SOURCE: Scott, A. C. “Plays and Playwrights.” In The Kabuki Theatre of Japan, pp. 199-235. London: George Allen and Unwin, 1955.

[In the following excerpt, Scott explains that in the early years of Kabuki's development, the play and playwright did not assume as central role as they have always done in Western theater—since dialogue was only as important as movement, gesture, music, and dance—and points out that the craft of writing for the theatre eventually developed into a profession of which there were several notable Kabuki practitioners who produced enduring works, including the hugely popular Chūshingura.]

The Kabuki play has always laid great emphasis on visual appeal and pictorial effect. In a sense all drama aims at visual appeal, but whereas in the Occident, at any rate in more orthodox playwriting, any visual effect is merely a support to the all important spoken word, the reverse is true of the Kabuki. Here the dialogue is only a part of the general stage pattern, it supplements and assists but does not supersede movement and gesture on the stage. The aim of the Kabuki playwright, as previously noted, was to draw a picture, not a Chinese character, in short to start with pictorial not literary effect. This characteristic is predominant throughout all Kabuki plays and even when more complicated psychological elements were introduced through the stage characters, and the realism of the sewamono plays became so popular, this principle still held. It was inevitable that a people to whom dancing was a very part of themselves and who had an unerring sense of design seen in no other nation, should develop their drama along such lines.

Dancing had been the foundation of all entertainments in Japan, both religious and secular, from the earliest times and when O Kuni first appeared, the basis of her new entertainment was essentially dancing. For fifty years after her debut, the chief contents of the newborn Kabuki were dance forms with short farces and other diversions interspersed. Scripts and scenarios were not used in these entertainments which were probably largely impromptu. After the suppression of the wakashu Kabuki in 1652, some attention began to be paid to the development of the play form, the idea of making a formal scenario being taken from the Nō drama. At first, it simply amounted to the actors making a plan before going on and their performance still included a good deal of improvization. As the performances became more complicated, it became increasingly difficult for the actors to memorize the whole and so stage directions were partly written down. This was the beginning of the true scenario.

The years 1664-1680 marked many developments. The maku or stage curtain was first used in this period, a factor which led to dividing plays into a series of acts. In spite of this there were still no independent playwrights; the writing of plays was done by theatre owners or the actors. It was during this same period, too, that Kawarazaki Gonnosuke, a theatre owner, prepared a dramatized version of the revenge story of the Soga brothers in a three-act series. It was the embryo of a dramatic form which was to exert a profound influence on Kabuki play construction for hundreds of years to come. Two important names connected with playwriting developments at this time were Fukui Yagozaemon of Kansai, an actor, and Miyako Dennai of Yedo, a theatre owner. The first independent playwright appeared in 1680; he was named Tominaga Heibe. Although his dates are uncertain it is known he worked mostly in Osaka. Regarded as of little importance at first, his work inspired others to follow his example and the calling of the independent playwright became recognized. The glorious period of Genroku was at hand, when there emerged two distinct influences in play writing, both of them calculated to have far reaching effects on the Kabuki stage. In Osaka, Chikamatsu Monzaemon (1653-1724) graced the theatrical scene; his was a name which was to become famous in the dramatic literature of Japan. In Yedo the great actor Ichikawa Danjuro I (1660-1704), whose pen name was Mimasuyu Hyogo, was the parallel influence. Different tendencies were seen in the two cities; in Osaka the emphasis was on courtesan plays known as keiseigoto and oiemono, dramas dealing with the struggles of daimyo families. There was a more realistic tendency in these dramas than those of Yedo, where Danjuro developed the aragoto technique, and the interest was in robust swagger and romantic symbolism and fantasy. The developments in both cities were to prove vital factors in the later construction of the drama. Geographical factors played an important part in the evolution of Kabuki plays, for between the three large theatre cities of Yedo, Kyoto and Osaka there were wide regional differences of temperament and background, and playwrights had to take into account the atmosphere of each city.

The work of different individuals finally led to the play writer becoming an accepted member of the staff of every theatre. He was known as the kyogen sakusha, and during the Horeki era (1751-63), his work became defined and regulated under a set pattern. Each theatre would have a leading kyogen sakusha with several assistants working under him, and it became the practice when a new play was being devised to share the writing of it among them.

The piecemeal writing of a play may not sound to Western ears in the best interests of literary art, but it must be remembered that the kyogen sakusha were not concerned with literary masterpieces in any case. They were practical men of the theatre, devising an entertainment for the public, a public who sat in the theatre from dawn until evening. Their job was to create good stage appeal, they were craftsmen who had to take into account all kinds of traditions, seasonable customs, stage practices and techniques and adapt their work in popular form to fit these many factors. Like other members of the theatre, they were concerned with one thing only, having a good job ready for the public when the curtain was pulled aside. They were apprenticed to the theatre at an early age and had to know it in all its practical aspects before they reached the top of the profession.

A play writers' room, the sakusha beya, was incorporated in the greenrooms of every theatre, and here a group of writers ranging between five and fifteen in number were to be found. At the head of the group was tatezukuri, chief playwright, adviser to the theatre and planner of dramas. After him came the kyakubun, equal in status but a guest writer. Next came nimaime and sanmaime, who wrote according to the plans of their chief. They were followed by the kyogen kata, who had a variety of duties to perform; they still exist in name in the theatre today and carry out many of their original tasks. The kyogen kata watched the performance in all its aspects, acted as prompter, manipulated the hyoshigi, hard wooden clappers, and assisted the actors in various ways upon the stage. Below them came the minarai, who performed different menial tasks, fetching and carrying, delivering messages and a dozen other jobs. All these people made up the staff of the sakusha beya and worked under the direct control of tatezukuri. An apprentice had to spend many years graduating through the various stages before he was allowed to write.

There was a clearly defined formula for the performance of plays and staging was decided according to the seasons of the lunar calendar; that is to say, certain types of plays were considered suitable only for certain times of the year. It went further than that, however, for within the play itself fixed rules of construction were demanded, accepted situations had to be introduced and dance forms utilized at prescribed intervals. In the first chapter, it was explained that plays were broadly divided into three classes, namely, jidaimono, shosagoto and sewamono, and it was essential that the elements of these three kinds be incorporated in a day's performance.

Jidaimono, broadly classed as historical, were subdivided into odai, jidai and oiemono. The odai were plays dealing with the Heian era (781-1185), the jidai with the period from then until the beginning of the Tokugawa regime in the seventeenth century, and the oiemono with the struggles of the daimyo families during that regime. Strictly speaking, however, these plays differed little from one another in content, and the title jidaimono may be taken as an embracing one for all three. The sewamono dealt with the domestic life of civilians and a branch of this type of play known as kizewamono dealt with thieves, gamblers and the denizens of the Yedo underworld. In speaking of play types the word mono, literally translated as ‘thing’, is often replaced by kyogen, a generic term for play or drama.

The sewamono plays had their beginnings in the Genroku period with the keiseigoto or courtesan plays of Osaka, yatsushigoto, plays dealing with the loves of unhappy young men and their sweethearts, and shinjumono, which had the double suicides of lovers as themes. In the beginning, sewamono themes were considered as only a part of the main jidaimono plays and were not regarded as separate items in the programme. The playwright Namiki Gohei (1747-1808) was a pioneer in developing the sewamono as an independent form.

The third main division shosagoto is usually translated by the clumsy term ‘posture dance’ plays. The shosagoto is primarily a dance drama, although the word dance has a more subtle meaning than in its Western application, gesture and posing being just as important as more vigorous movement. In the barest sense, shosagoto means a dance performance to the rhythm and melody of vocal and samisen music, but it is almost impossible to give any short description of it. It is a wide term which covers many complicated types that have grown out of the developments of the various musical forms of the theatre. These range from complicated dance dramas with a complete story, to short items which were introduced into a programme for mere technical effect, and which may seem obscure without some knowledge of the theme and background of the play in which they were used. The developments of these forms have already been described in some detail in the chapter on dancing, suffice to say that when speaking of the old kyogen sakusha being compelled to use shosagoto as an element in play writing, it meant the use of dance techniques.

When co-operating in a play, the kyogen sakusha were allotted certain parts according to their rank. In Yedo, it was a rule in jidaimono plays that the first act be divided into two parts, the first part being written by kyogen kata and the second by sanmaime; the second act would again be divided into two, using different technical constructions, the first part being written by nimaime and the second by sanmaime. The third act would be a shosagoto piece written by tatezukuri or the chief writer, while the last act again would be written by nimaime and sanmaime. These customs varied in Yedo, Osaka and Kyoto, but in all three cities the same basic principles were observed in play writing. There were six theatrical performances during a year, January (New Year), March (Spring), May, July (Bon Festival), September (Autumn) and November (kaomise, or theatrical new year), these were all according to the lunar calendar. The continuation of each of these performances was in accordance to public response. It was customary to produce new plays in January, the New Year and in November, the kaomise or opening of the new theatrical year; both these were important dramatic occasions. In the Yedo New Year performance it was mandatory to produce a play with a theme based on the story of the Soga brothers. Soga no sekai, literally the Soga world, was a feature of the old Kabuki which had so many repercussions in play forms, that it is as well to describe it in further detail.

The story of the Soga brothers is one which has remained firmly rooted in the imaginations of the Japanese people, and was incorporated as a permanent feature of the Kabuki stage from the early years of the eighteenth century. In 1177, the father of Soga Juro Sukenari and Soga Goro Tokimune, aged five and three, was assassinated for political reasons by Kudo Saemon Suketsune. Fearing they might one day take revenge, Suketsune enlisted the support of the Shogun Yoritomo to have the children killed. Yoritomo had himself been responsible for the death of their grandfather. Other counsel prevailed, and the lives of the two children were saved by the intervention of various influential people. Suketsune's worst fears were realized for in 1193 the two brothers killed him, attacking him at night in the Shogun's hunting camp. Juro was killed during the raid and Goro was captured and executed at the insistence of Suketsune's son, in spite of the fact that the Shogun wished to pardon him on account of his youth and filial piety.

The period in which the Soga brothers lived, and the preceding years, provided subject matter for many of the old literary epics and poetical writings which were drawn upon by the Nō drama and, in its turn, the Kabuki, for subject matter for their plots. Such an inspiration was the Heike Monogatari, one of the masterpieces of Japanese literature, whose influence on the drama has been boundless. The Heike Monogatari was intended for recitation to a biwa, a stringed instrument belonging to the lute family, which came to Japan from China. There were several different schools of biwa playing, so that there came to be many different versions of this classic, each with its own variations and in some cases additions. The authorship and dates of the Heike Monogatari have been the subject of a great deal of discussion among Japanese scholars; it is believed to have originally been composed in three volumes and afterwards increased to many more. It tells of the great struggle for the mastery of Japan by the Taira, or Heike clan, with the Genji, or Minamoto clan; of the fall of the Heike from its position of supremacy under Taira no Kiyomori to almost complete destruction by the Genji. The first part of the Monogatari relates the prosperity of the Heike with Taira no Kiyomori as the central figure, next it tells of the wanderings of the Heike and finally their destruction, the chief figure in this case being the redoubtable Kuro Hangwan Yoshitsune of the Genji. The two central figures in the accounts of the Heike were Kiyomori and his son Shigemori, the first a man of original ideas but headstrong and turbulent, the latter wise, considerate and less violent. The principal figures of the Genji were, first, the veteran Yorimasu, whose revolt and gallant death are famed in Japanese history; he was followed by Kiso Yoshinake, a brilliant leader, who eventually fell a victim to the jealousy of Yoritomo; and finally Yoshitsune, who was responsible for the destruction of the Heike. Yoshitsune, youthful, handsome and skilled as a warrior, was an ideal type whose legend has been enshrined in Japanese literature and on the stage. Some later versions of the Monogatari have an extra book in which the story is told how Yoshitsune, finally estranged from his brother Yoritomo, went to the shrine of Hakone Gongen to offer his treasured sword in entreating the Deity to bring about a reconciliation. He did not succeed, and after his death it goes on to relate how the Soga brothers Goro and Juro received a sword from an official of the shrine in order to avenge the death of their father. It was the weapon that Yoshitsune had deposited there and by its virtues they accomplished their aim.

Although the Heike Monogatari is a chronicle of battle, it is more concerned with the motives beneath, the tragedy, pathos and humour of situations than the clash of arms. Kabuki plays are impregnated with the spirit of it and its characters constantly figure on the stage in name and allusion.

The two Soga brothers early became heroes of the Kabuki; the presentation of their story was an unbroken rule in the New Year performance of the Yedo theatre until the Meiji era, and the Soga legend was employed as the central theme around which the whole of the main play developed. In one Soga drama several plays would often be contained, each independent of the other, but individually related to some aspect of the Soga story. This practice took many forms which of course departed a long way from the original legend. It was a custom, for instance, after January to change a part of the main programme and as the Soga revenge was a jidaimono theme, a sewamono was added to make a suitable contrast, but even this had to bear some outward connection with the Soga story and so the device arose whereby such and such a character would be named as being in reality Soga no Goro or Soga no Juro. The last scene of the first act of the Soga play was always Soga no Taimen, the interview with the Soga brothers, a shosagoto which is still staged today, generally in the New Year, although this is not an unbroken rule. Most of the old Soga themes have disappeared from the modern theatre, but there are still plays which contain seemingly meaningless references to the Soga brothers by name substitution. All kinds of styles and techniques were used to enhance the fantasy and appeal of the main Soga theme; the brothers became a theatrical symbol far removed in complexity from the original starting point.

When plays were produced for staging during other seasons, certain facts had to be considered and strict conventions observed in the same way. The March performance, for example, was regarded as light and spectacular; this was springtime, the season of cherry blossoms, and the theatres were filled with young women, the maids and attendants of the great houses, who were released to visit their homes at this time of the year. Plays with swashbuckling young heroes like Sukeroku, were therefore considered suitable for such an occasion. In May, revenge stories were in vogue, whilst September was a suitable time for gidayu plays, i.e. those of doll theatre origin. In July, the chief actors rested and the younger men were given a chance. This was the time for ghost plays, or kaidan mono, and in the play writers' room nimaime and sanmaime were allowed to give full rein to their talents at these performances. November was the kaomise, literally face showing, performance. It was the opening of the new theatrical year and the actors with their leader all appeared on the stage and thanked the audience for past and continued patronage, announced details of new programmes, and, in particular, new dances were inserted between the acts of the main play as extra attractions. It was an important occasion in the theatrical world and the memory of it is perpetuated, for November is regarded as the height of the Kabuki season and is still referred to as kaomise.

In addition to the conventions attaching to the seasonal performances, there was a certain amount of ritual in the daily procedure of the theatre. As long as a playhouse was open to the public, it was the custom to stage a dance called the waki kyogen, at the beginning of the day, before even the audience had commenced to arrive. It was performed by secondary actors and musicians and served as a practice performance in addition to its ceremonial significance. The contents varied according to the different theatres, each of which had its own style, and this custom remained in force until the Meiji era. Another ceremonial dance was the Sambaso, described in the chapter on dancing. It was always staged at the opening ceremony of a theatre, the New Year, or a kaomise performance in Yedo.

Besides all the ceremony and custom which the play writer had to consider there was always the actor himself. Dramas had to be arranged to allow actors to display their particular talents, and even foibles, to the best advantage. The actor on the stage was more important than the play itself, which was written to meet his requirements.

The old system of writing plays piecemeal does much to explain why a scene can be extracted from a major drama and performed as a complete item in itself, a practice which is the rule rather than the exception today. Modern conditions and modern audiences make it neither practical nor possible to stage the lengthy plays of the leisurely days of old. Those presented, therefore, are the favourite and most celebrated scenes from the originals, in fact those which provide the fullest scope for the virtuoso qualities of the actor, and contain the acting climaxes which have appealed most to the imaginations of the audience.

The long line of kyogen sakusha produced many distinguished names, men who have left behind them the great plays of the Kabuki repertoire, and who besides had a lasting influence on various technical aspects of the drama. A list of the more important names follows later. The advent of the Meiji era saw the disappearance of the old style kyogen sakusha, whose duties henceforward were to be concerned only with stage procedure and the clerical work of the theatre. His going was heralded in the person of Kawatake Mokuami (1816-93), a remarkable figure whose achievements bridged an old world and a new. Born and trained in the Yedo theatre world, he worked in the kyogen sakusha tradition, while in his last years he was engaged in writing special plays for Danjuro IX, designed to satisfy the demands of a new age and outlook. The Meiji Restoration brought a type of audience to the theatre which gave impetus to a new trend in the drama. Around the tenth year of the era plays began to appear which were inspired by the Nō drama, whose technique and plots they imitated. These appealed to the new intellectual audiences who had previously known little about the Kabuki. This was the period of creation of so many of the Nō style plays popular in the Kabuki repertoire today. …

Sukeroku, the full title of which is Sukeroku Yukari No Yedo Zakura, was first staged by Ichikawa Danjuro II in 1713 and revised about the middle of the eighteenth century, from which time the present version dates. Hanakawado no Sukeroku, in reality Soga no Goro, is in search of a certain sword belonging to the Genji family. He frequents the gay quarters in his search, and here dwells the beautiful and witty courtesan, Agemaki of the Miuraya, lover of Sukeroku. Ikyu, an evil old samurai, pesters Agemaki with his unwelcome attentions and tries to discredit Sukeroku in her eyes. Sukeroku comes to the gay quarters intent on picking quarrels with all and sundry to make them draw their swords. He finally clashes with Ikyu, whose blade is the one for which Sukeroku is seeking. Sukeroku is the ideal, handsome, swaggering young townsman of old Yedo, admired by all. The attraction in this play is the bravado and posing, his witty dialogue and that of his beautiful admirer Agemaki; it is colourfully staged and costumed and has a celebrated opening scene, where Sukeroku runs on to the hanamichi with a paper umbrella held low over his head; he opens it and proceeds to pose with many a bold gesture, a good example of the deba mentioned in the chapter on technique. A procession of courtesans down the hanamichi, resplendent in all their finery, is another attraction in this play which appeals to the eye. Something of the spirit of the true Edokku, or native of Tokyo, the former Yedo, has been enshrined in the stage personality of Sukeroku, and this perhaps gives it that strong appeal to audiences, who never tire of seeing an actor like Ichikawa Ebizo in the title role.

Shibaraku is a piece of pure aragoto, a spectacle which relies solely on fantastic and exaggerated costume and make-up, bold vigorous gestures and full throated dialogue. The plot, such as it is, is merely an excuse for a piece of glorious theatrical rampage. It concerns Kamakura Kagemasa Gongoro, a heroic samurai, who foils the attempt of Kiyohara no Takehira, a wicked usurper, in his intention to have the loyal Lady Katsura no Mae and the Lord Kamo no Jiro Yoshitsuna taken off to execution. The scene takes place before the Hachiman Shrine in Kamakura, where Kagemasa appears before the assembled company and roars Shibaraku, ‘wait a moment’, at the top of his voice, frees the captives and then proceeds to lay about him with a lusty will, beheading several of his opponents with a single sweep of his huge blade. The whole thing centres round the bizarre posturings of Kagemasa, a mighty figure resplendent in voluminous costume who towers above all around him. This play was first staged by Ichikawa Danjuro I, but was much different from the version seen today, which is only a one-act spectacle that has been culled from a longer and more complicated drama that Danjuro II revised. …

Apart from the various dance pieces and adaptations from the Nō, the Kabuki repertoire may be broadly divided in two, the plays which were originally of doll theatre origin and those which were written specifically for the Kabuki stage; of the two the former are by far the most numerous, but they are rarely played in full today, the most famous scenes being staged as one- or two-act plays. These scenes long ago captured the imaginations of theatregoers and have remained deep rooted in their affections.

The most celebrated of all plays of doll theatre origin is Chushingura, or to give it its full title, Kanadehon Chushingura, the story of the forty-seven loyal retainers. It is a dramatized version of a historical incident known as the Ako vendetta, which occurred in the first years of the eighteenth century. Lord Asano of Ako became enraged at insults he received from a high official supposed to instruct him in points of court etiquette, and struck him with his sword while on duty in the Shogun's palace. This was a grievous offence and Asano was ordered to commit suicide by seppuku. He carried out his sentence and his estates were confiscated in accordance with custom, thus signifying the extermination of his house. His retainers were left without a master and a means of livelihood. Some forty-seven of them pledged themselves to avenge their master's wrongs; after two years of hardship and suffering, during which time they never lost sight of their goal, they raided the residence of their late master's enemy and killed him after a fierce struggle with retainers who outnumbered them. The forty-seven men then awaited the consequences of their deed; they knew they were criminals in the eyes of the law. After considering the case for some time, the authorities served a death sentence, although public opinion was on the side of the forty-seven retainers. As a concession to honour, they were allowed to meet death by committing seppuku as their master had done. They died together on February 4, 1703, their remains being buried in the Sengakuji Temple where their tombstones may be seen today.

The play Chushingura used this story as a basis for the plot; it was written by Takeda Izumo in collaboration with Namiki Senryu and Miyoshi Shoraku and was first produced at the Takemoto doll theatre in Osaka in 1748. The Ako incident was of such public interest that more than one hundred plays were essayed on the subject at various times, but the work of Takeda Izumo easily proved the most outstanding. In 1706 a drama based on the subject was written by the great Chikamatsu Monzaemon. Called Gohan Taiheki, it did not survive, although it served a useful purpose in suggesting preliminary treatment for some of the staging of Takeda Izumo's masterpiece. Between the staging of Chikamatsu's play in 1706 and that of Takeda Izumo in 1748, many other plays dealing with the same theme came and went. It was really the art of a celebrated actor Sawamura Sojuro, renowned in Osaka and Kyoto, which inspired Takeda Izumo to set about writing a play which would do justice to the actor's talents, and he chose the Chushingura theme.

The play is a long one having eleven acts altogether. If presented in full today it has to be spread over a daytime and evening performance at the theatre; even so some of the scenes must be cut. Single acts of the play form popular items in Kabuki programmes, the seventh act, Yuranosuke at his revels, and act eight, the bridal journey, are staged very frequently.

There is a common saying in the theatre in Japan that if a manager finds business bad he has only to stage Chushingura to draw a full house, so great is the popularity of this tried favourite. The reason for the high position it holds is first and foremost the scope that it gives to the actor's skill; there is no other play in which are combined all the favourite forms and devices of the Kabuki drama as in this one. In Chushingura the playgoer can see all that the Kabuki stage has to offer in the way of technique; the roles of this play mark the highest achievements for the art of the actor, once he plays the leading roles of Chushingura he has attained that maturity in accomplishment which the Japanese theatregoer expects.

The play, in actual fact, pays no attention to accuracy in the original theme, more than two-thirds of it being additions and inventions introduced to make a good stage story and not a historical account. Names used are all fictitious ones and characters are introduced who certainly were not concerned with the real Ako incident. The basic theme of the play is quite simple and different from the actual event. A man's wife is insulted by his superior. He retaliates, but is punished with death because of his position. His retainers set out to avenge the wrongs of the master. Around this are woven a number of extraneous events and happenings in the lives of various people, which all provide extra stage entertainment according to the traditions of the Kabuki theatre. A brief outline of the stage story is as follows.

In accordance with the laws in force, which forbade references on the stage to contemporary events and personages, the period in which the events of the play Chushingura are supposed to take place is that of the Asikaga Shogunate, some three hundred and fifty years before the time of the Ako incident. The play opens with the scene before a new shrine erected at Kamakura, in commemoration of the defeat in battle of the Shogun's enemy Yoshida Nitta. The younger brother of the Shogun is present with a gathering of noblemen to take part in the ceremony, among them are Lords Enya Hangan and Wakasanosuke, charged with receiving guests. The helmet of the vanquished enemy, Nitta, is to be presented to the shrine as a token, but it is in a chest with many others gathered from the battlefield and no one can identify it, except the Lady Kaoyo, wife of Hangan, and formerly a maid of honour to the Emperor, who had presented the helmet to Nitta. She is called to pick it out from among the others. After the ceremony, when the gathering has broken up, Moronao, the Governor of Kamakura, slips a love letter into the sleeve of Lady Kaoyo and when she rejects it makes open love to her, saying that her husband's fate depends on how she receives his advances. Wakasanosuke returns to interrupt this scene and angrily orders the lady away; Moronao in a rage tells him she goes by his permission not Wakasanosuke's, and that she has been secretly conveying her husband's desires to be instructed in the proper discharge of court duties. Wakasanosuke restrains his anger as the official procession returns; the scene closes with the glaring Wakasanosuke and the arrogant Moronao in a battle of looks with Enya, who has remained behind from the procession, sensing trouble.

The next act shows the house of Wakasanosuke in the evening. Two servants are discussing the affair of their master with Moronao when Honzo, chief retainer to Wakasanosuke, sends them about their business. Honzo's wife Tonase enters with their beautiful daughter Konami. Rikiya, the son of Yuranosuke, is announced with a message from Lord Enya about a court reception on the next day; Konami and Rikiya are betrothed. Honzo leaves, telling his wife to offer the young man hospitality after delivering his message. Tonase connives at it so that her shy daughter receives Rikiya; he delivers his message in formal style and draws back, asking her to report it to Lord Wakasanosuke, who himself interrupts the meeting of the young lovers and thanks Rikiya. The young man then goes off with Konami; Wakasanosuke is left alone until Honzo comes in and advises his master to retire early. Wakasanosuke tells Honzo privately that he and Lord Enya have been given the duty of receiving guests during the week devoted to the inauguration of the new shrine and that Moronao had been appointed their adviser on ceremonial matters, but he had become so arrogant and insulting that the situation was unbearable. Wakasanosuke says that he intends to return Moronao's insults in public tomorrow. Honzo is inwardly horrified at his master's rashness but pretends to agree. He lops off a branch from a small pine tree and exhorts his master to cut down Moronao in the same fashion. Wakasanosuke retires then, pleased at Honzo's approval, but the retainer rides off secretly into the night, intent on saving his lord from the consequences of his folly.

The next scene shows the main entrance of a palace where the guests are to be entertained. A palanquin arrives accompanied by the chief retainer Bannai and others. Moronao alights and is engaged in conversation with the flattering Bannai, when a messenger appears to say that Honzo, retainer of Wakasanosuke, wishes to see Moronao immediately. Bannai protests at this intrusion, but Moronao says he will interview him, and there is a comic passage where the retainer instructs the attendants how to prepare for a fight. Honzo arrives with several servants bearing gifts; he states that his master Wakasanosuke desires advice on the duties attached to the post he holds and requests Moronao to accept the following gifts. Bannai reads out the list of rolls of silk and pieces of gold and the astonished Moronao, after a private consultation with his retainer, decides to accept them. Moronao invites Honzo to the festivities that day, the latter, glad that his plan had succeeded enters the mansion with the others. Shortly afterwards, Lord Enya arrives in his palanquin accompanied by his retainer Kampei; they enter the gates on being told that Lord Wakasanosuke has already gone in. Next appears the beautiful maiden O Karu, with servants of the Enya family; she asks for Kampei at the gate. He comes out to her and she presents a letter asking him to give it to his master, Enya Hangan, as it is from his wife. While he is gone, Bannai appears and tries to make love to O Karu, but is forestalled by Kampei who returns and disappears with his sweetheart.

After this the scene shows the interior of the mansion; Moronao and Bannai are seen meeting with Wakasanosuke, whom Moronao greets cordially, and then throws down both his swords at his feet, asking pardon for his rudeness of the other day. Wakasanosuke is dumbfounded by this change of front and unable to vent his anger, to the delight of the hidden Honzo, is finally escorted out by Moronao's men on the plea of illness. Soon after Wakasanosuke's departure, Lord Enya arrives before Moronao, who scolds him for being late. Enya hands over the letter from his wife, brought to him by O Karu through Kampei. Moronao reads it; it is a poem which hints that, as the lady concerned is already a wife, she cannot accept his suit. Annoyed by this snub, Moronao begins to taunt Enya Hangan, who tries to contain his rising anger, but the words of his superior become more and more insulting; finally, unable to control himself any longer, Enya strikes at Moronao with his sword, wounding him in the forehead. Honzo comes out of hiding to restrain his master; guards rush in on hearing the commotion and Enya is seized and carried off. The stage revolves to show a back entrance to the mansion; the uproar can be heard within and Kampei is trying to enter, anxious about his master. The attendants refuse him permission and he is told that Enya has been confined to his mansion to await sentence for his crime. Kampei is in great distress when O Karu appears; he pushes her away crying that, as he has failed his lord in time of need, there is nothing for him to do but die. O Karu calms him with an invitation to go to the home of her parents in the country and await the turn of events. Bannai comes with guards and orders the arrest of Kampei, who cuts them down and is about to dispatch Bannai when O Karu restrains him. Bannai quickly disappears and the two lovers hasten off into the country.

The scene now changes to a room in the mansion of Lord Enya; his wife, the Lady Kaoyo, is arranging cherry blossoms brought to her by Rikiya, son of Yuranosuke. Yuranosuke is the chief retainer of Lord Enya Hangan, and at the time of the crisis is away in the provinces. Two other retainers, Hara and Ono Kudayu, are there and eventually start quarrelling, Ono saying that if Hara had bribed Moronao as Honzo did, their master might never have been in such a plight. Lady Kaoyo interrupts to say that she is really the cause of her husband's misfortune. At this moment two officers of the Shogun, Ishido Umanajo and Yakishiji Jirozayemon, arrive to pronounce sentence on Lord Enya Hangan. Kaoyo retires and Enya comes in. The officials read out the sentence, it is to the effect that Enya is ordered to commit seppuku and his estates to be confiscated. The accused man shows no signs of emotion; on being reproved for the informality of his dress, he draws back his upper kimono and reveals himself wearing the pure white garment used when performing seppuku. This scene is generally omitted today and the procedure changed somewhat. The curtain is drawn to reveal an empty room in the mansion of Enya. Retainers appear, the two messengers from the Shogun come down the hanamichi and seat themselves at the right of the stage. Lord Enya Hangan comes slowly through the sliding doors at the rear and the two officials from the Shogun read out his sentence. Enya Hangan disrobes, the special matting for the occasion is brought in and he kneels upon it. A dirk on a tray is brought to him by Rikiya on entering the room. Enya Hangan takes up the blade and calls out for his chief retainer Yuranosuke. Another retainer goes to the hanamichi and calls, there is no reply and Enya Hangan stabs himself in the left side. At this moment Yuranosuke enters by the hanamichi; he rushes to his dying master, while the other retainers of the household enter the room from behind. There is a whispered dialogue between the dying man and his faithful chief retainer, who finally pulls the dirk out of the body when his master has expired. He steps back, covers the blade with a purple cloth and places it in his sleeve. The other retainers sit upright, the Shogun's messengers leave and a palanquin is brought in and the corpse covered up and placed inside. The Lady Kaoyo comes on followed by her maids in mourning. Last respects are paid to the body, Yuranosuke is called over to receive a small ceremonial tray on which are the tresses of Lady Kaoyo, and these are placed in the palanquin with her husband's body, a symbol of the renunciation of her worldly status. The funeral procession files off down the hanamichi leaving Yuranosuke alone with the retainers. There is a relief to the tension here by a slightly humorous scene, in which one retainer, Ono Kudayu, and his son Sadakuro, withdraw from the discussions of plans to avenge their lord and depart. The stage revolves to show the entrance to Enya Hangan's mansion at dawn. Yuranosuke and the other retainers are gathered outside, the house has been evacuated, and their leader shows the dirk used by his master, and calls upon them all to work together for the death of Moronao with this same blade. They signify their assent and go, leaving Yuranosuke glancing sadly back at the mansion before he too follows them.

After the emotional strain of the preceding scenes, lighter entertainment is provided in the form of a graceful michiyuki, a dance piece featuring the young lovers Kampei and O Karu. The cherry blossoms are out and the pair are in the country on their way to O Karu's home. There is a colourful scene in which a troupe of hanayoten appear and try to seize Kampei in the fashion customary in dance plays, the whole thing being a pattern of lively movement, a decorative interlude to the more intense moments of the play.

The stage revolves to show a wild and desolate countryside by night, Kampei is standing under a pine tree sheltering from the rain. He wears a straw cape, has unkempt hair and carries a gun. He has become a hunter in his exile. A traveller appears with a lantern and Kempei asks for a light for the matchlock of his gun which has been extinguished by the rain. The traveller turns out to be Senzaki Yagoro, also a former retainer of Lord Enya Hangan. They discuss the fate of their master. Kampei expresses shame for his failure to come to his lord's help, but says that he has heard Yuranosuke is plotting to avenge their master's death; he begs Senzaki Yagoro's help in getting his name included among the conspirators, in order that he may expiate his sins to his master. The other man does not reveal the plot directly to Kampei and pretends to know nothing about it. He says that as they are all now ronin, and poor men, they are trying to collect money from those grateful for their late master's favours, in order to erect a monument to his memory. Kampei takes the hint and says that his position is a pitiful one; he has no means but the old farmer Yoichibei, father of O Karu, served Lord Enya and is anxious to see the good name of Kampei, his son-in-law, restored, and that if he is told of what is required he will probably sell some of his land and give the money for the cause. Senzaki Yagoro says that he will pass on Kampei's message to Yuranosuke and see what can be done; the two men then say farewell. The rain is coming down more heavily and a storm raging when along the road comes the tottering figure of the old farmer Yoichibei, carrying a paper lantern. He stops and out of the thickets steps a wild-looking character, Sadakuro. He is the selfsame son of Ono Kudayu, the retainer who refused to join the pact with the others to avenge their master's death. Since that time Sadukoro has turned highwayman. Seeing a bulging purse of money thrust in the old man's kimono he brutally kills him with his sword and seizes the purse, kicking the body to one side. At this moment a wild boar comes dashing towards the spot; it is wounded and Sadakuro steps back from its onrush as a shot rings out; he drops dead immediately. Kampei appears groping through the dark for the boar he thinks he has killed. He stumbles over the body of Sadakuro and starts back in astonishment, he puts out his hand again for any sign of life and feels the purse, stolen from Yoichibei. It is too dark to see the body and overjoyed with his luck at finding money which will enable him to join in Yuranosuke's scheme, Kampei makes off into the night.

The house of Yoichibei, the farmer, is next revealed to the audience. His wife, O Kaya, and her daughter, O Karu, are seen arguing with Ichimonjiya, the master of a tea-house and his assistant, who have arrived to claim O Karu in service, producing as proof a bond of agreement signed by Yoichibei himself. Ichimonjya wants to know where Yoichibei is, complaining that an arrangement was made that half the sum should be paid on the signing of the contract and the other half when O Karu was handed over. O Kaya is at a loss what to say, but exclaims she cannot do anything until her husband returns. The tea-house master grows impatient, he wishes to hand the money over then and there and take the girl. While they are arguing, Kampei appears, gun on shoulder, and the tea house master, guessing he is O Karu's husband, produces his bond of contract and tries to take the girl off at once. O Kaya restrains him and explains to Kampei that her husband, knowing his son-in-law's great need of money to retrieve his honour, had sold his daughter to service in a tea-house for a period, to get the cash required. Kampei replies that he is grateful for his father-in-law's help in this matter, but he himself has now had a piece of great fortune and they had better wait for the return of Yoichibei before doing anything more in the matter. The tea-house master, fearing that perhaps they doubt his word, tells them that the money he paid Yoichibei was contained in a purse made of the same striped material as the kimono the farmer was wearing, as they will see when he returns. Kampei starts on hearing these words, stealthily drawing the purse from his pocket he sees it is made of the same material that the tea-house master has described. O Karu meanwhile comes over to Kampei and asks what she must do in the argument with the tea-house master; he finally replies that, as there seems to be no other help for it, she had better go. He also adds that he had seen Yoichibei that morning and it is uncertain when he would return. O Kaya scolds Kampei for not having told them this before while O Karu is carried off in the palanquin of the tea-house master. Soon after her going, two hunters arrive carrying the body of Yoichibei on a shutter; the old woman is overcome with grief. She urges Kampei to seek out the murderers; becoming suspicious of his silence she draws near him and seizes the purse which she had noticed him looking at secretly a little time ago. O Kaya reviles and curses Kampei, and finally strikes, him furiously in her anger, but Kampai remains silent. In the middle of it all two samurai arrive at the door, they have come from Yuranosuke. They tell Kampei that his subscription towards a monument for their dead lord had been received that morning, but Yuranosuke could not accept it because of Kampei's failure to do his duty to his master in the past. Kampei is stunned by the news; O Kaya comes forward and tells the visitors that he is a thief and a murderer. On hearing her story they reproach him bitterly, until the miserable Kampei, overcome with despair, mortally stabs himself. The dying man then explains how he shot his victim in error; that at the time he could only think of the occurrence as an act of heaven to allow him to get money for his late master's cause. He begs the two men to spare him a little sympathy. One of the samurai turns over the body of the dead farmer and notices that it has been gashed with a sword, not shot, the true situation is revealed as they remember the corpse of Sadakuro they passed in a wood on their way there. O Kaya clings to the dying Kampei and begs his forgiveness. Kampei feels his name is cleared and he can go to the next world in peace; his joy is even greater when the two samurai inform him that they will now write his name on the list of the faithful, who are sworn to avenge Lord Enya Hangan. Kampei's last words are that his spirit will linger on earth until their task is completed, and he administers himself the coup de grace by piercing his throat with the dagger. The two samurai leave amidst O Kaya's lamentations, taking the fateful purse as a sign that a faithful companion has joined their league.

Act seven, which follows the last scene, is a favourite one. It shows the stylish Ichiriki tea-house in Kyoto. Here Yuranosuke is seen living a life of gaiety and pleasure, drinking and playing light-hearted games with the waitresses. In the midst of his revels, three of his former companions, Jutaro, Yagoro and Kitahachi arrive, accompanied by Heiyemon, a soldier formerly in the employ of Lord Enya. Heiyemon goes off to the rear quarters, the other three enter the house to find their master in a drunken stupor. They can get no sense out of him and are about to strike him down in their disgust at his betraying the cause when Heiyemon enters; he begs them to stay their hands. He pleads with Yuranosuke to allow him, a common soldier, to join the great conspiracy, but Yuranosuke pokes fun at him and falls asleep again. The four men leave until such time as the effects of the wine shall have worn off their leader.

It is night time now and Yuranosuke's son hurriedly appears; seeing his father asleep he looks fearfully round and rouses him by clashing his sword. Yuranosuke wakes, still feigning drunkenness; humming a tipsy stave he goes to the wicket gate to which Rikiya has retired and here furtively receives a letter. This is a famous scene enacted on the hanamichi and contains a depth of dramatic feeling. Yuranosuke takes the letter and Rikiya disappears. The letter is from Lady Kaoyo, containing information regarding the movements of their enemy, Moronao; Yuranosuke is about to read it eagerly when a visitor arrives. It is Kudayu, the former retainer of Lord Enya, who refused to participate in the plot of the others to revenge their lord's death. Yuranosuke pretends to welcome him, the other asks if all this gay life is not mere pretence to cover up a plot against Moronao. Yuranosuke flatly denies it and acts as though the past were best forgotten in wine; he calls on Kudayu to drink a cup with him. Kudayu agrees and takes up a morsel of octopus from a dish to offer it to Yuranosuke. The latter receives it gratefully and is about to eat when Kudayu reminds him that it is the eve of the anniversary of their lord's death, it should be observed by abstaining from food. Yuranosuke quickly replies that it is Lord Enya whose stupidity brought them to their present state, and he has good reason to hate his memory now. With that he eats the fish, to the astonishment of the wily Kudayu. Yuranosuke then staggers from the room, saying he is going to order a fowl to be cooked while they amuse themselves with singing and dancing. He goes off; Kudayu remains behind and Bannai, the chief retainer of Moronao, appears from hiding. They confer and agree that Yuranosuke really seems to be not worth troubling about any longer; even the blade of his sword is rusted and they order Kudayu's palanquin to be brought. When it arrives, Kudayu, unseen by Bannai, slips out at the other side, places a heavy stone in the palanquin and hides under the veranda of the house. The discovery of the stone by Bannai marks one of the humorous incidents of the play; he trots along beside the palanquin chatting and suddenly lifting the curtain discovers the stone. Kudayu calls out from his hiding place; he tells him that he is anxious to find out the contents of the letter which Yuranosuke has received, he is a little uneasy about it, he therefore sends Bannai on his way with the palanquin. Meanwhile O Karu, now a beautiful courtesan, appears at the balcony of a room overlooking the main house, taking the evening air. Yuranosuke re-enters; surprised to find Kudayu gone he commences to read his letter by the light of a hanging lantern above the veranda. O Karu looks down from above, and thinking with a woman's curiosity that it is a love letter, draws out her small toilet mirror; by tilting it above her shoulder she is able to see the reflection of the letter's contents. The missive, like all women's letters of the time, is written on a long scroll of paper which, as Yuranosuke reads, gradually hangs down over the edge of the veranda where the hidden Kudayu begins to read it, tearing off a portion. At this juncture O Karu's kanzashi, ornamental hairpin, drops to the ground with a clatter, startling Yuranosuke, who instinctively looks up and hides the letter behind his back. He notices the torn end and calls out to the confused O Karu to come down, bringing a small ladder to the balcony of her room and assisting her to descend. He asks if she saw anything and hesitatingly she replies that he looked much pleased with a letter. On noticing his vexation, O Karu questions him; Yuranosuke answers that he loves her so much he intends to marry her and redeem her from service. Commanding her to stay where she is and on no account to leave, he goes to see the proprietor of the house and make arrangements. O Karu, pleased at the thought of regaining freedom, is suddenly confronted by Heiyemon, who is in reality her brother. She recognizes him and is at first ashamed, but when he tells her that he has heard all about it from their mother she is happy and whispers to him the events that have just happened. Heiyemon realizing that Yuranosuke is only acting a part and that he will now kill O Karu to preserve his secret, draws his sword and strikes at his sister. She springs aside and asks what she has done, saying that if she has committed wrong it is her husband Kampei and her father who should punish her, not Heiyemon. Filled with pity, Heiyemon flings away his sword and tells her the news about Kampei and her father; she is lost in her grief and clings to her brother asking for particulars. Heiyemon explains that Yuranosuke must kill her to save his precious secret, that it was wrong of her to read the letter and that is why she is going to be redeemed, not through infatuation. It is better therefore for her to be killed by her own brother, and this will serve a double purpose, it will also allow him, a man of low birth, to join the others in their conspiracy; he begs O Karu to give him her life. O Karu, in her sorrow, says she has now nothing to live for, she will therefore kill herself and afterwards if her body is of use to her brother, he can do what he choose with it. In the middle of this climax Yuranosuke comes upon the scene; he says that he has heard their conversation and now he is cleared of all doubts regarding them both. O Karu shall be spared to mourn her dead, Heiyemon shall accompany him on their great mission. She replies she would rather join her husband in the next world than mourn for him, but Yuranosuke replies though her husband Kampei has joined the revenge party, he has not yet been able to kill a single enemy and has nothing to report to his master in the other world. O Karu must help him therefore. Yuranosuke, holding O Karu firmly by the hand, in which is clutched the blade with which she was about to kill herself, forces it between the boards of the veranda, piercing the skulking Kudayu below. He orders Heiyemon to drag him out, reviles Kudayu for his treachery and after a long speech tells Heiyemon to cut the traitor down. At this juncture, Jutaro, Yagoro and Kitahachi, the three samurai who have been listening behind the partitions in secret, appear and apologise to Yuranosuke, who takes no notice, but orders Heiyemon carry the drunken guest (Kudayu) to the river and cool him off.

Act eight is another michiyuki, and shows Konami, who appears in the second act as the lover of Rikiya, Yuranosuke's son, on her way with her mother Tonase, to the home of her sweetheart. Honzo, her father and retainer of Wakasanosuke, is living in Kamakura in prosperity, but Yuranosuke and his family since the death of Lord Enya have retired to Yamashina, near Kyoto, where they live in comparative obscurity. Although there is a love pact between them, Konami feels deserted by Rikiya as their betrothal has never been confirmed by the traditional exchange of gifts, and she begins to pine, until her mother at last decides to take her to give in marriage to Rikiya. The scene, with dance and joruri, describes the journey of the two women and expresses the sadness of Konami, especially when they see the bridal train of a daimyo's daughter among the pines at Miho; Konami envies it, she herself might have travelled in this fashion had the position been a different one.

Act nine shows the two women at their journey's end arrived at the house of Yuranosuke in Yamashima. They are ushered in and welcomed by O Ishi, Yuranosuke's wife. Tonase pleads with O Ishi to accept Konami in marriage for her son, explaining that as her husband could not come he has sent her as deputy and produces his two swords as proof. O Ishi replies that her husband is away from home but that in any case everything has changed since former days. Konami's father is now high in his lord's service, while Yuranosuke is a poor ronin; the match would therefore be an ill suited one and their children as ill balanced together as a lantern and a temple bell. Tonase does not at first understand the other woman's attitude until O Ishi points out that Honzo bettered the fortunes of himself and his master by offering bribes to Moronao; Yuranosuke could not therefore receive the daughter of such a man as his son's wife. Tonase is offended, but says that she will pass over the insult for her daughter's sake; in the eyes of the world she is the legitimate wife for Rikiya. O Ishi will have none of it and goes out as Konami bursts into tears. The mother tries to comfort her, saying that there are plenty of other good families who will accept her, but Konami refuses crying out that she will never marry any other than Rikiya. Tonase then takes up a sword and is about to kill herself, crying that in that case she cannot return to Honzo as she has failed in the duties of a mother and wife. Konami restrains her, saying that it is she who should die, not her mother, as alive she is such a trouble to her parents. Tonase decides to kill her daughter first and then herself, but is stopped in the act by the wistful notes of a flute outside played by a komusō, a wandering Buddhist priest with a large wickerwork head dress concealing his face. Each time that Tonase lifts her sword a voice calls out ‘Desist!’, each time that she lowers it the plaintive music is heard once more. Tonase is puzzled until O Ishi enters and says it is a sign to stay her hand, Rikiya may now marry Konami. She informs the overjoyed Tonase that in view of her resolute character and the chastity of Konami she will agree to the match, but on one condition. Tonase puts down her sword in relief and asks what the condition is. She starts back speechless when O Ishi replies that she wants the head of Tonase's husband Honzo. When asked why, O Ishi answers that it was Honzo who prevented Lord Enya from dispatching the hated Moronao, who escaped at the expense of their noble lord. If Tonase wants Honzo's daughter to marry the son of Yuranosuke she must produce the head of Honzo. Tonase is at a loss, when the Buddhist minstrel, stepping in from outside, takes off his head dress to reveal himself as Honzo. Astonished, they ask why he is here; he replies that he has heard all that has been said, he will tell them in due course what secret mission brought him here. Turning to O Ishi he says that he foresaw events might turn out in this fashion and so came here disguised to find, as expected, his head is desired as a wedding gift. That is the wish of a real samurai, but Yuranosuke is now a drunken good-for-nothing; as a frog's offspring can only become a frog, Rikiya must be no better than his father; it is he, Honzo, therefore, who will have the say and he will refuse Rikiya as a son-in-law. O Ishi in anger takes down a spear from the wall and attacks him with it, he knocks it aside, throws her on the floor and pins her down with his knee. As the other two women look on in fear and trembling, Rikiya rushes in and picking up the spear thrusts it in Honzo who falls groaning to the floor. Yuranosuke enters; speaking to the fallen man he says that he must be happy to die by the hand of his son-in-law as he most desired. Honzo, with failing speech, explains that he has never ceased to regret his past conduct; as atonement he travelled here unknown to his family, in this disguise and lurking about the neighbourhood he had discovered Yuranosuke's real intentions. He felt that if he died by Yuranosuke's hand, the wedding of their son and daughter would be able to take place and he would have expiated his sins. Yuranosuke lays bare his innermost thoughts to the dying man; pushing aside the sliding screen he shows two tombstones made from the snow in the garden. This, he explains, will be their end after they have avenged the death of their master, they will melt away like snow. To make Konami a widow so soon after her marriage would be too cruel, it was this which had prompted family indifference to the match. The dying Honzo extols Yuranosuke for his fidelity, saying that his daughter is more fortunate than anyone to be allowed to marry into such a family. To the husband of his daughter he would like to make a wedding gift before he dies; taking a folded paper from inside his kimono he presents it to Rikiya, who receives it with a bow and opens it. To the astonishment of father and son, it is a fully detailed plan of Moronao's mansion; Yuranosuke does not know how to thank him, it was the one thing lacking for the completion of their plans. They excitedly discuss it; Honzo in a weak voice cautions them against over-optimism, Moronao, he explains, has all his sliding doors secured with fastenings and the rain shutters are bolted and barred. Yuranosuke demonstrates by means of a bamboo tree bent beneath the snow in the garden how they can overcome their difficulties. The bamboo resumes its natural position as soon as the weight of snow is taken off; so by using a number of bamboo bows applied between the lintels and sills of the mansion, and by cutting the strings of the bows and using the force with which they straighten themselves, the shutters of the windows will come off their grooves and fall down. Honzo is now rapidly sinking, his sobbing daughter and wife at his side. Yuranosuke puts on the disguise of the wandering priest, saying that he is going to Sakai to await the gathering of the other conspirators; in gratitude to Honzo this one night of love is allowed to the young people. He departs playing a melancholy tune on his pipe which echoes away as the curtain is drawn over the tragic scene in the house.

The next act, the tenth, is generally omitted today being, as it is, less connected with the main plot of the play than any of the others. It concerns Gihei, a merchant of Sakai, who is responsible for shipping off the arms required by the forty-seven loyal retainers in secret. The merchant's loyalty is so great that he is even prepared to divorce his wife if needs be and dismisses all his servants in order that not a soul should find out what he is about. Yuranosuke rewards him for his services by reuniting wife and husband, promising to use the name of Gihei's house as a password when they make their night raid on the mansion of Moronao.

The final act shows the forty-seven ronin gathering at night in the snow before Moronao's mansion, intent on achieving the object for which they have suffered and worked so long. All the arrangements are made, the raiders are divided into two parties as the stage revolves to show the interior of the mansion and the attacking party fighting their way through, grappling hand to hand with the retainers of Moronao. The scene is one which gives great scope for the sword fighting technique and acrobatics of the Kabuki stage. Moronao is finally run to earth skulking in an outhouse, dragged out and dispatched with the blade that was used by Lord Enya Hangan to commit seppuku.

This outlines the main stage story of Chushingura. In cold print it means little, on the stage it makes powerful drama. Its strength lies in the way the playwright has taken a theme, embroidered, developed it, and preserved a connection between the changing scenes to maintain unity in a plot that, at every stage of its unfolding, gives prior consideration to the varied aspects of the actor's forms and technique. Without knowing something about the forms peculiar to the Kabuki drama, it is a difficult play for the foreigner to follow; he tends to be distracted by literary content, which in this case appears tortuous in its ethical reasoning if it is not realized that the dramatist has deliberately exaggerated and expanded the social code of his times, a code undoubtedly severe in its application, to make the best possible material for his actors. It is their entries and exits which matter before all else.

SOME NOTABLE KABUKI PLAYWRIGHTS

CHIKAMATSU MONZAEMON (1653-1724)

The name of Chikamatsu is famous in Japanese literature and familiar of the West if only for the fact that he is often referred to as the Japanese Shakespeare. It is one of those dubious terms which are so often used to designate comparisons between East and West, and why it should be necessary to create a Japanese Shakespeare any more than it is necessary to have an English Chikamatsu is a debatable point.

Many of the details of Chikamatsu's life are obscure, though it is asserted by some authorities that he was a Buddhist acolyte in his youth and studied the scriptures, whilst later on he is said to have served a court nobleman who often composed plays for Uji Kaga, a celebrated joruri tayu. Whatever the facts concerning his early life it is certain that in his twenties he commenced to write Kabuki plays for the actor Sakata Tojuro, and continued to do so for a period of twenty-seven years. The number of plays he wrote during this period have been variously attributed by different sources as being between twenty-five and fifty. The majority of them were composed for Tojuro's company and written to suit the leading actors concerned. None of these works remain in their original form today and none were comparable to his later work for the ningyo shibai or doll theatre. At the age of fifty-one he became tired of the limitations placed upon him by the Kabuki actors.

Tojuro was now an old man and his successors were not of his stature, so that Chikamatsu abandoned his Kabuki playwriting and went to Osaka. There he devoted himself to writing dramas for the Takemoto za, a doll theatre founded by a master joruri tayu, or chanter, Takemoto Gidayu, and here he continued until his death in 1724. By freeing himself from the slavery of the Kyoto actors he was able to give free rein to the genius of his imagination in the doll theatre and so lay the foundations for what paradoxically enough was to be a new Kabuki theatre. He composed more than a hundred plays for the Takemoto za with both historical and domestic backgrounds. His work was characterized by a depth of understanding of the psychology of his fellows and human nature in general. His rhetorical construction was excellent, embodying a cunning use of classical and colloquial styles and poetic narrative. Chikamatsu's work had an untold influence on Kabuki play writing and adaptations of many of his dramas are still acted today.