In an old book there is a description of his stage methods. He was asked to attend a social function in the mansion of a certain nobleman, and requested to give some aragoto piece. He took down the upper part of his kimono and performed as Kagekiyo—the hero of several Nō dramas—and his actions were so spirited that he broke all the shoji, or white paper screens. The guests were anxious to know what the host would think of the entertainer’s destructive methods, but, contrary to their expectations, the daimyo was pleased and presented him with a costly gift. Danjuro is said to have made the comment after his strenuous acting that if an actor was afraid in the presence of a daimyo he could not play aragoto. The contrast between the styles of Tojuro and Danjuro was very great, but both truly reflected the tastes of their audiences. The three theatre towns had then, as they have at present, special characteristics. Kyoto was quiet and easygoing; Yedo military and intense, the centre for the samurai from the provinces who continually came and went. The inhabitants of Osaka and Kyoto, who were mild and gentle in disposition, went wild over Tojuro’s artistic acting, taking pleasure in the effeminate, sentimental heroes and heroines of the gay quarters, and they rather looked with disdain upon the exaggerated, artificial, and altogether extraordinary acting of Danjuro. Danjuro was bold, eccentric, rough, and heroic; Tojuro elegant, sensuous, and luxurious, reflecting the spirit of the Kyoto and Osaka people, who were pleased to see his plays of everyday life, and faithful depiction of human nature. Tojuro was eloquent, and sometimes his speeches were so long as to tire his audience; Danjuro was so quick-spoken that sometimes he could not be understood. The theatre materials out of which Danjuro and Tojuro cut their patterns—the real and unreal—continued to coexist after the Genroku period. The one did not swallow up the other; but both maintained their place and use,—sometimes mixed, with strange results, sometimes found without adulteration. Perhaps the most famous of Danjuro’s plays is _Kanjincho_, a popularised version of _Ataka_, a Nō drama. “Kanjincho” means a Buddhist scroll upon which are written the names of subscribers to a fund to restore or rebuild a temple. Without asking leave, Danjuro appropriated this Nō play. A member of the house of Kineya, the musicians of Kabuki, suiting the music to the plot, there was evolved the most perfect music-posture play of the Japanese theatre. Danjuro, the first, played it in 1702. The theatre was crowded, and the piece continued for 150 days. It was called Oshiai Junidan, meaning to crowd or push together. And after the lapse of more than 200 years this Kabuki masterpiece still holds audiences in a spell, and never fails to arouse the greatest enthusiasm. It was performed before the Prince of Wales on his visit to Japan in April 1922.