The Artery of the Edo Period

"The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tōkaidō" is an icon—a quintessential masterpiece of ukiyo-e art. Let’s take a closer look at one of the woodblock prints in this series, depicting the Hakone (箱根) station. Utagawa Hiroshige presents a steep, mountainous landscape—one of the most difficult sections of the Tōkaidō route to traverse during the Edo period.

In the foreground, a narrow winding path stretches ahead, traversed by travelers whose presence is barely suggested by rows of kasa hats, worn by the daimyō’s escort. The path ascends, and in the distance, a panoramic view unfolds—Lake Ashi (Ashinoko) lies below, and further in the misty expanse, the snow-capped, majestic peak of Mount Fuji rises like a silent guardian of time over the landscape.

Hiroshige employs his characteristic layered composition—the colors become more subdued in the background, transitioning into delicate shades of blue and white, creating a sense of spatial depth. Though not centrally positioned, Mount Fuji draws the viewer’s gaze with its symbolic presence, standing as an archetypal emblem of permanence and constancy in contrast to the fleeting nature of human journeys—of human efforts and life itself.

The travelers in this woodblock print may be part of a daimyō’s procession, adhering to the sankin kōtai (参勤交代) system, which required feudal lords to make compulsory journeys between their domains and Edo, the political and administrative center of Tokugawa rule. As one of the Five Routes (Gokaidō), the Tōkaidō connected the political heart of the country with the imperial capital of Kyoto, serving as a crucial artery for governance, trade, and culture. Every such journey was fraught with challenges, and the Hakone segment was among the most arduous.

In The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tōkaidō, Hiroshige captures not only breathtaking landscapes but also the daily lives of the Japanese people during the Edo period, as well as the spirit of the era—a world in which the road, both physical and spiritual, became a space of struggle, discovery, and reflection. Traveling alongside Hiroshige through all fifty-three stations, we can glimpse life under the Tokugawa shogunate and experience the unique worldview that shaped the Japanese people in the golden age of Edo culture.

The "Fifty-Three Stations of the Tōkaidō" Series

What Is This Series?

"The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tōkaidō" (東海道五十三次, Tōkaidō Gojūsan-tsugi) is a series of 55 ukiyo-e woodblock prints (53 stations plus the starting and ending points) created by Utagawa Hiroshige between 1833 and 1834.

The series depicts views and scenes from the Tōkaidō—one of the most significant roads in Edo-period Japan. This route, linking Edo (the shogunate’s capital, modern-day Tokyo) with Kyoto (the imperial capital), was a crucial transportation and trade artery while also serving administrative functions. Along the road, 53 official post stations (shukuba 宿場, literally "lodging places") were established, where travelers could rest, eat, and change horses. Hiroshige’s cycle not only documents the landscapes but also portrays the daily lives of travelers and the people working along the route.

The first woodblock print in the series depicts Nihonbashi (日本橋)—the famous bridge in Edo, which served as the symbolic starting point for all Five Routes (Gokaidō) established by Tokugawa Ieyasu to centralize power and improve transportation throughout Japan. The final print shows Sanjō Ōhashi (三条大橋) bridge in Kyoto, marking the end of the journey along the Tōkaidō.

Travel as the Main Theme of the Series

Traveling during the Edo period was both a privilege and an obligation, particularly for members of the upper social classes. The sankin kōtai (参勤交代) system required daimyō to make regular visits to Edo, which not only kept the road bustling but also stimulated the development of infrastructure along the Tōkaidō (more on this ingenious system can be found here: What to Do with a Society of Samurai Who Only Know War and Death in Times of Peace? - The Clever Ideas of the Tokugawa Shoguns). These daimyō processions involved hundreds of participants, including soldiers, servants, and officials. Hiroshige often depicted these processions in his works, reducing the figures to rows of hats, conveying the hierarchical, highly organized social order of the Edo period.

However, the Tōkaidō was not solely a road for political processions. It was also a popular route for merchants, pilgrims, and tourists visiting sacred sites such as Ise or Mount Fuji. In his woodblock prints, Hiroshige captured the diversity of these travelers—from simple farmers to elegantly dressed ladies and wealthy traders. Through his works, we gain a window into life on Japan’s roads during a time of peace and relative political stability.

Landscapes, Nature, and the Changing Seasons

Japanese aesthetics are deeply intertwined with harmony with nature and an appreciation for its cyclical transformations. In this series, Hiroshige masterfully portrays the diversity of landscapes—from the snow-covered peaks in Hara to the vast rice fields in Chiryū, and the misty bay in Kanagawa.

Hiroshige often experimented with different atmospheric conditions—falling rain, morning mist, or evening light. A striking example is the scene from Kambara, where travelers walk through a snowy landscape at night, enveloped by the deep silence of winter (see the interpretation of this print here: Time Stood Still When I Looked at Hiroshige’s “Evening Snow in the Village of Kanbara”). These visual effects fit perfectly within the yūgen aesthetic—a concept of subtle, hidden beauty that can be felt but never fully grasped.

Everyday Life at the Tōkaidō Stations

The stations along the Tōkaidō were more than just resting points. They were bustling hubs of commerce and social interaction, where people of different social classes crossed paths. Hiroshige often depicted scenes featuring local culinary specialties—for instance, in Mariko, where travelers enjoy tororo soup (grated yamaimo yam). In Kusatsu, he illustrates the sale of traditional mochi, while in Narumi, he portrays a shop selling vibrant shibori-dyed fabrics, a popular product in the region.

These details serve not only as a chronicle of daily life but also as a tribute to local culture and craftsmanship. Through such scenes, viewers of the time could experience the diversity of life and culture in Japan, even if they had never traveled the route themselves.

The Popularity of the Series and Its Influence on Ukiyo-e

"The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tōkaidō" was an immense commercial success and became one of Hiroshige’s most frequently reproduced works. Soon after its publication, Hiroshige created additional series inspired by the Tōkaidō, while other major routes, such as the Nakasendō, received their own artistic interpretations. The series also influenced European artists such as Vincent van Gogh and Claude Monet, who were captivated by Japanese ukiyo-e art and its unique approach to landscape.

Hiroshige’s series marked a pivotal moment in the evolution of ukiyo-e as a landscape genre (fūkei-ga). Earlier ukiyo-e works had primarily focused on urban life scenes, portraits of kabuki actors, or depictions of beautiful women (bijin-ga). Hiroshige—like his predecessor Hokusai—elevated landscape to a new level, making it one of the most significant themes of Edo-period art.

"The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tōkaidō" is not only an artistic vision of travel but also an invaluable source of knowledge about the history, culture, and mentality of Edo-period Japan. Through this series, we can view the world through the eyes of travelers of that time—a world full of beauty, hardships, and fleeting moments of admiration for the harmony of nature.

Tōkaidō

The History of the Tōkaidō Route – A Symbol of the Edo Period

Tōkaidō (東海道, "The Eastern Sea Road") was the most important transportation route in Japan during the Edo period (1603–1868), connecting the political capital of Edo (modern-day Tokyo) with Kyoto, the historical center of imperial power. It was one of the Gokaidō (五街道, "The Five Routes")—key roads established by Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first shōgun of the Tokugawa dynasty, to centralize the country and consolidate his rule.

Although the Tōkaidō had existed since the Nara and Heian periods, it was only in the 17th century, under Tokugawa rule, that the route became a precisely organized transportation artery. Its significance extended beyond mere travel—it was the lifeblood of Edo-period Japan, used by military forces, officials, merchants, and pilgrims. The road, stretching approximately 500 kilometers, was divided into 53 official post stations (shukuba 宿場), strategically placed along the route. Each station housed inns (hatago 旅籠) and lodgings (honjin 本陣), where travelers could rest, eat, and—if wealthy enough—spend the night in slightly more comfortable conditions.

However, the stations of the Tōkaidō were not merely places for rest—they were also administrative hubs. Each stop contained a customs office, where travelers were inspected, their documents checked, and tolls collected. Authorities paid particular attention to the movement of women to prevent the escape of daimyō families, who were subjected to the sankin kōtai system imposed by the shogunate. These stations also served as commercial hubs, where local products were sold alongside famous regional delicacies—such as tororo-zake in Mariko or mochi in Kusatsu.

Tokugawa Ieyasu and the Sankin Kōtai System

Tokugawa Ieyasu, a master strategist and architect of the new order, understood that ruling Japan could not rely solely on military strength—systematic control over the daimyō was essential. To achieve this, he implemented the sankin kōtai (参勤交代, "alternate attendance") system, which required each daimyō to personally travel to Edo every two years and reside there for a certain period.

However, this was far more than a routine administrative visit—the daimyō procession was one of the most spectacular events along the Tōkaidō route. Provincial lords traveled in grand entourages, sometimes numbering from hundreds to several thousand people, including samurai, officials, servants, and refined courtiers. Hiroshige depicted these processions in a particularly subtle manner—rows of kasa hats and figures fading into the mist, symbolizing both power and subjugation.

The sankin kōtai system weakened the daimyō not only financially but also psychologically—their families were, in effect, hostages in Edo. The cost of these journeys was immense, as feudal lords had to maintain an impressive appearance, requiring extravagant spending on attire, gifts, and luxury accommodations. Through this system, the shogunate ensured that local rulers could not accumulate enough wealth to organize rebellions—their resources and energy were entirely absorbed by the complex political dynamics of Edo.

The Culture of Travel in Edo Japan

Travel in the Edo period was not just an obligation for the elite—it became a part of mass culture. Merchants, pilgrims, and even adventure-seekers traversed the Tōkaidō, though for lower social classes, travel was strictly regulated and required special permits. Nevertheless, across Japan, interest in distant places and the beauty of the country was growing.

This fascination gave rise to travel guides that provided detailed descriptions of attractions at each station. One of the most famous was Tōkaidō Meisho Zue (東海道名所図会, "Illustrated Guide to the Famous Places of the Tōkaidō") published in 1797. Richly illustrated and full of intriguing details, it served as a kind of "journey for those who could not travel."

In Edo-period literature, travel was a frequent motif—one of the most notable works was the humorous novel Hizakurige (膝栗毛) by Jippensha Ikku. The story followed two somewhat clumsy travelers making their way along the Tōkaidō, experiencing a mix of amusing and occasionally grotesque adventures. This book became one of Japan’s first bestsellers, shaping the romanticized image of travel—not only as a challenge but also as an unexpected adventure.

Tōkaidō is Japan

The Tōkaidō was more than just a road—it was a mirror of Edo society. Here, the lives of daimyō, merchants, samurai, peasants, and artisans intertwined. Along its path, towns flourished, new transportation technologies emerged, and the culture of the road inspired literature and art. Hiroshige did not merely document this world—he mythologized it, crafting a story in which each station became a distinct tale of travel hardships, natural beauty, and the fleeting nature of existence.

The Tōkaidō was a road filled with challenges, but it was also a place of encounters and exchanges of ideas. It embodied Edo-period Japan—a country ruled with an iron fist by the shogunate, yet brimming with life, commerce, and culture. Hiroshige’s series captured all of this in a way that continues to inspire to this day.

鳴海宿

(Narumi-shuku)

The Narumi Station

- Utagawa Hiroshige, 1833, Narumi, Owari Province (present-day Aichi Prefecture)

Hiroshige’s woodblock print depicting Narumi Station portrays a bustling marketplace where the region’s renowned Arimatsu-shibori (有松絞り) textiles are sold. This dyeing technique, similar to modern tie-dye (a form of shibari resist dyeing), was a signature craft of the area. The image captures a peaceful yet characteristic scene of the region—a long, straight road of the Tōkaidō running through the town, lined with low buildings, including a traditional inn (hatago). Workshops and shops specializing in the production and sale of the famous shibori fabrics stretch along the road.

Travelers stroll leisurely along the road—Hiroshige does not depict a chaotic crowd but instead focuses on the steady rhythm of daily life at this station. Visible are people wearing straw kasa hats and traveling kimonos—perhaps wandering merchants, lower-ranking samurai, or pilgrims? Each person quietly and calmly follows their own journey.

Craftsmanship often defined local identity. The dyed shibori fabrics were not only Narumi’s hallmark but also a crucial part of the region’s economy. In an era when clothing signified social status, decorative textiles were highly sought after by both travelers and city dwellers.

Hiroshige deliberately avoids dramatic elements here—his composition is calm and balanced, emphasizing the road stretching between rows of buildings typical of a post station (shukuba). To the right, on a small elevation, a few scattered trees stand, while in the distance, beyond the rooftops, dark tree crowns emerge, as if silently observing the waning day. The evening sky, tinged with a soft red hue, creates a particular atmosphere of dusk—a time when daily duties have not entirely ended, yet the air is already filled with the promise of rest. This is a moment of transition—between movement and stillness, labor and respite, light and shadow—a subtle poetry of everyday life, which Hiroshige captured with remarkable sensitivity.

庄野宿

(Shōno-shuku)

Shōno Station

- Utagawa Hiroshige, 1833, Shōno, Ise Province (modern-day Mie Prefecture)

The woodblock print depicting Shōno Station is one of the most dynamic and expressive scenes in The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tōkaidō series. Hiroshige presents a sudden rainstorm that catches travelers on a steep section of the road. Diagonal streaks of rain cut across the composition, intensifying the sense of movement and the ferocity of the elements. The winding road, slick and treacherous, forces the figures bent under the wind’s pressure to struggle against nature, hurrying to find shelter.

In the foreground, a group of travelers moves with difficulty through the downpour. They trudge along the muddy road, hunched against the driving rain, battling both the wind and the slippery terrain. They are shielded beneath wide straw hats (kasa) and traditional straw raincoats (mino), which are soaked through but still offer some protection against the cold. Their hunched silhouettes and raised shoulders convey a desperate attempt to shield themselves from the elements.

The background features a dense forest, its outlines blurred by the torrential rain. The diagonal lines of the rain and the travelers' hunched postures heighten the sense of the storm’s intensity. Shōno was known for its rapidly changing weather, and such a sudden storm could easily catch travelers unprepared. This image portrays people in struggle—not against each other, but against the unpredictable forces of nature itself.

The scene at Shōno is a masterful demonstration of Hiroshige’s ability to capture not only landscape but also atmosphere—the rain here is almost tangible, and humanity is both subject to nature’s power and determined to push forward. The artist employs a limited yet highly evocative color palette—muted greens and earthy browns dominate, with stormy grays of the sky contrasting against the bright streaks of rain.

The composition creates strong tension. Within it, we can find the deep spirit of perseverance (gaman 我慢, see also: Time Stood Still When I Looked at Hiroshige’s “Evening Snow in the Village of Kanbara”)—a concept fundamental to the Japanese approach to adversity. Despite being drenched and buffeted by the wind, the travelers do not stop; they move forward, accepting the whims of fate.

草津宿

(Kusatsu-shuku)

Kusatsu Station

- Utagawa Hiroshige, 1833, Kusatsu, Ōmi Province (modern-day Shiga Prefecture)

The woodblock print of Kusatsu Station is also a dynamic scene. At the center of the composition, a kago—a small palanquin—is being carried by porters (kago-mochi). Inside, a traveler sits comfortably, barely visible in the shadow of the palanquin’s interior. The porters, clad in only fundoshi loincloths, lean forward in motion, quickening their pace to an almost running stride.

The background features a honjin, a distinguished lodging house characteristic of the Tōkaidō post stations, reserved for high-ranking travelers such as officials and samurai of noble status. A man is seen peering from within, perhaps checking to see if the expected guest has arrived. The roof of the building and the sign hanging above the entrance indicate that this place is meant for the upper classes, creating a striking contrast with the strenuous labor of the porters in the foreground.

Also depicted is a larger, enclosed norimono (駕籠), a more luxurious palanquin carried by four porters, also dressed only in fundoshi. Unlike the open kago, the norimono was a prestigious means of transport, reserved for wealthier travelers such as high-ranking samurai and government officials. The porters move more slowly and with greater dignity, using long support poles—similar to modern trekking poles—to balance the weight and distribute their effort evenly. This contrast between the two types of palanquins—one simple, the other lavish—encapsulates the economic disparities of the Edo period within a single, fleeting moment.

This scene carries a strong social commentary—it juxtaposes two layers of Edo society: those who travel in comfort, carried by others, and those who perform grueling labor under the scorching sun (evidenced by their minimal clothing). It is an image not only of movement but also of social hierarchy—aristocrats and wealthy travelers relied on kago-mochi for transport, while ordinary travelers had to rely on their own strength. Kusatsu was a crucial station on the route, and Hiroshige captures not just the physical space but the tempo of life in a bustling post town.

原宿

(Hara-shuku)

Hara Station

- Utagawa Hiroshige, 1833, Hara, Suruga Province (modern-day Shizuoka Prefecture)

This woodblock print depicts two women traveling in the company of a male servant as they traverse the Hara plain. They are set against the backdrop of the majestic Mount Fuji, whose peak extends beyond the top edge of the composition, emphasizing its immense height. The women, dressed in traditional attire, appear enchanted by the view, exchanging cheerful remarks, while their male companion silently carries their luggage. The entire scene exudes the serenity of the morning, with delicate hues conveying the atmosphere of the rising sun.

In this composition, Hiroshige masterfully conveys harmony between humanity and nature. The towering presence of Mount Fuji over the small travelers may symbolize the power of nature and the humility of humans in its presence. The artist uses subtle gradations of color to capture the softness of the morning light, creating a mood of contemplation through the simplicity of the composition.

金谷宿

(Kanaya-shuku)

Kanaya Station

- Utagawa Hiroshige, 1833, Kanaya, Tōtōmi Province (modern-day Shizuoka Prefecture)

The woodblock print of Kanaya Station illustrates travelers crossing the Ōi River, known for its wide bed and unpredictable currents. From a significant distance, we see samurai being carried across the river on the backs of porters or inside palanquins. Some use simple, open kago, while others are carried directly on the shoulders of porters. In the background, vast mountain ranges dominate the horizon, lending the landscape a sense of grandeur.

The absence of a bridge over the Ōi River forced travelers to rely on porters to cross, a process that was both time-consuming and expensive. Hiroshige depicts the figures as small silhouettes scattered across the scene, emphasizing their vulnerability in the face of nature’s forces. The diagonal composition—the river’s flow and the travelers’ movement—adds dynamism to the scene, enhancing the sense of motion and exertion.

The people resemble tiny ants making their way across a vast plain. The stark, almost empty landscape in the background and the mountains looming on the horizon render humans insignificant against the overwhelming power of nature. One can imagine that up close, the river crossing would be a noisy, chaotic spectacle—the shouting of porters, the calls of samurai, the snorting of horses, and the bellowing of oxen. However, Hiroshige places us at a distance, viewing from afar—as if from a bird’s-eye perspective. The travelers appear as little more than scattered points moving across the flat expanse, while the indifferent landscape envelops them in silence.

Conclusion

The Tōkaidō, one of the most important roads of the Edo period, was far more than a route connecting Edo and Kyoto. It was a vibrant artery of life, a reflection of Japanese society at the time—a space where the destinies of samurai, merchants, pilgrims, and artists intersected. In his series, Hiroshige does not merely document this road but gives it a deeper dimension—presenting the Tōkaidō as a metaphor for life’s journey, filled with struggles, brief respites, and moments of contemplation on the beauty of nature. Each station has its own rhythm, its own light, its own travelers’ moods—the series is like visual poetry, momentarily transporting us into the world of Edo Japan, a world that no longer exists.

Hiroshige does not rely on grand, dramatic scenes—his landscapes are subtle, filled with harmony between people and nature. In his rainy scenes, he captures travelers’ struggles, but instead of exaggerated drama, we see serenity and humility in the face of the elements. His winter landscapes are not theatrical—snow falls gently, enveloping the world in stillness, as if freezing time for a brief moment. Hiroshige works not only with color and composition but also with atmosphere—his Tōkaidō is a space where every step is a conscious experience of the road, and every glance toward Mount Fuji or the setting sun reminds us of humanity’s place in the cycle of nature.

Today, with much of the old Tōkaidō route buried beneath shinkansen tracks and asphalt roads, Hiroshige’s landscapes remain one of the purest records of that era. His woodblock prints are not merely historical reconstructions—they teach us something universal about travel, both literal and spiritual. Through them, we can not only see what 19th-century Japan looked like but also understand how the Japanese perceived life itself—as a continuous journey where what matters is not just reaching the destination, but also being mindful of what we pass along the way.

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"Strong Japanese Women"

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    未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

  Mike Soray

   (aka Michał Sobieraj)

未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

Mike Soray

(aka Michał Sobieraj)

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