How a common robber may become so picturesque that all his faults are forgiven is to be seen in the rôle of Ishikawa Goemon. He had a Chinese father and a Japanese mother, and in punishment for his highway robberies he was finally boiled in oil. Goemon took up his quarters in the second story of the great red gate of Nanzen-ji, a Kyoto temple, and made his depredations by night. In a huge black velvet costume, a loose outer garment of gold brocade, and the conventional wig of a villain, hair that stands on end like a chestnut bur, Goemon emerges from his place of concealment to the gallery above the entrance gate and surveys the scene, smoking his pipe peacefully. Then the man searching for him appears out of the nether region of the stage, catches the reflection of the robber’s face on the surface of the water in a bronze temple-urn, and exclaims that so long as there is sand on the seashore there will be robbers in the world. Bad characters transformed into heroes—these rôles appealed to Kabuki audiences. Such was Gonta, a vagabond, a braggart, and a bully, and yet he proves to have a heart of gold. He was ready to bluff a samurai out of his money, swagger boldly, yet shows tenderness for his child, and does not hesitate to sacrifice both wife and offspring when he responds to the clarion call of loyalty. An uncompromising villain is Kosai, the octogenarian keeper of a house of ill-repute, a revelation of selfishness and indifference to the suffering and anguish caused by his slave traffic. A red tam-o’-shanter worn by ancients in Japan covers his head, beneath which is the aged, seared, hardened face. His kimono is of large brown and yellow checks, over which is thrown an upper garment of dark green, and he leans on a tall red-lacquered staff,—a harsh and fantastic figure. His is a personality so deeply sunk in crime that even those actors who specialise in katakiyaku, or villain’s rôles, scarcely ever act such a despicable character. It seems a thankless task to play such a monster, and yet the very strength of his wickedness is sufficient to stir up lethargic citizens who allow such persons as Kosai to flourish like green bay-trees. He meets his just deserts, but hanging seems too good for him.