gh
unable to grasp my meaning. "We have no managers in Japan," he said at
length: "the play has to do with the dramatic author: it is for him to
arrange everything. He must first think out every detail, and then
consult with the chief actor and proprietor. If these disagree, the play
is not produced." Mr. Fukuchi maintained that the dramatic author must
be absolute master of the situation, interfered with by none. It would
be impossible for an actor or manager to have any conception of the
picture as a whole; therefore the dramatist must be supreme. If an actor
or an actress were permitted a choice as to the colour or form of
costumes, the work would of necessity be ruined. There is no such thing
as the leading lady insisting upon wearing a puce dress, as she does in
England or anywhere on the Continent. The manager does not know what
"puce" means, nor, probably, does the lady; but he sees no reason why
she should not wear puce if it pleases her. Accordingly puce is worn,
irrespective of scene harmony, and the lady is content. In Japan such an
occurrence would be out of the question; but our Western stage is
already such a jumble that any little eccentricity on the part of the
leading lady in favour of puce or anything else she fancies would be
scarcely noticeable.

[Illustration: A BLOND DAY]

"They tell me," put in Mr. Fukuchi, "that there are dramatic authors in
England who are not artists--that they do not all understand colour
harmonies and line. Can this be true?" I had to tell him that such men
were not uncommon with us. Fukuchi looked serious, and was silent for a
long while, meditating as to how it would be possible for a dramatic
author to produce a play without a scientific knowledge of art and
drawing. "I fail to understand this," he said after some minutes'
thought; "I cannot understand. When I have finished writing my play, and
when I have talked with the chief actor, I make my drawings myself. I
must make the pictures, and I must give careful directions to the
costumiers and the carpenters. I cannot understand how your dramatic
author does this." And the little man was genuinely perturbed.

The pictorial side of a Japanese dramatist's work interested me keenly,
and I begged Fukuchi to tell me how he, as an author, prepared his
drawings for the costumier, stage-painter, and carpenter. "Well, if you
like I will show you," he said; "I am now writing a historical play, the
scenes of which will be like this