One who has lived alongside the great temples; who knows the daily routine and sees what powerful engines of popular instruction they are; who has been present at the great festivals and looked upon the mighty kitchens and refectories in operation; and who has gone in and out among their monasteries and examined their records, their genealogies and their relics, can see how powerfully Buddhism has moulded the whole life of the people through long ages.  The village temple is often the epitome and repository of the social life of the people now living, and of the story of their ancestors for generations upon generations past.  It is the historico-genealogical society, the museum, the repository of documents and trophies, the place of national thanksgiving and praise, of public sorrow and farewell, a place of rendezvous and separation, the starting-point of procession, and the centre of festival and joy; and thus it is linked with the life of the people.

In other respects, also, the temple is like the old village cathedral of mediaeval Europe.  It is in many sects the centre of popular pleasure of all sorts, both reputable and disreputable.  Not only shops and bazaars, fairs and markets, games and sports, cluster around it, but also curiosities and works of popular art, the relics of war, and the trophies of travel and adventure.  Except that Buddhism—­outside of India—­never had the unity of European Christianity, the Buddhist temple is the mirror and encyclopaedia both of history and of contemporary life.  As fame and renown are necessary for the glory of the place or the structure, favorite gods, or rather their idols, are frequently carried about on “starring” tours.  At the opening to public view of some famous image or relic, a great festival or revival called Kai-ch[=o] is held, which becomes a scene of trade and merry-making like that of the mediaeval fair or kermis in Europe.  The far-oriental is able as skilfully as his western confrere, to mix business and religion and to suppose that gain is godliness.  Further, the manufacture of legend becomes a thriving industry; while the not-infrequent sensation of a popular miracle is manipulated by the bonzes—­for priestcraft in all ages and climes is akin throughout the world.  It is no wonder that some honest Japanese, incensed at the shams utilized by the religious, has struck out like coin the proverb that rings true—­“Good doctrine needs no miracle.”

The Bell and the Cemetery.

The Buddhist missionaries, and especially the founders of temples, thoroughly understood the power of natural beauty to humble, inspire and soothe the soul of man.  The instinctive love of the Japanese people for fine scenery, was made an ally of faith.  The sites for temples were chosen with reference to their imposing surroundings or impressive vistas.  Whether as spark-arresters and protectives against fire, or to compel reverent awe, the loftiest evergreen trees are planted around the sacred structure.  These “trees of Jehovah” are compellers to reverence.  The alien’s hat comes off instinctively—­though it may be less convenient to shed boots than sandals—­as he enters the sacred structure.