“But to return to the Tsubo, or garden. A good one must include at least thirty feet square, and consist of the following essential parts: 1. The ground is covered partly with roundish stones of different colors, gathered in rivers or upon the sea-shore, well washed and cleaned, and those of the same kind, laid together in form of beds, partly with gravel which is swept every day, and kept clean and neat to admiration, the large stones being laid in the middle as a path to walk upon without injuring the gravel, the whole in a seeming but ingenious confusion. 2. Some few flower-bearing shrubs planted confusedly, though not without some certain rules. Amidst them stands sometimes a Saguer (?), as they call it, or scarce outlandish tree, sometimes a dwarf tree or two. 3. A small rock or hill in a corner of the garden, made in imitation of nature, curiously adorned with birds and insects cast in brass, and placed between the stones. Sometimes the model of a temple stands upon it, built, as for the sake of the prospect they generally are, on a remarkable eminence or the borders of a precipice. Often a small rivulet rushes down the stones with an agreeable noise, the whole in due proportions and as near as possible resembling nature. 4. A small thicket or wood on the side of the hill, for which the gardeners choose such trees as will grow close to one another, and plant and cut them according to their largeness, nature, and the color of their flowers and leaves, so as to make the whole very accurately imitate a natural wood or forest. 5. A cistern or pond, as mentioned above, with live fish kept in it, and surrounded with proper plants, that is, such as love a watery soil, and would lose their beauty and greenness if planted in a dry ground. It is a particular profession to lay out these gardens, and to keep them so curiously and nicely as they ought to be.
“There are innumerable smaller inns, cook-shops, sake, or ale-houses, pastry-cooks’ and confectioners’ shops, all along the road, even in the midst of woods and forests, and at the tops of mountains, where a weary foot-traveller, and the meaner sort of people, find at all times, for a few sen, something warm to eat, or hot tea, or sake, or somewhat else of the kind, wherewith to refresh themselves. ’Tis true these cook-shops are but poor, sorry houses, if compared to larger inns, being inhabited only by poor people, who have enough to do to get a livelihood by this trade; and yet, even in these, there is always something or other to amuse passengers, and to draw them in; sometimes a garden and orchard behind the house, which is seen from the street, looking through the passage, and which, by its beautiful flowers, or the agreeable sight of a stream of clear water, falling down from a neighboring natural or artificial hill, or by some other curious ornament of this kind, tempts people to come in and repose themselves. At other times a large flower-pot stands in the window, filled with flowering branches of trees, disposed in a very curious manner. Sometimes a handsome, well-looking housemaid, or a couple of young girls, well dressed, stand under the door, and with great civility invite people to come in, and to buy something. The eatables, such as cakes, or whatever it be, are kept before the fire, in an open room, sticking to skewers of bamboos, so that passengers, as they go along, may take them and pursue their journey without stopping. The landladies, cooks, and maids, as soon as they see anybody coming at a distance, blow up the fire, to make it look as if the victuals had been just got ready. Some busy themselves with making the tea, others prepare soup, others fill cups with sake or other liquors, to present them to passengers, all the while talking and chattering, and commending their merchandise with a voice loud enough to be heard by their next neighbors of the same profession.
“The eatables sold at these cook-shops, besides tea, and sometimes sake, are manjū, a sort of round cakes, which they learned to make from the Portuguese, as big as common hens’ eggs, and filled within with black-bean flour and sugar; cakes of the jelly of a root found upon mountains, and cut into round slices, like carrots, and roasted; snails, oysters, shell-fish, and other small fish, roasted, boiled, or pickled; Chinese laxa, a thin sort of pap, or paste, made of fine wheat flour, cut into small, thin, long slices, and baked; all sorts of plants, roots, and sprigs which the season affords, washed and boiled in water with salt; innumerable other dishes peculiar to this country, made of seeds, powdered roots, and vegetables, boiled or baked, dressed in many different ways.
“The common sauce for these and other dishes is a little soy, as they call it, mixed with sake, or the beer of the country. Sanshō leaves are laid upon the dish for ornament, and sometimes thin slices of fine ginger and lemon peel. Sometimes they put powdered ginger, sanshō, or the powder of some root growing in the country, into the soup. They are also provided with sweetmeats, of several different colors and sorts, which, generally speaking, are far more agreeable to the eye than pleasing to the taste, being but indifferently sweetened with sugar, and so tough that one must have good teeth to chew them. Foot travellers find it set down in their printed road-books, which they always carry about them, where and at what price the best victuals of the kind are to be got.
“Tea (since most travellers drink scarce anything else upon the road) is sold at all the inns and cook-shops, besides many tea-booths set up for this trade alone, in the midst of fields and woods, and at the stop of mountains. The tea sold at all these places is but a coarse sort, being only the largest leaves, which remain upon the shrub after the youngest and tenderest have been plucked off, at two different times, for the use of people of fashion, who constantly drink it, before or after their meals. These larger leaves are not rolled up and curled, as the better sort of tea is, but simply roasted in a pan, and continually stirred whilst they are roasting, lest they should get a burnt taste. When they are done enough, they put them by in straw baskets, under the roof of the house, near the place where the smoke comes out. They are not a bit nicer in preparing it for drinking, for they commonly take a good handful of the tea leaves, and boil them in a large iron kettle full of water. The leaves are sometimes put into a small bag; but, if not, they have a little basket swimming in the kettle, which they make use of to keep the leaves down, when they have a mind to take out some of the clear decoction. Half a cup of this decoction is mixed with cold water, when travellers ask for it. Tea thus prepared smells and tastes like lye—the leaves it is made of, besides that they are of a very bad sort, being seldom less than a year old; and yet the Japanese esteem it much more healthful for daily use than the young, tender leaves, prepared after the Chinese manner, which they say affect the head too strongly, though even these lose a great part of their narcotic quality when boiled.”[3]
CHAPTER XXXIII
Number of People on the Road—Princely Retinues—Pilgrims to Ise—Junrei Pilgrims—Naked Devotees—Religious Beggars—Begging Order of Nuns—Yama-Bushi, or Mountain Priests—Buddhist Beggars—Singular Bell-chiming—Hucksters and Peddlers—Courtesans.
“It is scarce credible,” says Kämpfer, “what numbers of people daily travel in this country; and I can assure the reader, from my own experience, having passed it four times, that Tōkaidō, which is, indeed, the most frequented of the seven great roads in Japan, is upon some days more crowded than the public streets in any of the most populous towns in Europe. This is owing partly to the country’s being extremely populous, partly to the frequent journeys which the natives undertake, oftener than perhaps any other people.
“It is the duty of the princes and lords of the empire, as also of the governors of the imperial cities and crown lands, to go to court once a year to pay their homage and respect. They are attended, going up and returning, by their whole court, and travel with a pomp and magnificence becoming as well their own quality and riches as the majesty of the powerful monarch whom they are going to see. The train of some of the most eminent fills up the road for some days. Though we travelled pretty fast, yet we often met the baggage and fore-runners, consisting of the servants and inferior officers, for two days together, dispersed in several troops, and the prince himself followed but the third day, attended with his numerous court, all marching in admirable order. The retinue of one of the chief Daimiōs, as they are called, is computed to amount to about twenty thousand men, more or less; that of a Shōmiō to about ten thousand; that of a governor of the imperial cities and crown lands to from one to several hundreds, according to his quality or revenues.[4]
“If two or more of these princes and lords should chance to travel the same road at the same time, they would prove a great hindrance to one another, particularly if they should happen to meet at the same post-house or village; to prevent which it is usual for great princes and lords to bespeak the several post-houses by which they are to pass, with all the inns, those of the first quality a month, others a week or two, before their arrival. The time of their intended arrival is also notified in all the cities, villages, and hamlets, by putting up small boards on high poles of bamboo, signifying in a few characters what day of the month such or such a lord will be at that village, to dine or sleep there.