In the last Chapter we sketched in outline the life and teaching of
Gautama Buddha; omitting the many fanciful legends that have gathered
round his name, and confining ourselves to what would be accepted by
Buddhists generally. Of the long period that divides the death of
Sakya-muni from the introduction of Buddhism into Japan about 550 A.D., it
is no part of our purpose to treat in detail. But enough must be said to
connect in some intelligible way these two events.
After the death of Gautama, his disciples are said to have gathered
together, and recited all that they remembered of his teaching, arranging
it in three divisions. This was the origin of the sacred books known as
the _Tripitaca_, i.e. the “three baskets,” the “three receptacles.” The
first of these—consisting of sayings, aphorisms, parables, &c., attributed
to Buddha, together with his first sermon addressed to the ascetics, (the
“Wheel of the Law,”)—is known as the _Sutra_ or “Canon;” the second is
called the _Vinaya_ or “Book of Discipline;” and the third, the
_Abhidharma_, i.e. the “Book of Metaphysics,” the “Further Doctrine.” Of
the three books, the Sutra, being mainly ethical, would have a more
general application than the other two; while the Vinaya would be chiefly
applicable to the Brotherhood, and the Abhidharma concerned with abstruse
philosophical dissertations. The Tripitaca, of which the Buddhists of
Ceylon are the custodians, are written in Pali, an early modification of
Sanskrit, and the sacred language of Buddhism; and they are, undoubtedly,
the oldest and purest of the numerous Buddhist scriptures. The Sutra, in
particular, is believed to be a faithful record of the actual teaching of
Gautama. At the same time, it must be remembered that for some centuries
after Sakya-muni’s death, there is no proof of the existence of any
written Canon; the probability being that his teaching was, for the most
part, transmitted orally from generation to generation, and that it
underwent in the process considerable alteration and addition.
With regard to the history of Buddhism, from the time of its founder’s
death until the middle of the third century B.C., we are practically
without information. It appears, however, that parties and schools were
already beginning to be formed. But about 260 B.C., India, from being
divided into a number of petty kingdoms, became almost wholly united under
the rule of one Asoka. Asoka’s grandfather—the founder of the empire that
was soon to assume such vast proportions—had revenged himself for the
contempt in which, for his low birth, he was held by the Brahmans, by
patronizing Buddhism; and Asoka, in turn, bestowed upon it all possible
support. He made Buddhism the state religion, founded an immense number of
monasteries, and sent forth missionaries in all directions. China was one
of the countries visited; while a mission to Ceylon, in which Mahendra,
Asoka’s own son, took a prominent part, resulted in the conversion of the
whole island.
Shortly, however, after Asoka’s death, his empire collapsed, and Buddhism
never afterwards exerted the same influence in India; though it remained
widely prevalent until the eighth century A.D., and it was not until four
centuries later that it became practically extinct. The Brahmans now
regained their former ascendency; declared Gautama to be an “avatar”—or
incarnation—of their god Vishnu; proceeded to incorporate into their own
creed some of the most popular features of the Buddhist system; and then
entered upon a destruction of the monasteries, and a severe persecution of
all Buddhists living in India. But, as in the history of the Christian
Church, persecution only resulted in the Gospel being afforded a wider
area, so was it now with Buddhism. “They that were scattered abroad went
everywhere, preaching the word.” Among other countries to which the
doctrine of Sakya-muni penetrated was Cashmere, whose king, Kanishka, a
contemporary of Christ, extended to it his enthusiastic support.
At this point was reached an important crisis in the history of Buddhism.
Already controversies about discipline and various minor questions had
called into existence several different schools; but now a breach
occurred, of such magnitude and destined to prove so lasting in its
results, as to often have suggested comparison with the schism between
Western and Eastern Christendom. A council was held under king Kanishka,
which the Ceylon Buddhists refused to recognize; and from that time
Buddhism has been divided into two main branches, known as the _Mahayana_
and _Hinayana_,—the “Greater and Lesser Vehicles.” The division thus
brought about became, to a great extent, a geographical one; the Hinayana
having its home in Ceylon, and, somewhat less exclusively, in Burmah and
Siam, while the schools of the Mahayana predominate in Cashmere, Thibet,
China and Japan.
Let us glance, for a moment, at their respective characteristics. The
Hinayana and the Mahayana, then, are the names given to two great systems,
or “schools of thought,” which offer to “carry” or “convey” their
followers to the rest of Nirvana.
Of the two, the Hinayana, or Lesser Conveyance, presents a much closer
resemblance to early Buddhism. The distinguishing features of the Hinayana
may be declared to be its adherence to the strict morality of primitive
Buddhism, its greater simplicity of worship, its smaller Canon of
scripture, and the fact that it appeals rather to the comparatively few,
to those, that is to say, who are able and willing to make the surrender
it requires. Whereas, in the Mahayana, or Greater Vehicle, we see a system
characterized by that increased ease and laxity, which too often accompany
a season of repose and the cessation of the enthusiasm that attends the
establishment of a new movement. The chief features of the Mahayana may be
pronounced to be its less exacting standard of practical morality, its
willingness to descend to the level of the multitude, its subtle
metaphysical distinctions, its meditative inactivity, its elaborate
ceremonial, and its more extensive Canon of scripture.
We are now, at last, in a position to examine the history of Japanese
Buddhism. If an apology seems needed for the length of our digression, I
can only say that it appeared to me necessary for any profitable treatment
of our subject. We have already seen how, as early as 250 B.C., China was
visited by Buddhist missionaries from India. These are said to have been
eighteen in number; and their effigies may be seen in many a Chinese
temple, where they are held in great veneration. In the first century
A.D., Buddhism in China began to receive imperial patronage; some of its
books being about the same time translated into the language of the
country. The spirit of accommodation and adaptation, which has always
formed so conspicuous a feature of Buddhism, manifested itself now in an
association with Taouism which has continued ever since.
552 A.D. is the date assigned to the introduction of Buddhism into Japan,
by way of Korea. At first, it appears to have made little progress, until
the diplomatic action of one of its clergy brought it into favour with the
Court. Prostrating himself one day, before the little son of the Mikado,
the priest declared that he recognized in him the re-incarnation of one of
the disciples of Buddha, and one who was destined to effect a great
spiritual work in Japan. The Mikado was prevailed upon to confide the
boy’s education to the Buddhist priests; with the result that, when he
grew up, he supported their cause with such zeal as to cause him to be
sometimes spoken of as the “Constantine of Japanese Buddhism.” Shotoku
Taishi—for such was his name—acted for some time as regent, but never
himself ascended the throne.
There is no doubt that the progress of Buddhism in Japan was largely
facilitated by the adoption of tactics, which had been successfully
employed in dealing with the barbarous tribes of India, and—as we have
just noticed,—with China also. Indeed, its readiness to adapt itself to
the circumstances, instincts, and prejudices of the people, with whom it
has to do, is, as has already been implied, one of the most powerful and
most striking peculiarities of Buddhism. In Japan, the Shinto demi-gods
were Buddhaized, and declared to be manifestations of Gautama; while
practices borrowed from the ancient national creed were introduced into
the Buddhist ceremonial. In the eighth century, we find orders issued for
the erection of two temples and a pagoda in every province; until, about
the twelfth century, the two religions became associated in the manner
indicated in our first chapter,—Buddhist and Shinto clergy officiating by
turns in the same buildings, and the Shinto temples becoming filled with
images, alike of their own demi-gods, and of Buddha and his companions.
This state of things continued until 1868, when the Shinto cult was chosen
to receive the exclusive recognition of the State, many of the Buddhist
monasteries at the same time suffering spoliation. Within the last few
years, however, Buddhism has been making strenuous efforts to recover its
former power and position, and there is little doubt that it still exerts
a real influence in Japan; while the collapse of Shintoism is, as
certainly, a matter of no distant time. At Tokio, the capital, where the
number of temples is enormous, the proportion of Buddhist to Shinto is in
the ratio of ten to one; and on several occasions during my stay in Japan
I noticed handsome new Buddhist temples in course of erection, or old ones
being redecorated and restored. On the other hand, numbers are closed, or
falling to pieces, for want of funds to maintain them.
At the present time, there are some twelve or more _principal_ Buddhist
sects in Japan, several of these being subdivided. The distinction between
the various schools is much more closely preserved than in China; and, at
least in the larger cities, each sect will be found represented by a
temple of its own. The difference between the schools consists not only in
the varied attitudes adopted towards some controverted question, but
frequently also in the degrees of importance attached to some point which
is held by all in common. For, as cannot be too emphatically stated,
Buddhism is a _many-sided_ religion.(16) The following extract from Sir
Monier Williams’ _Buddhism_, for instance, draws attention to the variety
of aspects, from which it may, and indeed needs to be regarded by the
student.
“In different places and at different times, its teaching has become both
negative and positive, agnostic and gnostic. It passes from apparent
atheism and materialism to theism, polytheism, and spiritualism. It is,
under one aspect, mere pessimism; under another, pure philanthropy; under
another, monastic communion; under another, high morality; under another,
a variety of materialistic philosophy; under another, simple demonology;
under another, a mere farrago of superstitions, including necromancy,
witchcraft, idolatry, and fetishism. In some form or other it may be held
with almost any religion, and embraces something from almost every creed.”
To the same effect writes Dr. Eitel in his _Lectures on Buddhism_ (pp.
1-2): “Buddhism is a system of vast magnitude, for it comprises the
earliest gropings after science throughout those various branches of
knowledge which our Western nations have long been accustomed to divide
for separate study. It embodies in one living structure grand and peculiar
views of physical science, refined and subtle theorems on abstract
metaphysics, an edifice of fanciful mysticism, a most elaborate and
far-reaching system of practical morality, and finally a church
organization as broad in its principles and as finely wrought in its most
intricate network as any in the world.”
It would hardly be worth while to attempt any detailed description of the
many Buddhist sects represented in Japan. To observe the main
characteristics of the principal ones, and their points of difference from
one another, will be amply sufficient for our purpose. The greater number
of the schools were introduced from China, but a few are Japanese
developments.
Let us take, first of all, the schools of the Hinayana, or Minor Vehicle,
which, as we should expect, is not extensively represented in Japan. The
Hinayana is represented by four philosophical schools, in two of which the
materialistic element predominates, and in the two other the idealistic;
while eschatological questions afford further ground for difference. The
points in dispute between these philosophical schools of Buddhism are
altogether so subtle and abstruse as to be extremely difficult of
comprehension to any not thoroughly versed in such distinctions. Of the
four sects referred to, one, called the _Kusha_, has for its
characteristic the fact that it bases its teaching on the Abhidharma
Pitaca.
To the Minor Vehicle belongs the curious system known as the “Holy Path.”
This has been described as a “debtor and creditor account kept with divine
justice.” Much less common than in China, the system of the “Holy Path” is
yet widely practised in Japan. Elaborate tables are drawn up, containing a
list of all good and bad actions it is possible to perform, with the
numbers added which each counts on the side of merit or demerit. The
numbers range from one to a hundred, or even more; and the tables afford
an insight into the relative importance in which all kinds of actions
present themselves to the Oriental mind. He who would tread life’s journey
along the Holy Path must, at least, aim at setting off his bad deeds by a
corresponding number of good acts of equal value. At the end of each year,
the account is balanced, and the overplus or deficit is transferred to the
succeeding one. That such a system is liable to the gravest abuse,
especially in the case of the more ignorant, is obvious; though, when
conscientiously practised, it need not be supposed to be unproductive of
good.(17)
At present we have made no mention of the _Madhyameka_, or Middle Vehicle,
which, as its name implies, occupies an intermediate place between the
Greater and Lesser Conveyances. A compromise between these two great
systems, the Madhyameka may be said to be characterized by a marked
moderation, i.e. between an excessive strictness, on the one hand, and a
too great liberty on the other. But though it is thus a faithful exponent
of Sakya-muni’s original doctrine, the Madhyameka has never attracted any
extensive following. It is represented in Japan by the sect called the
_Sanron_.
We pass on to examine the schools of the Greater Vehicle. In the same way
that the Kusha sect regards as its chief authority the Abhidharma Pitaca,
there are two schools belonging to the Greater Vehicle, which base their
teaching on the Sutra and Vinaya Pitacas respectively. The _Kagon_ make
the parables and sayings of Buddha contained in the Sutra their especial
study; while the _Ritzu_, as adhering to the more ascetic side of
Buddhism, have for their favourite book the Vinaya, or “Discipline.”
The _Dhyana_ or _Zen_ sect is a Chinese school with numerous
sub-divisions. Its distinguishing feature is the prominence it assigns to
the life of contemplation. Mysticism is represented by the _Shingon_, the
Mantra school of India transferred through China to Japan; and also by the
_Tendai_, so called from a mountain in China, where the head-quarters of
the sect are situated. The temples of the Shingon may usually be
recognized by the two guardian figures at the entrance, with open and shut
mouths, suggesting the mystic syllable A-UM. A peculiarity of both of
these sects is the use of the prayer-wheels and cylinders so common in
Thibet.
An element of mysticism also pervades the influential _Hokkai_ sect, a
Japanese offshoot of the Tendai, founded in the thirteenth century by a
priest named Nichiren, who is said to have been born supernaturally of a
virgin mother. The Hokkai are most jealously attached to their own ritual,
and to other observances peculiar to themselves; and, inheriting the
disposition attributed to their founder, exhibit a narrowness and
intolerance rarely met with in Japan. Their characteristic may be said to
consist in an emotional fanaticism; and a visitor to one of their temples
will generally find a number of devotees,—who thus remain engaged for
hours at a time,—chanting the invocation of the sect, “Adoration to the
Lotus of the Law,” to a deafening accompaniment of drums.
Two sects only now remain, but these by no means the least interesting or
least popular: the _Jodo_ and the _Shin-Jodo_ (i.e. the New-Jodo). The
distinguishing features of these sects,—which also find a place in the
system of the Hokkai,—are their acknowledgement of the need of external
aid, and their doctrine of the Western Paradise, presided over by Amitabha
Buddha. How marked a departure from the original teaching of Sakya-muni,
as observed by us, these schools present is sufficiently obvious;
nevertheless, it is alleged that the revelation of the Paradise in the
West was first made by Buddha himself to one of his principal disciples.
In the distant West is said to dwell one named Amida, or Amitabha, that is
to say “Illimitable Light.” Immortal himself, immortal also and freed from
all the trammels of transmigration are the vast multitudes of men(18) who
inhabit the boundless regions which he rules. In that “Pure Land,”(19)
that “Undefiled Ground,” everything beautiful and enchanting has a place,
neither is pain or sorrow known; and thither nought that is evil or that
defileth can come. Whosoever would attain to this heavenly country must
rely, most of all, on faithful invocation of the name of Amida; he having,
as is recorded, made a vow that he would only accept Buddhahood on
condition that salvation should be placed within reach of all sincerely
desirous of achieving it. Such is the doctrine of the Western Paradise,
some of the descriptions of which read almost like echoes of the last
chapters of the Bible. Unknown to the Buddhism of Ceylon, Siam, and
Burmah, it can be traced back as far as the second century A.D., when it
was certainly known in Cashmere, though it was not until three centuries
later that it began to spread widely over Northern Buddhism. But the whole
question of its origin remains wrapped in obscurity. At the present day,
the devotion to Amida is very widely practised in Japan, and it is
extremely popular. No doubt, the more educated and intellectual
Buddhist,—and the distinction thus suggested needs constantly to be
insisted on,—would explain the Paradise of the West as being a mere
allegory, and regard Amitabha, as he was originally conceived to be, as
merely an ideal personification of boundless light. But to the people
generally the Undefiled Ground and its presiding deity are actual,
literal, realities.
[Illustration.]
Kiyomizu-Dera, Kyoto.
We have said that the two sects in which the doctrine of the Western
Paradise appears in greatest prominence are called the Jodo and Shin-Jodo.
The former of these is Chinese in origin, but was established in Japan
about 1200 A.D. by a priest, Enko Daishi by name, who was also a member of
the imperial family. The head-quarters of this sect are at Kyoto, where
the magnificent monastery of Chion-in forms one of the principal sights of
that most interesting of Japanese cities. But of all the temples of Japan,
those of the New-Jodo (or _Monto_) sect are at once the most handsome, the
most frequented, and the most attractive to the European traveller.
Everything here, too, is of a dignified and stately character; there is a
striking absence of the tawdry and the puerile. Founded in the year 1262,
this sect is, at the present day, foremost in learning, influence, and
activity. Another purely Japanese development, it is—owing to differences
about “church government”—composed of two sub-divisions, the
_Nishi-Hongwanji_ and the _Higashi-Hongwanji_, or the Eastern and Western
Divisions of the True Petition,—the reference being to the vow of Amida.
In most of the larger towns, handsome temples of either branch are to be
found, situated usually in the poorer districts.
It is in the temples of the Shin-Jodo that the remarkable similarity, of
which every one has heard, between the Buddhist ceremonial and that of the
Roman Church is most conspicuous. Nowhere, perhaps, did the resemblance in
question,—to which I shall have occasion to refer again,—impress me more
forcibly than it did in the New-Jodo temple at Nagasaki, at the first
Buddhist service at which I was ever present. The day of our visit chanced
to be the founder’s anniversary, and from a raised lectern in the chancel,
a venerable priest, of benign countenance,—wearing a rich vestment not
unlike a dalmatic, and a cap resembling a biretta,—was recounting to a
congregation, composed chiefly of women, old men, and children, the
virtues of their deceased benefactor. Presently, the sermon came to an
end, and the colloquial delivery of the discourse was changed for the
monotone of a litany recitation: the people answering with ready response,
and many of them employing the aid of their rosaries. The fragrance of
incense filled the air; tapers and flowers adorned the altar, above which
was the statue, not—as one entering by chance might almost have expected
to see—of a Christian saint, but of some manifestation of Gautama Buddha.
Despite, however, its elaborate ritual, the Shin-Jodo sect has been called
the “Protestantism of Japan;” the reason being that it sanctions the
marriage of its clergy, approves the reading of the scriptures in the
“vulgar tongue,” permits a wider freedom in respect to food and drink, and
affords other indications of a “reforming spirit.” The priesthood in this
sect is, practically, a hereditary office.
In the _Great Indian Religions_ of the late Mr. Bettany, there is given a
summary of the Shin-Jodo Belief, in the words of one of its principal
teachers. I will take the liberty of re-quoting it here. “Rejecting all
religious austerities and other action, giving up all idea of self-power,
we rely upon Amida Buddha with the whole heart for our salvation in the
future life, which is the most important thing: believing that at the
moment of putting our faith in Amida Buddha our salvation is settled. From
that moment invocation of his name is observed as an expression of
gratitude and thankfulness for Buddha’s mercy. Moreover, being thankful
for the reception of this doctrine from the founder and succeeding chief
priests whose teachings were so benevolent, and as welcome as light in a
dark night, we must also keep the laws which are fixed for our duty during
our whole life.” The mutual relation of faith and works is especially to
be noticed; and indeed the strikingly _evangelical_ character of the whole
Confession.
[Illustration.]
Statues of Kwannon, San-Ju-San-Gen-Do.
Vast, however, as is the power attributed to Amitabha, and great as is the
merit to be acquired by the invocation of his name, there is found in the
temples in which he is worshipped an image which receives even more
veneration than his. That colossal female effigy, with the many heads and
countless hands, before which a number of votaries, composed largely of
women, are kneeling in prayer, is meant to represent the mighty
Avalokitesvara, or—to substitute for the Sanskrit the less formidable
titles by which she is known in China and Japan,—the all-powerful Kwanyin
or Kwannon. Here, again, we are confronted with a devotion the origin of
which is wrapped in uncertainty, but which, closely connected with the
doctrine of the Western Paradise, seems to have arisen some three
centuries after the commencement of our era. At the present day, it is
spread extensively over Thibet, Mongolia, China, and Japan; but it is
unknown to the countries of Southern Buddhism. With regard to the meaning
of this great image before us, Kwannon is commonly explained to be the
reflex or spiritual son of Amitabha Buddha, sent by him to earth to
preside on earth over the Buddhist faith, and appearing, at first in male
and subsequently in female shape. But the probability is that the various
personages, with whom Kwannon is supposed to be identified, had merely a
fictitious existence; and that in her statues, we see simply an apotheosis
of Mercy, an allegorical _Mater Misericordiae_, whose many eyes and hands
are intended to signify the unremitting vigilance and the untiring energy
with which she ministers to all sorrow and distress.(20)
The island of Pootau, off Ning-po, in the Chusan Archipelago, is the great
centre of Kwannon worship; the most popular of the many legends concerning
her associating her with this locality, and offering an explanation of her
thousand heads and hands more clumsy even than is the manner of such
myths. The island belongs to the Buddhist priesthood, and is a great
resort of pilgrims. In Japan, the shrines and statues of Kwannon are to be
met with everywhere: many of her images being of enormous size, richly
gilt and beautifully wrought. Sometimes the statues are kept concealed
from view, either on account of alleged miraculous properties, or for some
other reason of special sanctity. The highly-venerated image, for
instance, at the Asakusa temple, Tokio, is never shown; it is only two
inches high, and is accredited with supernatural qualities. But of all the
shrines of Kwannon, it may be doubted whether the impression created by
any is greater than by her temple of San-ju-san-gen-do at Kyoto, where no
less than 33,333 images of the goddess may be seen. Of these a thousand
are gilded statues, five feet in height, and ranged in tiers along a vast
gallery. The remaining effigies are depicted on the foreheads, hands and
nimbi of the larger ones. The temple and its contents originated in the
votive offering of a Mikado of the twelfth century for recovery from
sickness.
[Illustration.]
The Altar of San-Ju-San-Gen-Do.