To attempt to justify the existence of Kabuki by seeking to explain it in the light of the Occidental theatre means to digress, for comparisons are idle until the whole story of the Japanese stage is made known. No doubt when Kabuki becomes more familiar to the West much of a critical nature will be written as to where the two approach or diverge. The aim of this book is to lay the essential facts of Kabuki before Occidental readers. For it is believed that the way to judge such an institution is to find out first what it signifies to those who have brought it into existence. After which may be considered the value it holds for the West. When an attempt is made to explain Kabuki in Western terms confusion begins. It becomes a much simpler matter if left to explain itself. In the Nō the actor and playwright were subservient to interpretation, and art was greater than personality; in the Doll-theatre, playwrights, minstrels, doll-handlers—all worked so enthusiastically that they forgot themselves and were absorbed in the marionette,—a truly unselfish theatre co-operation. Much of Kabuki, however, has been of an ephemeral nature. The actors improvised as they saw fit. It was their world and the playwrights were their servants. The whole art of Kabuki evolved by these players of Japan is unconscious, and should be of the greatest interest to lovers of the theatre in all lands, for the reason that the relation of a people to their theatre, the different use of dramatic materials, the development of characteristic customs and conventions reveal by way of comparison and contrast the virtues or defects of the systems that exist elsewhere. CHAPTER II KABUKI AUDIENCES An indescribable din, thoroughly characteristic of the atmosphere of shibai,—that forms part of the pleasure of theatre-going,—is composed of a hubbub of voices, the clatter of tea-cups, the twang of the samisen, the thunder of big drums, the cries of the vendors selling pots of hot tea, rice-cakes, or oranges to customers in the back seats of the gallery, and the metallic click-clack of the hyoshigi, or wooden clappers, that signal the beginning or end of the curtain. Long before the playgoers begin to arrive, heavy, scattered drum-beats echo through the vacant theatre. This is a reminder of the old days when the drummer stationed in the yagura, or drum-tower, beat his tattoo to announce the opening of shibai, and to hasten the people on their way. By the time the dekata, or ushers, are bustling about showing the people to their places, the great drum sounds with slow, regular rhythms. A flute begins to shrill, weaving an intricate maze about the deep-toned measures. Next the light, staccato beats of a Nō drum are added to the medley of sounds which, becoming faster and faster, seems to anticipate the thrilling and brilliant scenes that are about to be represented on the stage.