Artist: Keisai Eisen [渓斎英泉] (Japanese, 1790–1848)
Author: Unknown
Publisher: Not indicated in this edition
Date: 1824 (Bunsei 7)
Period: Edo period (1615–1868)
Culture: Japan
Media: Woodblock printed book; ink and color on paper; two volumes, fukuro-toji binding with red thread; 225 × 158 mm each vol.
Reference: MET Object Number: 2013.676
Wikipedia: Commons link
This two-volume erotic picture book (shunpon) by Keisai Eisen presents an elegantly structured sequence of portraits and narrative episodes loosely inspired by the theme of “snow on Mount Fuji”—a poetic euphemism for sexual allure. The first volume includes 15 pages: 9 single-page portraits of women, four double-page erotic scenes, and introductory text accompanied by a misty image of Fuji. The second volume comprises one single-page and six double-page erotic illustrations, followed by a final page with embossed calligraphy framed in cloud motifs.
The covers are pale, textured paper with visible wear, bound in red-thread fukuro-toji style. The book opens with a stylized depiction of Mount Fuji labeled 白水 (Hakusui, possibly a reference to snowy purity), and continues into a sequence of ōkubi-e bust portraits of courtesans and lovers.
The cartouche inscriptions above the women’s heads in volume 1 are composed as poetic epithets, loosely translated as follows:
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東と都之中やしがらみ (Azuma to miyako no naka yashigarami) — “Entangled between the East and the capital”
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生い無と須め女 (Inochi nai to sunome onna) — “A woman without life is no woman at all”
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江戸と子げ藝々者々 (Edo to kogeigei monomono) — “Children of Edo and their refined arts”
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戻き己々哀色 (Modoriki onoono awareiro) — “Returning women, each in her sorrowful color”
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隠れ連んつ囲ま房 (Kakure tsuranzu kakoma bō) — “A hidden chamber for secluded lovers”
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浴場の露々聲色 (Yokujō no tsuyutsuyo geiro) — “Bathhouse whispers, voices soaked in dew”
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え夫者やみ破をて (Efuja yami yabure o te) — “That husband, torn apart by darkness and touch”
The final page of volume two features calligraphy in white against green, bordered in purple clouds, with three red seals including 出雲 (Izumo), 繪出 (kaishutsu, possibly “issued drawing”), and 中善 (Nakazen, possibly a pseudonym or place).
The book’s opening passage, rendered in flowing kanbun-style prose, plays on metaphors of melting snow, feminine allure, and Mt. Fuji’s iconic silhouette. The following is an excerpt from the translated preface:
“The snow on Fuji’s peak melts in the morning sun, as the maiden Sayada lies dreaming in bed. Thus begins this ‘Picture Book of Feminine Displeasure’—a tale born from Kyoto paper and Genji poetry. If the mountain is Fuji, then the most cherished part must be the jewel gate. What begins as satire becomes an ode to the beauty and desire nestled within…”
This blend of visual elegance and erotic metaphor places Enpon fuji no yuki squarely within the literary and graphic traditions of Edo-period shunga, combining courtly allusion with humorous exaggeration. The tone is both knowing and intimate, typical of Eisen’s finely observed women and richly printed palettes.
Parallel Text: Enpon fuji no yuki (vol. 1) – Opening Passage
Japanese (kanbun-style transcription):
雲情婦嫌の雪序 富士のしら雪朝日くとける婦齊田は寨て解るとの唱歌にたちとづき、これ京紙をらちて婦嫌の雪となしたるはしばしその言われあり。そもそもまずしきものは不二の山にして、好ましきものは玉門なるべし。婦磁は原より女にして、いつ初花が咲きな姫山の形は虎に似て、陰売はせくなく、とお望の不二山のごとく、中の広さは裸野に類せり。
三国一にとい味と美幕の声の高も宜なり。雀哥口ゆもて玩の不二に譚へば、炎良まへた毛際をば、三保の融原ともいわん。昔々正回の赤人は白威の終肩を見て春情発動、化田の四郎、ひうつつに成って人花を扶しその、なえぬ嫌張りつずけ、夜る昼なしに駿浜舞。雲らうわずも脱ぎ捨て、しぼり濡れた谷間をついどく。その雪解け、雨となり、また雲となる。不二に一夜の柄の塵、夢に見くさえ。ああ可き可きというも、潮の春風に吹かれ、汚れなかちによす。
English (literary translation):
“An Erotic Picture Book of Snow on Fuji – Preface”
Snow upon Mount Fuji, melting in the morning sun’s light — so lies the maiden Sayada, dreaming in her bed. Thus begins this “Picture Book of Feminine Displeasure,” composed in the style of a Genji song and printed on the fine paper of the capital. The title “Snow on Fuji” was not chosen idly.
If one seeks beauty, look first to Fuji; if one seeks delight, then surely to the jeweled gate. The woman is from the beginning woman, and her blossom first blooms upon the princess mountain, whose shape is said to resemble a tiger. The courtesan’s embrace, like Fuji glimpsed from afar, broad and generous, recalls the wild plain beneath its slopes.
Of the Three Realms, none surpasses it in flavor or renown. Like a hawk seizing prey, this pleasure Fuji is best viewed in play. Let us say its downy edges resemble the mists of Miho no Matsubara. In ancient times, the poet Akahito of the Jōwa era beheld a maiden’s pale shoulder and was overcome with spring passion. Thus, Shirō of Kaden, awakening from his dream, supported the flower of womanhood.
And so, embrace upon embrace, day and night unceasing, in Suruga’s swirling mists. Casting off robes and inhibition alike, he plunges into that moist valley. The melting snow becomes rain, then clouds again. On Mount Fuji, even a single night leaves dust on the pillow. Such is the dream seen in sleep. Ah, how many are the ways! Swept by spring’s rising wind, its trace remains in the hidden places.
