the Western stage has not; but, as you can create the portion called Kakoi or enclosure for the temporary purpose of a tea-gathering by the device of screens, so you can build the No stage at any time in your Japanese house, three or four rooms being combined when the most obedient screens slip away. And it is your poetical imagination–thank Heaven, imagination is everything for this No–to perfectly fill in the utter lack of stage scenery and furniture; though there are many occasions, to be sure, when you might be doubtful of your power of imagination as to imagine the deep valley of Arashiyama of cherry-tree fame with a few paper-made cherry-blossom twigs, the big bell-tower with the paper-made bell hung from a shaking wooden frame, and, too extraordinary still, to fancy the ship, water, oars, of course, from a bamboo pole. I dare say, however, it will delight minds tired from the burden of the spectacular show in the West; indeed, the time may be already at hand, or at any rate quite near, when the Western stage will heed the lesson of Japanese simplicity, particularly of this No drama, whose archaism might give a divine hint how to sift the confusion and to rhyme beauty and life with emphasis. I believe you will be moved, as I have been moved, and again will be on future occasions, now to smile and then to cry with the actors wearing the self-same mask of painted wood–(you know that No
