is the familiar silhouette of Mt Fuji.
The roads were often marked by rows of trees planted close together on both sides, either tall cedars (cryptomeria) or pine trees, their purpose being to define the road and prevent travelers wandering off it, and also to provide shade from sun and shelter from rain and snow. Across mountain terrain the roads would become narrower and more difficult, although well engineered. River-crossings were considerable obstacles, for there were few bridges in the country as opposed to the towns, where bridges were a common feature. Japanese rivers usually have wide beds, along which for much of the year the flow of water is divided into relatively narrow streams, at which time they did not present serious obstacles to travelers. Ferryboats were used (16), and in some places porters carried people or their burdens through the water on their shoulders or on their heads. When floods came down, such crossings would become temporarily impassable and traffic be brought to an enforced halt; not for long, however, for water subsides quickly in Japan.
It would seem that the government was faced with a dilemma with regard to roads. On the one hand, good communication was necessary between Edo and the provinces, to enable officials and messengers to go speedily from one place to another; on the other, the Shogun’s fear of rebellion and armed attack made him wish to restrict freedom of movement for those who were not traveling in his service. He achieved these ends partly by making the roads suitable only for foot and horse traffic, and partly by keeping in existence the system of barriers that had been in use since early times, thus using the roads themselves as controls on movement along them. It was a serious offence to try to evade the check of the officials at the barriers by taking to the fields in an attempt to bypass them, so that having to go through these barriers, of which it is estimated that more than 70 existed, had the double effect of forcing everyone to go along the roads provided, while being kept under close supervision.
An important function of this control at the barriers was to prevent the daimyō from moving any of his family out of Edo without permission; in particular the road-watchers had to make sure that no women moved out with the processions. Women who traveled had to carry a special certificate of authorization which carried a full description, and they often underwent a considerable ordeal of search and interrogation at the barriers—and the higher the rank, the worse it might be. Another careful watch was kept to see that no arms, especially firearms, in sufficient quantities to be used in a revolt, were taken into Edo. Restrictions extended to the number of a daimyō’s attendants: for example, under the eighth Shogun (Yoshimune, 1716-45), it was laid down that daimyō rated at 200,000 koku or more were to have with them 120-30 foot soldiers and 250-300 servants and porters, while those of 100,000 koku or more could have 80 and 140-80 respectively. These numbers, when account is taken of the higher-grade samurai who were also accompanying their lord, were big enough to make these processions a considerable drain on daimyō resources, but not big enough for them to constitute a threat to the central government.
The highways were divided off into stages, at each of which was a post-station, whose duty it was to have horses and porters available for the next stage (17). The whole system was administered by an office of the government, by whom the charges for use of the service were fixed. Certain government officials were given passes which entitled them to one horse and three men free of charge. Daimyō on an official journey were charged a special low rate up to a certain maximum, over which they had to pay standard charges. They also gave notice of their plans beforehand, so that post-stations and inns could prepare what was necessary. The responsibility for providing horses and men was imposed on the local farmers, and this was just one of the ways in which they were parasitized by the samurai.
The daimyō procession was an impressive sight, with its marching men, horses, and lacquered palanquins, and was made more so by the banners, spears, and halberds in their decorative coverings, and other colorful objects that were borne aloft by the attendants. It formed a counterpart of the military parade as we know it in the West, and served to remind the populace of the places it passed through of the power and authority of their masters.
(17) Post-station, with travelers and scantily clad porters arriving. Sweaty bodies are rubbed down and horses unloaded.
This authority was exercised in the towns through a system of magistrates and police. In matters of administration the local organizations in the domains followed the model of the central government in Edo, in the titles as well as in the functions of the officials, so that a description of the system in Edo will serve for the whole country.
By 1631 this system had been built up to the pattern that was to persist throughout the period. First, there were two machi-bugyō, “town magistrates,” who between them combined what would now be the functions of chief of police, judge and mayor. They did not, however, divide these functions between themselves, but each performed them all, being on duty for a month and off duty for the next. They were known as the North and the South. This sort of duplication was typical of the Shogun’s government: in his patient preoccupation with self-preservation he tried by every means to ensure that no possible rival gained enough power to overthrow him. Each of the two magistrates was a check on the other and neither had all the resources of his office in his own hand. Both had to sign reports submitted to the government, and one result of the dual system was that individual enterprise was hampered. However, as the population of Edo increased with the tendency of people to move in from the country whenever they could, the duties of the magistrate grew more onerous, and he was glad to make full use of his month off duty to catch up with all the reports and inquiries relating to his last month on duty. Every day the magistrate on duty went to the Castle, arriving by 10 o’clock in the morning, and not leaving until about 2 o’clock. His business was with the Senior Councilors, four, or sometimes five, officials who headed the administration and were responsible to the Shogun for a wide range of affairs. He would report to them any action he had taken and receive their orders.
The post of Edo magistrate was reserved for retainers of the Shogun with the low rating of 500 koku, but it carried with it an allowance of 3,000 koku. The court rank that went with the position was equal to that of some daimyō, and another indication of its importance is that outstanding holders of other posts that were technically equal in status were sometimes transferred to that of Edo magistrate. His life was a busy one, for on his return to his office he would have to deal with the accumulation of paper work and other routine matters. He was not only responsible for the policing of Edo, but also dealt with civil disputes and issued travel passes. He did not, however, have to deal with samurai and priests, for whom there were special officials. These he would meet three times a month when, with the Senior Councilors and others, they would form a sort of high court to deal with the more serious cases.
Each magistrate had immediately under him 25 yoriki or assistant magistrates. They too were samurai, direct retainers of the Shogun, with a rating of 200 koku. Yoriki who were employed in other departments would normally receive personal appointments and not have hereditary entry into their positions, but those who worked for the Edo magistrates in practice followed their fathers and grandfathers into their profession, entering a sort of apprenticeship at the age of 13 or thereabouts. This strong family tradition meant that the yoriki really knew their Edo, and they clearly formed the permanent cadre of experience and knowledge that the magistrate himself, especially when newly appointed, would rely on for the day-to-day running of his office. The yoriki had no hope of promotion, and lived all together in the same quarters. They thus formed a tight group, cut off by their profession and class from the townsmen with whom they were in daily contact, and also discriminated against by their superiors, for their work debarred them from entering the Castle, for fear that they would bring in contamination because of their connection with death when criminals were executed—even though the actual execution was carried out by “non-humans.”
