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374 Bottom the weaver and Falstaff would still be amusing even if they stood by themselves, but they gain immeasurably by contrast with the poetry of fairy-land and the stately court of Theseus in the one case, and with grave political surroundings on the other. In the Hizakurige there is no suggestion of serious thought or feeling; all is broad, frequently even farcical humour. It is, however, excellent fooling of its kind.

There can be no greater contrast than that between Ikku and the romantic school of novelists. He repudiates utterly their entire equipment of fantastic notions of right and wrong, artificial sentiment, supernatural interventions, impossible exploits, and euphuistic fine-writing. He is a realistic writer in the good as well as in the bad sense of the word. The Hizakurige is a picture of real life, for every detail of which Ikku has drawn on his own observation. We know that he actually travelled through the places which are the scenes of his heroes' exploits; but even if there were no record of the fact, it is obvious to every reader who knows Japan. There is little word-painting or description of scenery, but the human life of the great highways is depicted with photographic accuracy, and with a verve and humour which no mere observation, however minute, could ever impart. We see the Daimio's train, slow-moving, silent, and imposing—but nevertheless containing a rowdy element—and hear Yaji and Kida's very free criticisms as they squat humbly by the roadside until the great man has passed. The religious processions, noisy and disorderly, are treated by them with more open ridicule. We meet provincial Samurai, the butt of the more quick-witted citizens of Yedo, obsequious innkeepers, facile waiting-maids, begging priests, Rōnins, Komusō (criminals