ABSTRACT
One fine day in 1748, under the gaze of a towering, snow-capped Mt Fuji majestic in the distance, a strange parade comes marching toward the viewer along a spectator-lined Honchô-dôri, one of the main streets leading from the castle through the bustling merchant quarters of central Edo, its brilliantly decorated pennants flying in the late-summer breeze. At the intersection of Nihonbashi-dôri, the marchers turn left in the direction of Kodenmachô and Asakusa, heart of both the artisan and the entertainment districts of the city. Save for a wisp of cloud drifting above the low mountains and the walls of Edo Castle, the sky is a brilliant midday blue, setting off the gaily colored curtains that festoon the eaves of the shops along the street, and the brilliantly bold-patterned carpets hanging on the railings of the box seats.
