. “This is the first time I have had the honor of meeting you. I am Awfully Funnyman. The gentleman next to me is Master Gaptooth, then comes Master Snottyface, and the one farthest away is Master Scratchy. Please give us all the honor of your acquaintance.”

  “By the way, Master,” said Gomajiru, “if it is not too much trouble, would you be so kind as to write one of your poems on a fan or a scroll?” He brought out a fan and a scroll as he said this.

  Yaji was greatly perplexed as to what he should do. Should he boldly carry out his joke? But then he had no poems of his own, and he couldn’t think of one on the spur of the moment. He decided that he would write a poem by somebody else, and he wrote one.

  “Thank you, thank you,” said Gomajiru. “The poem reads:

  Where can I hear the cuckoo sing?

  Far from the wineshop’s roistering;

  Far from the cookshop’s guzzling throng,

  There can you hear the cuckoo’s song.

  “Dear me!” said Gomajiru. “I seem to have heard that poem before.” Then he read another:

  Would you know of lovers’ sorrow?

  Ring the dawn bell once again;

  For it brings the fatal morrow

  Tells them they must part in pain.

  “But isn’t this poem by Senshuan?” asked Gomajiru.

  “What are you talking about?” said Yaji. “That’s one of my best poems. It’s a very well known poem in Edo. Everyone knows it.”

  “Yes, but when I was up in Edo last year,” said Gomajiru, “I saw Sandara and Shakuyakutei Ushi and others, and I brought back that very poem and pasted it on the screen behind you. It is in the poet’s own handwriting.”

  Yaji turned round and saw on the screen the very poem that he had written.

  “My master’s very careless,” put in Kita, “and can’t tell the difference between his own poems and those of others. Look here, Yaji—I mean Master—write one of the poems you made up on the road.”

  Yaji, although he was rather flustered, put on his usual bold face and commenced to write another poem, one of those he had made up on the road.

  Meanwhile Kita, who had nothing to do, fixed his eyes on a screen.

  “Aha!” he said. “That’s a picture of Koikawa Harumachi. What’s that phrase [san] written above it?”

  “That’s a poem [shi]” said Gomajiru.

  “And that poem [shi] above the god of good luck,” asked Kita, “who did that?”

  A maid brings out a new heated stone for Yaji, who sits at his low dining table and scratches his head in embarrassment. Poem: “A sedge hat hanging from the eves of an inn, waiting for the late ones—early evening at the inn of Kumotsu,” by Sankōsha Yoneya of Toro, Sanshū (Mikawa Province). From the 1806 edition. (From SNKBZ 81, Tōkai dōchū hizakurige, by permission of Shōgakukan)

  “No, that’s a religious maxim [go] written by the priest Takuan,” said Gomajiru.

  “What a chap this is,” thought Kita. “When I say it’s san [three] he says it’s shi [four], and when I say it’s shi [four] he says it’s go [five]. Whatever I say, he always goes one more. I’ll catch him yet.”

  “I say,” he said aloud, after he had looked round, “that written on top of that hanging scroll—I suppose that’s roku [six].”

  “I don’t know whether it’s six or what it is,” said Gomajiru. “It was taken as a pledge of seven [shichi].”

  Just then the maidservant came in. “A letter has come from Master Higetsuru,” she said.

  “Dear me!” said Gomajiru. “I wonder what it is about.” He opened it and read it aloud: “This is to inform you that Jippensha Ikku has just arrived at my house from Edo and has brought letters of introduction from his friends in Nagoya. I hasten to inform you at once of the news and shall later take the liberty of accompanying him to your house. This in the meantime.”

  “What can be the meaning of this?” said Gomajiru. “I can’t understand it at all. You hear what my friend says, master. It seems that this man is taking your name. Luckily he will soon be here, and you will be able to confront him. Don’t you think we should have some fun with him?”

  “I never heard of such impudence,” said Yaji. “But still I don’t think I’d care to meet him.”

  “Why not?” asked Gomajiru.

  “Well, just a minute ago,” said Yaji, “I felt a touch of my old complaint, the colic. If it weren’t for that, I’d like to show him up. It’s a great nuisance.”

  This unexpected coincidence made Yaji feel very miserable, and his behavior increased the suspicions of the landlord and his guests that he was trying to deceive them. They now began to press him with questions.

  “Look here, Master,” said Master Funnyman, “this is a very strange thing that’s happened. Even if you don’t feel well, I think you certainly ought to meet the false Jippensha.”

  “Don’t ask me, don’t ask me,” said Yaji.

  “By the way, Master,” said Master Snottyface, “where is your house in Edo?”

  “Let’s see,” said Yaji. “Where is it? Is it in Toba or Fushimi or Yodotake?

  “Oh yes,” said Master Scratchy, “you cross the ferry at Yamazaki and ask for Master Yoichibei. Get out. Ha-ha-ha!”

  “But I see you have written on your hat Yajirobei, Hachō-bōri, Kanda, Edo,” said Gomajiru. “Who is this Yajirobei?”

  “Aha!” said Yaji. “Where have I heard that name before? Oh yes, of course. My real name is Yajirobei.”

  “Oh, you’re one of the Yajirobeis that go round begging with the dolls, I suppose,” said Gomajiru.

  “That’s it, that’s it,” said
Yaji.

  “Well, Master Yajirobei,” said Funnyman, “shall I bring the false Ikku?”

  “No, no,” said Yaji. “No, no. I’m just going.”

  “Why, what time do you think it is?” said Gomajiru. “It’s ten o’clock.”

  “Maybe, maybe,” said Yaji. “It’s my colic. If I sit like this it gets worse and worse. When I go out in the cool night air and walk a bit, it soon gets better.”

  “So you’re going to start now,” said Gomajiru. “Well, I’m agreeable. At any rate you can’t stop here—taking other persons’ names like that and deceiving everybody. Get out.”

  “How have I been deceiving you?” asked Yaji.

  “How have you deceived us? Didn’t the real Jippensha bring letters from his friends in Nagoya?” said Gomajiru. “There’s no getting around that.”

  “I thought they were cheats from the first,” said another. “Get out before we throw you out.”

  “Throw us out?” said Yaji. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Look here, Yaji,” said Kita. “Let’s not have a fight. We’re in the wrong. Let’s go somewhere else and stop, even at a cheap lodging house. We’re very sorry if we’ve done anything wrong.”

  Kita thus went on repeating apologies to the landlord, who was half angry and half amused.

  While they were getting ready to start, all the people in the house came to see them off and jeered and laughed and clapped their hands. Yaji, with a very angry face and a dignified air, walked out followed by Kita.

  It was now past ten, and everybody had gone to bed. Yaji and Kita walked on, but they could not see any inn, or anybody in the street to ask. The only things that were awake were the dogs under the eaves of the houses, and they only barked at them.

  “These curs!” said Yaji. “I’ll show them,” and he picked up a stone and threw it at the dogs. This only made them more angry, and they ran after the travelers, barking furiously.

  “Don’t take any notice of them,” said Kita. “Even the dogs despise us. What are you making those strange signs for?”

  “When you’re attacked by dogs,” said Yaji, “if you make the character for tiger in the air and show it to them, they’ll run away. They don’t seem to run away here, though. Perhaps the dogs in this town can’t read. Here, shoo, shoo!”