The subjects of the No are all taken from old legends of the country; a shrine at Miwo, by the sea-shore, marks the spot where the suit of feathers was found, and the miraculously forged sword is supposed to be in the armoury of the Emperor to this day.  The beauty of the poetry—­and it is very beautiful—­is marred by the want of scenery and by the grotesque dresses and make-up.  In the Suit of Feathers, for instance, the fairy wears a hideous mask and a wig of scarlet elf locks:  the suit of feathers itself is left entirely to the imagination; and the heavenly dance is a series of whirls, stamps, and jumps, accompanied by unearthly yells and shrieks; while the vanishing into thin air is represented by pirouettes something like the motion of a dancing dervish.  The intoning of the recitative is unnatural and unintelligible, so much so that not even a highly educated Japanese could understand what is going on unless he were previously acquainted with the piece.  This, however, is supposing that which is not, for the No are as familiarly known as the masterpieces of our own dramatists.

The classical severity of the No is relieved by the introduction between the pieces of light farces called Kiyogen.  The whole entertainment having a religious intention, the Kiyogen stand to the No in the same relation as the small shrines to the main temple; they, too, are played for the propitiation of the gods, and for the softening of men’s hearts.  The farces are acted without wigs or masks; the dialogue is in the common spoken language, and there being no musical accompaniment it is quite easy to follow.  The plots of the two farces which were played before the Duke of Edinburgh are as follows:—­

In the Ink Smearing the hero is a man from a distant part of the country, who, having a petition to prefer, comes to the capital, where he is detained for a long while.  His suit being at last successful, he communicates the joyful news to his servant, Tarokaja (the conventional name of the Leporello of these farces).  The two congratulate one another.  To while away his idle hours during his sojourn at the capital the master has entered into a flirtation with a certain young lady:  master and servant now hold a consultation as to whether the former should not go and take leave of her.  Tarokaja is of opinion that as she is of a very jealous nature, his master ought to go.  Accordingly the two set out to visit her, the servant leading the way.  Arrived at her house, the gentleman goes straight in without the knowledge of the lady, who, coming out and meeting Tarokaja, asks after his master.  He replies that his master is inside the house.  She refuses to believe him, and complains that, for some time past, his visits have been few and far between.  Why should he come now?  Surely Tarokaja is hoaxing her.  The servant protests that he is telling the truth, and that his master really has entered the house.  She, only half persuaded, goes in, and finds that my lord is indeed