JAPAN
ures, rising tier upon tier in the solemn obscurity of a vast hall, three hundred and eighty-nine feet long and fifty-seven feet high. Of course this lavish multiplicity of production could not fail to stifle originality of conception. Where the object was to inspire awe by means of a countless concourse of deities, it would have been essentially faulty art that certain figures should detach themselves saliently from the phalanx. Thus, although the names of such celebrated sculptors as Unkei, Kōkei, Shichijō, and Kōyei are associated with the carving of the principal images in the Sanjusangen-do, it cannot be said that any of the effigies stand on a high plane of glyptic art. No two are precisely alike. The sculptors were careful that each should be invested with sufficient individuality to avert the impression of mere iteration. But beyond that feat, which is achieved chiefly by mechanical means,—diverse arrangement of the figures' hands and of the emblems held in them,—there is nothing to relieve the monotony of type and execution.
In Europe and America there is a general tendency to dismiss the ancient sculpture of the East, including that of Japan, as barbaric in character, without any sentiment of idealism and with little or no regard for material beauty. A high place is indeed conceded to Japanese decorative sculpture, but it is held that in the more important branch of the art she never emerged from the barbaric or indigenous stage. That verdict must surely be based on ignorance of the work done by Japan's ancient and mediæval sculptors; ignorance not at all surprising when it is remembered how inaccessible are representative examples of her art and how few have made any serious attempt to study them.
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