Side by side were the shibai, wherein the inanimate marionettes competed with the actors of flesh and blood, all the buildings crowded together on one thoroughfare,—each theatre displaying its banners, flags, lanterns, and crests, while the sound of the drums beaten in the yagura, or drum-towers, must have made quite a stir in the peaceful Yedo of those days.
By 1661 the yakusha’s footsteps were dogged by regulations. He was not allowed to mingle freely with the people. In 1662 it was forbidden for actors to use sticks ornamented with gold or silver, and he was ordered to wear a kimono of the plainest description. If he consulted his own taste and wore patterned material that showed a gay design, he was promptly pounced upon. Under pains and penalties the yakusha was not to ride in a kago, or palanquin, or on horse, and expressly prohibited from walking about freely.
These regulations relating to the daily lives of the play-actors became a species of tyranny, and it was not surprising that they were broken heedless of the consequences. For it was found impossible to suppress a human being’s most natural desires and instincts. In consequence the same rules and regulations were made over and over again, the strictness of the observance depending on the firmness or laxity of the officials in power.
Although the inclination of the actors and playwrights was always towards a larger and freer expression of their taste in colour and design, yet they were obliged to keep to things less ornate, for in 1668 there were declarations that the theatres of Sakai-machi must not be gorgeous, but as modest as possible. Cotton and silk materials of an inferior quality were to be used for stage costumes, the best workmanship in embroidery was to be avoided, and the use of red or purple dye was entirely forbidden. Curtains of cotton crepe were granted, but those of silk could not be used. Yakusha were ordered not to meet members of the samurai class after acting, and they must not speak with traders or artisans except for a brief meeting. The actors were also forbidden to enter the shibai chaya, or mix with the audience, and as these regulations were frequently ignored, punishments were continually inflicted for infringements.
Again in 1678 there was an official announcement to the effect that it was rumoured the actors were called to the residences of samurai and merchants. If discovered, the delinquents were to be severely punished. The actors’ residences were restricted to the theatre district; furthermore, they were not to lodge in the houses of other people, or to have as inmates of their homes those who pursued other walks of life.
Regulations issued in this same year concerned finery on the stage, which was to be carefully avoided. The costumes, both of the yakusha and the marionette, were required to be fashioned of cheap silk or cotton, and greater strictness was to be observed in the shaving of the actors’ heads.
Should an actor and his patrons feel inclined to take a pleasant outing together on the Sumida river, it was regarded as a serious lapse from grace, and as for straying outside the prescribed limits the authorities found themselves busy enforcing their rules, since the irrepressible yakusha could not be kept within bounds very long at a time.
There was a regulation demanding that metal should not be used for stage swords; they were to be of wood or bamboo covered with silver powder. Another forbade actors from being smuggled into the mansions of samurai or merchants clad in female costumes, nor were they to enter the homes of private citizens under the assumption that they did not belong to the degraded fraternity.
During these long years of interference, one outstanding event came to be largely responsible for the strict supervision of the theatres, and this was the scandal involving the actor Ikushima Shingoro and Yenoshima, a lady-in-waiting at the Shogun’s Court. Their amours proved to be a social upheaval the officials could neither forget nor forgive. Long after the affair had blown over it remained a dark cloud that cast its shadow on succeeding generations of actors.
An account of this, taken from Chiyoda no Oku, or the Harem of Yedo Castle, is quoted by Ihara Seiseiin, in his History of the Japanese Stage. It tells how the unfortunate theatre-folk became victims because of Lady Yenoshima’s passion for Ikushima Shingoro.