Kyoto, April 21.
The noblest examples of religious architecture in the whole
empire have just been completed; and the great City of Temples is
now enriched by two constructions probably never surpassed in all
the ten centuries of its existence. One is the gift of the
Imperial Government; the other, the gift of the common people.
The government's gift is the Dai-Kioku-Den,--erected to
commemorate the great festival of Kwammu Tenno, fifty-first
emperor of Japan, and founder of the Sacred City. To the Spirit
of this Emperor the Dai-Kioku-Den is dedicated: it is thus a
Shinto temple, and the most superb of all Shinto temples.
Nevertheless, it is not Shinto architecture, but a facsimile of
the original palace of Kwammu Tenno upon the original scale. The
effect upon national sentiment of this magnificent deviation from
conventional forms, and the profound poetry of the reverential
feeling which suggested it, can be fully comprehended only by
those who know that Japan is still practically ruled by the dead.
Much more than beautiful are the edifices of the Dai-Kioku-Den.
Even in this most archaic of Japan cities they startle; they tell
to the sky in every tilted line of their horned roofs the tale of
another and more fantastic age. The most eccentrically striking
parts of the whole are the two-storied and five-towered
gates,--veritable Chinese dreams, one would say. In color the
construction is not less oddly attractive than in form,--and this
especially because of the fine use made of antique green tiles in
the polychromatic roofing. Surely the august Spirit of Kwammu
Tenno might well rejoice in this charming evocation of the past
by architectural necromancy!
But the gift of the people to Kyoto is still grander. It is
represented by the glorious Higashi Hongwanji,--or eastern
Hongwan temple (Shinshu). Western readers may form some idea of
its character from the simple statement that it cost eight
millions of dollars and required seventeen years to build. In
mere dimension it is largely exceeded by other Japanese buildings
of cheaper construction; but anybody familiar with the Buddhist
temple architecture of Japan can readily perceive the difficulty
of building a temple one hundred and, twenty-seven feet high, one
hundred and ninety-two feet deep, and more than two hundred feet
long. Because of its peculiar form, and especially because of the
vast sweeping lines of its roof, the Hongwanji looks even far
larger than it is,--looks mountainous. But in any country it
would be deemed a wonderful structure. There are beams forty-two
feet long and four feet thick; and there are pillars nine feet in
circumference. One may guess the character of the interior
decoration from the statement that the mere painting of the
lotos-flowers on the screens behind the main altar cost ten
thousand dollars. Nearly all this wonderful work was done with
the money contributed in coppers by hard-working peasants. And
yet there are people who think that Buddhism is dying!
More than one hundred thousand peasants came to see the grand
inauguration. They seated themselves by myriads on matting laid
down by the acre in the great court. I saw them waiting thus at
three in the afternoon. The court was a living sea. Yet all that
host was to wait till seven o'clock for the beginning of the
ceremony, without refreshment, in the hot sun. I saw at one
corner of the court a band of about twenty young girls,--all in
white, and wearing peculiar white caps,--and I asked who they
were. A bystander replied: "As all these people must wait here
many hours, it is to be feared that some may become ill.
Therefore professional nurses have been stationed here to take
care of any who may be sick. There are likewise stretchers in
waiting, and carriers. And there are many physicians."
I admired the patience and the faith. But those peasants might
well love the magnificent temple,--their own creation in very
truth, both directly and indirectly. For no small part of the
actual labor of building was done for love only; and the mighty
beams for the roof had been hauled to Kyoto from far-away
mountain-slopes, with cables made of the hair of Buddhist wives
and daughters. One such cable, preserved in the temple, is more
than three hundred and sixty feet long, and nearly three inches
in diameter.
To me the lesson of those two magnificent monuments of national
religious sentiment suggested the certain future increase in
ethical power and value of that sentiment, concomitantly with the
increase of national prosperity. Temporary poverty is the real
explanation of the apparent temporary decline of Buddhism. But an
era of great wealth is beginning. Some outward forms of Buddhism
must perish; some superstitions of Shinto must die. The vital
truths and recognitions will expand, strengthen, take only deeper
root in the heart of the race, and potently prepare it for the
trials of that larger and harsher life upon which it has to
enter.