princes resigning lands, retainers, and incomes, have retired into private life, at the bidding of their former servants.' Are these servants likely to take the place of their masters and become intelligent patrons of the arts? Certainly not. Amongst these nouveauxriches there is not one such where half a century ago there were a hundred.

Nor are the samaurai,' or 'squires,' of the country in any better plight. In days of yore they were retainers in the service of the nobles, proud of their privilege of wearing two swords, and having no cares as to the future of themselves or their families. With abundance of leisure, they not only studied art but educated their children to appreciate it, and especially that branch of it which was 'kiu-hei.' The value of a kaké-mono, or a screen, often depended more in their eyes upon its having been painted by a nobleman, or having his signature to it, than on its being the work of the country's greatest artist. But nowadays the father has not only to work for himself, but to think of how he shall best educate his son to fit him for business, and but little of the latter's time can be devoted to art, even if he had an inclination for it, which he probably has not, for the artist's profession is also voted old-fashioned.'

Lastly, the religious bodies are in as bad a way as either of the foregoing. Instead of finding employment for artists and art craftsmen, whenever the opportunity occurs their members are surreptitiously selling their art treasures, be they pictures, bronzes, enamels, or idols. There would be considerable gaps in the British Museum collection if every kaké-mono was removed which had once hung on a temple wall.

Such being the case, the patroniser and the purchaser of Japan's art wares must for a long time to come be the foreigner. First the globe-trotter,' who rushes to the 'curio-shop' directly he sets. foot in the country, who will look at nothing that is not unique and antique,' who purchases during his stay enough to fill huge cases, only to find on his return home that his old lamps are new, and that he could have bought at half the cost and far better within a shilling cab ride of his house. Then in larger quantities the collector at home, whose acquisitions are not always according to his own judgment, but according to one which has been formed for him by the 'curio' dealer. Lastly, and in vastly preponderating numbers, the general public, the majority of whom buy without knowledge and without taste. As to this last class I shall have somewhat more to say before I have done.

Now how does this altered condition of things affect the artist? He has perhaps gained in independence, he has cut himself adrift from the old traditions, he is free to adapt himself, if he chooses, to Griffis, Mikado's Empire, p. 296.

VOL. XXIII.-No. 133.

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civilised notions and all the science of the West, but as Mr. Anderson, whom I must again quote, says, he is now compelled to fight his way as he can in the grim struggle for existence, and when so far successful he is still tempted to enter that competition for wealth which is the great element of peril and degradation in the midst of the real progress of our modern civilisation.'

For myself I fail to perceive whence, for a long period, this wealth is to come. Kaké-mono, maki-mono, and other similar productions are going out of fashion in the artist's own country. It is very improbable they will ever find a considerable market with foreigners, for they are unwieldy and altogether unsuitable to the adornment of houses in these climes. I have seldom met with the possessor of any quantity of them to whom they were not as cumbersome as a white elephant.

Nor is there much prospect of better times for Japanese artists should they adapt themselves to Western fashions, and take to oil colours and canvas, if one is to judge from the specimens which have found their way to England. It is, however, hardly credible that such a tergiversation as this could take place after the report of the Commission. If we turn to the engravers, there is not much more hope for them; one considerable source of employment, namely, the graving of seals, which everyone used to carry, is rapidly dying out under the inroads of civilisation. Nor is their work for foreign publishers uniformly successful; witness the illustrations to Griffis's Fairy Tales. The number of painters in Japan is, I believe, a constantly decreasing number, and when one bears in mind the deathblow which is being struck to the xylographic arts in Europe and America by the mechanical photographic processes, one can hardly dare to hope that a very brilliant future lies before the Japanese wood-engraver and colourist.

As regards the workman of to-day, the conditions under which he works, his recompense, and the materials he uses, these will be best considered together, and the easiest mode of arriving at a proper understanding of them will be to take an article possessed by almost every person who has purchased anything Japanese-for instance, a Japanese folding screen-and trace it backwards in its course from purchaser to producer. The one in the room in which I write contains original drawings on four folds, it has a lacquer framework, with metal ornaments, and it is backed up with a stuff professing to be silk interwoven with gilt thread. What is its history? I purchased it from a retail dealer for thirty shillings. It came to him from a wholesale house in the city, where it formed part of a large consignment ordered by the house of its agents in Yokohama, probably in some such terms as these:-The last batch of screens, for which we paid ten shillings each, were not saleable, they were too

tame; please see that the next have figures of court ladies in bright costumes walking on the mountain sides, flights of cranes in the air, streams with fish in them in the foregrounds: and the price must not exceed eight shillings, for we are being undersold.' The Yokohama agent forthwith proceeds to interview the head of the manufactory of screens, who, expostulating at the reduction in price, but cognisant of the fact that he has a quantity of workmen to keep, is forced to accept the order. This done, he summons a sub-contractor or foreman, who alone deals directly with the workmen. 'Impossible,' is the reply of this individual; they cannot be made for the money.' 'But they must.' 'Well, then, they can have but one coat of lac upon the framework instead of three, and the gold thread must contain an even larger interior of cotton than the last; and of course the men must be paid less.' Now only do we arrive at the actual producers— the artist, the carpenter, the metal-worker, and the weaver-and see how much of the original cost is left for them after percentage to retail dealer, cartage to ditto, profit of wholesale dealer in London, cartage from docks to ditto, dock dues, freight, insurance, customs, profit of London wholesale dealers' Yokohama agent, profit of head of manufactory, profit of foreman of ditto, and cost of materials!

What is there left for the one amongst the producers with whom we are principally concerned, namely the artist? Can there by any possibility be any pleasure or satisfaction for him in his work? His quiet and delicate landscapes, even if they had to be turned out by the dozen, were his own invention and could be varied to his taste. But now he is ordered to put ladies in court costume on his mountains, somewhere near the snow-line, certainly above the clouds, cranes in the air at a height they never attain to, and carp swimming in a snow-water stream. And for these he is to be paid a steadily decreasing sum, whilst his cost of living is augmenting at a rapidly increasing rate. Is it to be wondered at that the Japanese workman curses the advent of the foreigner, adopts his system of strikes and socialism, and loses all love for art?

The other branches of art industries, if inquired into, would show the same system, and the same result: lacquer ordered to be ready in a fortnight which should take six months to manufacture, metal work to be stamped out by thousands of the same pattern, stuffs professedly heavy with gold but in reality with rubbish.

If the facts are as I have stated them (and they are gathered from sources in which I have every confidence) it will be apparent to the dispassionate observer that the Japanese, instead of sitting at home with folded hands, waiting for the world to come as disciples to their feet (as the Commission fondly expects), must bestir themselves at once and very vigorously if their former triumphs in art are ever to be repeated. Those who know their constitution and character doubt

whether this is possible, or whether the nation can make any effectual stand of itself, unless aided by the co-operation of the outside world, against the impending ruin which threatens its arts.

Is such co-operation possible, and, if it is, would it be attended by any revival of the arts? Answering the latter portion of the query first, there does appear to be some hope of this. The Japanese race have, almost without exception, an innate artistic instinct which it will take long to eradicate. Those competent to judge affirm of a considerable section of the nation that it cannot do anything in an inartistic manner. There is one branch of art which is apparently flourishing at the present time, and the success of which proves that, given the demand and the means, an artistic product will follow. I refer to ivory-carving, in which results have quite lately been attained surpassing those of any previous period. The ornamentation suffers in most cases from too much enrichment with coloured ivories and mother of pearl, but this has been done to suit the foreign market. I am obliged to add the word 'apparently,' for I have in my mind costly examples which under usage that they certainly should have stood have shrunk and cracked so as to allow the inlayings to fall out. This could not have happened with older work.

The system under which these satisfactory results obtain is that the house in Yokohama whence these ivories emanate, receiving fair prices from abroad, is enabled to give a sort of retaining fee to the most skilful workmen, and thus to obtain the command of the market.

There being, therefore, a probability of good work being forthcoming, provided that the foreigner will come forward, demand it, and pay for it, may such an impetus as this be hoped for? I am afraid that there is little chance of this until the market for the supply of fine old specimens is exhausted, or the prices of these rise to an extravagant figure. The preference of all collectors, and even of the ordinary buyer, is towards the antique. It is not surprising that such is the case. A cabinet a century old may turn out to be the work of a great master, and to have surrounding it a halo of romance from having once inhabited a palace, and its value may be many times the price paid for it. No such possibility environs one made yesterday. We see evidence of this preference in the efforts made by vendors of new wares to sell them as old. When the programme of the Fine Art Society's Loan Exhibition was issued, many were the appeals made by collectors that it should not be confined entirely to old pieces, but that the good work of to-day should be included; but upon visiting these same collectors, very few were found who admitted the ownership of modern pieces, and still fewer who wished to be represented by them in the collection. The question therefore

apparently resolves itself into this: when will the market be cleared of old work? Here no two opinions agree. It is empty to-day, but the advent of many new collectors which these exhibitions must bring about will cause fresh exertions to be made, a higher price to be offered to indigent owners, and the supply may again meet the demand. Should the Japanese Government see the wisdom of purchasing all fine and rare specimens for their own museums, or of prohibiting as far as possible their exportation, or should they repurchase in the foreign market, a demand for good modern work would probably soon arise, for the decorative arts of Japan have a charm, a quaintness, and an individuality which distinguish them from those of any other country; and so long as these are preserved so long will they be sought after by the civilised nations of the world.

MARCUS B. HUISH.