“Within the fortification of screens to the left you can faintly hear a guest whispering to his yūjo that if she loves him he is willing to redeem her and take her away. * * * In front, the guest would appear to be a student, as he is reciting some Chinese poems from the T�shisen. By and by his yūjo begins to wonder what he is talking about, and asks him: ‘What magical words are you uttering, and what is that ch�men (account-book) you carry with you?’ ‘Alas! what an ignorant woman you are!’ the guest retorts, ‘these are famous Chinese poems which you would do well to remember.’ * * * At the back is a guest who has been deserted by his yūjo and who, finding it impossible to remain passive, is having frequent recourse to yawning and stretching. * * * Somewhere in the room is a gentleman who has been carousing too freely, and although he is so top-heavy that he cannot stand up, he objects to lying down and going to sleep. He is apparently so beautifully boosy that when he struggles hard to arise from his couch his legs give way under him and he sinks back huddled up in a heap. Disappointed, but not discouraged, at his inability to get up, the groggy veteran begins to express his maudlin sentiments in a loud grumbling voice, venting his indignation one moment and laughing at imaginary objects the next. Shortly afterwards he will endeavour to relieve the monotony of existence by starting to sing Kiyari (firemen’s songs) in a shrill falsetto tone with all the force his lungs are capable of, but every now and then breaking down and finishing off with an inarticulate mutter or drunken gurgle.

“All of a sudden the lovely noise ceases, as his companion yūjo, fearing that his continued bawling may disturb other guests, tries to gag the singing inebriate, persuades him to lie down quietly and go to sleep, covers him over with the bed clothes, and thus extinguishes him for the balance of the night. * * * Now, one guest, who has been sound asleep under the influence of liquor, suddenly wakes up and starts off to obey the calls of nature, but in the semi-darkness he comes into contact with the wall of screens surrounding him. Then he gropes around in order to find an outlet, but failing, owing to his muddled condition, to discover his geographical position, he commences to angrily demand the reason of his supposed imprisonment and to threaten that if he be not instantly released he will smash everything in the house. No reply being forthcoming, the pot-valiant young man kicks out savagely at the screens around him, knocking them down on the top of those sleeping beauties within and rudely dispersing their pleasant dreams; and then, giving way to a paroxysm of maniacal rage, he makes a furious attack on the remaining screens, throwing them round and down in every direction, thus disclosing some very interesting sights in various parts of the room. This proves too much for the nerves of the other guests, and a general stampede ensues, the whole position being accentuated by the hysterical cries of yūjo and shouts of ‘fire,’ etc.�

From this description it is evident that ordinary houses temporarily transformed into brothels must have been interesting places to visit, especially when crowded with guests, and that many comical and amusing scenes must have been enacted within their walls. It is just because the kari-taku presented so many novel and funny features that persons were tempted to go crowding into them.

D�chū no koto oyobi tsuki-dashi no koto.
(The procession of yūjo and the first appearance of “recruits� in the Yoshiwara.)

The procession, or promenade, of yūjo has been considered as, par excellence, the most splendid spectacle and important ceremony of the Yoshiwara. Once in the earlier years of Meiji, and once again in 1887, when the cherry-blossoms were in full bloom, this wonderful procession took place, but since then no attempt has been made to revive the time-honoured custom. Even on the two occasions referred to, the affair was not carried out in strict accordance with the ancient style, but in a far simpler fashion.

The best account of this procession of yūjo ever written is given in Mr. Henry Norman’s “The Real Japan,� and it is therefore quoted here.

“The most extraordinary spectacle of the Yoshiwara takes place for a few afternoons at five o’clock three times a year, when the flowers in the long street gardens are changed. First in spring comes the pink glory of the cherry-blossoms; then in summer the purple of the iris; then in autumn the hundred colours of the chrysanthemum, the national flower of Japan. When the new flowers are planted the yūjo pay them a state visit. From each of the principal houses half a dozen of the most beautiful are chosen and arrayed in gorgeous clothes, their hair dressed monumentally, combs three feet long stuck in from side to side, and then they are mounted upon black lacquered geta or pattens a foot high. When they are ready to start a score of servants accompany them; two or three precede them to put the crowd away; one holds the hand of each yūjo upon either side, and solemnly and very slowly, a step a minute, the wonderful procession moves round the garden. Other processions issue from the houses and meet and pass, and by and by the whole main street of the Yoshiwara is packed with an open-mouthed crowd, over whose heads the faces of the processionists can be seen here and there.

“The walking upon the tall heavy geta is itself an accomplishment and girls are specially trained to it. One foot is put out a little way and planted firmly, then the other geta is lifted by the toes tightly grasping the strap which passes between the first and second toes, and swung round in front of the other and across it. The first is then lifted and placed on the other side of the second—exactly in fact like a skater doing the outside edge. The Japanese call it hachimonji ni aruku—‘figure of eight walking.’ It is difficult to give in words an adequate notion of the extraordinary effect of this procession. The costly and gorgeous clothes of the yūjo, silks of marvellous richness, and brocades blazing with scarlet and gold; the exaggerated bow of her obi tied in front (the courtesan is compelled by law to distinguish herself in this way),[40] the pyramidal coiffure, the face as white as snow, the eyelashes black, the lips vermillion and even the toe-nails stained pink; the men-servants respectfully holding the tips of her fingers on each side and giving as much heed to every step as an acolyte might give to an aged Pope, her several women servants walking solemnly behind: a footman pushing back the crowd and another removing every twig or dead leaf from her path; her slow and painful hachimonji; her stony gaze straight before her, half contemptuous and half timid; the dense and silent crowd; the religious aspect of the vicious ceremony,—all these go to make a spectacle apart from anything one has ever seen—an event outside all one’s standard of comparison—a reminiscence of phallic ceremonial—a persistence of Priapus.�

In the “Yoshiwara Taizen� (�原大全 The Complete Book of the Yoshiwara) reference is made to the effect that

“The term d�chū (�中 a journey; travelling) meant the going out of a prostitute to an age-ya, or to promenade in the Naka-no-ch�. It was used in the sense of travelling to a distant part of the country because, for instance, when a yūjo of Yedo-ch� started out to go to Ky�-machi she was supposed to be going on a journey.