In 1940, when Robert Hans van Gulik (1910-67) was stationed as a diplomat in Tokyo, he presented a tobacco

box made from a bamboo root to the eminent seal cutter Matsumaru Chōsaburō (1901-75), with an accompanying letter written by him in classical Chinese (Figs 1 and 2). Matsumaru thereupon carved the text of van Gulik’s letter on the underside of the lid of the box (Fig. 3). The social life of this box is the subject of the following paper.

In March of 1968, I arrived in East Asia for the first time, to see and collect material for my doctoral thesis on the revival of seal script (Ch. zhuanshu) during the Qing dynasty ( 1 6 4 4 - 1 9 1 1 ) . Many calligraphic works by such masters as Deng Shiru (1743-1805), Wu Xizai (1799-1 8 7 0 ) a n d Wu Changshuo (1844-1 9 2 7 ) w e r e i n private collections in Tokyo, but had been published by Matsumaru. I had the good fortune to be introduced to him, and he in turn introduced me to owners of Qing dynasty seal script calligraphy, who allowed me to study these works at leisure. For the first time, I had an opportunity to examine in detail a group of high-class works of Chinese calligraphy. The Qing masters had revolutionized calligraphy when they studied specimens of ancient script and emulated these styles in their own art. This tradition survived and was kept alive by Japanese literati, among whom Matsumaru was one of the prime figures.

One day Matsumaru invited me to his studio in Tsukiji, near Tokyo harbour. Here, the old Edo seemed still to be alive: the house was packed with books, calligraphic works,

seal cutting implements, piles of papers, and all sorts of playthings appertaining to an East Asian literatus (Fig. 4). Among his treasures was the tobacco box given to him by van Gulik, in the second month of the gengchen year (1940).

Matsumaru had met van Gulik in a circle of scholars, poets and calligraphers, including the calligrapher Kawamura Kizan (1882-1969), the eminent historian of Chinese literature Nagasawa Kikuya (1902-80) and the

sinologue Ishida M i k i n o s u k e (1891-1974).

I t w a s i n t h e c o n g e n i a l a tmosphe re o f encounters with friends, who in p a r t m o d e l l e d their lives on that of the traditional Chinese literatus, that Matsumaru and van Gul ik exchanged gifts.

The tobacco box is carved out of a bamboo root belonging to the m o s t c o m m o n species Maozhu (Phyl los tachys pubescens; hairy bamboo) , a l so

known as Mengzongzhu (J. Mōsōchiku). The stalks can grow to 20 metres in height and 20 centimetres in diameter; the underground stem is nearly solid, and the creeping rhizome may grow horizontally beneath the earth for more than 100 metres. The nodes (Ch. zhujie), stem or culm (Ch. ganjing), underground stem or root stem (Ch. ganji) and creeping rhyzome (Ch. pufu genji or zhubian) are indicated in Figure 5. Professor Fan Jingzhong kindly provided the Chinese terms for the different parts of the plant.

Neither elegant nor stylish, the box nevertheless has a particularly engaging aesthetic quality. Its sides have the typical amber-like tinge that reminds some Chinese writers of goose fat, while the darker brown top and the bottom of

VAN GULIK’S TOBACCO BOX

Lothar Ledderose

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(Fig. 1) Tobacco boxPossibly China, date not knownBamboo rootHeight 7 cm, diameter 13.5-14.5 cm

the box are sprinkled with countless tiny black dots. The side is covered with larger drop-shaped spots engrained in the bamboo, with three large roundels marking where limbs branched off from the main root. Two thin cracks cross

almost at right angles at its centre, reminding the viewer of slits in a reptile’s eye. Above this ‘eye’ runs an irregularly curved seam of a node as if it were an eyelid. On the opposite side of the box, three such seams dividing the sections of the root stem can be seen, because the material was cut out from the bent portion of the root (see Fig. 2). A flat rectangular lid is inserted in the centre of the top, most likely cut from the same root (Fig. 6). The rectangular shape of lid and opening suggest that the tobacco box may have been used for cigarettes or cigarillos, rather than pipe tobacco.

On top of the lid, and carved in one piece with it, sits a realistically modelled crouching frog, its forelegs flexed as if ready to jump (Fig. 7). The carver may have envisioned a frog of the species Rana (Odorrana)

versabilis, which is common in bamboo groves in China. The round eyes of the animal are polished, giving them the staring gaze typical of an amphibian or reptiles. The vertical walls of the cavity are straight and regular, but do not show the degree of perfection achievable only by a machine. On the floor of the cavity, one can feel the tiny bumps of the bamboo’s speckles.

Chinese craftsmen have developed a special penchant for fusing natural creation and artificial creativity, and the literati have cultivated a particular aesthetic taste for such hybrid objects, of which the tobacco box is an example. The carver turned the natural shape and texture of the bamboo root stem to advantage, astutely observing and reinforcing its aesthetic properties, such as the ‘speckled markings’ which in van Gulik’s words, ‘are exuberant and lustrous’. Thus the unassuming tobacco box has an ecological, even ethical dimension. By turning the bamboo root into an object of appreciation, the artisan makes us aware that even seemingly worthless products of nature are worthy of our notice.

Carved on the underside of the lid is the text of the letter composed by van Gulik in elegant literary

Chinese, in which he talks admiringly about Matsumaru’s accomplishments as a seal carver and extols the visual qualities of the tobacco box, although he does not say where and when it was made or where he had found it (see Fig. 3):

東魚先生頃過寒齋，承賜印譜一帙，刀痕古致，足資賞鑑。余舊藏竹根煙盒一物。雖微蕪不顯，而斑跡蔚澤。頗喜其天然，用特賜呈 案頭，冀蒙 清玩，以奉酬厚意云爾。

庚辰二月 蘭國高羅佩書

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(Fig. 2) View of the box, showing the drop-shaped spots on the side, and the two thin cracks crossing almost at right angles

(Fig. 3) View of the underside of the lid, showing Matsumaru Chōsaburō’s carving of van Gulik’s letter dated the second month of the gengchen year (1940)

Master Tōgyō, you recently passed by my chilly studio and bestowed on me one portfolio [Ch. yinpu] of your seal compendium. The incisions of your knife are antique and refined; they are totally suited to be appraised and appreciated. For a long time I have had in my collection one tobacco box made of a bamboo root. It is a trifling weed, without distinction, yet its speckled markings are exuberant and lustrous. I rather enjoy its naturalness. Thus I choose it specially to respectfully bestow on you for your desk, hoping that it may be received as an elegant plaything. Hereby I now humbly offer reciprocity for your cordiality. The second month of the gengchen year [1940]. Written by Gao Luopei [Robert van Gulik] of Holland.

While the original letter written by van Gulik is now lost, Matsumaru gave it permanence by carving it into the lid of the bamboo box. Van Gulik’s command of classical Chinese was rarely ever equalled by another foreigner. Yet Matsumaru pointed out that the choice of the character 賜 (Ch. ci; bestow) in the phrase 用特賜呈 (Ch. yongte ci cheng; thus I choose it specially to bestow on you) is not quite appropriate, because it refers to an action from a superior to an inferior. The last character of the inscription, 書 (Ch. shu; written by), was most likely added by Matsumaru to indicate that this was van Gulik’s calligraphy. I do not know of any letters by van Gulik in which he adds a shu after his signature.

According to his son, Matsumaru Michio, professor emeritus at Tokyo University, up until 1934 Matsumaru Chōsaburō had been a Kabuki theatre singer of a Katō bushi school in Tokyo (see Matsumaru Tōgyō no zenbō jikkō iinkai, ed., Matsumaru Tōgyō no zenbō – sō Shin bo

Kan no shōgai, 2 vols, Tokyo, 2009, vol. 1, pp. 338-47). It was there that he received the name Tōgyō (‘Fish of the East’) from his teacher, when the first bearer of the name had died. The character 東 (J. tō) in the name refers to the school, and the character 魚 (J. gyō) to the Ūdenya, one of some forty wholesale fish dealers at Nihonbashi in Tokyo, who cultivated close connections with the Kabuki singers. Matsumaru later continued to use the name Tōgyō, because as a seal cutter he was self-taught and did not have a teacher in a family lineage (J. iemoto). Figure 8 shows the imprint from a seal he cut in June 1967, reading ‘Matsumura Kenzō yin’, and the legend inscribed on the side.

The wood box for Matsumaru’s yinpu contains four small portfolios, each with two volumes, and a single seal stamped on each page (Fig. 9). Matsumaru produced a small number of copies, probably completing the first portfolio in the spring of 1939 before travelling to Peking. There he met famous scholars and artists who would write poems for him, such as the then aged Luo Zhenyu (1866-1940) and the painter Huang Binhong (1864-1955). The following year, Matsumaru presented his portfolio to the eminent Chinese calligrapher Fu Zengxiang (1872-1950), who responded with a hanging scroll with a poem, dated May 1940 (Fig. 10). Matsumaru gave the same portfolio to van Gulik, who in his letter praises its seals as ‘antique and refined’.

After his return from China, Matsumaru produced a second portfolio, probably in the summer of 1940. Figure 11 shows its cover together with the seal impressions. The third seal from the top in the first row on the left reading ‘Gao Luopei yin 高 羅 佩 印 ’ was carved by Matsumaru for van Gulik.

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(Fig. 4) Matsumaru Chōsaburō carving a seal in his studio in Tsukuji, near Tokyo harbour

(Fig. 5) Diagram of a bamboo root(After Wang Shixiang and Wan-go Weng, Bamboo Carving of China, New York, 1983, p. 50)

When the two men exchanged gifts in early 1940, van Gulik was serving as a Second Secretary in the Dutch

Embassy in Tokyo. He had arrived on 23 May 1935, having travelled with the Siberian railway via Harbin. Besides his official duties, he energetically immersed himself in the pastimes of the traditional Chinese literatus, such as playing the zither, writing calligraphy, and carving seals. In his diary he notes, for example, that on 30 June 1936, he worked on a seal.

He travelled to Peking for the first time in September of that year. With Chinese friends he visited Liulichang, a street with many antique shops and vendors of paper, brushes and books. In April 1937, he returned to Peking, where in the following year Henri Vetch published van Gulik’s book Mi Fu on Ink-Stones, a study he had submitted as his master’s thesis at Utrecht in 1934. He visited Shanghai in August 1939, and Peking again in December 1940.

In two short articles in his collected works, Matsumaru

reminisces about his meetings with van Gulik (‘Guurikku san wo omou’ [‘Remembering Mr Van Gulik’], in Matsumaru Tōgyō, Tōgyō bunshū: Matsumaru Tōgyō ikō, Matsumaru Keiko [comp.], Matsumaru Michio (ed.), Tokyo, 1977, pp. 200-203; and ‘Kō Rakuhai [Gao Luopei] shi no koto’ [‘On Mr van Gulik’],’ ibid. pp. 203-04). He recalls that in about 1938, he first heard of a diplomat in the Dutch embassy who was an expert in Chinese calligraphy and seal carving. Van Gulik was indeed proficient in carving Chinese seals. Figure 12 shows the impressions of four seals that he cut himself and published in his magnum opus on Chinese pictorial art in 1958. The austerity of the strictly rectangular lines of even thickness is somehow akin to the geometric compositions of van Gulik’s older contemporary and fellow countryman Piet Mondrian (1872-1944). The sober style of van Gulik’s seals is all the more evident when comparing them with those of Matsumaru (see Fig. 8).

One hot day in August 1941, Matsumaru recalls, he and

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(Fig. 6) View of the box, showing the inside of the cavity (Fig. 7) Detail of the box lid, showing the frog’s polished eye

(Fig. 8) Seal imprint and legendBy Matsumaru Chōsaburō (1901-75), 1967Ink on paper

(Fig. 9) Box and yinpuBy Matsumaru Chōsaburō (1901-75), probably 1939

Box: wood; containing four portfolios in ink on paper

van Gulik were talking on the second storey of Matsumaru’s house, when suddenly a news delivery boy shouted outside that Japanese assets had just been frozen in America. Van Gulik was greatly alarmed and soon left. The following day, Matsumaru was interrogated by the police in Tsukiji, but being a man of letters did not quite understand why. He was interrogated again and again, and from then on avoided meeting van Gulik. A month after the bombing of Pearl Harbour on 7 December 1941, Japan declared war on the Netherlands on 11 January 1942. Dutch Indonesia surrendered on 10 March: van Gulik was repatriated along

with other Allied diplomats and left Japan on 30 July 1942. In the process, he lost his entire collection of 8,000 books, scrolls and art objects that he had amassed in Japan, Korea, and China (including what was known in Tokyo as his pornographic library): the 40 crates containing his treasures were destroyed by a bomb attack on the warehouse near Batavia where they were being stored.

From March 1943 to May 1946, van Gulik was stationed in China, serving as First Secretary at the Dutch Embassy in Chongqing, and after brief posts in various other countries, on 18 November 1949 he returned to Tokyo, where he

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(Fig. 10) PoemBy Fu Zengxiang (1872-1950), 1940Hanging scroll, ink on paperHeight 94.2 cm, width 31.6 cm

(Fig. 11) Matsumaru Chōsaburō’s second portfolio, probably from 1940, with the

impression of the seal carved for van Gulik (left column, third from top)

remained attached to the Netherlands Military Mission until December 1951. Matsumaru recalls van Gulik’s visit to his house, which had been badly damaged in the bombing. As Matsumaru writes, he never forgot the tobacco, liquor and other items that van Gulik brought as tokens of their friendship. Matsumaru also saw van Gulik at gatherings of the so-called Holland club, hosted by Hosokawa Moritatsu (1883-1970), a member of the Upper House of aristocrats (J. kizokuin) and a patron of the arts, in his garden.

Matsumaru Michio further related that his father was drafted into the army in May 1945 as a second lieutenant, serving until the end of the war in August that year in the military reserve (zaigō gunjin kai) as commander of the Matsumaru unit (Matsumaru taichō), stationed in the south of Chiba peninsula to await the American invasion. Because of this involvement, Matsumaru was later barred from holding any official position by the American occupation army, but as a result of van Gulik’s intervention was rehabilitated in 1950.

Matsumaru, meanwhile, presented van Gulik with the third instalment of his seal portfolio. In his letter of 1949, van Gulik thanked Matsumaru with a poem (Fig. 13). Here he used the same rhyme scheme as in the poem that Fu Zengxiang had written for Matsumaru in 1940 (see Fig. 10). In van Gulik’s poem, the characters 詮 (Ch. quan), 妍 (Ch. yan) and 編 (Ch. bian) match the characters 銓 (Ch. quan),研 (Ch. yan) and 編 (Ch. pian) in Fu Zengxiang’s original poem. It was a gesture of reconciliation among like-minded men of letters after the war, which had pitted Japan against China and the Netherlands.

Van Gulik returned to Japan for the third time in February 1965, this time as Dutch ambassador, arriving by boat in Kobe. In Tokyo, he invited Matsumaru and his wife to a party at the premises of the embassy – the last time that

Matsumaru was to visit him there. Two years later, van Gulik returned to his home country, and died soon afterwards. A memorial service was held at the embassy. When Matsumaru entered the study of his late friend, he broke into tears.

When I visited Matsumaru in his studio, he made a rubbing of the inscription that he himself had carved.

Because the rubbing was slightly blurred, the master then copied out the text on the left and right sides of the rubbing (Fig. 14). In his transcription Matsumaru preserved the exact layout of the carving on the lid, except for the last character of the carved text.

It is now worth asking whether the calligraphic style of the carving itself is also Matsumaru’s or van Gulik’s. Although van Gulik’s letter is lost, other letters that he sent to Matsumaru have been preserved. The Dutchman was an accomplished calligrapher, and he is said to have practised writing with the brush every day. In the letter illustrated in Figure 15, in running script (xingshu), the strokes, although written with great ease, are deliberate and thoughtful, almost a bit staid. He dates the letter 2 March without indicating the year, inviting Matsumaru to visit on Thursday 7 March; of all the years van Gulik was in Japan during this period, 1940 was the only year in which 7 March fell on a Thursday. Thus van Gulik must have sent the invitation just a month after he wrote to Matsumaru in February 1940 together with the tobacco box. Certainly, the calligraphic style of both letters was similar. In his letter to Matsumaru almost a

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(Fig. 12) Impressions of four seals By Robert Hans van Gulik (1910-67)(After Chinese Pictorial Art as Viewed by the Connoisseur, Roma, 1958, pl. 150, opposite p. 435)

(Fig. 13) Letter from van Gulik to Matsumaru Chōsaburō, dated 1949

decade later, van Gulik’s handwriting had already become much smoother (see Fig. 13). By 1966, when he wrote to Matsumaru in Japanese on Dutch Embassy stationery, van Gulik’s calligraphy was truly fluent (Fig. 16).

Matsumaru’s handwriting, by contrast, changed very little throughout the course of his life. Short strokes that vary

considerably in thickness with a mixture of rounded and angular contours are typical. Exemplifying his rhythmic and versatile brush are the transcription and dedication that he gave to me (see Fig. 14). The legends at the side of his seals, such as on the seal of 1967, show the same agile cursive script (see Fig. 8).

Matsumaru used a similar, though more stately, style when he occasionally carved wood or bamboo, as seen on a box made in August 1933 with comments on the inscription of a Han dynasty tile (Fig. 17). When Matsumaru carved the inside of the lid of the tobacco box, however, he seems to have chosen a somewhat jerky and rugged calligraphic style, perhaps in his eyes akin to van Gulik’s letter of the period (see Figs 3 and 15). In the transcription he made for me, Matsumaru omitted the last character, shu, included in van Gulik’s text, indicating that, unlike his carving on the lid, the calligraphic style of the transcription was not van Gulik’s, but his own (see Fig. 14).

(Fig. 15) Letter from van Gulik to Matsumaru Chōsaburō, dated 2 March, probably 1940

(Fig. 16) Letter from van Gulik to Matsumaru Chōsaburō, dated 1966

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(Fig. 14) Matsumaru Chōsaburō’s rubbing of the tobacco box inscription, with the transcription and dedication, made for the author in 1968

The rubbing from the carved text on the box is in the centre, framed on right and left by Matsumaru’s transcription, and further on the left by his dedication to me:

右煙盒蓋裡一文，高芝台先生為余所書。余恐其湮滅，自刻之。先生今作古，愴然書之，卻寄 烈田色世兄。

戊申三月 東魚

To the right is the entire text on the underside of the tobacco box lid, which Mr Kō Shitai [Gao Zhitai = van Gulik] wrote for me. I was afraid that it might fade and vanish and thus engraved it myself. The gentleman is now gone, and I write this saddened at heart. In turn, I pass it on to my elder brother Redarōse [Ledderose]. Third month of the boshin year [1968]. Tōgyō.

Zhitai (‘Longevity Fungus Terrace’), was van Gulik’s courtesy name, chosen with reference to the Dutch Embassy in Tokyo, which was situated on a hill (terrace) in Shiba park; the name also had Daoist overtones of a long life. Matsumaru used the name reverently and sadly because van Gulik had died only six months earlier, on 24 September 1967.

After I left Japan, I went to Taiwan, where I had

Matsumaru’s sheet mounted as a small hanging scroll. I have cherished it ever since. In 1999, Matsumaru Michio kindly made another, clearer rubbing of his father’s carving, and wrote a dedication including three of his seals (Fig. 18).

In conclusion, I would like to add a few words on the tobacco box and the scroll with Matusmaru’s writing. The

tobacco box is made from an everyday material, with its own inherent aesthetic properties. A skilled artisan manipulated the natural shape and turned it into an object of visual appreciation. Matsumaru’s scroll also consists of simple, inexpensive materials – paper and ink, and two sticks of plain wood – yet his skills as seal carver, calligrapher and literatus in the Chinese tradition have transformed the paper. It now documents those very skills and makes his and van Gulik’s erudition tangible and visible.

Box and scroll, however, do still more. They document a friendship that lasted for more than a quarter of a century between two gentlemen united in upholding the ideals of the Chinese literati tradition. Finally, by writing and dedicating his scroll to me, Matsumaru drew me in into this relationship and entrusted it to me as a witness. I still marvel at the fact that the exchanges that established these personal bonds and that are embodied in these objects are all written in classical Chinese. It was the lingua franca between a Dutch ambassador, a Japanese artist and a German student.

Lothar Ledderose is Senior Professor of East Asian Art History, Heidelberg University.

Photography of the tobacco box, illustrated in Figures 1, 2, 3, 6 and 7, is by Susann Henker.

(Fig. 17) Inscription on a box, commenting on the inscription of a Han dynasty tileBy Matsumaru Chōsaburō (1901-75), 1933

(Fig. 18) Matsumaru Michio’s rubbing of his father’s inscription, with a dedication and three seals, 1999

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