Japan: Its History, Arts, and Literature/Volume 8/Chapter 1
JAPAN
ITS HISTORY ARTS AND
LITERATURE
Chapter I
EARLY WARES
In Japan, as in most other countries, the manufacture of pottery has been carried on for many centuries, but the earliest history of the art is very obscure. Japanese archæologists have been accustomed to speak of Kameoka ware as the oldest produced in their country, and unquestionably the quality of the ware indicates an altogether rudimentary stage of manufacture, the specimens to which the name is given being vessels of rough pottery, irregular in shape, unglazed, and entirely without ornamentation. The term "Kameoka" is assigned to them because they have been exhumed in exceptional profusion in the Kameoka region of northern Japan, but they may be more intelligibly described as the pottery of the aborigines whom the invading Japanese immigrants displaced. Hence they do not properly find a place in the history of Japanese keramics, since they were the work of a different race, and since their manufacture never passed to a higher stage of development.
Civilisation was brought to Japan by a Mongoloid invasion or immigration at a date which historians have hitherto failed to fix with any accuracy, but which was certainly several centuries—probably six or seven—before the Christian era. The new-comers did not represent an advanced stage of material progress. They knew nothing of iron, and used only bronze implements, and their keramic successes were confined to the production of rude, hand-made pottery, scarcely superior to that of the aborigines mentioned above. What is known of these earliest Mongoloid invaders has been gathered from the contents of the mounds in which they buried their dead. Following them at an interval of probably five centuries—it is still necessary to avoid explicitness—came another tide of Mongoloid invaders, who brought with them a knowledge of iron-smelting and of the potter's wheel, and whose ideas of form and decoration indicated a much higher grade of civilisation than that of their predecessors. The story of these second comers does not exist in the pages of history. It is told only by the "dolmens" which they constructed for purposes of interment, and as to the contents of those dolmens mention need not be made here of anything but pottery.
The Dolmen pottery is divided into three groups by Mr. W. Gowland,—who has made a specialty of the study of these interesting tombs and their contents,—namely, "lightly burned terra-cotta," "hard-burned earthenware," and "coarse terra-cotta." It indicates, in short, that although its makers understood the use of the wheel and had some conception of decorative effect, they knew nothing of translucid porcelain, and were not even able to apply glaze to their wares. It is possible to make these statements with confidence, because the dolmens yield an abundance of pottery, some of which was doubtless used at burial services, and some in subsequent ceremonies. The surface decoration, even in the best examples, is rude, being confined to elementary diapers of straight lines or curves "scratched in the clay when soft with a single-pointed tool, or with combs having a varying number of teeth." (Gowland.) Often the surface of larger vessels shows an impressed pattern, evidently produced by contact with straw matting, and on the interior are found concentric circles overlapping, without any apparent attempt at orderly arrangement. Japanese archeologists regard these circles as an ornamental diaper introduced from Korea, and consequently give to them the name Chosen-guruma (Korean wheel-pattern), or Chosen-nami (Korean wave-pattern); but it has not been proved that any such decoration was applied by the Koreans in ancient times. A more credible explanation is that the marking was the result of a manufacturing process. While slowly turning the wheel, the potter pressed against the inside of the vessel a wooden stamp, having concentric circles cut on its head, and at the same time beat the outside with a wooden paddle wrapped in straw matting. Thus the circular marking on the interior, and the pattern of meshes and lines on the exterior, were the outcome of a process for annealing the clay.
The student naturally turns to the shapes of this pottery, hoping to discover from them indications of affinity between the dolmen-builders and some historically known race of Europe or Asia. There is, indeed, something to reward such a scrutiny. In the first place, two kinds of tazza are found, one with a cover, the other without, which have their counterparts in Chinese porcelains of mediæval times. Further, the well-known "pilgrim bottle" of Chinese keramists and of Cypriote relics is present, having either complete loops for the passage of the suspensory cord, or partial loops for its retention. Mr. Gowland also notes a small, barrel-shaped vessel, occasionally found in dolmens, which resembles a Cypriote form, and which has no representative among Chinese vessels. Much more suggestive, however, than these resemblances is the method of ornamentation in high relief seen on important specimens of ornamental pottery taken from dolmens. The student is here confronted with a decorative fashion never followed in either China or Korea, namely, the modelling of figure subjects and other objects on the shoulders of vases. It is a fashion constantly adopted by the potters of Greece and of Cyprus in ancient times, and its frequent presence in Apulian and Cypriote relics, combined with its absence from the works of Chinese and Korean potters, suggests an interesting range of speculation. But on the other hand has to be set the fact that this kind of decoration did not survive the dolmen period in Japan itself. It disappeared as completely as though it had never existed. Thus, if from the above facts the student infers a racial distinction between the dolmen-building Japanese and the inhabitants of the Asiatic continent's neighbouring regions, he will be logically compelled to infer a similar distinction between the dolmen-builders and the Japanese of later times. However, racial affinities need not be discussed here. It is enough to note the not unremarkable similarity of decorative conception shown in the works of the Japanese immigrants and those of southern Europe. Another point worthy of attention is that the potters of the dolmen era seem to have had no acquaintance with the decorative motives which are inseparably associated with Chinese applied art, dragons, phœnixes, tigers, the key-pattern, and elaborate diapers. In the mediæval days, when Japan went to the Chinese for keramic instruction, she found all these designs, and adopted them permanently. But the dolmen-builders were ignorant of them.
It has plausibly been conjectured that the figures of men and animals modelled in high relief on the shoulders of dolmen-vases were sometimes intended to depict the pursuits or pastimes specially affected by the deceased during life, as hunting, wrestling, and so on. Were that the case, a natural expectation would be that battle-scenes would occasionally appear on the sepulchral vases of men who are believed to have been constantly engaged in war with the aborigines. But there is nothing of the kind.
The coarse terra-cotta objects of Mr. Gowland's classification are not the least interesting among dolmen relics. They consist of figures of men, women, and horses which were erected on dolmens in lieu of the human sacrifices made at funeral rites in earlier ages. From a technical or artistic point of view these objects deserve little notice, whatever value they may have for the historian and the archæologist. They were mere rudimentary effigies, made of half-burned coarse pottery, and such of them as have survived owe their preservation to the accident of having been overturned and covered with earth which protected them against climatic influences. Keramists who manufactured the ornamental vases described above, evidently did not exhaust their skill upon these clumsy productions. The figures were called hani-wa, which literally means "circle of clay," an appellation derived from the order in which they were arranged, namely, as a circular fence about the grave. A book (Wamyō-sho) published in the tenth century, defines hani-wa as "human figures made of clay, placed upright in cart-wheel order round the edge of a sepulchral mound." The need of such objects for burial purposes led to the establishment of a keramic factory under the auspices of the Court, the potters employed there, one hundred in number, being summoned from the provinces of Izumo. It appears, therefore, that Izumo was a centre of keramic production at the date when clay effigies were substituted for human sacrifices, and there would consequently be some interest in determining that date. The Nihongi, which is the oldest Japanese compilation having any claims to be called historical, assigns the incident to a time corresponding with the commencement of the Christian era, but hani-wa have been found in dolmens believed to belong to an earlier epoch. At all events it seems safe to allege that, nineteen centuries ago, the keramic industry had an officially recognised status in Japan, and that it flourished chiefly in Izumo.[1] From the time of the establishment of the Yamato factory the making of hani-wa became such an important feature of the keramic industry that potters received the appellation of hanishi (abbreviated afterwards in haji), or makers of hani-wa.
Japanese annals allege that just about the time when the above events were occurring, a Korean potter named Ama-no-Hibako arrived in Japan and settled there for the purpose of practising his art; that he established a kiln in the province of Ōmi, and that during several years he manufactured pottery known as Shiragi-yaki, "Shiragi" being the Japanese method of pronouncing the name of the region in Korea whence this keramist had emigrated. No authenticated specimens of the ware survive, nor can implicit reliance be placed in the story, which, for the rest, has little importance, since Korea was not in a position to impart any technical knowledge to the Japanese in the dolmen-building era.
The next event connected with the development of the industry is an alleged invasion of Korea in the third century of the Christian era by a Japanese Empress, Jingō. Modern research by Occidental students has thrown much doubt upon this incident, but Japanese antiquarians have been accustomed to believe it. They further assert that one result of the expedition was the regular yearly despatch of eighty ship-loads of Korean produce to Japan, by way of tribute, and that among articles thus sent there were specimens of pottery which Japanese keramists took as models. Of all this there is no practical proof. Its historical value is probably limited to the indication it gives of intercourse between Korea and Japan at an early epoch, but its importance as bearing on keramic development is insignificant.
After the days of the warlike Empress, neither tradition nor history supplies any information bearing upon keramics until the middle of the fifth century, when the Emperor Yūriaku ascended the throne (457 A.D). In the seventh year of his reign he addressed an edict to the potters (Haji) of the Imperial kilns, directing that thenceforth the utensils for his table should be not doki, but seiki. The term doki signifies a vessel of earth,—a piece of pottery, in short. But the meaning of seiki is more obscure. Literally, the translation is "pure utensil,"—a rendering which helps very little. Certain Japanese antiquarians are disposed to distinguish seiki as "porcelain," and "doki" as pottery, but such a hypothesis is untenable. What seems most probable is that some improved shapes, or methods of technique, were introduced at that time, and that to these the Emperor applied the term seiki, merely to signify his approval. It has been surmised that glazed pottery then first came into vogue, for, though the balance of testimony goes to prove that this important branch of their art was not practised by Japanese potters with Japanese materials until a much later period, there is just a possibility that the clay necessary for glazing purposes was procured from China or Korea long before its discovery in Japan. According to certain authorities, Yūriaku summoned from Korea a potter called Kohi. and caused him to settle in the province of Kawachi, The same accounts say that kilns were built during his reign, at Kusasu in Settsu, Fushimi in Yamashiro, Fujikata in Ise, as well as at other places in the provinces of Tamba, Tajima, and Inaba. But the whole question is wrapped in obscurity.
The next epoch in the history of the manufacture brings the student to the middle of the eighth century, when there came from Korea a man regarded by posterity as one of the great benefactors of the Japanese people. This was Gyōgi, a Buddhist priest, reputed to be a scion of the family then ruling in Hyakusai (a division of Korea). Among the three states of Korea this Hyakusai is remarkable as deriving its name from the fact that a hundred (hyaku) noble Chinese families made it their place of refuge at a very early date. Thus Gyōgi was of Chinese origin. Famed equally for philanthropy and mechanical ability, he devoted his time to travelling from place to place in Japan, instructing the people wherever he went in the arts of carpentry, carving, engineering, writing, and pottery. Many relics of his skill are preserved in the temples throughout the country, and he is credited with inventing and introducing into Japan the potter's wheel. But the contents of the dolmens show that the use of the wheel was familiar to Japanese keramists centuries before Gyōgi's era. Indeed, there is difficulty in determining what new process he really did teach. Specimens of ware confidently attributed to him are unsightly vessels of coarse, dark clay, with no trace of glaze other than that produced by the fusing of silicates accidentally present in the clay, and without any technical merit beyond a certain regularity of form, due to the employment of the wheel in their construction. Probably Gyōgi's fame as a keramist—for famous he certainly is among the Japanese—is to be ascribed to the kindly efforts he made to disseminate knowledge of an industry that added much to the comfort of every-day life. At all events, his figure assumed such historical prominence that everything antecedent passed out of view, and to this day, whenever from any long-unexplored place there is exhumed a specimen of unsightly and time-stained pottery, virtuosi unhesitatingly christen it "Gyōgi-yaki."
Gyōgi's celebrity is the more inexplicable inasmuch as some years before his advent the keramic art had been taken under the patronage of the Emperor Mommu. This monarch appointed officials to supervise the kilns (A. D. 701), and altogether gave the industry a status which it had not enjoyed before. It is also recorded that he invited workmen from China and Korea, and there is an unsupported belief among Japanese antiquarians that, under the instruction of these experts, glazed pottery was produced at the factories of Yamato. Ancient annals speak of céladon vessels, which were used in the service of the gods, but that these utensils were really of Japanese manufacture seems most unlikely. It is true that they are ascribed by the annals to workshops in Owari, a statement which the late Mr. Ninagawa accepts as evidence that the keramic industry had extended to that province. But, as shown above, neither in the most ancient collections, not yet among the products of excavations, has there ever been found any specimen of artificially glazed Japanese pottery which could reasonably be referred to so remote a date as the eighth century. If pieces were produced with imported materials, they must have been too few to leave any permanent trace, and it is certain that their manufacture was limited to a brief period.
The dolmens furnish conclusive evidence as to the nature of the pottery produced by one section, at any rate, of the Japanese immigrants. Equally trustworthy testimony with reference to the state of the keramic industry in the eighth century is obtained from a collection of relics preserved at Nara, in Yamato province. Between 709 and 784 Nara was the Imperial capital, and during that era the chief temple there, Tōdai-ji, became the repository of various articles used at the Court under the sway of three Emperors and as many Empresses. Among these articles are several keramic specimens. They are all of foreign manufacture, and they do not include any translucid porcelain, the best of them being grass-green faience. There is no difficulty in identifying these as products of Chinese kilns. Japanese connoisseurs attribute some of them to Cochin China, but that appears to be a misconception, due to the fact that the ware came to Japan viâ Cochin China. The Nara collection thus indicates not only that Japan herself had not yet learned, in the eighth century, how to manufacture glazed pottery, still less translucid porcelain, but also that in no part of the Far East had the potter's art reached a high stage of development; for, since history shows that between China and Japan there existed in these early centuries intercourses fitful indeed, but never wholly interrupted, and since the refinements of life in Japan would certainly have led her to appreciate and acquire the best products of her neighbours' skill, the absence of fine specimens of Chinese ware from her Imperial collection suggests that they had as yet no existence in the Middle Kingdom.
In his valuable work, Kwanko Zatetsu, the late Mr. Ninagawa hazards the opinion that materials for glazing pottery ceased to be imported from China after the year 959. This conjecture is not only unsupported by evidence but also based upon the false assumption that relations with China were broken off at that period, whereas, in point of fact, official intercourse, previously interrupted, was then renewed. In any case it is difficult to believe that such material would have been carried across the sea during these early centuries except, perhaps, to gratify the caprice of some amateur. To bring Chinese glazing material from China for the purpose of applying it to inferior Japanese pottery in Japan must always have appeared a less rational proceeding than to bring Chinese glazed pottery to Japan.
Summarising the above records, the conclusion is that up to the twelfth century utensils of glazed earthenware were scarcely if at all produced in Japan, and that the use of those which found their way thither from China was confined to the ruling classes. It has even been suggested by some authorities that outside the Imperial Court oak-leaf cups, such as that which the wife of the ill-fated Odate presented to the jealous Empress Iwa, sufficed for ordinary purposes, and that food was served and eaten in vessels of plain or lacquered wood. Such a theory is not tenable. Annals of the tenth century detail no less than fifteen provinces[2] where pottery was manufactured, though there is no reason to think that the ware itself exhibited any features of technical excellence. The art lacked the essential patronage of public appreciation. Except, perhaps, a few simple vessels used at religious celebrations, nothing was required of the potters beyond the production of jars for storing and steeping rice-seed or utensils for common domestic uses.
Early in the thirteenth century a new influence began to be felt. This was the introduction of tea from China, together with a minute appreciation of its qualities and uses. The tea-ceremonial, which subsequently occupied an important place in Japanese æsthetics, was not elaborated until the fifteenth century, but simultaneously with the import of the leaf some of the vessels employed in infusing and serving it were brought to Japan, and from these it became apparent that the Chinese potter under the Sung dynasty had completely distanced both Korea and Japan in technical processes, while, at the same time, a new need was felt by the Japanese for utensils of improved quality. Accordingly, Katō Shirozæmon, a potter who had already acquired some reputation, determined to make a voyage to China, and in the year 1223 accomplished his object in company with a priest, Dōen.
After an absence of six years Shirozæmon returned and settled at Seto, in the province of Owari, where he commenced the manufacture of a ware which to this day is regarded with the utmost esteem by his countrymen. It was manipulated with considerable care and no longer stoved in an inverted position, as had previously been the case, so that the upper parts of the vessels were free from the irregularities and imperfections of their predecessors. The paste was reddish brown clay, with a considerable mixture of siliceous particles, and the glaze, applied with great skill, was most commonly dark-brown or chocolate-colour, having occasionally streaks or patches of a different tint. The chief productions were tea-jars of various sizes and shapes, which, having been from the very first treasured up with greatest care by their fortunate possessors, still exist in considerable numbers, and are still highly valued by amateurs of the Cha-no-Yu (Tea Ceremonial). So great a reputation did this Tōshiro-yaki, as it was commonly called, enjoy, and such prestige did its appearance give to the potters of Owari, that everything which preceded it was forgotten, and the name Seto-mono (i. e. ware of Seto) thenceforth became the generic term for all keramic manufactures in Japan, just as "China" is in Europe.
In his later years Shirozæmon took the name of Shunkei. As showing the appreciation in which he is held by his countrymen, the inscription on a porcelain tablet erected to his memory is interesting. It runs as follows:—
A man to whose memory such honour is paid ought to have accomplished something worthy to be famous. And indeed, in comparison with his immediate predecessors, Tōshiro was a giant of skill. The credit will always belong to him of having opened a new page of Japanese keramic art. As the first to transplant Chinese keramic processes into Japanese workshops he deserves to be remembered, and considering that he lived more than eight hundred and fifty years ago, his achievements were remarkable. They will be further spoken of when the wares of Owari are discussed in detail.
Tōshiro's sons and their sons succeeded one another at the factory in Seto. His grandson, whose kiln was called Kinkazan, developed much skill in the manipulation of pastes and the application of glazes. Some of his vases, rich, lustrous, and brilliant in colour, will almost bear comparison with the masterpieces of Chinese art. But, like his predecessors and immediate successor, he confined himself to the production of utensils for the tea-clubs; that is to say, tiny jars, cups, and water-vessels. If he attempted anything more ambitious, it has unfortunately not survived the lapse of ages. It must be admitted, also, that the general influence of his example was not commensurate with the improvements which he himself effected. Patrons were wanting, the land was wasted by civil war, and scarcely in the seclusion of cloisters did men find respite from the fever of battle. The people had no heart to be æsthetic. Lacquered vessels still continued to constitute a chief part of the household equipage among the better classes, while farmers and artisans were constrained to be content with the comparatively clumsy achievements of Settsu, Karatsu, and a few even more insignificant potteries.
This state of things continued with little improvement until the era of Yoshimasa (1436–1480), eighth Regent of the Ashikaga dynasty, whose luxurious proclivities made him a keen patron of art industry. The lacquers produced in his time are among the very finest specimens ever executed in Japan, and such objects as received the approval of himself and his contemporary connoisseurs occupy the first places in the collections of his countrymen to-day. Under his patronage the "Tea Ceremonial" became a philosophic as well as an æsthetic cult, and its disciples, among whom were soon numbered many of the leading men of the time, conceived a new standard of excellence in the dominion of applied art. The influence of this cult was not completely wholesome. It educated an almost grotesque affectation of simplicity and an unreasoning reverence for the antique. But it certainly invested art with wide-spread interest which prepared the way for future progress. Thus, just as the introduction of tea in the thirteenth century had led Japanese keramists to turn to China for technical instructions and for models, so the establishment of the tea-clubs in the closing years of the fifteenth century induced her again to seek aid from the same source. The result of her second recourse to the great centre of keramics was that she acquired the art of manufacturing porcelain proper.
A word may be said here about the claim of originality asserted on behalf of the early Japanese potters by certain European critics. There appears to be some reluctance to admit that the unsympathetic, gain-getting Chinaman could ever have supplied any of the inspirations which America and Europe have of late learned to admire so much. Led away by this loving enthusiasm, Jacquemart attributes to Japan a translucid porcelain older than that of China; that is to say, in his opinion, older than the Christian era. Later writers, Messrs. Audsley and Bowes, place the date of the earliest Japanese porcelain manufacture in the sixth century, and do not hesitate to declare that "the communication between the two countries [China and Japan] evidently failed to affect their respective arts," and that "the Japanese found little in the Chinese from which they could gain practical or artistic instruction, since their own arts and manufactures were equal, and in most cases superior, to those of the latter." Even M. Louis Gonse, who shows generally a sympathetic appreciation of his subject, excludes the Middle Kingdom from any share in the moulding of Japanese genius. He believes that a wave of Aryan culture, flowing eastward, was divided by the unimpressionable rock of Chinese conservatism into northern and southern streams, of which one found its way to Japan with waters as pure as when they left their source. But facts cannot be gainsaid. Whenever Japan needed help in her progress along the path of art, she turned to China. If she often translated the aid thus obtained into language of her own, full of beauty and rhythm, the alphabet nevertheless remained always Chinese. It is of interest therefore to inquire what China had to teach Japan at the beginning of the sixteenth century, when the potters of the island empire once more turned their eyes towards the Middle Kingdom.
From the eleventh to the thirteenth century the choicest wares produced in China owed their beauties to technical processes which a specialist only could hope to employ. Céladon was the prince of these wares, and of all keramic productions it may be said that céladon pre-eminently derives its charm from delicacy of colour and lustrous softness of surface, which at once remove it to an infinite distance beyond the range of the ordinary potter's skill. The tea-clubs were thoroughly familiar with the excellence of this peculiarly æsthetic ware. A choice vase of seiji ("green ware") constituted their beau-ideal as an alcove ornament, and in the rich lacquer boxes that contained elaborate apparatus for cutting and burning incense, no censer better became its wrapper of antique brocade than a little cylindrical vessel of the indescribable bluish-green stone-ware known in China as Lung-chuan-yao. Shukō, art instructor of the ex-Regent Yoshimasa, indicated a variety of céladon the peculiar tint of which reached, according to him, the very acme of restfulness and sobriety. The Taikō possessed a céladon censer which was credited with miraculous properties, and even the practical Ieyasu thought that a choice vase of this ware represented fair security for a loan of several thousand dollars. Early Japanese potters knew of no materials that could be used to manufacture such masterpieces. The very attempt to reproduce them would probably have been deemed preposterous in the then condition of Japanese keramic ability. So too of the Ting-yao, the Chun-yao, the Chien-yao. The curious glazes, reddish purple, creamy-white, clair de lune, and silver-streaked black, of these varieties were absolutely inimitable. They remain to this day inimitable. To the Japanese keramist of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the aspect of such masterpieces must have been deterrent. Katō Shirozaemon does not appear to have dreamed of imitating, still less of emulating, them. His glazes were admirable in their way, but they did not approach the beauty of the Chinese wares. Moreover, when Kato visited China (1223), power of the great Sung dynasty had already waned and was soon to be altogether eclipsed; keramic industry, which owed so much to Court patronage, was comparatively paralysed, and the Chinese who acted as Kato's instructors were probably themselves incompetent to grapple with difficulties which to him seemed insuperable. Thenceforward, throughout the Yuan dynasty of Mongols (1260–1367), it must have been manifest to the Japanese that the potters of the Middle Kingdom had lost much of their old cunning. The clair de lune, with blood-red splashes or clouds, of the Yuan-su-yao was the only keramic chef-d'œuvre that crossed the sea, and, beautiful as it was, it cannot but have appeared even less imitable than any of its predecessors, except, perhaps, the Chien-yao. Then followed the expulsion of the Mongols from their usurped place in China, and the accession of the native dynasty of the Ming (1368–1644). At first the keramic art did not feel the change much; but from Yung-lo (1403–1425) and Hsuan-tē era (1426–1436) throughout the periods of Cheng-hua (1465–1488), Hung-chih (1488–1505), and Cheng-tē (1506–1521), Japan received from the Middle Kingdom specimens which showed that the industry had entered a new phase. The egg-shell porcelain of Yung-lo; the exquisitely clear, pure blues of Hsuan- tē, and the richer but less choice tints of Chia-ching, the delicate yellows of Hung-chih, and the brilliant, jewel-like, enamelled porcelain of Chenghua—all these, accompanied as they were by fine examples of already famous monochromes, should have inspired Japanese keramists with a strong desire to learn something of the processes that gave such varied and admirable results, even though the art spirit in Japan had not been roused to unprecedented activity by the influence of Yoshimasa and the tea-clubs.
The potter who now (1510) visited China in search of information, as Shirozayemon had done nearly three hundred years before, was Gorodayu Goshonzui. He was a native of the province of Ise, but of the incidents of his career prior to this journey no authentic record is preserved. He made his way, first to Foochow, and afterwards to Ching-tê-chên, where a course of five years' instruction and practice rendered him familiar with the methods of the Chinese potters. The history of Chinese keramics shows that, had the workshops of Ching-tê-chên been thrown open to him, he might have acquired the processes of manufacturing not only monochromes and decoration sous couverte, but also enamelled decoration over the glaze. He confined himself, however, to studying the art of painting in blue under the glaze. It is not difficult to guess how this occurred. Each monochromatic glaze was in itself a specialty, and its successful production depended on conditions which a casual student could scarcely hope to master. As for enamelled decoration, it had certainly been carried to a remarkable point of excellence some twenty or thirty years before Shonzui's arrival at Ching-tê-chên. But it was practised to a very limited extent, and the processes are said to have been kept as strictly secret in China as they were subsequently at Arita in Japan. So rare were the specimens which Japanese collectors obtained of enamelled porcelain manufactured prior to the Wan-li (1573–1620), a period exceptionally prolific of ware thus decorated, that the use of vitrifiable enamels was not supposed by them to have been largely and successfully practised in the Middle Kingdom until the second half of the sixteenth century. Shonzui, then, learned nothing of this branch of his art. On his return to Japan, he made no attempt to manufacture anything but porcelain decorated with blue under the glaze. Neither was this, strictly speaking, a Japanese ware. Shonzui had brought clay, glaze, and colouring material from China. None of these were then known to exist in Japan, nor were they discovered for a considerable period afterwards. When, therefore, the imported supply failed, the manufacture naturally came to an end. Shonzui is supposed to have settled at Arita, in Hizen. Why he selected that place there is nothing to show. The factories there were in a most undeveloped condition, nor did people yet entertain the remotest conception that Hizen was destined to become the centre of Japan's porcelain industry. The most reasonable explanation is that he desired to remain at some point as near as possible to China, whence he probably purposed to procure a new supply of porcelain materials, and whither he may have intended to proceed again. But, if he entertained either of these designs, they were never realised. He died at Arita, and although the clay he had brought from China cannot have lasted many years, he does not appear to have had any opportunity of replenishing it. While it did last, however, he turned out very beautiful specimens. They were not distinguished by delicacy. Solidity was chiefly required in pieces suited to the demand of the time,—tea-jars, water-vessels, censers, and cups for the ceremony of the mat-cha. The great beauties of his ware were in the glaze and the colour. The former was of extreme softness and lustre, while the latter was a blue of the finest tone and brilliancy. Many specimens of his porcelain now extant exhibit a variety of the well-known Hawthorn pattern design, and it may be said that his decorations show the first unmistakable traces of the "Natural Style" as applied to Japanese keramics. Hardly, indeed, could he have escaped the influence of the impulse his country's pictorial art had just received at the hands of Sesshiu, Shūbun, and Kano Motonobu, whose professed masters were "mountains, rivers, flowers, and trees." Shonzui probably fell in with the mood of the times, which preferred medallions with birds and flowers to cunning diapers, and plum-blossoms or pine branches to formal scrolls. He did not always avoid Chinese designs. Conventional children, entangled among endless arabesques, figure not infrequently on his productions. But the distinguishing characteristic of his decoration is floral, and though there are no sufficient grounds for accrediting him with more than a modification of the fashions he saw at the potteries on the Po-yang Lake, it must at least be admitted that his modification was an improvement.
There can be no doubt that Shonzui obtained and brought back from China some of the celebrated Mohammedan blue which was so greatly prized and so jealously guarded in the Middle Kingdom. It is curious, though perhaps significant, that at the very time—the Cheng-hwa era (1506–1521)—when the Japanese keramist visited China, the workmen of the Imperial Factory at Ching-tê-chên are said to have secretly sold the precious mineral to outsiders, the consequence of which fraud was that specially severe rules were enacted by the governor of the district during the next reign. In subsequent times the potters of Hizen imported all their choice cobalt from China; but, in the first place, it was not the same mineral which lent such exceptional beauty to the porcelains of the Ming dynasty; and in the second, the Japanese, of deliberate choice, used it so as to produce a delicate, rather than a deep, full colour. On Shonzui's best pieces there is found a blue of great brilliancy and fulness, rivalling the best efforts of his Chinese predecessors or contemporaries. This alone is almost sufficient to distinguish his productions from Japanese ware of a later period. And the point is worth noting, for counterfeits were numerous. In comparatively modern times—(1825–1840)—a kiln was specially erected at a place called Shishi-dani-yama, in the province of Yamato, to imitate the celebrated potter's pieces; but neither in quality of glaze nor purity of colour were these reproductions capable of deceiving the connoisseur. They were not the only attempts of such a nature. Like the tea-jars of Tōshiro of Seto, Shonzui's cups, water-holders, plates, and so forth ultimately derived an extravagant value from the fact that they represented Japan's first porcelain, and their successful imitation became a pecuniary object to many experts. Even the workmen at Ching-tê-chên are said to have employed all the resources of their art, during the eighteenth century, to counterfeit Shonzui's pieces for purposes of export. It is therefore, only too likely that many an unwary collector has been deceived. Let it be said, then, at once, that in no case did a Japanese potter of later days produce either the deep, full blue of the beautiful Mohammedan mineral, or the rich, lustrous glaze which Shonzui's imported materials—doubtless the very best of their kind—enabled him to achieve; a glaze which has been aptly likened by his countrymen to the surface of flowing water. These are criteria which the amateur should unhesitatingly apply. The nature of the pâte will not guide him much, for fineness of clay, a slight admixture of dark particles, and that peculiar oily aspect which nearly all Chinese porcelain presents, are characteristics not easily appreciated even by the educated eye. In point of fact, genuine specimens of Shonzui's porcelain are almost as rare and as well known as the paintings of some great master. Whether many have left Japan is very doubtful, the value attached to them in the country of their manufacture being almost incomprehensible to outsiders.
Although this manufacture of porcelain soon came to an end, owing to lack of materials, the decorative processes which Shonzui had learned in China were not forgotten. The potters of Arita, profiting by his instruction, began to produce a faience, or stone-ware, of tolerable quality, with designs in blue under the glaze. Very few specimens of this ware have survived. It was scarcely worthy of preservation, except as the first Japanese pottery with coloured decoration. That the blue was palpably inferior to the deep brilliant colour which Shonzui succeeded in producing, will readily be conceived. It was probably obtained from a mineral of Japanese origin; but this is uncertain. The Japanese potters of Seto certainly used cobalt in the manufacture of their black glazes, and it is asserted that Shonzui himself ultimately eked out the pigment which he had brought from China by mixing it with the mineral of his own country. On the other hand, the commercial relations between Japan and China were of such a nature during the sixteenth century that it should have been a simple matter for the keramists of the former country to obtain supplies of Chikiang cobalt, however unprocurable the precious Mohammedan mineral may have been. The point is not of special importance. Indeed, the interest attaching to the ware manufactured by Shonzui's immediate successors centres solely in the fact that it represents the outcome of a period when the methods of porcelain manufacture were known while the materials were wanting. With regard to the identification of the ware, its pâte varies from dense faience to stone-ware, and is generally tinged distinctly with red; its glaze is sometimes grey, or slate colour, but usually an impure white; there are no marks of date or factory, and the blue decoration is somewhat rudely executed. Reference to the general question of Hizen pottery will be made in a future chapter.
Although the porcelain manufactured by Shonzui seems to have attracted considerable attention in his time, he was not sufficiently fortunate to obtain the patronage of any powerful noble. Indeed, after the death of the Regent Yoshimasa (1491), the Tea Ceremonials which he had inaugurated, if they did not wholly pass out of fashion, failed to increase in popularity. All the great feudal chieftains, engaged either directly or indirectly in the civil wars which disturbed Japan during the sixteenth century, had neither time nor resources to cultivate such dilettanteism as the Cha-no-Yu. The philosophy of the cult aimed essentially at educating a spirit of tranquillity and refinement, whereas the all-engrossing business of the era was war. Shonzui's journey to China may be regarded as a result of the only interval of peace which the Empire had enjoyed during nearly two centuries. For when the Ming dynasty assumed the reins of power in the Middle Kingdom, the Korean and Chinese coasts were ravaged by Japanese corsairs, who had become such a terror to the people that their names were used by mothers as a bogey to alarm bad children. These pirates came from the island of Kiushū, where, owing to the complete disorganisation of the executive, men were temporarily freed from all legal restraint. At the end of the fourteenth century, however, Yoshimitsu, the greatest of the Ashikaga Shōguns, succeeded in reconciling the two rival Japanese dynasties, and in the brief period of peace that ensued, the complaints of China and Korea were favourably considered by the Japanese Government. Vigorous steps were taken to suppress the pirates, and numerous captives whom they had carried off were restored to their native countries. China's gratitude for this neighbourly act was very marked. It is recorded that there grew up between the two Empires a friendly intercourse, and that the polity, the arts, and the sciences of the Ming rulers came to be regarded with sincere admiration by the Japanese. Yoshimitsu died in 1409, and not long afterwards the Empire was again torn by disputes about the succession to the Imperial Throne and the Shogunate, as well as by fierce contests of ambition among the great feudal chieftains. These troubles lasted throughout the century. That Shonzui's enterprise should have been undertaken in such times must be attributed to the impulse given to art industry by the patronage of Yoshimasa, and to the relations established with China under the circumstances mentioned above. Certainly it was an inopportune enterprise. Had Shonzui discovered the porcelain earth that existed in practically inexhaustible quantities within easy reach of his factory, his efforts might have been attended with better results. But he died without even suspecting its presence. A few hundred pieces of porcelain, made with materials brought over sea, and scarcely differing from ware produced in China, were the only outcome of his journey; and his contemporaries not unnaturally failed to regard these as any earnest of a new keramic era. So little impression did his enterprise make on the men of his time that even the locality of his kiln is not accurately known. The general supposition is that he settled at Arita, in the province of Hizen. But it is only a supposition. He was buried in Ise, and there is nothing definite to prove that he did not pursue his industry in that neighbourhood also. At first sight, one is disposed to wonder that his example did not find imitators immediately, that is to say, during the sixteenth century, Japan being on such friendly terms with China, and receiving, from time to time, specimens of the admirable wares manufactured at Ching-tê-chên by the Ming potters, then at the zenith of their fame. The explanation is simple. The sixteenth century was, perhaps, the blackest period of Japanese history. The suffering and devastation entailed by civil wars, raging with ever-renewed fury, were augmented by natural calamities,—famines, earthquakes, and virulent epidemics. All industries were virtually paralysed, except those that were essential to the conduct of campaigns. Even the great Buddhistic monasteries, divested of their sacred character, were converted into fortresses where bonzes and abbots devoted themselves to political intriguing and left religion to take care of itself. It was impossible that any art, other than that of the swordsmith or the armourer, could flourish amid such surroundings. But from the moment that Hideyoshi, the Taikō, succeeded in crushing or conciliating the principal disturbers of the peace, the nation's innate love of æthetics reasserted itself. From his campaigns in Mino and Echizen, Hideyoshi returned to Kyōtō in 1583. He set himself at once to promote the occupations of peace. His energy was alike untiring and well directed. At one time he rewarded excellence with money, at another with titles of honour, and he even renewed the expedient of substituting presents of pottery and porcelain for revenues or land as a recompense of military merit. The consequence was an unquestionable revival of keramic industry, but a revival the immediate fruits of which were of necessity small. The art of decoration with vitrifiable enamels and the processes of manufacturing true porcelain were unknown. A few amateurs, whose methods there will be occasion to allude to in more detail hereafter, amused themselves by producing at private kilns in Kyōtō insignificant specimens, of more or less archaic character, for the use of the tea-clubs. Perhaps the only ware worthy of mention for the sake of its decorative qualities was a pottery manufactured by Sōshiro at Fushimi, a town in the environs of Kyōtō, where the Taikō castle stood. The clay employed was of a rich white or buff colour, very hard and of exceedingly fine texture. No glaze was used, but the biscuit was polished till its surface shone like ivory, and designs in lacquer, black, gold, or sometimes red, were then applied. A very few specimens—incense-burners and tea-jars—are all that now remain of the Sōshiro-yaki, but they suffice to show that the ware had considerable artistic merit, and that the lacquer decoration employed in those days was almost imperishable. The Taikō signified his high approval of Sōshiro's productions by bestowing upon him the title of Tenka-ichi, "first in the Empire," a distinction accorded only to artists of preëminent excellence. Sōshiro may have deserved this honour in comparison with his fellow-potters, but the fact that his very mediocre achievements obtained such distinction is in itself a sufficient proof of the generally inferior condition of the keramic art at the time.
Hideyoshi himself appears to have been disappointed with the results achieved. He had built, on the heights overlooking the lovely valley of the Ujigawa, a "Palace of Pleasure" (Juraku-Jō), containing a collection of choice objects of virtu, including heirlooms of Yoshimasa and Nobunaga. The Juraku-Jō did not long remain a record of its founder's æsthetic tastes. The Taikō assigned it as a residence to his adopted son, Hideyoshi, and when the latter proved a traitor, the palace which his presence had contaminated was razed to the ground by the command of the stern old Chancellor. Meanwhile there had gradually grown up a far more wonderful monument of Japanese greatness, the Castle of Ōsaka, with its stupendous battlements built of blocks of granite which still excite the astonishment of foreign travellers. Here also Hideyoshi had his tea-pavilion and his art treasures, and here he was visited by Chinese merchants, who brought him the choicest keramic productions of their country. Many a noble pair of céladon vases thus came into the Chancellor's possession, and were presented by him to temples throughout the country, where several of them are still carefully preserved. Yet Hideyoshi was not satisfied. His object was not to collect gems from abroad or to surround himself with luxuries, but to develop the industries of his own country; and in this he experienced only disappointment. The standard of excellence attained by Tōshiro's successors at Seto, in the fourteenth century, had not been maintained. Shonzui's porcelain manufacture had proved an ephemeral affair, and the faience decorated in accordance with his processes was deservedly neglected. Japan, in short, was plainly outstripped by her neighbours, and to a practical ruler like Hideyoshi it seemed that the best way to remedy this was to import some foreign talent. It happened just then that he was about to despatch an expedition to Korea. Among the instructions issued to the leaders of this force is said to have been one directing them to bring back from the peninsula as many skilled potters as they could find.
To this order may be traced the origin of many of the wares which have earned for Japan her keramic celebrity abroad. All that she needed was instruction in elementary processes. Her own adaptive and eclectic genius supplied the rest. Very soon, at the factories opened by the Korean potters, there were produced wares which in all their artistic features surpassed anything that Korea herself had ever turned out. Before, however, considering these wares in detail, it will be convenient, in the chronological sequence of this history, to notice a faience more widely known than it deserves to be.
About the year 1525 a Korean potter came and settled in Kyōtō. He was popularly known as Ameya, probably because he at first followed the trade of a vendor of ame (wheat-flour jelly). Before he had long resided in Japan, he adopted the name of Masakichi, and married a Japanese woman called Teirin. Masakichi had hoped to find in Japan a profitable field for the exercise of his calling. But the times, and also—a candid critic would be disposed to say—his own homely methods, were against him. He set up a kiln in Kyōtō, and began to turn out a sort of archaic faience, which went by the appellation of So-kei-yaki, Sokei being the industrial name taken by Masakichi. The ware did not attract much attention until after Masakichi's death, when his wife, who seems to have been a woman of considerable taste, took the kiln into her own hands. Sen no Rikiu was then beginning to rank as a master of the Cha-no-Yu. He discovered in this Ama-yaki—as Teirin's ware was called—something that pleased his æsthetic instincts, and to signify his approval he bestowed upon the son of its manufacturers his own surname, Tanaka, which he had just exchanged for that of Rikiu. After his mother's decease, this son, Chōjiro, continued to produce the same faience in a street called Kamichōjamachi, Kyōtō. Even Sen no Rikiu's patronage did not at first bring the ware into favour. But in the year 1578 Oda Nobunaga, at Rikiu's inspiration, gave Chōjiro a large order for cups and other tea utensils, with the immediate result of making the Ama-yaki fashionable. Ten years afterwards, Hideyoshi summoned Chōjiro to his palace of Juraku, and was so pleased with his productions that he presented to him a gold seal bearing the ideograph Raku, which from that time became at once the name and mark of a ware exceedingly popular with the Japanese tea-clubs.
The Raku-yaki of those times was hand-made pottery, with little technical excellence, and only one artistic recommendation, namely, quaintness of shape and glaze. But the clay used in its manufacture possessed non-conductive properties, which rendered it peculiarly suitable for tea-drinking purposes. At first, the only glaze produced appears to have been black. But from Chōjiro's time there is found a light red or salmon-coloured glaze, which, being obtained by the action of heat on a clay originally yellow, presents a somewhat patchy or clouded appearance. The Raku experts showed much dexterity, not only in adapting the shapes of their pieces to the tastes of the chajin, but sometimes also in moulding them with spirit and fidelity. This is especially true of Dōniu, Chōjiro's grandson. He is popularly known as Nonko, and has been placed at the head of his school by common consent. From his time a straw-yellow craquelé glaze of considerable merit made its appearance, as did also a remarkable black glaze pitted with red. To produce either of these must have demanded no little skill. About the middle of the eighteenth century green and cream-white glazes began to be manufactured. The innovation is attributed to Chōniu, eighth in descent from the Korean Masakichi. He is also credited with the use of gold for decorative purposes and with the manufacture of splashed or variegated glazes. Among specimens of Raku ware manufactured by him and his successors, many are interesting for the sake of the soft colours and plastic skill they display. But, on the whole, the ware's attractiveness consists mainly in its freedom from all technical suggestions. It is impressionist faience.
The Raku-yaki is essentially a domestic production. The apparatus required for its manufacture can be obtained easily and used anywhere. After the piece is shaped and glazed, it is placed on a support inside a fire-clay pot, which stands in a species of hearth. The pot is completely surrounded with charcoal, kept at a red heat by constantly passing over it an ample supply of air from a bellows. After a few hours the glazing material assumes an appearance of melting, whereupon the vessel is removed from the pot with a pair of tongs, and either placed in another pot to cool or dipped in water. Marks of the tongs are often seen on Raku cups. Pieces thus disfigured not infrequently excite the special admiration of ignorant people, who call them Hasami-yaki (tongs-ware). The pâte of the Kyōtō Raku is made with clay found at Okazaki near the city, or at Shigaraki in Omi. The glazing material is composed, in the case of the well-known black glaze, of powdered glass, oxide of lead, and two species of stone, one of which is obtained from the bed of the river Kamo. In the case of the red, or salmon-coloured glaze, sulphate of iron is substituted for the latter stone. A white glaze is also very common. It is crackled, more or less coarsely, and looks rather soft than lustrous. All the Raku glazes—black, red, green, yellow, and white—may easily be recognised by their peculiarly opaque, waxy appearance.
There is some uncertainty with regard to the date of Chōjiro's death, but the best authorities place it about the year 1610. The sale of his pieces was not permitted without special sanction, everything that he made being reserved for use in the Court, or by a few of the Court nobles, his patrons. In the time of his son, Tōkei, this prohibition was removed. The family had hitherto lived in the immediate vicinity of the Juraku Palace—or of the grounds in which it stood—but Tōkei moved into the city (Kyōtō) and supported himself entirely by the sale of his pottery. Contemporary with Tōkei was an expert in swords, by name Honami Kōetsu, who learned the Raku process, and manufactured pieces scarcely to be distinguished from those of Tōkei. The latter used as a mark the single ideograph Raku, whereas the former employed five ideographs, hyo-dan-sen raku-yaki. But this distinction does not always exist. Kōetsu had a son, Kūchū, who was equally skilled as a potter. Their wares are called Kōetsu Raku-yaki, and Kūchū Raku-yaki, the pottery of Chōjiro and his descendants being designated simply Raku-yaki. The gold seal presented by Hideyoshi to Chōjiro does not appear to have been used after the destruction of the Juraku Palace. It was replaced by a wooden seal for purposes of manufacture. Each representative of the family had a wooden seal of his own, and this, at his death, was broken into two pieces and buried with him. All the seals were stamped with the same ideograph—raku—but all presented some recognisable difference of calligraphy. The names of the successive potters of family are as follows:—
1. Ameya, a Korean, afterwards called Sōkei, or Masakichi. He came to Japan about 1520, and died about 1560.
Teirin, his wife, who after her husband's death became a nun (Ama). Her ware was called Ama-yaki (the Nun's pottery). She died about 1570.
2. Chōjiro, son of Sōkei, whose industrial name was Chōyu. He received his family name of Tanaka from Sen no Rikiu. In his time the term Raku-yaki was first used. He died about 1610.
3. Tanaka Kichizaemon, whose artist name was Tōkei: a son of Chōjiro. He died in 1635.
Sōmi, younger brother of Tōkei. He produced Raku ware, but not for sale.
4. Tanaka Kichibei, whose artist name was Dōniu, and who is also known as Nonkō: a son of Jōkei. He is the most celebrated of all the Raku potters. He died in 1656.
Dōraku, a younger brother of Doniu, manufactured Raku ware. He used a seal bearing the characters Sa-mon-ji.
5. Tanaka Kichizaemon, or Sahei, whose artist name was Itsniu: son of Dōniu. He died in 1696.
Myōniu, wife of Itsniu. After her husband's death she manufactured Raku pottery which is known as Myoniu-yaki.
Sahei, second son of Itsniu, founded a junior branch of the family, the genealogy of which is as follows:—
(1) Sahei, whose artist name was Itsgen: second son of Itsniu. Died (about) 1730.
(2) Yahei, whose artist name was Nintosai: son of Itsgen. Died (about) 1765.
(3) Yahei, whose artist name was Kansai, or Gyokusai: son of Nintosai. Died (about) 1800.
(4) Jimbei, whose artist name was Rakō: son of Gyokusai. Died (about) 1835.
6. Tanaka Kichizaemon, whose artist name was Sōniu: son of Itsniu. He died in 1730.
7. Tanaka Kichizaemon, whose artist name was Saniu: son of Sōniu. He died in 1739.
8. Tanaka Sokichi, or Kichizaemon, whose artist name was Chōniu: son of Saniu. He died in 1770.
Myōgi, wife of Chōniu, manufactured pottery after her husband's death.
9. Tanaka Kichizaemon, whose artist name was Sahyo or Tokuniu: son of Chōniu. He died in 1774.
10. Tanaka Kichizaemon, whose artist name was Ryōniu: son of Tokuniu. He died in 1830.
Myoei, wife of Ryōniu, manufactured pottery after her husband's death, and died in 1834.
11. Tanaka Kichizaemon, whose artist name was Tanniu: son of Ryōniu. He died in 1854.
12. Tanaka Kichizaemon, whose artist name was Keiniu: son of Tanniu. He died in 1875.
13. Tanaka Kichizaemon, the present representative of the family, succeeded to the business in 1873.
N.B. The term "artist name," used above, signifies the name taken by a potter after he shaves his head and retires from business in favour of his son.
It is perhaps necessary to warn the student of Japanese keramics against an inference which may possibly be suggested by the fulness of this table as compared with the meagreness of available information in respect of the names and eras of potters at other factories. Two circumstances helped to secure for the Raku-yaki a degree of favour and notice to which it was not at all entitled by its merits. The first was the fact that it had received the approval of the great art critic, Sen no Rikiu; the second, that it was stamped with a seal bestowed by the most famous of all Japanese chieftains, the Taikō. It is true that the ware does not by any means rank among Japan's best keramic achievements, from a Western point of view. But the very features that detract from its decorative aspect were those that recommended it to Rikiu as a type of the rustic simplicity which he desired to impose in the observances of his cult. The student's interest in the Raku-yaki is not solely derived from the place it occupies on the threshold of Japan's keramic industry. That, indeed, gives it historic importance. Katō Shirozaemon and his immediate successors produced ware of much greater technical beauty. Gorodayu Go-shonzui stands far above Chōjiro as a technical expert. But the pottery of Tōshiro and the porcelain of Shonzui represent comparatively isolated efforts; whereas the Raku-yaki marks the opening of an industrial era which continued throughout three centuries and gave to the world nearly all the exquisite works of art that have made Japan so famous. Moreover, the ware became a common product of domestic industry, and the Kyōtō Raku-yaki was but a fraction of that produced throughout the Empire.
The Taikō did not live to witness many signs of the progress that he had sought so vigorously to encourage. He died in 1598. In the matter of keramics, Kyōtō may be said to have disappointed his fostering efforts, and in order to trace the results of the command he issued to the leaders of the Korean expedition, it is necessary to turn to the south, the island of the Nine Provinces, where the fiefs of the most powerful among those chieftains lay.
- ↑ See Appendix, note 1.
Note 1.—Izumo is the place where men emigrating from the Asiatic continent to Japan via Korea would naturally land, supposing them to follow the chain of islets which form partial stepping-stones from Korea to Japan. The story of keramics thus furnishes incidental evidence of the theory that Izumo was the first point reached by the Mongoloid immigrants, who subsequently pushed on to Yamato.
- ↑ See Appendix, note 2.
Note 2.—Owari, Bizen, Izumo, Mikawa, Settsu, Nagato, Omi, Mino, Harima, Sanuki, Chikuzen, Tampa, Awa, and Chikugo.