flock in crowds to the theatre. The farmers and country-folk hurry
over their breakfast, and the women and children, who have got up in
the middle of the night to paint and adorn themselves, come from all
the points of the compass to throng the gallery, which is hung with
curtains as bright as the rainbow in the departing clouds. The place
soon becomes so crowded that the heads of the spectators are like the
scales on a dragon's back. When the play begins, if the subject be
tragic the spectators are so affected that they weep till they have to
wring their sleeves dry. If the piece be comic they laugh till their
chins are out of joint. The tricks and stratagems of the drama baffle
description, and the actors are as graceful as the flight of the
swallow. The triumph of persecuted virtue and the punishment of
wickedness invariably crown the story. When a favourite actor makes
his appearance, his entry is hailed with cheers. Fun and diversion are
the order of the day, and rich and poor alike forget the cares which
they have left behind them at home; and yet it is not all idle
amusement, for there is a moral taught, and a practical sermon
preached in every play.

The subjects of the pieces are chiefly historical, feigned names being
substituted for those of the real heroes. Indeed, it is in the popular
tragedies that we must seek for an account of many of the events of
the last two hundred and fifty years; for only one very bald
history[37] of those times has been published, of which but a limited
number of copies were struck off from copper plates, and its
circulation was strictly forbidden by the Shogun's Government. The
stories are rendered with great minuteness and detail, so much so,
that it sometimes takes a series of representations to act out one
piece in its entirety. The Japanese are far in advance of the Chinese
in their scenery and properties, and their pieces are sometimes