Yedo, the new capital of the usurping Tokugawas, now became the Mecca of genius, rivalling the ancient metropolis Kyoto, for the great Shoguns encouraged art in all forms, not disdaining to enroll themselves as pupils to the masters in painting and lacquer. The greatest ruler became one of the greatest artists, even assuming the art title of Sendai Shogun. In this age the height of perfection was reached in metal work, both chased and cast. “The sword is the soul of the Samurai,” says the old Japanese motto, therefore its decoration and adornment was a sacred service to which genius delighted to dedicate itself. In Japan the greatest artists were sometimes carvers and painters and workers in metals in one, and suggest comparison with the European masters of two centuries earlier. Did not Botticelli take his name from the goldsmith for whom he worked, and Leonardo da Vinci began his art life by “twisting metal screens for the tombs of the Medici”? Later we see him playing before his patron, Francesco, in Milan, upon that weird silver harp he had himself constructed, till at last, perfected in art, he projected upon canvas the Mona Lisa, that “realization of strange thoughts and fantastic reveries and exquisite passions.” Also in Japan, as in Europe, the genius of the nation was consecrated to the dead. More than half of Michelangelo’s life was devoted to the decoration of tombs, and the shrines of the Shoguns are the greatest art monuments in Japan. Preoccupation with graves perhaps enabled the Japanese to face death so readily, even embracing it upon the slightest pretext. Genroku was the acme of the age of chivalry. Its tales of deadly duels and fierce vendettas are the delight of the nation. The history of the Forty-seven Ronin equals any mediæval tale of bloodthirsty vengeance and feudal devotion. This Japanese vendetta of the seventeenth century is still re-enacted upon the stage, and remains the most popular drama of the day, and the actor designers of Torii ever delighted in it as a subject for illustration. A brief outline of the story may be of interest and serve to recall its charming interpretation by Mitford. The cause of this famous drama of vendetta was the avarice of Kotsuki-no-Suke, a courtier of the Shogun at Yedo who might have served as prototype for “Pooh Bah,” in Gilbert’s clever burlesque. This pompous official was detailed to receive at his castle and instruct in court etiquette two provincial noblemen, to whom had been assigned the onerous task of entertaining the Mikado’s envoy from Kyoto. In return for this tutelage they duly sent many gifts to Kotsuki-no-Suke, but not costly enough to gratify the rapacity of the Gilbertian minister, who day by day became more insufferably arrogant, not having been “sufficiently insulted.”