A Satsuma riddle
By G.S. Cheema

AMONG the various exhibits on display in the exhibitions put up by the Punjab Government at Anandpur Sahib and Chandigarh were some pieces of Japanese ceramics — or to be more precise, Satsuma faience ware — bearing the pictures of the ten Gurus. Dated at 1875, or thereabouts, no pieces of this kind have been noticed before, though, undoubtedly, others must also have been made. The items are two identical vases or jars, obviously a pair, and a smaller pot which may have been intended to be a sugar or tea caddy. So while the smaller item may have been part of a tea-set, the vases are purely decorative, and presumably the client must have ordered a number of them to be given away as presentation pieces.

Who was the client? Obviously it had to be a Sikh gentleman of means. The present owner is one Sardar Atamjit Singh, a resident of Dehra Dun, and scion of an old sardar family. But he readily admits that these pieces of Satsuma ware are not old heirlooms discovered in some store room of an ancestral haveli which had somehow survived the vicissitudes of time and fortune. They were picked up by him from a Bombay antiquarian in the mid sixties, and according to the dealer he had, in turn, acquired them at an auction in Hyderabad. There were indeed some Sikh gentlemen in the service of His Exalted Highness. The items may have reached the Deccan through them. Maharaja Ripudaman Singh, the dispossessed ruler of Nabha lived in exile at Kodaikanaal. Perhaps they may have been his, and after his death they might have changed hands and reached Hyderabad. Many of the nobles of the Nizam were extremely rich, and there were many collectors and men of taste in this city —the last relic of the Mughal Empire — besides the redoubtable Salar Jang III. Who knows? But it is difficult to think of anyone outside the small circle of the Sikh princes who could have placed an order for such pieces; so small was the class among the Sikhs who had the taste and the means — at least circa 1875.

Whereas Chinese porcelain (and other ceramics, like faience) had been imported into India and Europe for many centuries, Japan was a relative newcomer in this field. After the Shimbara rebellion of Christian converts in 1637, Japan had closed its ports to foreign ships. Although a tenuous foreign trade was maintained through the medium of the Dutch who were allowed to maintain a trading post on a small island under extremely humiliating conditions, Japan remained virtually isolated, with its citizens prohibited from travelling abroad. That is until Commodore Perry with his armed cruisers entered Tokyo Bay in 1854, and, after a preliminary shelling, forced the Japanese to open their ports. This was the USA’s first major foreign intervention, and, shall we say, an early victory in the name of free trade?

The history of the Satsuma potteries is an old one. They take their name from a district whose capital is Kagoshima on the southernmost island of Kyushu. It was towards the end of the 16th century that the feudal prince or daimyo of Satsuma, returning from a campaign in Korea, brought back with him a number of Korean potters. One of these discovered clay deposits of remarkable fineness near Kagoshima, which became the basis of the prosperity of the later potteries. One of these very Koreans was also destined to found a great samurai family and Admiral Yamamoto, the architect of the triumph of Pearl Harbour, was one of his descendants. But that is another story.

In the later nineteenth century, Satsuma ware was in vogue in the European market. It was characterised by a sombre cream or ivory ground, covered with a network of fine crackles with enameling and gilding. The enamels used were red, green blue, purple, gold, black and yellow. But much of what passed as Satsuma ware, specially the second grade stuff, was not really made at Satsuma, but at Kyoto, Tokyo and Yokohama. In Japan itself this later nineteenth century Satsuma ware was not too highly valued. It was too closely attuned to the requirements of the European market. Today it has lost much of its old reputation, even there.

But these pieces are undoubtedly exceptional. The drawing is strong, and in spite of the number of figures, each is individualized. Guru Nanak is easily recognisable and his pose, dress, and general features are such as are depicted in most early illustrations. Of course it will be objected that the colour of his robes is rather unusual for a fakir, but some allowance must be made for the Satsuma works’ desire to advertise their mastery of enamel colours. His expression too is that of a placid and kindly old man, rather than that of a spiritually exalted guru. One is reminded of the Laughing Buddha; Sobha Singh, certainly, would not have approved!

The hawk (or falcon ) on the wrist of Guru Gobind Singh is also curiously coloured. But apart from these errors it is a charming scene. The Guru is seated on a mansard, laid out on a marble terrace, his back supported by a gao takkiah, under a pleasant fruit tree, with magical, golden birds flying about. A nightingale warbles its song from its golden cage, while Bala stands on the Guru’s left — his usual place-waning a murchhal, or peacock feather fan. You have here echoes of ancient myth, Persian poetry, and the gardens of Firdaus or Paradise.

The drawing must have been copied or adapted from some picture furnished by the client. Copied by a Japanese artist on to the faience surface, it has undergone subtle changes. We are familiar with the pictures of the Gurus as drawn and painted by miniaturists of the Pahari and Sikh schools. We are also familiar with the paintings of G.S. Sohan Singh and Sobha Singh, besides the large canvases of historical scenes painted by Kirpal Singh, Devinder Singh and others. But here on these Satsuma vases we have a uniquely Japanese interpretation!