After Genroku, the most flourishing period for Kabuki and its yakusha was Horeki, an era covering seventy years, during which three shoguns held sway.
Historically, Horeki endured from 1751 to 1764, the name being given to the reign of an emperor. It came to be applied to the years preceding and following it, a period in which the dominating influence was that of Yoshimune, the third Shogun of the Tokugawa regime.
Owing to the extravagance of the shogunate, the country was on the verge of bankruptcy. Immorality was on the increase, and efforts were made to keep the restless people under control. Luxury in all shapes and forms was frowned upon by the authorities. The literary centre of the country was transferred from Kyoto to Yedo, and the greatest activity was to be found in the theatres.
If Yedo Kabuki had lost its lustre when the first Ichikawa Danjuro and Nakamura Hichisaburo passed away, its prestige was fully restored by the second Ichikawa Danjuro and the first Sawamura Sojuro. In the latter part of this period the fourth Danjuro was a great theatre power.
Ichikawa Danjuro, the second, was born in 1688 and died in 1758.
When a child of 10 years of age he appeared on the stage, but owing to his father’s tragic death, was left without a stage sponsor. If his father had lived, he would have been trained and advanced in all possible ways. The actors of the time evidently neglected him. He was given insignificant rôles, and was otherwise badly treated. His mother, who had retired to live in a quiet spot outside Yedo, declared that she would never go to the theatre to see him act until he was earning a salary of 1000 ryo, which meant that he must become a successful actor. The sudden taking off of his father, and the cold attitude of the theatre folk, stimulated the young actor to hard work. Accordingly, he went to the Narita temple, and there prayed that he should become a more successful actor than his father. The God of Fire that had answered his father’s prayer must have listened, it would almost seem, to his foster-child’s petition, for while the first Danjuro’s salary per year was 800 ryo, the second received 1270. After this it became customary to refer to a highly salaried actor as a “thousand-ryo yakusha”.
It was Ikushima Shingoro, of Court-scandal fame, who shielded and protected the second Danjuro, when he was struggling to advance.
He proved a worthy successor to his father, and his place in the annals of Kabuki is that of an original, creative actor, who not only re-established his father’s traditions, but carried them on most successfully.
His visit to Osaka is memorable. He had received an invitation from Sadoshima Chogoro to play at his theatre, but Danjuro demanded an enormous salary for those days, something quite out of the ordinary in the way of remuneration. And Sadoshima Chogoro, thinking that Danjuro would never ask such a sum unless he had something startling to offer, did not hesitate to comply with the extraordinary request.
When Danjuro made his first appearance in Osaka he was not well received, as the rivalry between the Osaka and Yedo actors was keen even in those far-off days. It has survived until the present, a continual state of tension, or feeling, always existing between the two prominent stages of the country.
Something of this adverse undercurrent was displayed soon after he had begun to act, for a man in the audience threw a mat at him to put him to confusion, repeating his words, expecting that this would cause the Yedo actor to become tangled up in his lines. With the utmost composure and dignity Danjuro bowed low, apologising for the interruption, and then, to the great surprise of the audience, repeated a long speech backward. This greatly pleased the people, and Danjuro eventually captivated Osaka playgoers. Even the disturbing factor, the man who threw the mat, thought better of his behaviour, for he afterwards called at Danjuro’s inn and apologised, and the generous actor entertained him with sake.
While playing in Osaka, a courier all the way from Yedo brought him sad news—the death of his adopted son. He had bestowed the name of Danjuro, the third, upon this young actor. As he had no son of his own, it was necessary to adopt another stage heir, and his choice fell on the second Matsumoto Koshiro, who thus became Ichikawa Danjuro, the fourth.
The second Danjuro lived a long stage life, and died in his seventies. Like his father, he was small of stature, and his specialty was aragoto, or rough, imaginative acting. He was also good in plays demanding the real in acting, for he loved to represent an otokodate, or chivalrous commoner, and was popular as a lover and a fighter. Quick to feel the appeal of the marionettes in the Doll-theatre, he was one of the first actors to play in a doll-drama. His chief success in this direction was in Chikamatsu’s Kokusenya Kassen, or The Battle of Kokusenya.
His art, however, was too unreal to suit the times. His whole tendency in acting was anti-real. To mimic the natural or represent the real did not enter his mind. Tojuro’s principle, the use of the real and natural, took hold and flourished in Yedo, and the audiences were quite carried away. Danjuro remained untouched by the popular acclaim of the real. The taste of the new generation was changed; they were tired of his father’s methods; they wanted the real, yet Danjuro, true to the artistic instinct within him, held steadfast to his own principles.
He not only improved his father’s plays greatly, but collaborated in the composition of many new pieces to which he did not sign his name. Like his father, he was given to poetry, and was the best pupil of his poetry teacher. His diary, Oyino Tanoshimi, or Pleasures of Old Age, is a model of the diary composition of the Tokugawa age. He displayed much originality in the designing of costumes, and was an artist when it came to making up. Filial towards his mother, he was full of love and respect for his wife, and was so moral in those immoral days that he was regarded as a sage.
His attitude towards the lower classes of society was generous and magnanimous. When receiving visitors, even to the humblest menials of the theatre, he treated them as honoured guests, wearing hakama, or the silk skirt, rather than customary attire, as he wished to improve the manners of the theatre folk. When invited to the residences of the great or wealthy he was never fawning. He was, however, very extravagant, and thought an actor should be as magnificent as possible.
Sawamura Sojuro acted on the Yedo stage with Danjuro, the second, and is credited with greater versatility than the second Ichikawa. Born the son of a samurai of rank in Kyoto, he was dismissed from his father’s roof on account of dissipation. At first he served in a subordinate capacity in the house of Sawamura Chojuro. Afterwards he undertook the duties of a clerk in the theatre, but at last requested to be made a follower of the Sawamura family. For some reason or other Sawamura refused to bestow his name upon this theatre upstart, there was a quarrel, and the would-be actor went off to seek another stage patron.
But as he could find no actor with sufficient faith in him to lend support, he was obliged to play in the unimportant theatres of the provinces. He was, therefore, unable to obtain the rank that would distinguish him as an actor of ability, and had to be content with the stage leavings, serving in the orchestra or playing small rôles.
A reconciliation with his former master was at last effected; he began to play big rôles and was immediately successful. Bad luck, however, pursued him, for recognition of his ability was delayed. The Osaka stage authorities, doubtless for reasons of their own, were not willing to grant him the rank to which he was entitled. Sawamura Chogoro at last advised him to try his fortune in Yedo.
On his first stage experience in the Shogun’s capital he acted a minor rôle at the Morita-za, and was not long in making a quick advance. Within five years he ranked second to Danjuro, and after an absence of twenty-six years returned to Osaka with all his Yedo Kabuki prestige behind him, and received a warmer welcome than when, as a greenhorn, he had attempted to obtain stage rank in vain.
One of Sojuro’s most famous rôles was as Yuranosuke, the leader of the Forty-seven Ronin. Sojuro liked to act ronin, for he was a free-lance himself, and he was seen in several pieces that had ronin as heroes. These plays were suppressed by the authorities in order to prevent the loyal retainers of the feudal lords from becoming dissatisfied. One of Sojuro’s ronin plays was based on the real story of the famous Forty-seven, whose master was forced to commit harakiri. They waited a good opportunity, and revenged themselves upon the enemy who had caused their lord’s death, and then all took their own lives. The samurai’s loyalty to his lord was not merely a popular stage theme, but in real life this laying down of life for a cause was characteristic of the people.
The Doll-theatre dramatist, Takeda Izumo, wrote a masterpiece based on this story, and the ningyo-tsukai, or doll-handler, managed the Yuranosuke doll in imitation of the gestures and style of Sojuro.
As he had been brought up the son of a samurai, he knew the Nō stage, and in all pieces influenced by the classic drama he was at home. In contrast to Danjuro he spoke in the language of everyday life. Danjuro delivered his lines as much as possible removed from the speech of ordinary mortals and their affairs. Sojuro did not care for the elaborate make-up that was so thoroughly characteristic of the first two Ichikawas and the members of their family who were to come after. Sojuro greatly depreciated Danjuro’s impossibilities. For instance, Danjuro lifted up a house with both hands as a symbol of strength, which brought forth criticism from Sojuro, whose faith in the real was so great that he never ventured to stray on the unknown highways and byways of the unreal.
There is a description of a stage costume he wore, one that has served as a model which is still faithfully preserved; it was of white satin and bore large designs of crows and storks. With this he wore a purple head-covering. Such was the taste and elegance of this Horeki age. Although much of it has vanished, yet traces still cling to modern Kabuki—something to marvel at, especially when it is considered that all this accumulation of theatre treasure-trove is as unknown to London, Paris, and New York to-day as it was during Sojuro’s triumphant career upon the Yedo stage.
So nearly equal were the second Ichikawa Danjuro and the first Sawamura Sojuro that there was great difficulty in deciding which was foremost. Danjuro was pure Yedo; therefore, no matter how nearly mated they were, he always held a slightly higher position than Sojuro. In rank they were equal, and close competitors in winning the favour of playgoers, and yet off the stage it is good to know they were warm friends. Sojuro was most accomplished. He composed short poems, was an adept in the tea ceremony, was familiar with the Nō stage, and wrote plays.
With these two stage celebrities, there were at this time Otani Hirotsugi, a genius in shosagoto, or the music-posture pieces of Kabuki, and there was Bando Hikosaburo, a fine actor, whose name has been inherited by an actor of the modern Tokyo stage. In addition, there was a capable actor of the Ichikawa school called Ichikawa Danzo, some years senior to the second Danjuro, who occupied a special position. And there was the eighth Ichimura Uzaemon, an actor as well as the proprietor of the Ichimura-za. The fifth, sixth, and seventh Uzaemons died young, one after another, and were more concerned with the management of their theatre than with stage appearances. But the eighth Ichimura Uzaemon distinguished himself in both capacities.
The fourth Ichikawa Danjuro, who held the centre of the Yedo stage in the latter part of Horeki, was by no means one of the outstanding figures of his family, and yet he could hardly be called a failure. He carried on the traditions without adding to them, leaving his son, the fifth, to add fresh lustre to the Ichikawa fame. The fourth was regarded as the illegitimate son of the second Danjuro, and his mother was the daughter of a theatre tea-house keeper, but she had been adopted into the family of a relative of the Ichikawa house.
Danjuro the fourth’s career was full of vicissitudes, and towards the end of his life he cut off his hair to signify retirement from the world, and kept religiously aloof from the theatre. When Danjuro, the second, died, the fourth was but twenty years of age, and it took a long time for the public to appreciate him. He was thought unworthy of the great stage name, and it was considered that he had not inherited the family genius. His talent matured slowly, however, and he finally came to be looked upon as the head actor of Yedo Kabuki. He was entirely different from his supposed father, the second Danjuro, for he had a fine, large physique, while the second Danjuro was small; the fourth had an oval, long face, the countenance of the second being round; the temperament of the second Danjuro was placid, that of the fourth was nervous. His wife was the daughter of the second Danjuro, by adoption. For second wife, he took the daughter of the famous onnagata, Iwai Hanshiro.
Rising on the stage, said the fourth Danjuro, was like ascending a ladder. It must be accomplished by degrees. It was very dangerous to ascend three steps at a time. The most interesting period in an actor’s career was when he was one or two steps from the top of the ladder, when he would have the greatest number of admirers. But in his own case he said that after he had reached the top there was nothing to do but descend.
For seventy years—during the whole of Horeki—there were three representative actors on the stages of Kyoto and Osaka. They were Anekawa Shinshiro, Nakamura Juzo, and Nakayama Shinkuro.
The first of these stars, Anekawa Shinshiro, was born in Osaka, appearing when a child at the Arashi-za. His favourite rôles were otokodate. He knew the taste of his public. The otokodate spirit was rife among the populace, and a new feeling for their rights and privileges was uppermost among the people.
Shinshiro lived long enough, however, to outgrow his popularity, for in his later years he was criticised as monotonous, his acting considered antiquated, and he failed to thrill his audience with novelties—the same cry for the new that is common to all the stages of the world at all times. There was another reason why Shinshiro’s popularity began to wane, for the lack of originality within Kabuki was beginning to be felt, and the reason interest in him declined was due largely to the poverty of plays and the general condition of the country.
Nakamura Juzo began to rise as Shinshiro declined. Juzo had the advantage of being ten years younger than Shinshiro, and was well-born, since he was the son of a samurai who had turned ronin. He lived in Osaka, and as his younger brother became an onnagata, he was also influenced to enter the profession, performing during his earlier career in provincial theatres, especially in Ise, and later in Yedo. His specialty was to represent samurai, and he was excellent as a stage fighter. No doubt his samurai antecedents had given him his taste in this direction. As samurai of noble mien and aristocratic bearing he was at his best. Yet the criticism of the time records that he was a dry and uninteresting actor, and failed to choose the bright-hued kimono bearing striking designs, that expressed the player’s taste, delighted the people, and inspired the print artists.
Many other good actors there were when the above three stars were shining. There was Sakiyama Koshiro, of the Osaka stage, who was active for fifty-five years, dying at 70. He was a fine dancer, especially in pieces adapted from the Nō. He adopted the son of a ronin to succeed him, and his line stopped, and was then renewed again, but eventually died away.
And there was Arashi Sanyemon, the third, the real son of the second Arashi, who had been a Genroku star. He was not only an actor but a theatre manager as well, and excelled in wagoto, or love-making. He was also noted for his dancing, and played in pieces that had been handed down by his two predecessors.
Sadoshima Chogoro, who had invited the second Danjuro to play in his theatre in Osaka, and gave him the high salary that he demanded, was something of an exception in the theatre world of the three stages, for he never secured fame as an actor. He had, however, much to do with the establishment of shosagoto, or the music-drama of Kabuki, on a higher level.
This Sadoshima Chogoro was the son of Dempachi, a dokegata, or comedian, and a dancer of great skill who was prominent just before Genroku. Chogoro was fortunate in having such an experienced stage father, and he was soon apprenticed to dancing. The chroniclers of Kabuki tell how the father taught the boy to dance on the goban, or small table used for playing go, the national chess game. The child was often summoned by persons of high degree to take part in entertainments, and once a prince ordered an artist to make a model of him dancing on the goban.
He never seriously competed for a place among the actors, but long remained Kabuki’s most famous dancing teacher. When he reached old age he shaved his head and retired from the world, taking up his abode in front of Kennin-ji, a Buddhist temple of Kyoto. Sadoshima Chogoro left one of Kabuki’s literary treasures, the Sadoshima Nikki, or Journal of Sadoshima, in which he disclosed the secrets of shosagoto.
He criticised the actors of his time as having gone astray from the true path of dramatic art, and reflected in his writing the change that had already set in—the beginning of the decline of Kabuki, for the brilliancy of the Genroku period and the progress of Horeki were not repeated in the years that followed.