'The Golden Lotus Legend'

The following legend is not of Japanese origin. The priests
of Buddhism in Japan knew that the success of their religion lay, not
in sweeping out the old gods of Shintō, but in adapting them with
infinite cleverness to the needs of their teaching. In this case
Japan has borrowed from India and in a minor degree from China, if
we may look upon the dragon as originally belonging to the Celestial
Kingdom. We have followed Mr. Edward Greey's version closely and
inserted it here because it often enters into a Nippon priest's
discourse, and has a decidedly Japanese setting. We might duplicate
legends of this kind, but one will be sufficient for our purpose. The
other two legends given in this chapter are strictly Japanese.

The Lord Buddha, having concluded his holy meditations upon Mount
Dan-Doku slowly walked along a rocky pathway on his way to the city.
The dark shadows of night crept over the country, and there was
profound stillness everywhere.

On nearing his destination the Lord Buddha heard someone shout:
"_Shio-giyo mu-jiyo_!" ("The outward manner is not always an index to
the natural disposition.")

The Lord Buddha was delighted at these words and desired to learn who
had spoken so wisely. Over and over again he heard the same words, and,
drawing to the edge of a precipice, he looked down into the valley
beneath, and perceived an extremely ugly dragon gazing up at him with
angry eyes.

The Holy One then seated himself upon a rock and inquired of the
dragon how he had come to learn one of the highest mysteries of
Buddhism. Such profound wisdom suggested a store of spiritual truths
yet to be revealed, and the Lord Buddha, therefore, requested that the
dragon should give utterance to other wise sayings.

Then the dragon, having coiled himself round the rock, shouted with a
great voice: "_Ze-shio metsu-po_!" ("All living things are antagonistic
to the law of Buddha!")

After uttering these words the dragon was silent for some time. Then
the Lord Buddha begged to hear yet another sentence.

"_Shio-metsu metsu-i_!" ("All living things must die!") shouted the
dragon.

At these words, the dragon looked up at the Lord Buddha, and upon his
dreadful countenance there was an expression of extreme hunger.

The dragon then informed the Lord Buddha that the next truth was the
last, and so precious that he could not reveal it until his hunger had
been appeased.

At this, the Holy One remarked that he would deny the dragon nothing so
long as he heard the fourth truth revealed, and inquired of the dragon
what he demanded. When the Lord Buddha heard that human flesh was what
the dragon required in exchange for his last precious fragment of
wisdom, the Master informed the dragon that his religion forbade the
destruction of life, but that he would, for the welfare of his people,
sacrifice his own body.

The dragon opened his great mouth and said: "_Jaku-metsu I-raku_!"
("The greatest happiness is experienced after the soul has left the
body!")

The Lord Buddha bowed, and then sprang into the gaping mouth of the
dragon.

No sooner had the Holy One touched the jaws of the monster than they
suddenly divided into eight parts, and in a moment changed into the
eight petals of the Golden Lotus.

The Bronze Buddha of Kamakura and the Whale

"Above the old songs turned to ashes and pain,
Under which Death enshrouds the idols and trees with a mist of sigh,
(Where are Kamakura's rising days and life of old?)
With heart heightened to hush, the Daibutsu forever sits."
_Yone Noguchi_.

The great bronze Buddha of Kamakura, or the Daibutsu, is undoubtedly
one of the most remarkable sights in Japan. At one time Kamakura
was the capital of Nippon. It was a great city of nearly a million
inhabitants and was the seat of the Shōguns and the Regents of
the Hōjō family during the troublous period of the Middle Ages.
But Kamakura, for all its devout worshippers of the Lord Buddha,
was destroyed by a storm on two occasions, until it finally lost its
importance. Today rice fields and woods are to be seen in place of the
glory of old. Storm and fire, however, have left untouched the temple
of Hachiman (the God of War) and the bronze image of Buddha. At one
time this gigantic figure was reposed in a temple, but now it stands high
above the trees, with an inscrutable smile upon its great face, with
eyes full of a peace that cannot be shaken by the petty storms of the
world.

Legend is nearly always elemental. Divinities, irrespective of their
austerity, are brought down to a very human level. It is a far cry
from the complex teaching of the Lord Buddha to the story of Amida
Butsu and the whale. One can trace in the following legend an almost
pathetic desire to veil the greatness of Buddha. The gigantic size of
the Daibutsu is not really in keeping with that curious love of little
things which is so characteristic of the Japanese people. There is a
playful irony in this story, a desire to take down the great Teacher a
peg or two--if only to take him down in stature a paltry two inches!

So many things appear to us to be done in a topsy-turvy way in Japan
that we are not surprised to find that in measuring metal and soft
goods the feet on the yardstick are not alike. For soft goods, a whale
measure is used, and for any hard material a metal foot. There are two
inches of difference in these measures, and the following legend may
give us the reason for this rather confusing
discrepancy.

The Bronze Buddha, in its sitting posture, is fifty feet high,
ninety-seven feet in circumference, the length of its face eight feet,
and as for its thumbs they are three feet round. It is probably the
tallest piece of bronze in the world. Such an enormous image naturally
created a considerable sensation in the days when Kamakura was a
flourishing city, laid out by the great General Yoritomo. The roads in
and about the city were densely packed with pilgrims, anxious to gaze
upon the latest marvel, and all agreed that this bronze image was the
biggest thing in the world.

Now it may be that certain sailors who had seen this marvel chatted
about it as they plied their nets. Whether this was so or not, a mighty
whale, who lived in the Northern Sea, happened to hear about the Bronze
Buddha of Kamakura, and as he regarded himself as being far bigger
than anything on land, the idea of a possible rival did not meet with
his approval. He deemed it impossible that little men could construct
anything that could vie with his enormous bulk, and laughed heartily at
the very absurdity of such a conception.

His laughter, however, did not last long. He was inordinately jealous,
and when he heard about the numerous pilgrimages to Kamakura and the
incessant praise evoked from those who had seen the image he grew
exceedingly angry, lashed the sea into foam and blew down his nose
with so much violence that the other creatures of the deep gave him a
very wide berth. His loneliness only aggravated his trouble, and he
was unable to eat or sleep, and in consequence, grew thin. He at last
decided to chat the matter over with a kindly shark.

The shark answered the whale's heated questions with quiet solicitude,
and consented to go to the Southern Sea so that he might take the
measurement of the image, and bring back the result of his labor to
his agitated friend.

The shark set off upon his journey until he came to the shore, where
he could see the image towering above him, about half a mile inland.
As he could not walk on dry land he was about to renounce his quest,
when he had the good fortune to discover a rat enjoying a scamper
along a junk. He explained his mission to the rat and requested that
the much-flattered little creature measure the Bronze
Buddha.

So the rat climbed down the junk, swam ashore, and entered the dark
times where the Great Buddha stood. At first, he was so overcome by
the magnificence he saw about him that he was uncertain as to how to
proceed in carrying out the shark's request. He eventually decided to
walk around the image, counting his footsteps as he went. He discovered
after he had performed this task that he had walked exactly five
thousand paces, and on his return to the junk he told the shark the
measurement of the base of the Bronze Buddha.

The shark, with profuse thanks to the rat, returned to the Northern
Sea, and informed the whale that the reports concerning the size of
this exasperating image was only too true.

"A little knowledge is a dangerous thing" evidently applies equally
well to whales, for the whale of this legend, after receiving the
information grew more furious than ever. As in a story familiar to
English children, he put on magic boots to travel on land as
well as he had always done in the sea.

The whale reached the Kamakura temple at night. He discovered that the
priests had gone to bed, and were fast asleep. He knocked at
the door. Instead of the dismal murmur of a half-awake priest, he heard
the Lord Buddha say, in a voice that rang like the sound of a great
bell: "Come in!"

"I cannot," replied the whale, "because I am too big. Will you please
come out and see me?"

When Buddha found out who his visitor was, and what he wanted at so
unearthly an hour, he condescendingly stepped down from his pedestal
and came outside the temple. There was utter amazement on both sides.
Had the whale possessed knees they would assuredly have knocked
together. He knocked his head on the ground instead. For his part,
Buddha was surprised to find a creature of such gigantic proportions.

We can imagine the consternation of the chief priest when he found that
the pedestal did not bear the image of his Master. Hearing a strange
conversation going on outside the temple, he went out to see what was
taking place. The much-frightened priest was invited to join in the
discussion and was requested to take the measurement of the image and
the whale, and accordingly began to measure with his rosary. During
this proceeding, the image and the whale awaited the result with bated
breath. When the measurements had been taken the whale was found to be
two inches longer and taller than the image.

The whale went back to the Northern Sea more utterly vain than ever,
while the image returned to its temple and sat down again, and there it
has remained to this day, none the worse, perhaps, for finding that it
was not quite as big as it imagined. Dealers in dry goods and dealers
in wood and iron agreed from that day to this to differ as to what was
a foot--and the difference was a matter of two inches.