Of the yellow called “Imperial,” from its being the color adopted by the Tai-thsing Dynasty, little is known. The shades vary from a deep orange to a light straw color, but that called Imperial is said to be the citron yellow. Mr. Marryat says that he has seen genuine specimens in only two collections—the late Mr. Beckford’s and the Japan palace at Dresden. He adds, that imitations have been made at Canton and exported. Mr. S. P. Avery, of New York, has a number of pieces of different tints—chrome, citron, lemon, pale and deep yellow, some of which are very curious in both form and decoration. The different shades are also well illustrated in Mr. W. T. Walters’s collection.

The Chinese have ideas of painting peculiar to themselves. They have little regard for perspective, and in ancient times had none whatever. Even so late as the seventeenth century perspective was at direct variance with the rules guiding their art. We can, for example, see vases—particularly those of the Ming Dynasty—in which the personages in a scene appear to be piled directly one above another, or mount stairs, like upright ladders, in order to reach other personages evidently some distance off, but as much in the foreground of the picture as those nearer at hand. Coming down less than half a century{151} later, there is a change. In the Kien-long vase before given the view recedes, and the far-off hills are partially shrouded in shadowy vapor, which adds to the dimness of distance. The perspective is perfect. The change is, no doubt, due to European intercourse. We may, therefore, in cases of doubt derive from this feature a hint of the age of certain pieces. But how account for the older usage? It is said that, when shown the effect of perspective, the Chinese argued against it. There is not, and cannot be, distance on a flat surface, they said; therefore perspective is contrary to nature. They did not see that their art should take cognizance of the delusions of vision, and represent things as they appear, not as they are. To explain this farther, we have only to look at the Chinese practice in decorating porcelain. The painting is regarded as a purely mechanical process, and the same piece may pass through seventy or eighty different hands, each artist contributing his specialty to the general result, and knowing little or nothing of the subject as a whole. Can we wonder, then, that he did not learn to appreciate perspective, if he painted his figures without any idea of their relation to each other or to the rest of the composition? The most remarkable feature of the case is, that in this prejudice against perspective, and supposed constancy to nature, the Chinese artists take up an attitude altogether different from that in which they usually appear. Everywhere they give a free rein to fancy. They are perfectly unconscious of anomaly, or incongruity in, for instance, painting a stag yellow or a horse green. They paint birds, butterflies, flowers, in hues which nature never wore. Their taste for that harmony of tints which is the perfection of surface decoration demands the abnormal colors, and they never hesitate about using them. Their variety is as wonderful as the wealth of their resources. One may turn{152} from a vase, representing the exercise of the most fearless and riotous fancy, to another in which the details are as realistic as the lizards of Palissy. Or, again, a vase which looks as though it might have been cut out of a precious stone, with no decoration but its inimitable color, may stand side by side with another covered with flowers so tenderly treated and delicately colored, that one is inclined to pronounce the painstaking Celestial the prince of artists.

Conceits in shape or design and victory over technical difficulties are his delight. The soufflé decoration is characteristic. The color is inserted in a tube having one end covered with fine gauze, and when blown upon the piece to be decorated, falls in minute air-bells, which break into little circles. Red and blue are thus applied upon a pale grayish-blue, and the effect is beautiful and entirely unique. When, as frequently happens, the bubbles do not break, the result is hardly less attractive, the color running into the ground and giving it the appearance of jasper.

Another method of decorating porcelain, is that called “grains of rice work” (Fig. 104), and is of Persian origin. The design is cut through the thin paste, and on the piece being dipped in the glaze, the latter fills up or covers over the interstices, leaving the design distinctly traceable and perfectly transparent.

Among the curiosities of workmanship the most notable are the reticulated and articulated vases and the “surprise hydraulique,” or Cup of Tantalus. The outside of the reticulated vase (Fig. 105) is perforated in different patterns and covers the inner vase without touching it, except at the neck and possibly also the bottom. Ornaments are often attached to the outside of the open-work. More wonderful than the vases are the services of the same kind, in which the outer and inner parts come so closely together as to render the baking of the pieces extremely difficult and uncertain.{153}

The articulated, or jointed, vases represent a similar victory over the difficulties of workmanship. The vase is cut into two sections, which, although separate, cannot be taken apart.

The “Cup of Tantalus” is so constructed that when raised to the lips the expectant drinker finds himself deluged with the contents. It is a Chinese practical joke, played by means of a syphon concealed in the interior of the vessel. Our enumeration may conclude with this specimen of manual dexterity.

To an American or European taking a wide view of the ceramics of the Chinese, while it is evident that they have produced a vast amount of very beautiful work, the question will no doubt present itself, whether they do not sometimes confound ingenuity with genius, and value the mechanical more highly than the artistic. That they were skilful and rejoiced in exercising their skill is evident; but no one can look without admiration upon their exquisite coloring and flower decoration. If one could find anywhere a complete collection of Chinese pottery, stone-ware, and porcelain, it would be found to contain nearly everything admirable in ceramics, although occasionally hard to appreciate or understand. It would be found to illustrate the entire art history of a people patient, laborious, keen to observe, and swift to imitate, and whom, curiously enough, many of us would rather hear from through the china merchant or collector, than meet in more direct intercourse.{154}

CHAPTER VI.

COREA.

To the north-east of China, across the Yellow Sea, and adjoining the Chinese province of Shengking, lies the peninsula of Corea. Situated between China and Japan, it was alternately under the domination of its more powerful neighbors, and has given, in its ceramic productions, abundant evidences of their sway. At first its works were attributed to Japan, from which country they were carried to Europe. Further inquiry led to the discovery that Corea had an independent artistic existence, and that, while borrowing from either side of it, it imparted to both China and Japan the secrets it had mastered in the art of painting porcelain. The confusion regarding Corean ceramics is entirely due to the commercial intercourse between it and its neighbors, whose styles it adopted and occasionally mingled. Its wares were also sent into their markets. It long ago ceased to produce any kind of porcelain.

Describing some specimens of Corean porcelain, Julliot, a dealer of the last century, speaks of “the fine grain of its beautiful white paste, the attractive lightness and softness of its dead red, the velvet of its bright-green and dark sky-blue colors.” The decoration consists{155} of conventional forms, either floral or animal. The peacock, pheasant, and dragon are met with. The colors are limited to red, black, gold, and pale shades of green and yellow, and the glaze is less vitreous than either the Japanese or Chinese. The Coreans adapted the decoration to the destination of the work. The pieces with Japanese ornamentation were intended for the markets of Japan, those with Chinese for China. On some of the pieces the styles are mixed, Chinese figures being accompanied by Japanese marks, or vice versa. Many of the pieces display very fine workmanship and simplicity of design. Finding their way to Europe in the cargoes of Dutch traders, they were highly valued by collectors, and for a long time served as models to both French and German artists. Their simple style and the chaste employment of a few colors rendered them peculiarly liable to kindle the emulation of unpracticed European decorators.

enlarge-image
Fig. 108.—Corean Porcelain. (W. L. Andrews Coll.)
Fig. 108.—Corean Porcelain. (W. L. Andrews Coll.)

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enlarge-image
Yebis. Shiou-ro. Bis-jamon. Benten. Tossi-toku. Daikoku. Hotei. Fig. 110.—Picnic of the Household Gods of Japan.
Yebis.         Shiou-ro.         Bis-jamon.
Benten.       Tossi-toku.       Daikoku.       Hotei.
Fig. 110.—Picnic of the Household Gods of Japan.

CHAPTER VII.

JAPAN.

ON coming to the land of Nippon, “source of the sun,” known to the outside world as Japan, we must still keep in mind the warning with which we entered China. Japanese art is of Chinese origin, but was modified as it developed. It adapted itself to Japanese tastes,{157} and to the ideas of a people quick to imitate, but possessing a marked national individuality upon which to modify their imitations. When Chinese art began to fall under foreign influence and to renounce its own national characteristics, the more conservative Japanese offered a greater resistance to the overwhelming influx of ideas from abroad. That which had been the strength of Chinese artists now became their weakness. Foreign models gave them new subjects upon which to exercise their marvellous mechanical skill and imitative dexterity, and their artistic nationality was in a measure lost. The Japanese appeared doomed to a similar fate. Western aggressiveness made its impression, and Europe seemed to have led the extreme East captive. The death of an art distinctively Japanese was predicted by some, and by others it was said to have already taken place. These are the views of extremists. It is just possible that the Japanese derived a hint of what their own imitations were likely to be considered by the more fastidious Europeans, from their own opinion of European imitations of the decorations of China and Japan. For it must not be imagined that the imitation was all perpetrated on one side. It is no unusual thing for the frequenter of dealers’ emporiums to find a European vase surmounted by the Dog of Fo, or decorated by birds nowhere visible except to the imagination of a Celestial artist. Art cannot exist in slavery. The European borrowed, and made himself ridiculous; the Japanese imitated, and with servility found degradation. From his temporary aberration it is to be hoped he will thoroughly rouse himself. The contact with Europe which led him to follow after strange gods was not without its lessons. In later times he has shown some capacity for studying and profiting by them. It is the Japanese side of Japanese art that foreigners admire, and not the produce of a foolish combination of the Oriental with the European. It is idle, in view of what may be a lasting return to native models, to bemoan their desertion. The Japanese have already shown a capacity for appreciating their neighbors’ faults and their own merits at a proper value. Comparison is leading them to adopt a standard of criticism; and if they will only persist in cherishing their own good traditions, and in giving play to their distinctively national genius, it will certainly be better for their art, and probably for their commerce also. At the Vienna Exhibition they made the discovery that the imitation{158} of the European had better be abandoned. At Philadelphia they gave proofs of an almost complete emancipation from foreign domination in ceramic art. There is, moreover, abundant reason for the entertainment of such a hope in the evident enlightenment pervading the councils of the Mikado. The following is the language of a Japanese writer, and it shows that the press reflects an intelligence which even that of America or Great Britain cannot afford to contemn: “The Americans and Europeans are enlightened people, and do not without cause call us semi-civilized. But what is the meaning of civilization? It surely is not limited to the possession of fine houses, fine dresses, and to sumptuous living. It is not confined to a flourishing state of its manufactures or machinery. It means an advance in knowledge and politics, a reverence for religion, the proper estimation of good character, and the observance of good customs.” The press which can convey such truths as these is not likely to neglect the national evidences of civilization furnished by the arts and manufactures. If it will not allow its readers to look for the signs of civilization upon the outside of foreign institutions, it is as little likely to overlook the best elements at home, whether in religious reverence, good customs, or in art.

To begin with the rise of the art in Japan, although legend would carry us back to the era of Oanamuchi-no-mikoto, and the inventor Oosei-tsumi, long before history begins, we may content ourselves with a less hoary antiquity. It is said that in the sixth century before Christ certain kinds of pottery were ordered by the Emperor Jinmu for religious purposes. The next five hundred years give no additional knowledge, but in B.C. 29 we learn that in the province of Id-soumi there lived a certain worker in stone and pottery called Nomino-Soukoune. The custom at that time was for slaves to be buried with their dead masters, presumably that the latter might have some one to wait upon them in the next world. When Nomino-Soukoune heard of the death of the Empress, he quickly made some images of stone or earthen-ware, and, taking them to the Emperor, induced him to bury them with the Empress as substitutes for her favorite attendants. The cruel rite was thereafter abolished, and the potter and sculptor, as a reward and distinction, was allowed to take for his surname Haji, the artist in clay. Two years later, B.C. 27, a Corean{159} prince, a son of the King of Sin-sa, landed in “The Land of Great Peace,” and settled in the province of Omi, where his followers founded a potters’ guild. It is said that both Haji and the visitors from Corea made porcelain. But this is extremely improbable, as it was only about the same period that porcelain was invented in China, and all the evidence goes to show that the knowledge of making a translucent ware passed from China to Japan. It is, therefore, not at all likely that a secret jealously guarded by the Chinese should at once have passed to a neighboring country.

After the above date the accounts open to us become slightly contradictory. A maker of tiles is said to have come from Corea, about the year 590, to Japan, to teach his business; that about sixty years later the experiment of tiling a temple roof was first tried, and that the pagoda of a temple in Yamato was built of brick. These assertions point to a relatively backward state of ceramic art in Japan as compared with China; and if tiles and bricks were still novelties in the former country, we are quite prepared to hear that it was only in the year 724 that the monk or priest Giyoki introduced the potters’ wheel. This same individual apparently figures in another account, under the name Gyoguy, as a Corean priest of Buddha, who spread the knowledge of making “porcelain.” In the ninth century the number of factories had greatly increased; but native skill does not appear to have developed to any great extent, although an imperial official superintended the trade. Toward the earlier part of the thirteenth century, Kato Shirozayemon, not being content with the rude works he was turning out, called Koutsi fakata, pieces with worn orifice, undertook the journey to China, in the company of a priest named Fogen, to acquire, if possible, additional skill. In this he was successful, and on his return settled at Seto, in the province of Owari, now celebrated for its porcelain. Several authors speak of the earlier wares of Japan as porcelain; and Jacquemart says that Kato Shirozayemon returned with all the secrets of the art. The question occurs, Is it likely, that, if Japan was at the beginning of our era acquainted to any extent with making porcelain, it would, after experimenting for twelve centuries, be so dependent upon Chinese teaching as to make Kato Shiro’s journey necessary? The probability is the other way. More than that, even the last named traveller cannot, without question,{160} be conceded to have mastered the secret of making porcelain. The Japanese say that he only made stone-ware. Evidence to the same effect is deducible from a Japanese custom. Tea was not introduced from China until the beginning of the thirteenth century, about the time of Kato Shiro’s journey. In or about 1450, the Shiogun, or Tycoon, instituted the “Tea-parties” called Cha-no-yu. Toward the end of the sixteenth century, under Hide-yoshi, the ceremonial was improved. The guests drank out of a bowl of common pottery. These bowls were sometimes imported from Siam and other countries, and vessels of “raku” were made for the same purpose. This “raku” was a ware introduced by a Corean called Ameya, about the beginning of the sixteenth century. It is said that his descendants of the eleventh generation still pursue the trade in Kioto. Raku is nothing more than a lead-glazed earthen-ware (Fig. 111); and if porcelain was known even at that late date, it is hard to understand why the Tycoon should have honored Ameya with a gold seal for introducing the comparatively coarse raku. It is equally hard to understand why raku should have been preferred to porcelain for this special ceremonial. The fact that raku bowls are still used at the Cha-no-yu is probably to be credited to the regard for a custom instituted by a Tycoon.

It may, further, be pointed out that the existing samples of the ware made by Giyoki, or Gyoguy, in the seventh or eighth century, and now in the temple of Todaiji, Yamato, are said to be earthen-ware. Upon the whole, it is most probable that the secrets acquired by Kato Shirozayemon did not carry him farther than the making of stone-ware, and that real porcelain was not made in Japan until between the years 1530 and 1540, or about fifty years prior to the date of the discovery of artificial porcelain in Europe. About that time Goro-dayu Shonsui, a native of Ise, went to China, and, on returning from a lengthened investigation, settled in Hizen, and instituted the manufacture of porcelain. So thoroughly had he mastered the processes of{161} China, that he succeeded in producing all the wares which to-day give Hizen its pre-eminence, viz.: Sometsuki, porcelain decorated with blue paintings under the glaze; crackle; céladon ware; red Akai ware; and “Nishikide” porcelain, decorated with vitrifiable colors upon the glaze. Japan incurred, however, still further debts to Corea. In 1592 a number of Corean porcelain makers were taken to Japan, and their descendants still live in Arita. About the same time the Prince of Satsuma invaded Corea, and took several families engaged in the porcelain industry back with him. To these settlers Japan is indebted for its well-known Satsuma ware. Through all these different channels Japan derived its knowledge of ceramic processes from China and Corea, and was enabled not only to equal, but in many respects to surpass, both its teachers.

It is unnecessary for our purpose to enter fully into an examination of the government of Japan. The central power is the Mikado, descendant of the gods, political and ecclesiastical head of the government. The Tycoon was the executive head, but was expelled a few years ago. What is here to be chiefly observed is, that in the Mikado centres the loyalty of his people, a loyalty based upon tradition and sanctified by religion. The Mikado’s arms are twofold, the (Fig. 112) Kiri-mon—official, and the (Fig. 113) Guik-mon—personal, the former being the flower and leaves of the Paullownia imperialis, the latter that of the chrysanthemum. The Tycoon’s arms (Fig. 114) consisted of three mallow leaves.

The religion of Japan, apart from its symbolism, has little appreciable influence upon its pottery, possibly on account of the comparatively late and rapid growth of the ceramic art. The original religion was Kamism or Shintoism, the worship of ancestors. This is the religion upheld by the Mikados. Upon it Buddhism was in-grafted, and supported by the Tycoons. The two harmonized well, thanks to Japanese toleration, but their combination presents many a curious puzzle. The Japanese cosmogony is simple. Heaven and earth were evolved out of chaos, and then the presence of controlling power being necessary, the gods came. At{162} first there were only three, but afterward seven generations of gods and goddesses succeeded each other, and from the last pair of these came Sin-mon, the founder of Japan. The seven household gods concern us more in looking at Japanese ceramics. These represent the physical wants of the people, and correspond with the Chinese god of longevity and his compeers. The first, Ben-zai-ten-njo, or Benten, is the Madonna of Japan, the ideal matron; Quamon, queen of heaven, appears to be the ideal of happiness; Yebis is a jovial marine god, the food provider, and is generally represented with long legs, claws, drapery of marine origin, and riding on a dolphin. Hotei, a portly, complacent deity, is the very picture and god of contentment. A totally different being, short, thick, and almost lost in his clothes and under the burden of his wealth, is Daikoku, the god of riches. Shion-ro, with long beard, placid face, and towering cranium, is the god of longevity. He leans upon a staff, and is attended by either a tortoise or a stork. He is evidently a relative of the Chinese Cheou-lao. Tossi-toku, with staff and fawn, is the dispenser of knowledge. The last and least esteemed of the seven is the strong, armor-clad Bis-ja-mon, god of glory. Who shall say that there is not philosophy in a religion which thus holds up military glory almost to contempt, and discriminates between riches and contentment? Besides the gods here mentioned there is a host of demons which need not be enumerated, and which, with the household deities, are met with under the most fantastic forms and in the most ridiculous situations, for, according to Japanese ideas, ridicule did not necessarily involve impiety.

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The symbols of Japan are nearly all taken from China. The imperial dragon, though having only three claws, is closely allied to the four and five clawed dragons of China. The Ky-lin and Dog of Fo both reappear, and the Fong-hoang, or Foo, again presents itself with added elegance of form and supreme beauty of plumage. Another bird, resembling an eagle, deserves its title of imperial from its majesty of gait and expression, and seems in perfect keeping with its accompanying noble emblems. The sacred tortoise has a long feathery and fan-like tail, and appears in numberless compositions. The crane, turtle, pine, and bamboo are the emblems of longevity.

In view of all that Japan owes to China and Corea—a great part of its religion, its knowledge of art processes, and its symbols, one would expect to find little that is original in its ceramics. There is, on the other hand, often visible a decided individuality and independence. Japan absorbed and transmuted, while apparently engrossed in copying. The process of assimilation, of bringing the foreign suggestion into subjection to native principles, took time; but even while Japan was in its pupilage, its national character was asserting itself. Its history and position show alike the favorable conditions under which its art grew up. After the aboriginal Ainos had been once subdued by their Asiatic conquerors, history substantiates the claim of Japan to the title of “The Land of Great Peace.” It is true that revolution has of late years changed the form of government by the removal of the Tycoon; but from the beginning of the historical period, B.C. 660, to the civil wars which preceded the establishment of the Tycoons nearly three hundred years ago, there was no war of any consequence. After that event, and down to the return of the executive authority into the hands of the Mikado, there was another long peace. The Japanese, be it again observed, cared little for their god of glory, Bis-ja-mon. Isolation and freedom from the disturbing consequences of war gave the Japanese an opportunity of cultivating the arts of peace with a constantly increasing show of independence, even when the art was based upon a foreign foundation.

In viewing their earliest ceramic productions, there is some difficulty in distinguishing them from those of China and Corea, and this difficulty is increased when we find upon their vases scenes from the court life of China, and a great deal of borrowed ornamentation. In{164} both countries it is said that the ceramic art rose to its highest point in the sixteenth century, and then, we are told, declined. This date may, in the case of Japan, be safely advanced to the seventeenth or eighteenth century. Japan was even then not independent of its teachers, and suffered from the influences adverse to art which affected them. The Portuguese were the first nation to trade with Japan, and were expelled in 1637. The tolerant Japanese, who were willing to make room for any religion containing the seeds of good, could brook neither intolerance nor interference with their civil government. Portuguese intrigue accordingly led to expulsion and the massacre of forty thousand converts to Christianity.

Specimens of “Christian” porcelain, made apparently by the Chinese for the persecuted of Japan, are still in existence, and may be seen in many American collections. After the Portuguese came the Dutch. Had the latter restricted themselves to trading in porcelain, it would have been better for Japanese art. Instead of doing so, they tried to imitate the native wares, and, which was far worse, commissioned the native artists to adopt European styles and to attempt to gratify the whims of European taste and fashion. We cannot wonder that art declined, but are rather led to be surprised that the decline was not more speedy and permanent.

The points of difference between the porcelain of China and Japan may be briefly stated after the general features of Japanese art have been examined. It is to the American a peculiar art. It does not touch our admiration like the Greek for the truthful working out of its ideal forms, nor for the ideals themselves. It does not imbue us with a sense of the mysterious like that of Egypt. We can all admire its wonderful coloring and its perfection of finish; but besides these there is a fascination in the exuberant fancy, richness of invention, and happy blending of tints. The Japanese are true to nature, far more so than the Chinese; but they do not copy nature in every detail. In their best work we will often find that, with a peculiar delicacy, the artist merely indicates what an American or European artist would feel it incumbent upon him to represent. The former holds our attention by leaving it to the imagination to make his work complete. This will suggest what is actually the case—that, as a rule, form is secondary to color.{165}

Japanese porcelain and pottery differ from those of China in the following general respects: perspective is permissible in painting; as a rule, there is greater simplicity of design, and the ornamentation is more chaste and less profuse; and, as already noticed, nature is more closely followed. To explain the greater purity and refinement of Japanese art, there are three points to be noticed. While the Chinese degraded art by degrading the artists, the best and noblest Japanese were themselves artists. Princes are said to have engaged in lacquer-work. The Chinese lowered ceramic art into a merely mechanical pursuit, by dividing the different parts of the ornamentation among several workmen. Artistic conception was almost lost sight of where mechanical finish was thus painfully sought. The Japanese give us the creations of individual men, who bring their own marvellous industrial skill to the expression of their own ideas. The third advantage which they possessed was that already incidentally referred to, viz., the prevalence of hereditary occupations. It has been seen that descendants, of the eleventh generation, of Coreans who settled in Japan as workers in stone-ware are now engaged in the same pursuit. The transmission of technical knowledge was thus amply provided for.

Possessing such advantages and tendencies, the Japanese surpassed the Chinese in several respects. That they do so to-day, the Centennial Exhibition, even making a due allowance for the superior organization of the Japanese section as a government representation, placed beyond all question or cavil. This truth is one to which ceramists, undeceived by the exaltation of China and the treatment of Japan as a mere offshoot, should not be strangers. In lacquer-work the Japanese have always been superior, and at the Exhibition one of the best specimens in the Chinese section was from Japan. The lacquer was so laid on that the ornamentation on the underlying porcelain disclosed itself, and animal forms in red and gold decorated the lacquer. Similar acknowledgments of the excellence of Japanese porcelain have been otherwise made. The Chinese sometimes copy Japanese decoration. Further evidence is not wanting, and has been referred to under China, of the rarity and high value of Japanese porcelain in China.

In any event, the time for servile imitation has passed with all that was worth imitating. Instead of devoting themselves, as the Chinese{166} have done for two hundred years, to vain attempts at rivalling the attainments of their ancestors, the Japanese have shown an inclination to return to their old and renounced standards as bases from which to reach a new originality. They are, in one word, progressive in the best sense. Instead of nineteenth century representations of the works of the seventeenth, it may reasonably be hoped that the present day will disclose an art at once national and its own.

POTTERY.

The ceramic industry of Japan is chiefly, if not entirely, confined to the southern half of the empire. A line drawn from Tokio (Yeddo) to Kaga is its northern limit, and between that line and Satsuma, one of the two most southerly provinces of the island of Kiusiu, the manufacture is pretty evenly distributed. The great centres are Kiusiu, in which are Hizen and Satsuma; Kioto, round which are clustered the prominent names of Awadji, Hiogo, Idsumi, and Nara; Owari and Mino; Kaga, including Kutani, Yamashiro, and in the adjoining province of Echizen, the village of Ota; and, lastly, Tokio, including Yokohama. From these five centres come nearly all the wares which have of late years become so familiar in the American markets. These wares are now known exclusively by the name of the place of manufacture or the inventor. Whatever rule may have been followed in the past, it is now therefore evident, that hereafter Japanese pottery and porcelain must be treated after a method precisely similar to that followed in discussing the wares of France or of England, where, instead of families, we have Sèvres, Limoges, Palissy, Worcester, Derby, and Wedgwood.{167}

The Japanese have an endless variety of earthen-ware made for household use. Of this class some pieces are left unglazed, and others have a very fusible plumbeous glaze, under which painted decorations are sometimes to be seen. Of their semi-porcellaneous, highly refractory potteries, the two best known in America are the Satsuma and Awata. The former (Fig. 116) is so called from the province of that name, in the south of the island of Kiusiu, where it has been made at or near Kagoshima for nearly three hundred years. The latter is made in one of the suburbs of Kioto, in Central Japan. The clay is kaolinic, and the glaze felspathic, but not of the purity of porcelain; and, as a consequence, they do not fuse to the same extent. The body and glaze not being perfectly homogeneous, the latter presents a fine net-work of cracks. The beautiful and soft buff color of the Satsuma ware is its first characteristic. The ornamentation generally consists of birds and flowers delicately outlined and colored. The chrysanthemum, the pæonia, pheasants, and peacocks are especially abundant. This ware is extensively used in the making of tea-sets, charming alike in form and color. So light are the pieces that it is difficult to persuade one’s self that they are not porcelain. The shapes are quaint, and suggestive of flower-cups and leaves. One style of decoration may be taken as typical. The delicious creamy buff paste, covered with crackle glaze, is sprinkled with gold, after a manner in which the Japanese have no equals. On this rich but delicate ground are many-colored flowers, birds, or insects, which harmonize admirably with the shape of the cups. In America so much beauty could be possessed only by the rich. In Japan almost any one may be its owner. A feature distinctive of{168} Japanese art is, that it attempts to reach every grade, high as well as low; and that art, being valued for its own sake, and not purely for its commercial value, is brought to the embellishment of the lowly object as well as of the intrinsically rich.

Another product of Satsuma is called “difficult ware,” from the extreme nicety of the operation performed in making it. In this the body is coarser than in that last mentioned. The ground is similarly prepared, and upon it are laid in relief flowers and birds of fine porcellaneous paste. The technical difficulties attending the production of such ware are obvious. By what ingenuity does the Japanese artist overcome the difference between decorating material and body? A precisely similar style of decoration is employed on many household vessels of earthen-ware or majolica. In these very fine effects are secured by the choice of a sombre ground, from which the porcelain flowers and animals stand out in clear and bold relief. The best Satsuma ware and crackle are perfect marvels of color. The decoration bears a general resemblance to that already described, but is finer. The cracks are scarcely visible, the gold is more cloud-like and fleeting, and the floral ornamentation is more tropically luxuriant. In the higher qualities of crackle, the paste and glaze differ widely in composition, in order that deeper and more distinct cracks may be produced; and tangled in the web are wreaths of green, purple, crimson, and blue flowers mingled with gold. A totally different style of decoration is seen on many cylindrical vases, and shows that the Japanese artists have a clear perception of the subtle harmony existing between form and ornament. In these, to be in sympathy with the simple shape, the designs are bolder, and the colors are laid on with a freer hand.{169}

The Satsuma paste varies in tint from buff to a cold and dark shade of brown; but the decoration of the latter is, as a rule, decidedly inferior. The shapes are manifold, and are generally characterized by simplicity and elegance. When the potter turns to intricate designs, his skill in manipulating the clay seems almost boundless. This feature is more remarkable in the older pieces than in those of more recent date, and is well illustrated in the vase on page 167 (Fig. 117), where a series of thin loose rings gives the piece an appearance altogether unique. The vase from Mr. Robert H. Pruyn’s collection (Fig. 118) is presumably from the Prince’s workshop, and is an excellent example of the refinement of Japanese taste. Full effect is given to the admirable workmanship displayed in the basket-work moulding, which is relieved, but not concealed, by the ivy decoration. A more prevalent style is exemplified by the vase (Fig. 119) in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. The flowers appear to grow from the base to the neck, where a single flower and a few green leaves are left to finish the bouquet. The piece is a rare specimen both in regard to fineness of paste and the delicate treatment of the flower decoration. It belongs to the large class which is illustrative of the Japanese preference of flowers before figures, and of the careful fidelity with which the former are treated. They lead one to think that in the Japanese workshop the “Feast of Flowers” knew no end.

A singular example of Satsuma ware—so singular both in body and ornamentation as almost inevitably to suggest a doubt of its coming from the same workshop—is the Sutton vase (Fig. 120). The decoration is in high relief, and stands out strongly against the brown ground. There are many fine examples of designs executed in relief. These assume the forms of turtles, fishes, frogs, lizards, and crabs, carefully modelled and truthfully colored. On pieces of a religious character the gods of the Japanese pantheon{170} are moulded in bold relief. The same idea is occasionally carried out to a fuller extent by moulding the piece itself after a natural form. Thus we find trays shaped like leaves, cups like lotus leaves, teapots like melons, and one remarkable specimen in the form of an elephant, with a saddle brilliantly painted on grounds of red and gold.