It was not till the beginning of the eighteenth century that we have any definite record of the manufacture of porcelain in Kioto. About that time Yeisen devoted himself to the imitation of Chinese celadon. If we are to find any common note in the wares produced in the various Kioto potteries, it would be in a certain studied rudeness both in shape and decoration, the very opposite of the delicately finished products of the Hizen kilns. The rare pieces of Ming porcelain with coloured decoration were eagerly sought for and copied, not in a slavish way, but rather so as to catch the spirit of their design. In fact these Japanese copies might be made to throw some light on that rather obscure subject, the origin of enamel decoration in China in the days of the later Ming emperors.
An apparently early class of Chinese enamelled ware, somewhat rudely painted with a predominant iron red combined with a subordinate green, was a great favourite with the Kioto potters, but we find also copies of the Wan-li ‘pentad,’ the designs in this case sparely scattered over the ground, generally in formal patterns of a textile type. The blue and purple ware with ribbed cloisons which the Japanese associate with their mysterious land of Kochi was also in favour, but at Kioto, I think, this ware was not copied in porcelain. So of the blue and white made at this time at Kiyomidzu, it is distinguished from both the Hizen and the Seto wares by a certain rudeness in the shape and decoration, a character preserved by a great deal of the sometsuke still made in this district.
Quite a different spirit was, however, brought in by Zengoro Riyozen, the tenth descendant of a famous family of potters. This Zengoro was a potter of universal genius, the foremost ceramic artist indeed of the peaceful and luxurious period at the beginning of the nineteenth century, when the Tokugawa Shogun at Tokiyo set an example of an extravagant expenditure and brilliant display which was only too readily followed at the courts of the great feudal nobles. In the art work of that time, in spite of the unsurpassed perfection of execution and love of gorgeous decoration, we can already trace the signs of a coming decay. Zengoro, besides reviving with some success the deep sapphire blue, sous couverte, of Ming times, succeeded in producing from an iron-oxide a red ground which vied with the famous coral reds of the previous century in China. But it was rather the Ming red, sous couverte, that made from ‘powdered rubies of the West,’ that he professed to copy. Over the red ground of his plates and little bowls he painted his design in gold of the finest quality, and on the white ground of the inside placed a scant decoration of his under-glaze sapphire blue. Some of these dainty little cups are shown in a table-case in the British Museum, but if we compare them with the exquisite Ming bowls of a deep red derived from copper in the same collection, the difference of the quality of the two tints is at once apparent. As, however, it was a matter of convenance to go back to a Ming model, it was with the latter ware that Zengoro’s work was compared. It was for his success in this kind of decoration (produced about the years 1806-1817) that the great Kioto potter received from his patron, the prince of Kishiu, a seal with the character yeiraku, or reading in modern Chinese Yung-lo, the name of the Ming emperor (1402-24) with whom the red copper glaze is traditionally associated ([Pl. B]. 22).[125] This, then, is the origin of the name Yeiraku kinrande for the ‘gold brocade’ ware of Zengoro. At a later time this form of decoration was carried by Zengoro’s son to Kaga, where in a debased form it became characteristic of a ware with which our markets were at one time flooded.
Kishiu Ware.—This kinrande, however, is not the only kind of porcelain with which the name of this protean artist is associated. Although the name Yeiraku given him by the Prince Nariyuki is generally connected with his brilliant red and gold ware, it was a porcelain of quite another kind that our Zengoro the tenth, or perhaps his son Hozen, the eleventh of the family, turned out from the kilns that had been erected by that prince in the garden (the Ô-niwa) of his palace near Wakayama. The Japanese tell us that this well-known Ô-niwa or Kishiu ware was made in imitation of a kind of porcelain or fayence brought long ago from Kochi, a name generally rendered as Cochin-China, in any case a country to the south of China. We have seen grounds for associating this Ô-niwa yaki rather with an early type of Chinese polychrome ware, painted on the biscuit with glazes of three or perhaps four colours. In any case, in the Japanese ware the turquoise, the purple, and the straw-coloured yellow (this last quite subordinate) are applied in a similar fashion, and this is indeed practically the only Japanese ware on which we find the turquoise colour that has played so important a part in other countries. It is here the most important colour of the triad, but occasionally we find it replaced by a deep, rich green. On this Kishiu or Ô-niwa ware, known also to the Japanese as Kairaku from another seal used by Zengoro ([Pl. B]. 20), the decoration is formed by ribs or lines which separate the surface into shallow cloisons. In other cases the turquoise or the aubergine purple is found alone as a monochrome glaze.
Very few, however, of the large vases of this ware that have been exported of late years to Europe, and especially to America (where the turquoise blue has always been a favourite, as in the case of Chinese porcelain), can have come from the kilns in the ‘prince’s garden.’ This ware has, indeed, for some time since, been imitated at many other places—at Tokiyo, and since 1870 especially at Kobe, where vast quantities have been manufactured for exportation. These copies have gone through the stages of degradation in design and colour that usually accompany a large commercial production.
Another famous potter, Mokubei, who worked at Kioto about the same time, is said to have made great improvements in the moulds employed by him, especially in those used for copying old Chinese pieces. But we certainly cannot accept the statement that he was the first potter in Japan to use moulds. This same Mokubei is said to have copied the richly glazed stoneware of Kochi, a ware that had long been prized by the Japanese, and to which, or rather to the kindred porcelain, we have already referred. It is described as a hard pottery, with archaic moulded decorations, coated with lustrous glazes of green, purple, yellow, and golden-bronze. Mokubei also worked for the prince of Kishiu, and it would be interesting to know what relation, if any, he had with Zengoro and his Ô-niwa yaki.[126]
Sanda Celadon.—The kilns set up at Sanda, a small town to the north-west of Osaka, by the feudal lord of the district, have acquired in Japan a great name on account of the celadon ware there made. This Sanda-seiji was first produced at the end of the seventeenth century, and followed more closely the famous old heavy wares of Lung-chuan than did the more delicately finished celadon porcelain made about the same time at Ôkôchi in Hizen. In addition to these wares, the Japanese lay claim to an ancient celadon of native manufacture, and much ink has been spilt in Japan upon the question of the origin of certain archaic pieces preserved in temples and private collections. The bulk of the Sanda celadon, we should say, is a solid useful ware with small artistic pretensions.
The Wares of Owari and Mino.—If, leaving Kioto, we take the old high-road to Yedo—the Tokaido—we pass through a succession of villages where the local wares are displayed in the stalls lining the route. Some of this pottery is not without merit, and historical associations give interest to more than one variety. But it is not till we have passed Nagoya, a large industrial town at the head of the Gulf of Owari, that we enter a true porcelain district—the only district in Japan that has vied with Hizen in the production of porcelain for domestic use and for exportation. Not far off is the village of Seto, the home of Toshiro; it was here that on his return from China, early in the thirteenth century, he set up the first kiln that produced in Japan a ware with any claims to artistic merit. But, as we have said at the beginning of this chapter, the ware made by Toshiro was no true porcelain, although the expression Seto-mono, derived from his native village, is used rather for porcelain than for other kinds of pottery. The term is, in fact, about equivalent to our word ‘china.’
It was not till nearly six hundred years after Toshiro’s day that the village of Seto again became prominent, when in the year 1807 the art of making porcelain was, after many difficulties, successfully introduced from Hizen. This was thanks to the energy of the potter Tamakichi, who ventured a journey to Hizen to find out the secrets of the manufacture. As a reward for his services the privilege of wearing two swords and the rights of a samurai were granted to Tamakichi by the lord of Owari. Here again we find the new industry established under the fostering care of the local prince.
Over a wide district, more especially to the east on the borders of the province of Mikawa, the decomposing granite furnishes an excellent raw material, and centres for the manufacture of porcelain have sprung up sporadically over a tract stretching away to the north, as far as the province of Mino. But most of these kilns have never produced anything better than a common blue and white ware.