When, in the sixth century of the Christian era, Buddhism was introduced
into Japan from China, by way of Korea, the need was felt of some term by
which the ancient indigenous religion of the country might be
distinguished from the new importation. The term thus adopted was
_Shinto_, or _Kami-no-michi_; the former being a Chinese word, and the
latter its Japanese equivalent. The meaning of either, in English, is the
“Way of the Genii, or Spirits.”(3) It will, accordingly, be seen that the
_word_ “Shinto” has only been in use for some thirteen centuries, while
the creed it designates claims to trace its origin from the remotest
antiquity. Indeed, the investigation of Shintoism takes us back not merely
to the earliest annals of Japanese history, but to the fabulous legends of
a mythological period. The history of Japan is commonly reckoned to
commence with the accession of the Emperor Jimmu Tenno, the date of which
is given as February 11, 660 B.C.; and when, in 1889, the new Constitution
was promulgated, the anniversary of this event was the day selected—the
idea evidently being to confirm the popular belief in the continuity of
the country’s history. This Jimmu Tenno—accounted by the Japanese their
first human sovereign—is supposed to have been descended from Ama-terasu,
the sun-goddess, who was born from the left eye of Izanagi, the creator of
Japan; and this it is that accounts for the semi-deification in which the
Emperors of Japan have ever been held. It is, then, the countless heroes
and demi-gods of the mythological age referred to—the children of Izanagi
reigning over Japan, generation after generation, for many thousands of
years—that are the chief objects of Shinto veneration; for while it is
usual to speak of Shintoism as being a combination of ancestor-worship and
nature-worship, it would seem that the latter of these elements was
largely due to the contact of Japan with the Taouism of China, and with
metaphysical Buddhism. Thus the essential principle of Shintoism, it will
be seen, is closely akin to that filial piety, which forms so conspicuous
a feature in the religious, political, and social life of China, and
which—deserving as it is, in many ways, of respect and
admiration—presents, when carried to excess, so vast a hindrance to
development and progress.
“Shintoism,” in the words of Diayoro Goh, Chancellor of the Japanese
Consulate General in London, “originated in the worship offered by a
barbarous people to the mythological persons of its own invention.” To
speak accurately, it is not so much a religion as patriotism exalted to
the rank of a creed. It is a veneration of the country’s heroes and
benefactors of every age, legendary and historical, ancient and more
recent; the spirits of these being appealed to for protection. Interwoven
with this, its fundamental characteristic, and to a great extent obscuring
it, is a worship of the personified forces of nature; expressing itself
often in the most abject superstition, and, until lately, also in that
grosser symbolism with which the religion of Ancient Egypt abounded. This
latter feature was widely prevalent in Japan at the time that the country
was first opened to foreigners; but after the Revolution in 1868, it was
everywhere suppressed. It would appear that the personal cleanliness for
which the Japanese, as a nation, are celebrated, had its origin in the
idea of the purification of the body symbolizing the cleansing of the
soul; and in a vague and hazy sort of way, Shintoism would seem to
recognize a future state of bliss or misery, for which the present life is
a period of probation. Practically, however, this is the only world with
which Shintoism concerns itself; nor does it inculcate any laws of
morality or conduct, conscience and the heart being accounted sufficient
guides. It provides neither public worship, nor sermons; while its
application is limited to subjects of the Mikado. “It is the least
exacting of all religions.” When this is once understood, there ceases to
be anything surprising in the fact of two religions—of which Shintoism was
one, and the other a creed so accommodating as Buddhism—running, side by
side, for centuries in the same country, and being professed
simultaneously by the same people, until the two were so closely
interwoven that it became scarcely possible to distinguish their
respective elements. In the eighteenth century an attempt was made to
restore Shintoism to its primitive simplicity, and to mould it into a
philosophical system which might minister to the higher aspirations of
humanity. But the movement was a failure, and the Ryobu-Shinto, or “double
religion,”—the combination, that is to say, of Shintoism and
Buddhism—continued as before. It was only so lately as the year 1868 that
any important change took place in the religious history of Japan. In that
year, Shintoism—for reasons wholly political—was adopted as the State, or
“established” religion; Buddhism having always been the religion favoured
by the Shogunate, and the ancient nobility whom the Shogun represented.
Upon this, every temple was required to declare itself either Shinto or
Buddhist, and to remove the emblems and ornaments peculiar to the
discarded cult, whichever that might be. That no little excitement and
dispute followed upon this proclamation, will be readily understood;
especially when we bear in mind that, for several hundred years, Buddhist
and Shinto clergy had taken their turns of officiating in the same
buildings and at the same altars.(4) A grant of some £60,000 a year was
made by the Government for the maintenance of the Shinto temples and
shrines, which are said to number in all about 98,000, and to be dedicated
to no less than 3,700 different Genii, or Kami. Already, however,
Shintoism has lost the greater part of the importance into which it was
brought at the time of the Revolution; and, apart from the fact that it is
supported out of the imperial revenues, and that the presence of its
principal officials is required at certain of the state functions, its
general position has in no way improved. The people still practise the
observances of both religions alike; the only difference being that, to
effect this, they have now to visit two temples instead of one. A new-born
child, for instance, is taken by its parents to both Shinto and Buddhist
temples, for the purpose of solemn dedication. Another of the changes
brought about is that, instead of all funerals being conducted by Buddhist
priests, as was the case until 1868, the dead are now buried by either
Shinto or Buddhist clergy, as the relatives may prefer. Of the many signs
which indicate that Shintoism has well nigh run its course, not the least
remarkable was the announcement made last year (1892) by the Government
itself, to the effect that its rites were to be regarded as simply
traditional and commemorative, and devoid of any real religious
significance. The relief thus afforded to the minds and consciences of
Christians in Japan was, as might be supposed, very great.
Of the various sects the _Zhikko_,—founded 1541 A.D.,—is, perhaps, the
most influential. This sect—as indeed do Shintoists generally—recognizes
one eternal absolute Deity, a being of infinite benevolence; and here—as
in other heathen religions—we find vague references to a Trinity engaged
in the work of Creation.
[Illustration.]
Group of Shinto Priests With Torii.
Despite the dissociation of the two religions, many of the Shinto temples
still retain traces of the Buddhist influence. Of Shintoism proper the
prevailing characteristic is a marked simplicity, which, however, is often
found combined with great artistic beauty. Sometimes the shrine consists
only of a rude altar, situated amid a grove of trees; but, even in the
case of large temples with a complete group of buildings, the architecture
is extremely plain, the material employed being unornamented white wood
with a thatch of chamaecyparis. The entrance to the temple grounds is
always through gateways, called _Torii_; these are made sometimes of
stone, but more properly of wood, and consist of two unpainted
tree-trunks, with another on the top and a horizontal beam beneath. Near
the entrance are commonly found stone figures of dogs or lions, which are
supposed to act as guardians. The principal shrine, or _Honsha_, is
situated at the further end of the sacred enclosure, and is divided by a
railing into an ante-room and an inner sanctuary. Within the sanctuary an
altar is erected, on which, however, no images or adornments are seen, but
simply offerings of rice, fruit, wine, &c. Above the altar, in a
conspicuous position, a large mirror is generally placed; and in a box
beneath are usually kept a sword, and a stone. These three,—the mirror,
the sword, and the stone,—constitute the Japanese regalia, and they are
all connected with the early legends. One of the traditions respecting the
sacred mirror deserves quotation.
“When the time was come that Izanagi and his consort should return
together to the celestial regions, he called his children together,
bidding them dry their tears, and listen attentively to his last wishes.
He then committed to them a disc of polished silver, bidding them each
morning place themselves on their knees before it, and there see reflected
on their countenances the impress of any evil passions deliberately
indulged; and again each night carefully to examine themselves, that their
last thoughts might be after the happiness of that higher world whither
their parents had preceded them.” The legend goes on to relate with what
faithfulness “the children of Izanagi, and afterwards their descendants,
carried out these injunctions; erecting an altar of wood to receive the
sacred mirror, and placing upon it vases and flowers,—and how, as a reward
for their obedience and devotion, they became in their turn, the spirits
of good, the undying Kami.”(5)
Another of the most common of the Shinto emblems is a slim wand of
unpainted wood, called _Gohei_, to which strips of white paper—originally
they were of cloth—are attached. These are thought to attract the deities,
and are held in great veneration.
Leaving the principal shrine, and proceeding to make the tour of the
grounds, the visitor comes, in turn, to the buildings where the business
arrangements of the temple are transacted, and where the priests, in some
cases, reside; to smaller shrines and oratories; to cisterns for the
purpose of ceremonial ablution, &c. Sometimes, also, at the more important
temples is found a long covered platform, called the _Kagura-do_, where,
on festivals and special occasions, a number of girls—those I saw at Nara
were still quite children—perform the _Kagura_, or sacred dance. The
dancing is in honour of the divinity to whom the temple is dedicated; and
commemorates a supposed incident of the mythological period. In the
grounds of Shinto and Buddhist temples alike are frequently found numerous
stone-lanterns, erected by way of votive offerings, and lighted on any
great occasions.
It has already been remarked that Shintoism has nothing corresponding to
our public worship; but every morning and evening the priests—whose office
seems held in no particular sanctity, and who are at liberty, at any time,
to adopt a more secular calling—perform a service before the altar, vested
in white dresses, somewhat resembling albs and confined at the waist by a
girdle. The service consists of the presentation of offerings and of the
recital of various invocations, chiefly laudatory. The devotions of the
people are remarkable for their brevity and simplicity. The worshipper, on
arriving at the shrine, rings a bell, or sounds a gong, to engage the
attention of the deity he desires to invoke; throws a coin of the smallest
possible value on to the matting within the sanctuary rails; makes one or
two prostrations; and then, clapping his hands, to intimate to his patron
that his business with him is over, retires—it not being considered
necessary to give to the petition any verbal expression. The making of
pilgrimages, however, still occupies a prominent place in the Shinto
system, and though of late years the number of pilgrims has considerably
decreased, long journeys are still undertaken to the great temple of the
sun-goddess at Ise—the “Mecca of Japan,”—and other celebrated shrines. The
chief object of the pilgrimage is the purchase of _O-harai_, or sacred
charms, which can only be obtained on the spot. These, when brought home,
are placed on the _Kamidana_, or god-shelf—a miniature temple of wood,
found in every Shinto house, to which are attached the names of various
patron deities, and the monumental tablets of the family. His purchase of
the O-harai completed, the pilgrim betakes himself to the enjoyment of the
various shows and other amusements provided for him in the neighbourhood
of the temple.
To conclude this brief sketch of Shintoism. Such influence as the cult
still possesses may be attributed to the superstition of the poor and
illiterate; and to a reluctance, on the part of the more educated, to
break with so venerable a past. The latter, however, though they continue
to conform to them, do not regard its observances seriously; while the
importance attached to them by the State is, as we have seen, wholly
political. In the words of Diayoro Goh, spoken in the course of a lecture
delivered in London two or three years since: “Shintoism, being so
restricted in its sphere, offers little obstacle to the introduction of
another religion,”—provided, as he added, that the veneration of the
Mikado, which has always formed the fundamental feature of Japanese
government, is not interfered with. The truth of this statement has
already been abundantly exemplified in the position which Buddhism for so
many centuries held in the religious life of Japan. In the same way, when,
three hundred years ago, Christianity was introduced into the country by
the Portuguese, it was largely owing to the attitude which some of the
missionaries adopted towards these national rites, that the complications
arose, which eventually led to the expulsion of foreigners, and the
persecution of Christians. And surely, when we think of it, it is not
strange that an intense jealousy should be exhibited on behalf of
observances and ceremonies, traceable back to such remote antiquity, and
so intimately bound up with the whole political and social life of the
nation. It is, indeed, highly probable that, in the great changes Japan is
undergoing, she will find other methods of cherishing the continuity of
her, in many ways, illustrious past. But meanwhile, Christians in Japan
may rejoice that they are permitted, with a quiet conscience, to manifest
a respectful regard for a system that is by no means destitute of
praiseworthy features.