The method of casting employed in these and similar articles, which is still characteristic of Japanese work, was as follows:—An exact model of the object, with the ornamentation complete as in the finished article, was made in wax. A slip was then prepared with very fine sand, clay, and water, and the model carefully coated with the mixture, special care being taken to run it into all the hollow places, so that a complete skin covered the wax at every part. When the first coat dried another was added, and another and another, a slightly thicker paste being used for each successive coat. A coarser and stronger mixture was used for the outer layers, till the model was encased in a hard, solid crust. Vent holes were then drilled and the wax melted out. After being carefully heated the moulds were ready to receive the molten metal, which was then poured in. When the casting was cold the moulds were broken off and the metal exposed to view. This system not only ensured individuality in the work, a fresh mould being made for each piece, but allowed of a depth of modelling and under-cutting which would have been impossible had the mould been in pieces to be drawn apart and afterwards used again.

The metal work of Japan may be conveniently grouped in three classes. First, the early work characterised by extreme elegance, ornament being used sparingly, though with great taste and often marvellous vigour. Then comes a middle period, dating from the coming of the Tokugawa dynasty at the end of the sixteenth century, when a class of work highly ornamented and rich in detail came into vogue. And, lastly, we have the more modern naturalistic school, wonderful in technique, but lacking the inspiration of the older styles, and beside it appearing dull and commonplace.

South Kensington Museum is particularly rich in Japanese metal work, especially bronzes, of all these styles. There are several fine temple lanterns, notably one pair, standing about eight feet high, of very elegant design, and ornamented with great reticence and taste. A smaller pair, evidently later in date, contain some wonderful casting, but in their more ornate quality lack the dignity of the first pair.

A piece much esteemed by some critics is the large Koro, or incense burner, of quite modern work, cast in 1878—a life-sized study of peacocks, doves, and sparrows. It is certainly a wonderful piece of realism. The poses are natural, the texture of the feathers is imitated in the unyielding metal with marvellous fidelity, single plumes standing out in full relief; but, placed beside the best old work, the whole thing seems trivial and even vulgar. The birds are lifelike to just this extent: if they were only coloured we should think they were stuffed specimens. But from the true artist we get more than this camera-like reproduction of nature; he can also give us the spirit. Turn from this case to the Miochin eagle beside it. As a piece of realism it is worthy to compare with the other, but how much more it conveys. There is a marvellous poise about the bird, a vigour and sweep of line that makes it live and breathe the intense ferocity of its nature. It is alive, while the other merely irritates by its close resemblance to life. Of iron, partly cast and partly made up of hammered plates, it is the work of Miochin Muneharu, a member of the famous Miochin family of armourers, and dates from the sixteenth century.

The smaller pieces in the collection—the vases, trays, bowls, and candlesticks—are also well worthy of study, and illustrate the same tendency—the older work charming by its stately simplicity, and sometimes also by its vigorous treatment of the grotesque; the modern apt to become a mass of exquisitely executed decorations of a highly naturalistic but rather trivial nature.

But in the early years of Japan the implements of war chiefly occupied the attention of the metal worker, and during the bitter civil wars that devastated the country the swordsmith and the armourer became persons of great importance.

The famous family of Miochin has been associated with the making of arms and armour as far back as records extend. An authentic member of the family, Masuda Munemori, wrought helmets and armour in 75 A.D.; and, further back still, there is the legendary founder of the line, who is said to be the grandson of the god Takara himself, who taught him the art of working in metals. From the twelfth to the eighteenth centuries they held the position of armourers to the Court.