supposed proficiency in his art by the successive hereditary names he takes. All stage-names, hereditary or other, must, previously to their assumption, be approved by the elders of the actors’ guild.
Where acting is a hereditary profession and every first class actor’s name is backed by stage tradition, there are well-marked gradations in the profession, through which every artiste must pass unless he is fortunate enough to be born in the theatrical aristocracy. The members of this aristocracy are called nadai, that is, those who appear on the play-boards over the entrance to their theatre. Their leaders, the great nadai, number only five in Tokyo, including Danjuro and Kikugoro. There is the middle class, in which we find some of the ablest players, because that is the highest grade to which an actor without family antecedents can rise except in special cases or unless he is adopted into an aristocratic family. In the lowest class are the supernumeraries, who cannot, like their superiors, play at two or more theatres on the same day. The actors’ position in their profession is now determined not only by their salaries, but also by their contributions to the municipal rates, which are divided into eight grades, ranging from twenty sen to five yen per month.
On the front roof of a theatre rested a square cage, the sides of which were wrapped round with a curtain adorned with the proprietor’s crest. Here a drum was beaten every morning of a run to invite spectators, in imitation of the sounding of drums on castle towers to summon retainers. This cage has disappeared from modern theatres. The front entrance of the theatre is several yards wide; and over the doorway is a row of large framed boards depicting the principal scenes of the plays on the stage. As we enter the auditorium by either of the two doorways connecting it with the front entrance, we come upon a large square flooring partitioned into little compartments, nearly a yard square, by boards about a foot high. These com-
