One particular attraction of Buddhist teaching was its simple and

ingenious interpretation of nature. Countless matters which Shinto

had never attempted to explain, and could not have explained,

Buddhism expounded in detail, with much apparent consistency. Its

explanations of the mysteries of birth, life, and death were at once

consoling to pure minds, and wholesomely discomforting to bad

consciences. It taught that the dead were happy or unhappy not

directly because of the attention or the [193] neglect shown them by

the living, but because of their past conduct while in the body.* It

did not attempt to teach the higher doctrine of successive

rebirths,--which the people could not possibly have understood,--but

the merely symbolic doctrine of transmigration, which everybody could

understand. To die was not to melt back into nature, but to be

reincarnated; and the character of the new body, as well as the

conditions of the new existence, would depend upon the quality of

one's deeds and thoughts in the present body. All states and

conditions of being were the consequence of past actions. Such a man

was now rich and powerful, because in previous lives he had been

generous and kindly; such another man was now sickly and poor,

because in some previous existence he had been sensual and selfish.

This woman was happy in her husband and her children, because in the

time of a former birth she had proved herself a loving daughter and a

faithful spouse; this other was wretched and childless, because in

some anterior existence she had been a jealous wife and a cruel

mother. "To hate your enemy," the Buddhist preacher would proclaim,

"is [194] foolish as well as wrong: he is now your enemy only because

of some treachery that you practised upon him in a previous life,

when he desired to be your friend. Resign yourself to the injury

which he now does you accept it as the expiation of your forgotten

fault... The girl whom you hoped to marry has been refused you by her

parents,--given away to another. But once, in another existence, she

was yours by promise; and you broke the pledge then given.... Painful

indeed the loss of your child; but this loss is the consequence of

having, in some former life, refused affection where affection was

due.... Maimed by mishap, you can no longer earn your living as

before. Yet this mishap is really due to the fact that in some

previous existence you wantonly inflicted bodily injury. Now the evil

of your own act has returned upon you: repent of your crime, and pray

that its Karma may be exhausted by this present suffering." ... All

the sorrows of men were thus explained and consoled. Life was

expounded as representing but one stage of a measureless journey,

whose way stretched back through all the night of the past, and

forward through all the mystery of the future,--out of eternities

forgotten into the eternities to be; and the world itself was to be

thought of only as a traveller's resting-place, an inn by the

roadside.

[*The reader will doubtless wonder how Buddhism could reconcile its

doctrine of successive rebirths with the ideas of ancestor-worship,

If one died only to be born again, what could be the use of offering

food or addressing any kind of prayer to the reincarnated spirit?

This difficulty was met by the teaching that the dead were not

immediately reborn in most cases, but entered into a particular

condition called Chu-U. They might remain in this disembodied

condition for the time of one hundred years, after which they were

reincarnated. The Buddhist services for the dead are consequently

limited to the time of one hundred years.]

Instead of preaching to the people about Nirvana, [195] Buddhism

discoursed to them of blisses to be won and pains to be avoided: the

Paradise of Amida, Lord of Immeasurable Light; the eight hot hells

called To-kwatsu, and the eight icy hells called Abuda. On the

subject of future punishment the teaching was very horrible: I should

advise no one of delicate nerves to read the Japanese, or rather the

Chinese accounts of hell. But hell was the penalty for supreme

wickedness only: it was not eternal; and the demons themselves would

at last be saved.... Heaven was to be the reward of good deeds: the

reward might indeed be delayed, through many successive rebirths, by

reason of lingering Karma; but, on the other hand, it might be

attained by virtue of a single holy act in this present life.

Besides, prior to the period of supreme reward, each succeeding

rebirth could be made happier than the preceding one by persistent

effort in the holy Way. Even as regarded conditions in this

transitory world, the results of virtuous conduct were not to be

despised. The beggar of to-day might to-morrow be reborn in the

palace of a daimyo; the blind shampooer might become, in his very

next life, an imperial minister. Always the recompense would be

proportionate to the sum of merit. In this lower world to practise

the highest virtue was difficult; and the great rewards were hard to

win. But for all good deeds a recompense was sure; and there was no

one who could not acquire merit. [196] Even the Shinto doctrine of

conscience--the god-given sense of right and wrong--was not denied by

Buddhism. But this conscience was interpreted as the essential wisdom

of the Buddha dormant in every human creature,--wisdom darkened by

ignorance, clogged by desire, fettered by Karma, but destined sooner

or later to fully awaken, and to flood the mind with light.

It would seem that the Buddhist teaching of the duty of kindness to

all living creatures, and of pity for all suffering, had a powerful

effect upon national habit and custom, long before the new religion

found general acceptance. As early as the year 675, a decree was

issued by the Emperor Temmu forbidding the people to eat "the flesh

of kine, horses, dogs, monkeys, or barn-door fowls," and prohibiting

the use of traps or the making of pitfalls in catching game.* [*See

Aston's translation of the Nihongi, Vol. II, p. 329.] The fact that

all kinds of flesh-meat were not forbidden is probably explained by

this Emperor's zeal for the maintenance of both creeds;--an absolute

prohibition might have interfered with Shinto usages, and would

certainly have been incompatible with Shinto traditions. But,

although fish never ceased to be an article of food for the laity, we

may say that from about this time the mass of the nation abandoned

its habits of diet, and forswore the eating of meat, in accordance

with [197] Buddhist teaching.... This teaching was based upon the

doctrine of the unity of all sentient existence. Buddhism explained

the whole visible world by its doctrine of Karma,--simplifying that

doctrine so as to adapt it to popular comprehension. The forms of all

creatures,--bird, reptile, or mammal; insect or fish,--represented

only different results of Karma: the ghostly life in each was one and

the same; and, in even the lowest, some spark of the divine existed.

The frog or the serpent, the bird or the bat, the ox or the

horse,--all had had, at some past time, the privilege of human

(perhaps even superhuman) shape: their present conditions represented

only the consequence of ancient faults. Any human being also, by

reason of like faults, might hereafter be reduced to the same dumb

state,--might be reborn as a reptile, a fish, a bird, or a beast of

burden. The consequence of wanton cruelty to any animal might cause

the perpetrator of that cruelty to be reborn as an animal of the same

kind, destined to suffer the same cruel treatment. Who could even be

sure that the goaded ox, the over-driven horse, or the slaughtered

bird, had not formerly been a human being of closest kin,--ancestor,

parent, brother, sister, or child? ...

Not by words only were all these things taught. It should be

remembered that Shinto had no art: its ghost-houses, silent and void,

were not even [198] decorated. But Buddhism brought in its train all

the arts of carving, painting, and decoration. The images of its

Bodhisattvas, smiling in gold,--the figures of its heavenly guardians

and infernal judges, its feminine angels and monstrous demons,--must

have startled and amazed imaginations yet unaccustomed to any kind of

art. Great paintings hung in the temples, and frescoes limned upon

their walls or ceilings, explained better than words the doctrine of

the Six States of Existence, and the dogma of future rewards and

punishments. In rows of kakemono, suspended side by side, were

displayed the incidents of a Soul's journey to the realm of judgment,

and all the horrors of the various hells. One pictured the ghosts of

faithless wives, for ages doomed to pluck, with bleeding fingers, the

rasping bamboo-grass that grows by the Springs of Death; another

showed the torment of the slanderer, whose tongue was torn by

demon-pincers; in a third appeared the spectres of lustful men,

vainly seeking to flee the embraces of women of fire, or climbing, in

frenzied terror, the slopes of the Mountain of Swords. Pictured also

were the circles of the Preta-world, and the pangs of the Hungry

Ghosts, and likewise the pains of rebirth in the form of reptiles and

of beasts. And the art of these early representations--many of which

have been preserved--was an art of no mean order. We can hardly

conceive the effect upon inexperienced imagination of the crimson

frown of Emma [199] (Yama), Judge of the dead,--or the vision of that

weird Mirror which reflected, to every spirit the misdeeds of its

life in the body,--or the monstrous fancy of that double-faced Head

before the judgment seat, representing the visage of the woman

Mirume, whose eyes behold all secret sin; and the vision of the man

Kaguhana, who smells all odours of evil-doing.... Parental affection

must have been deeply touched by the painted legend of the world of

children's ghosts,--the little ghosts that must toil, under

demon-surveillance, in the Dry Bed of the River of Souls.... But

pictured terrors were offset by pictured consolations,--by the

beautiful figure of Kwannon, white Goddess of Mercy,--by the

compassionate smile of Jizo, the playmate of infant-ghosts,--by the

charm also of celestial nymphs, floating on iridescent wings in light

of azure. The Buddhist painter opened to simple fancy the palaces of

heaven, and guided hope, through gardens of jewel-trees, even to the

shores of that lake where the souls of the blessed are reborn in

lotos-blossoms, and tended by angel-nurses.

Moreover, for people accustomed only to such simple architecture as

that of the Shinto miya, the new temples erected by the Buddhist

priests must have been astonishments. The colossal Chinese gates,

guarded by giant statues; the lions and lanterns of bronze and stone;

the enormous suspended [200] bells, sounded by swinging-beams; the

swarming of dragon-shapes under the caves of the vast roofs; the

glimmering splendour of the altars; the ceremonial likewise, with its

chanting and its incense-burning and its weird Chinese music,--cannot

have failed to inspire the wonder-loving with delight and awe. It is

a noteworthy fact that the earliest Buddhist temples in Japan still

remain, even to Western eyes, the most impressive. The Temple of the

Four Deva Kings at Osaka--which, though more than once rebuilt,

preserves the original plan--dates from 600 A.D.; the yet more

remarkable temple called Horyuji, near Nara, dates from about the

year 607.

Of course the famous paintings and the great statues could be seen at

the temples only; but the Buddhist image-makers soon began to people

even the most desolate places with stone images of Buddhas and of

Bodhisattvas. Then first were made those icons of Jizo, which still

smile upon the traveller from every roadside,--and the images of

Koshin, protector of highways, with his three symbolic Apes,--and the

figure of that Bato-Kwannon, who protects the horses of the

peasant,--with other figures in whose rude but impressive art

suggestions of Indian origin are yet recognizable. Gradually the

graveyards became thronged with dreaming Buddhas or

Bodhisattvas,--holy guardians of the dead, throned upon lotos-flowers

of [201] stone, and smiling with closed eyes the smile of the Calm

Supreme. In the cities everywhere Buddhist sculptors opened shops, to

furnish pious households with images of the chief divinities

worshipped by the various Buddhist sects; and the makers of ihai, or

Buddhist mortuary tablets, as well as the makers of household

shrines, multiplied and prospered.

Meanwhile the people were left free to worship their ancestors

according to either creed; and if a majority eventually gave

preference to the Buddhist rite, this preference was due in large

measure to the peculiar emotional charm which Buddhism had infused

into the cult. Except in minor details, the two rites differed

scarcely at all; and there was no conflict whatever between the old

ideas of filial piety and the Buddhist ideas attaching to the new

ancestor-worship, Buddhism taught that the dead might be helped and

made happier by prayer, and that much ghostly comfort could be given

them by food-offerings. They were not to be offered flesh or wine;

but it was proper to gratify them with fruits and rice and cakes and

flowers and the smoke of incense. Besides, even the simplest

food-offerings might be transmuted, by force of prayer, into

celestial nectar and ambrosia. But what especially helped the new

ancestor-cult to popular favour, was the fact that it included many

beautiful and touching customs not known to the old. Everywhere [202]

the people soon learned to kindle the hundred and eight fires of

welcome for the annual visit of their dead,--to supply the spirits

with little figures made of straw, or made out of vegetables,

to-serve for oxen or horses,*--also to prepare the ghost-ships

(shoryobune), in which the souls of the ancestors were to return,

over the sea, to their under-world. Then too were instituted the

Bon-odori, or Dances of the Festival of the Dead,** and the custom of

suspending white lanterns at graves, and coloured lanterns at

house-gates, to light the coining and the going of the visiting dead.

[*An eggplant, with four pegs of wood stuck into it, to represent

legs, usually stands for an ox; and a cucumber, with four pegs,

serves for a horse.... One is reminded of the fact that, at some of

the ancient Greek sacrifices, similar substitutes for real animals

were used. In the worship of Apollo, at Thebes, apples with wooden

pegs stuck into them, to represent feet and horns, were offered as

substitutes for sheep.

**The dances themselves--very curious and very attractive to

witness--are much older than Buddhism; but Buddhism made them a

feature of the festival referred to, which lasts for three days. No

person who has not witnessed a Bon-odori can form the least idea of

what Japanese dancing means: it is something utterly different from

what usually goes by the name,--something indescribably archaic,

weird, and nevertheless fascinating. I have repeatedly sat up all

night to watch the peasants dancing. Japanese dancing girls, be it

observed, do not dance: they pose. The peasants dance.]

But perhaps the greatest value of Buddhism to the nation was

educational. The Shinto priests were not teachers. In early times

they were mostly aristocrats, religious representatives of the clans;

and the idea of educating the common people could not even have

occurred to them. Buddhism, on [203] the other hand, offered the boon

of education to all,--not merely a religious education, but an

education in the arts and the learning of China. The Buddhist temples

eventually became common schools, or had schools attached to them;

and at each parish temple the children of the community were taught,

at a merely nominal cost, the doctrines of the faith, the wisdom of

the Chinese classics, calligraphy, drawing, and much besides. By

degrees the education of almost the whole nation came under Buddhist

control; and the moral effect was of the best. For the military class

indeed there was another and special system of education; but Samurai

scholars sought to perfect their knowledge under Buddhist teachers of

renown; and the imperial household itself employed Buddhist

instructors. For the common people everywhere the Buddhist priest was

the schoolmaster; and by virtue of his occupation as teacher, not

less than by reason of his religious office, he ranked with the

samurai. Much of what remains most attractive, in Japanese

character--the winning and graceful aspects of it--seems to have been

developed under Buddhist training.

It was natural enough that to his functions of public instructor, the

Buddhist priest should have added those of a public registrar. Until

the period of disendowment, the Buddhist clergy remained, throughout

the country, public as well as religious officials. They kept the

parish records, and furnished [204] at need certificates of birth,

death, or family descent.

To give any just conception of the immense civilizing influence which

Buddhism exerted in Japan would require many volumes. Even to

summarize the results of that influence by stating only the most

general facts, is scarcely possible,--for no general statement can

embody the whole truth of the work accomplished. As a moral force,

Buddhism strengthened authority and cultivated submission, by its

capacity to inspire larger hopes and fears than the more ancient

religion could create. As teacher, it educated the race, from the

highest to the humblest, both in ethics and in esthetics. All that

can be classed under the name of art in Japan was either introduced

or developed by Buddhism; and the same may be said regarding nearly

all Japanese literature possessing real literary quality,--excepting

some Shinto rituals, and some fragments of archaic poetry. Buddhism

introduced drama, the higher forms of poetical composition, and

fiction, and history, and philosophy. All the refinements of Japanese

life were of Buddhist introduction, and at least a majority of its

diversions and pleasures. There is even to-day scarcely one

interesting or beautiful thing, produced in the country, for which

the nation is not in some sort indebted to Buddhism. Perhaps the best

and briefest way of [205] stating the range of such indebtedness, is

simply to, say that Buddhism brought the whole of Chinese

civilization into Japan, and thereafter patiently modified and

reshaped it to Japanese requirements. The elder civilization was not

merely superimposed upon the social structure, but fitted carefully

into it, combined with it so perfectly that the marks of the welding,

the lines of the juncture, almost totally disappeared.

[207]

THE HIGHER BUDDHISM

Philosphical Buddhism requires some brief consideration in this

place,--for two reasons. The first is that misapprehension or

ignorance of the subject has rendered possible the charge of atheism

against the intellectual classes of Japan. The second reason is that

some persons imagine the Japanese common people--that is to say, the

greater part of the nation--believers in the doctrine of Nirvana as

extinction (though, as a matter of fact, even the meaning of the word

is unknown to the masses), and quite resigned to vanish from the face

of the earth, because of that incapacity for struggle which the

doctrine is supposed to create. A little serious thinking ought to

convince any intelligent man that no such creed could ever have been

the religion of either a savage or a civilized people. But myriads of

Western minds are ready at all times to accept statements of

impossibility without taking the trouble to think about them; and if

I can show some of my readers how far beyond popular comprehension

the doctrines of the higher Buddhism really are, something will have

been accomplished for the cause of truth and [208] common-sense. And

besides the reasons already given for dwelling upon the subject,

there is this third and special reason,--that it is one of

extraordinary interest to the student of modern philosophy.

Before going further, I must remind you that the metaphysics of

Buddhism can be studied anywhere else quite as well as in Japan,

since the more important sutras have been translated into various

European languages, and most of the untranslated texts edited and

published. The texts of Japanese Buddhism are Chinese; and only

Chinese scholars are competent to throw light upon the minor special

phases of the subject. Even to read the Chinese Buddhist canon of

7000 volumes is commonly regarded as an impossible feat,--though it

has certainly been accomplished in Japan. Then there are the

commentaries, the varied interpretations of different sects, the

multiplications of later doctrine, to heap confusion upon confusion.

The complexities of Japanese Buddhism are incalculable; and those who

try to unravel them soon become, as a general rule, hopelessly lost

in the maze of detail. All this has nothing to do with my present

purpose, I shall have very little to say about Japanese Buddhism as

distinguished from other Buddhism, and nothing at all to say about

sect-differences. I shall keep to general facts as regards the higher

doctrine,--selecting from among such facts only those most suitable

[209] for the illustration of that doctrine. And I shall not take up

the subject of Nirvana, in spite of its great importance,--having

treated it as fully as I was able in my _Gleanings in Buddha-Fields_,

--but confine myself to the topic of certain analogies between the

conclusions of Buddhist metaphysics and the conclusions of

contemporary Western thought.

In the best single volume yet produced in English on the subject of

Buddhism,* the late Mr. Henry Clarke Warren observed: "A large part

of the pleasure that I have experienced in the study of Buddhism has

arisen from what I may call the strangeness of the intellectual

landscape. [*Buddhism in Translations, by Henry Clarke Warren

(Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1896). Published by Harvard University.]

All the ideas, the modes of argument, even the postulates assumed and

not argued about, have always seemed so strange, so different from

anything to which I have been accustomed, that I felt all the time as

though walking in Fairyland. Much of the charm that the Oriental

thoughts and ideas have for me appears to be because they so seldom

fit into Western categories." ... The serious attraction of Buddhist

philosophy could not be better suggested: it is indeed "the

strangeness of the intellectual landscape," as of a world inside-out

and upside-down, that has chiefly interested Western [210] thinkers

heretofore. Yet after all, there is a class of Buddhist concepts

which can be fitted, or very nearly fitted, into Western categories.

The higher Buddhism is a kind of Monism; and it includes doctrines

that accord, in the most surprising manner, with the scientific

theories of the German and the English monists. To my thinking, the

most curious part of the subject, and its main interest, is

represented just by these accordances,--particularly in view of the

fact that the Buddhist conclusions have been reached through mental

processes unknown to Western thinking, and unaided by any knowledge

of science.... I venture to call myself a student of Herbert Spencer;

and it was because of my acquaintance with the Synthetic Philosophy

that I came to find in Buddhist philosophy a more than romantic

interest. For Buddhism is also a theory of evolution, though the

great central idea of our scientific evolution (the law of progress

from homogeneity to heterogeneity) is not correspondingly implied by

Buddhist doctrine as regards the life of this world. The course of

evolution as we conceive it, according to Professor Huxley, "must

describe a trajectory like that of a ball fired from a mortar; and

the sinking half of that course is as much a part of the general

process of evolution as the rising." The highest point of the

trajectory would represent what Mr. Spencer calls Equilibration,--the

supreme point of development preceding the period [211] of decline;

but, in Buddhist evolution, this supreme point vanishes into Nirvana.

I can best illustrate the Buddhist position by asking you to imagine

the trajectory line upside-down,--a course descending out of the

infinite, touching ground, and ascending again to mystery....

Nevertheless, some Buddhist ideas do offer the most startling analogy

with the evolutional ideas of our own time; and even those Buddhist

concepts most remote from Western thought can be best interpreted by

the help of illustrations and of language borrowed from modern

science.

I think that we may consider the most remarkable teachings of the

higher Buddhism,--excluding the doctrine of Nirvana, for the reason

already given,--to be the following:--

That there is but one Reality;--

That the Consciousness is not the real Self;--

That Matter is an aggregate of phenomena created by the force of acts

and thoughts;--

That all objective and subjective existence is made by Karma,-- the

present being the creation of the Past, and the actions of the

present and the past, in combination, determining the conditions of

the future.... (Or, in other words, that the universe of Matter, and

the universe of [conditioned] Mind, represent in their evolution a

strictly moral order.)

It will he worth while now to briefly consider [212] these doctrines

in their relation to modern thought, beginning with the first, which

is Monism:--

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