Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-02-21
THE FACE OF BUDDHA.
Lafcadio Hearn Searches for the Idol
in Japanese Temples.
NOT VERY DIGNIFIED AFTER ALL.
Telling Fortunes With Mysterious Box
and Dai-Kitsu Paper.
AN ANCIENT BUDDHIST CEMETERY

am still unsatisfed in my search for that
which is always hidden away. have pas
sed another day in Japan wandering from
one shrine to another; but have not yet
seen the face of Buddha Sometimes it
happens that after unspeakably wearisome
climbing of stone steps, and passing under
miraculously carven gates, whose gargoyles
are tusked heads of elephants, and heads Of
angry ions-and entering shoeless into
scented twilight, into magical gardens Of
golden lotos blossoms made of paper-and
thence behind screens, into deeper dim
nesses still more richly scented, and wait
ing for the eyes to become habituated to the
soft gloom, look in vain for the god.
Only an opulent glimmering confusion Of
things half seen-vague altar-splendors
created by gilded bronzes twisted into enig-
mas, by indescribable vessels, by beautiful
texts of gold, which are riddles to all but
the learned-and these framing in nothing
but the darkness of the void behind the
altar.
These Japanese take their religion lightly,
cheerfully. They throw their cash into the
temple box, make their reverence, clap their
hands together thrice, murmur a prayer
then turn to laugh or to smoke their little
pipes before the op, gate Of the shrine.
Their faith seems to have a ioyousness un-
known in the Western world. There is
nothing grim, austere or self-repressive
about It.
Jeyousness OF japanese Faith.
Returning to my hotel, Akira, my at
tendant, is bowling and smiling at the door.
He slips off his sandals, enters in his white
digitated stockings, and with another charm
ing smile and bow, sinks gently into the
proffered chair Akira is handsome boy.
With his smooth beardless face and clear
bronze skin, and fine white teeth, and thick
blue-black hair trimmed into a shock that
shadows his forehead to the eyes-he has al
most the air, in his long-sleeved, satin
belted robe and snowy stockings, of young
Japanese girl. I clap my hands for tea
hotel tea-which he calls "Chinese tea" I
offer him q cigar, which he declines; but
with my permission he will smoke his pipe.
Thereupon he draws from his girdle jap
anese pipe-case and tobacco-pouch COM
bined-pulls out of the pipe-case little
brass pipe with bowl scarcely large enough
to hold pea-pulls out of the pouch some
tobacco so finely cut that it looks like hair
-stuffs tiny pellet of this preparation in
the smoke into his lungs, and blows it out
again through his nostrils. Three little
whiffs, at intervals of about half minute;
and the pipe, emptied, is replaced in its
case.
Going to See Buddha.
Meanwhile have related to Akira the
story of my dissppointments.
"Oh, you can see him to-day" responds
Akira, 'if you will take walk with me to
the Temple of Zoto-Kuin. For this is the
Busshoe-the festival of the birthday OF
Buddha- But he is very small, only few
inches high. If you want to see a great
Buddha you must 60 to Kamakura. There
is Buddha in that place sitting upon
Iotos, and he is 30 feet high"
So 1 60 forth under the guidance of Akira.
There is a sound of happy voices from the
temple, and the steps are crowded with
smiling mothers and laughing children.
Entering, find women and babies pressing
about 8 lacquered table in front of the door
way. Upon it is little tub-shaped vessel
of sweet tea-amacha; and standing in the
center of it is tiny figure of Buddha-one
hand pointing upward and one downward.
The women, having made the customary Of
fering, take up some of the tea with a
wooden ladle of curious shape-like an i'm
mense pipe-and pour it over the statue
and then, hlllng the ladle second time,
drink little, and give sip to their babies
This is the ceremony of washing the statue
OF Buddha.
Baby in Bell.
Near the lacquered stand on which the
vessel Of sweet tea rests, is another and
lower stand supporting temple bell,
shaped like a great bowl. A priest ap-
proaehes with a padded mallet in his hand,
and strikes the bell-keeping his eyes the
while fixed on me, with look of kindly
curiosity. But the bell does not sound
properly; he starts. looks into it, laughs
and stoops to lift out of it a pretty, smiling
Japanese baby. The mother, also laugh
ing, runs to relieve him of his burden; and
priest, mother and baby all look at US with