WILD DUCKS
By Korin
(From a Woodcut in the Korin Hiakuzu)
The difference of mental attitude is not the only reason for the wide divergence in methods and ideals of Japanese art from that to which we are accustomed. There are other physical and material causes of great importance which have helped to decide its course. The basis of all pictorial and applied art is architectural, and here we find one starting-point of difference between the styles of the East and the West. The frequency of earthquakes in Japan has rendered impossible the erection of buildings of the stately proportions and massive grandeur of other climes. The old Buddhist temples, which are the chief buildings, cannot vie in importance with those of India or China.
In the Japanese house the walls are but paper screens, the whole weight of the roof being supported by the four corner posts, which, in their turn, are not sunk in the ground but stand on four large stones. This lightness of construction has to a great extent dictated the course taken by the arts of Japan. The Japanese picture, instead of being enclosed in a massive frame, is placed on a light mount of silk brocade, and when not in use is rolled up as we roll a map. And the field of applied art is similarly restricted. The temples contain most of the larger and more important works; there is no place for such in the house. The household furniture is reduced to a minimum. A few mats to sit on, for the Japanese use no chairs; one or two paper screens dividing the house into separate chambers at will; a charcoal brazier; a few cooking utensils and articles of pottery; some lacquered vessels, fans, mirrors, and other ornaments; articles of dress, weapons, and a few personal belongings, form the whole field which is open to the craftsman.
So in Japan we have no rooms crowded with a profusion of heavy ornament. Reticence is the keynote; but what ornament there is must be of exquisite quality.
Before dealing in detail with the different branches of Japanese art it will be well to glance for a little at the history of the nation, in the light of which knowledge we shall better understand the social system under which these arts arose and the mental qualities which they embody.
The civilisation of Japan was the slow growth of many centuries. For more than two thousand years, if we may believe the ancient records, the Mikado and his forefathers have been absolute rulers of Japan, the present dynasty stretching back in unbroken line to the Emperor Jimmu, who flourished about 600 B.C. But, as written history did not exist till some centuries after the beginning of the Christian era, the records of those early days are of a more or less legendary character, as one might surmise from the fact that the Emperor Jimmu was reported to be the grandson of the Sun Goddess herself.
The origin of the Japanese race is shrouded in mystery. Little is known of them except that, somewhere between two and three thousand years ago, they invaded Japan, and drove out the Ainos, who still survive in the island of Yezo. A Mongolian race, no one can say positively whether the invaders came from China or Korea, from the Malay peninsula or Siam, or whether, indeed, they were an offshoot from the wild Huns against whom China raised the Great Wall. One thing tending to show that they were not a branch of the Chinese race is that, even at that early date, China was the abode of an advanced civilisation; while the Japanese were certainly little removed from barbarism, and, indeed, hardly more civilised than the Ainos whom they displaced.
But the Japanese character has always been receptive, and just as their new civilisation is borrowed from Europe, so for the foundations of the old they are indebted to China. When they first came into contact with influences from the mainland it is hard to tell. It is said that the use of Chinese characters was introduced as early as 157 B.C., and the early records give a full account of an invasion of Korea by the Empress Jingo about 200 A.D. After this victorious expedition many captives are said to have been brought back, who laid the foundations of Chinese learning and culture.
The real civilising of Japan, however, began with the coming of the Buddhist priests from Korea in the middle of the sixth century. Buddhism became the chief religion of the country, largely absorbing, though it never quite superseded, the collection of myths and superstitions known as Shintoism. For Shintoism was hardly a religion in the usual sense of the term. As a Japanese writer admits, it had no moral code; but, he adds naively: “Morals were invented by the Chinese because they were immoral people; whereas in Japan there was no necessity for a system of morals, as everyone acted rightly if he only consulted his own heart.”
The chief centres of the new culture which spread over the land were the great Buddhist monasteries. Just as our own mediæval cathedrals and monasteries were the nurseries of the arts, so in Japan arose a race of artist priests. Their work at first applied solely to religious purposes, but afterwards widened out till, along with the sacred, there existed also a secular school. For three or four hundred years under these benign and mellowing influences the country grew and prospered. The quiet and peaceful times from the eighth to the tenth century especially marked a period of great literary activity, several of the most famous poets of Japan, whose writings still live in old tradition, flourishing during this period.
As time went on, however, the horizon became overcast, and from the twelfth to the end of the sixteenth centuries Japanese history is one long record of strife and civil war. The Mikado became more and more only the nominal ruler; the real power lay in the hands of the warrior nobles.
In the twelfth century arose the terrible struggle between the two rivals, the Taira and Minamoto families, each supporting its own candidate for the throne—a war which gave to legend and story one of its chief heroes—Yoshitsuné, the Bayard of Japan.
A hundred years later Japan, for the only time in her history, had to repel a foreign invader, a huge Tartar armada threatening her shores; but, as in the case of England, the elements fought for the islanders. A terrific storm played havoc with the Tartar fleet, and of all the invading forces it is said that only three men escaped alive, and were sent home to tell the tale.
Then in the fourteenth century the bitter wars of the Ashikaga period once more bathed the country in blood.
Those long years of war set their stamp on the nation, hardened its fibre, and brought out its sterner virtues. A military class—the Samurai—arose, and these trained warriors were maintained by the local Daimios, or princes, to whom they owed feudal obedience. Bushido, the way of the warrior, a stern but lofty creed of valour and devotion to duty, became the real moral code of the nation. For the annals of Japanese knighthood are full of tales of dauntless heroism—tales still told in every cottage in Japan, and retold a hundred times in Japanese art.
In those warlike days there was little place for the gentler arts of peace. But the Buddhist temples still stood—quiet sanctuaries where, undisturbed by the turmoil and strife around them, the gentle, priestly philosophers pursued the even tenor of their way, and kept the lamp of art burning bright and clear. In the outer world the military arts alone flourished, and the swordmaker was the king of craftsmen.
In the fifteenth century, however, during a period of peace, a second wave of Chinese influence gave a new impetus to art. The Court of the retired Shogun Yoshimasa was a circle of artists and learned men, culture once more reached a high level, and one of the most brilliant periods of Japanese art began.
The sixteenth century saw a gradual consolidation of the empire. The Mikado for long had been little more than the nominal ruler, the chief power lying in the hands of the Shogun, who controlled the whole executive of the state; but the local Daimios gave little more than a mere formal submission to the central authority—each was practically absolute king in his own province. In 1603 Iyeyasu, the first of the Tokugawa Shoguns, for in his family the office became hereditary, came into power. A man of great ability, he set himself to complete the work of subjugation which his predecessors Nobunaga and Hideyoshi had begun, and finally reduced the turbulent nobles to the state of vassals, owing feudal obedience to the Mikado. Under his wise rule the country settled down to a prolonged period of peace, unbroken for two hundred and fifty years, in which art and industry developed greatly.
The Tokugawa period, 1603-1867, especially in its earlier stages, is pre-eminently the period of the minor arts, which then reached a perfection which has not been attained before or since. The force of the nation formerly expended on war was turned into these more peaceful channels. The Daimios of the various provinces carefully fostered the local arts, specimens of which were sent yearly to the Shogun and the Mikado, and a keen rivalry existed between the different districts.