Reverting to the engraved T´ang ornament, there is a little oblong box in the Kunstgewerbe Museum at Berlin with incised rosettes of prunus blossom form, glazed white and yellow in a green ground and finished almost with the neatness of Ch´ien Lung porcelain, but of undoubtedly T´ang origin. The same prunus design occurs on a typical T´ang bowl, in the Eumorfopoulos Collection, stencilled white in a green ground. I have postponed reference to these pieces because of the bearing of the latter on the decoration of the wonderful figure illustrated in the frontispiece, which will make a fitting climax to our series of T´ang specimens.
This figure, with its stand, measures 50 inches in height, and represents one of sixteen Lohan or Arhats, the Buddhist apostles. Its provenance has been kept discreetly concealed,[58] but we may infer that it was taken from a temple or mausoleum, and we know that there were others with it, two of which were exhibited at the Musée Cernuschi, in Paris, in June, 1913. This one, however, has the advantage over the others of being complete with its pottery stand. The ware is white and comparatively hard; the colourless glaze on the fleshy parts has acquired a brown stain from the dripping of the cave moisture, and developed a minute crackle, both of which features are observable on some of the glazed vases from T'ang tombs; the pupils of the eyes are black. The draperies, of which the flowing folds are worthy of the finest classic sculpture, are glazed with mottled green, the upper robe with brownish yellow, both of T'ang type, and the latter is patched (in true Buddhist fashion) with green–edged bands with white designs resembling divided prunus blossoms in a yellow ground, in style recalling the decoration of the bowl previously mentioned. The technique, then, is that of the T'ang wares, but instead of being made in a mould like the grave statuettes, this monumental figure is modelled in the round by an artist worthy to rank with the masters of sculpture and painting who made the T'ang period famous.
When one looks at the powerful modelling of the head, the strong features composed in deep contemplation, and the restful pose of the seated form, one realises that here, at last, we have the great art which inspired the early Buddhist sculptors of Japan. It is no conventional deity which sits before us. The features are so human as to suggest an actual portrait, but for the supernatural enlargement of the ears in Buddhist fashion. The contracted brows bespeak deep concentration; the eyes, dreamy yet awake, look through and past us into the infinite; the nostrils are dilated in deep breathing; the lips compressed in firm yet compassionate lines. It is the embodiment of the Buddhist idea of abstraction and aloofness; yet it lives in every line, the personification of mental energy in repose. But so rare are examples of this style, that, unless we turn to painted pictures or frescoes such as have been brought back by the recent expeditions in Turfan, we must look in the temples of Japan, not, indeed, for similar Chinese work, but for the Japanese masterpieces in bronze, wood and lacquer, of the same period, which avowedly followed the Chinese art. The Yuima in the Hokkeji nunnery, ascribed to the middle of the eighth century; the portrait figure of the priest Ryoben (✝ 773) in the Todaiji monastery, and the portrait figure of Chisho Daishi (✝ 891) in the Onjoji monastery,[59] are all conceived in the same grand style, and bespeak a kindred art.
But high as this figure ranks as sculpture, it is far more remarkable as pottery. To fire such a mass of material without subsidence or cracking would tax the capabilities of the best equipped modern pottery, while the skill displayed in the modelling is probably unequalled in any known example of ceramic sculpture. The contemporary grave figures hold a high place in ceramic modelling, but this statue is as far above the best of them as Dwight's stoneware bust of Prince Rupert towers above the Staffordshire figurines. Dwight's masterpiece has long been an object of wonder and admiration in the ceramic ante–room in the British Museum, and, with the help of the National Art Collections Fund and of several munificent individuals, the British Museum has been able to acquire this wonderful Chinese figure, which is now exhibited in the King Edward VII. galleries.
It is too early yet to attempt seriously the classification of the T´ang wares under their respective factories. Before this is possible the meagre allusions in Chinese literature must be supplemented by far fuller information. At present our knowledge of the T´ang factories is chiefly drawn from casual references in Chinese poetry and in the Chinese Classic on Tea, the Ch´a Ching, written by Lu Yü in the middle of the eighth century. From this we gather that the Yüeh Chou[60] kilns enjoyed a high reputation. An early allusion to this factory in reference to the "bowls of Eastern Ou" in the Chin dynasty has already been recorded.[61] The author of the Tea Classic tells us that among tea–drinkers the Yüeh bowls were considered the best, though there were some who ranked those of Hsing Chou[62] above them. Lu Yü, however, thought the judgment of the latter connoisseurs was wrong, because the Hsing Chou bowls resembled silver while the Yüeh bowls were like jade, because the Hsing bowls were like snow, the Yüeh like ice, and because the Hsing ware, being white, made the tea appear red, while the Yüeh ware, being green (ch´ing), imparted a green (lü) tint to the tea. The T´ang poet, Lu Kuei–mêng, further tells us that the Yüeh bowls "despoiled the thousand peaks of their blue green[63] colour." Yüeh Chou is the modern Shao–hsing Fu in the province of Chêkiang. It was celebrated in the tenth century for a special ware made exclusively for the princes of Wu and Yüeh, of the Ch´ien family, who reigned at Hung Chou from 907 to 976. This was the pi sê or "secret colour" ware which was made at Yüeh Chou until the Southern Sung period (1127–1279), when the manufacture was removed to Yü–yao.[64] The pi sê[65] ware has caused endless mystification among writers on Chinese porcelain. The name—which means literally "secret colour"—has been taken by some to imply that the colour was produced by a secret process (the most natural but not the generally accepted meaning), and by others that it was a forbidden colour, i.e. only permitted to be used by the princely patrons of the house of Ch´ien.[66] The author of the Ching–tê Chen t´ao lu[67] states that "it resembled the Yüeh ware in form, but surpassed it in purity and brilliance." This is, however, only the opinion of a nineteenth–century writer who does not claim to have seen a specimen of either. A tenth–century writer[68] makes use of the vague expression, "the secret colour preserves the note of the green (ch´ing) ware (tz´ŭ)," which apparently means that the secret–colour glaze did not rob the ware of the musical quality of usual ch´ing ware, implying a difference of some kind between the pi sê and the ch´ing glaze.
Literary references of this kind are open to so many inferences that their value is slight without some tangible specimen to help us to realise their import. This difficulty is greatly increased in dealing with Chinese descriptions because of the ambiguity of Chinese colour words, which is discussed elsewhere. But in the case of Yüeh Chou ware, or at any rate of one kind of it, we have an important clue in another Chinese work. Hsü Ching, who accompanied the Chinese Ambassador to Corea in 1125, in a description of the Corean wares, makes the remark that "the rest of them have a general likeness to the old pi sê ware of Yüeh Chou and the new Ju Chou ware."[69] Fortunately, we can speak with considerable confidence of the Corean wares of this time, many examples of which have been taken from the tombs of the period. The British Museum has a fair number of examples, quite enough to show the typical Corean glaze, a soft grey green celadon of decidedly bluish tint, a thick smooth glaze often of great delicacy and beauty of tone.
In view of this the colour of the Yüeh bowls, the blue–green of the hills, is easily visualised. But China boasts so many makes of celadon[70] that he would be a bold man who would single out any one piece and say this is Yüeh ware. Among the numerous specimens of celadon which have reached Europe from various sources it is far from improbable that some were baked in the Yüeh kilns, but at present, alas, we are impotent to identify them.
The author of the Ching–tê Chên t´ao lu[71] places the Hsing Chou factory at the modern Hsing–t´ai Hsien, a dependency of Shun–tê Fu, in Chihli. Little else is recorded about the white Hsing ware beyond a general statement in the annals of the T´ang dynasty[72] that the "white ware (tz´ŭ) cups of Nei Ch´iu were used by rich and poor throughout the empire." Nei Ch´iu, it should be explained, is identified as a township in the Hsing Chou. We may add that the ware of both Yüeh Chou and Hsing Chou was used for "musical cups" by Kuo Tao–yüan.[73] One of the criteria which the Chinese recognise in distinguishing ordinary pottery from the finer wares of a porcellanous nature is the note emitted by the ware when smartly tapped with the finger, and we may fairly infer that any bowls which were suitable for use as musical chimes would be of a sonorous, hard fired material if not actually porcelain.
The Ch´a Ching enumerates five other T´ang factories which supplied tea bowls, all of them inferior in reputation to the Yüeh Chou kilns. Ting Chou