succeeded in their attempt, to invigorate human lives with that simple lesson of simplicity, the comparison, I think, will not seem a mere spiritual speculation. And was there ever a time like to-day when the complex is replacing the homogeneous, when we need such a lesson in all the aspects of life? What variety and richness have we earned, I ask, from making the entire sacrifice of that simplicity? I am glad to say that the No drama has fully revived from the temporary oblivion of fifty years ago, and has two or three hundred appreciators at each performance; if we treat it as a case of protest, I would say that protest is the thing we need most to-day. Whenever we think of the No plays, our thanks are first turned to Yoshimitsu, the third great lord of the Ashikaga government, the mighty propagandist of the tea-ceremonies and the No drama; and we must not forget Yoshimasa, the eighth lord who almost completed the drama as we have it to-day. It was the greatness of Hideyoshi Toyotomi, the wonderful fighter of Japan, to leave his name associated with Soyeki or Rikyu, the greatest of all tea-masters, and also with the No actors. When we remember that the simplicity and archaism of the so-called tea-ceremony grew out of the purism of the Zen monastery or priest hall of meditation, it will be clear enough that the No drama must have an equal connection with
